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Sanguine had been surprised when he heard Tanith’s voice on the telephone.
He had been sure he would never see her face again after everything that had happened. A part of him had hoped, of course, but after two months he had settled with the reality that she was gone. And then - out of the blue - she had called and arranged a meeting.
She had given him the address to a small diner downtown. It was a calm place; only a few of the booths were occupied, and Tanith sat in one of them, staring at a half finished glass of Coke. She didn’t see him as he walked towards her, only looked up as he sat down across from her. Her blonde hair was a mess and he could see rings under her eyes. “I wasn’t sure you would come,” she said.
He gave her a big smile. “I wasn’t sure myself, but here I am.”
The waitress came over and after a quick inspection of the menu he ordered a glass of water. He looked after her when she left, then turned to Tanith. “Didn’t know you were in America,” he said, “You got business here?”
“I came to talk to you.”
“Really?” He eyed her suspiciously. “You’re tellin’ me you came all the way from London just to have a chat.”
“I’m not here to arrest you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
He shook his head. “Nah. You would have just barged in on me in that case.”
“Who knows. This could have been a trap to lure you out.”
“No cops around.”
“You said the same thing last time we met.”
“Yeah,” he said slowly, “Guess I was wrong back then.”
He didn’t like thinking about the day Cain and Pleasant had found Tanith. Too much of it was his fault. But it had turned out alright for her, if what he heard was true. Working with the Sanctuary, hanging out with her old friends – heck, she was even wearing a new leather jacket. And yet, here she was, sitting in a diner in New York City, enjoying his company.
The waitress came with his glass of water. “So,” he said when she left, “What d’you want from me?”
She hesitated, then leaned forward slightly. “I need you to answer some questions for me,” she said, “Can you do that?”
“Questions?” He frowned. “I know some things, though you might be better of askin’ your friend China. She’s the one with all the answers. No need to get on a plane to New York City.”
She shook her head. “She can’t help me with this. You can.”
“I doubt that. There’s not a lot I could tell you. But hell, why not.” She wanted to say something, but he raised his hand. “Ah! First, money.”
She looked pissed, but reached into her bag and got her wallet anyway. “Here.” She pushed forty dollars over the table. “That’s all I have right now.”
He laughed. “Really? You had enough money to buy a flight to New York. Forty dollar’s a joke.” He got up. “Sorry, hon, but this ain’t how this works.”
He started walking away, but she gripped his wrist as he passed her. “Wait.” His reflexes almost kicked in and he had to stop himself from pushing her away, then he looked down at her and saw the look in her eyes, tired, pleading. “Listen, I need your help,” she said, stressing every word. “If money’s so damn important I can give you more later but for now … just listen.”
He waited and she took a deep breath before she blurted out: “I can’t remember what happened last year.”
At first he didn’t respond, too stunned by what she said. “You can’t remember – anythin’?”
“There are a few pictures, some random moments, but most of it … It’s too vague. I can’t get the pieces to fit where they belong. It’s like they don’t want to stay still. I’m not even sure if some of what I remember really happened.” She paused. “But … I know you were there. So you must know.” She got quiet and stared at her Coke.
Sanguine took some time to sit down. He had genuinely thought she was happy, now the whole Remnant business was over with. To see her like this was weird. He drank his water and thought back to the nights they spent together, and all he could feel was guilt.
“So,” he broke the silence, “you really wanna know what happened.” She nodded. “You’re sure?” he continued, “Could be better to simply move on.”
“I’ve tried. I just can’t. Not until I know.”
“So you’re sure.”
She reached out to his hand on the table and gently laid her hand on top of his. “I can’t live like this. I need to know what happened. Do you understand?”
He wondered what he should tell her. He thought of the people they killed and the terrible things they had done, and wondered if she would hate him when she found out. Probably. Only right way to react, really.
“Okay then,” he said. “Where do you want me to begin?”
“From the start.”
So he told her. He told her everything.
When he was done he expected her to stand up and leave. He expected her to scream into his face and slap him. But she stayed, looking down on the table as recognition settled on her face.
“You really loved me back then,” she said after a while, “Didn’t you?”
He looked at her, searching for traces of disgust or anger, but her expression was unreadable. “Love’s a strong word.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it?”
His silence was answer enough for her.