The Late Night Low Down Undead Blues

[disclaimer] This is a work of fiction. No challenge to existing copyrights is meant, most notably whoever's got the rights to 'Re-Animator' the movie, and/or whoever's got the rights to Lovecrafts's canon. I think it's Chaosium these days. Anyway, I'm not making money off this, and neither is anyone else. I'm only in it for the amusement. [/disclaimer]

      The other problem, of course, wasn't going to be resolved quite so easily. True, a single phone call would have summoned the authorities and Hallie could have gotten a write-up in the paper as a good citizen, but that thought was examined and discarded. Whatever he had done- and she remained a bit hazy on the exact details, as did anyone else who watched the news- she still considered him a friend, and her branch of the O'Hallorans, themselves somewhat morally ambivalent, did not rat out on their friends. Also, she had developed a distaste for law over the years, mainly through studying the underlying philosophy behind it. What good was keeping an obviously brilliant mind locked up? Incidents did follow him, but surely, with a decent grant and secure facilities, wasn't there still useful work he could accomplish for humanity?

      'Which part of you is furnishing the reasoning, hmm?'

      True, that was a partial consideration. Simon had been gone for close to two years now, and she hadn't taken another lover. Not, she reminded herself, that she missed him unduly, or that he had been so good in bed that no one would compare, but mainly because here, in this place, she was closeted away from the world, and she had always found it far too easy to get lost in her work. She had done her job, one day after the next, and now here she was with her first lover asking for shelter. After such a long stretch of work-enforced celibacy, the memories of what she'd had and had been missing were rushing back with alarming force.

      The doorbell rang and Hallie snorted, well-used to life interrupting her reveries. The noise of the shower had stopped, but luckily West had not yet made his reappearance, and Hallie was able to collect her dinner in relative peace. She gave the stone-faced delivery boy the money with a generous tip overlaid, and a stern warning that at least half should make it to his grandmother, before hustling him back out into the downpour.

      Hallie threw the bolt and dropped the chain lock into its divot, then sighed with equal parts relief and irritation and carried the bag through into the living room.

      'Someday, I'll get a shot at the quiet life. Maybe even before I'm dead.'

      "Did I hear voices?" West appeared behind her dressed in baggy jeans and flannel and drying his hair with a towel. The picture was so incongruous that she fought back a snicker.

      "Just dinner arriving. Come on, get it while it's hot."

      She spread the food out on the dining table and fussed about in the kitchen for a moment, gathering together a few dishes, napkins, and two bottles of Magic Hat. West glared at the chopsticks she proffered him, and she replaced them with a fork, chuckling.

      "I suppose cultural exchange isn't high on your list of knowledge priorities."

      "Eating takes enough of my time without purposefully making it more complicated."

      "Of course. You have to make sure your senses get the least exercise possible if they're not being bent to scientific work. It's the only way they'll learn."

      "You never complained about my efficiency."

      "Shut up and eat your kun pao."

      Despite her predictions, West took his time over the food. She'd seen him eat a handful of times back in their college days, and knew his normal mode of operations was to inhale whatever was cheapest and easiest as quickly as possible, preferably while deeply engrossed in one of his endless volumes of notes. Currently he was eating at a speed approaching that of a normal human being, as well as seemingly savoring the beer, and she wondered if prison had hit him harder than he let on.

      She waved him away as he started to pick up the dishes.

      "Eh, don't worry about it. You're company. And it's not as though I got out the good china."

      West shrugged and went to peruse the bookshelves while Hallie put the remaining food away and stacked the dishes in the sink. He ran his fingertip lightly along the bookshelf and selected one of the volumes, smiling crookedly.

      "You've been published, I see, " he said, flipping through the pages.

      "Yeah, a couple of times. It's no big deal, really, just some side work on mythology and the unconscious. I don't seem to be cut out for the textbook stuff. The royalty checks are sometimes worth a good meal out, which is nice, because I get tired of the University food. Even takeout palls after a while."

      "You still eat in the cafeteria?"

      "There's no stove in the kitchen. Fire regulations, apparently."

      West sighed and put the book back. "This is what you worked for? Living like a student?"

      "West. Seriously. I'm not sure why you're expecting me to be a jet-setter, but I'm going to have to break it to you- I'm a philosophy professor with five-figure school debt, who, in case you haven't noticed, isn't going to win America's Top Model anytime soon and be swept off by a Grand Duke to his castle in the highlands, at least until they bring out the ageing scholar edition. I have an apartment, tenure, and a toaster oven. This is as good as it's going to get right now."

      "And a library card, " he sneered, "Don't forget the library card."

      "Fuck you, West. You'd be sleeping in a bus shelter right now if I wasn't here."

      "True. And still...With the drive I remembered, I expected that you would go further."

      "Well, I thought you'd have a Nobel Prize by now, and instead you went to prison. Life gives out those little surprises sometimes. Now please stop talking about my fucking career, all right? It's depressing enough as it is without you harping on it."

      "All right, " he shrugged, "You were married?"

      Hallie counted to ten silently, then sighed. "Why, are you surprised?"

      "Not really. Most people try it sooner or later."

      "I tried it sooner rather than later, which may have been the problem. I found his confidence attractive, he found my intelligence attractive, but other than that we were appallingly unsuited for each other. It's perfectly clear to me now, but then...Well, it only took six years for us to figure it out. And it only took two years after that for the courts to decide who got what."

      "Hmm, yes, well, I think it's fairly obvious who got what. A bit of a debacle, I assume?"

      Hallie rolled her eyes. "You have no idea."

      "Thankfully, no, I don't."

      "The best part was when he threatened to get fired from his job and sue me for alimony unless I gave him sole custody of our dog."

      "Interesting, " West nodded, with a tone that clearly meant it was anything but.

      "No, " Hallie sighed, "No, you're right, it isn't, really. It's sordid and hateful and awful, and I'm sorry to bring it up. The last thing you want to hear after busting out of the joint is a litany of my personal problems."

      West blinked at her and chuckled. " 'Busting out of the joint, ' " he said, and she grinned, "I think you watch far too many late night movies, Doctor O'Halloran."

      "Well, it's not like I have a hell of a lot else to do, as you've been at such pains to point out to me. Now could we kindly stop talking about my life, or lack thereof?"

      "You'll hardly want to hear about my last several years."

      "Yeah, but that doesn't mean we have no other recourse as far as communication goes. We used to talk about other stuff, didn't we?"

      "I'm not sure the noises you made count as conversation."

      Hallie smacked him on the shoulder, and rolled her eyes when it failed to elicit the slightest response. "Jesus, West, not even prison made you jumpy. I should have known."

      She saw a muscle in his neck tighten, the word making him twitch where the cuff could not. She tugged at his collar gently.

      "Hey. You're out now, remember? I know the apartment's pretty small, but you're dressed like a lumberjack and not a carrot, and that should be a definite clue."

      He ignored this and looked down to where she'd touched his shirt. "Are these his clothes?"

      "Who, Max? No, those are Simon's. Max is my ex, Simon was somewhat later. Some of his stuff is still here because he tends to drop in between assignments."

      He looked up sharply. "Military or special services?"

      "Neither. He's a photographer. Honestly, West, what the hell do you care? I'm not a nun."

      "I am naturally loathe to lose my newly acquired freedom, and thus am attempting to acertain whether any of your lovers, former or otherwise, are likely to turn up here unexpectedly."

      "Well, they're not. Simon's on a three-year tour of eastern Asia, Max hates my guts, and the others have drifted off into the mists of memory. Except you. You're sitting in my living room, causing a felony."

      "If it's too much trouble- " he began acidly, and she held up her hand.

      "You know it isn't. I wouldn't have let you in, otherwise. But what, precisely, are we going to do about your situation?"

      "Nothing until morning, I assume. " He yawned and rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes.

      "Tired?" she asked, and chuckled when he glared at her, "Of course, it was a stupid question. I'll take the couch, you can have my room."

      "It's not necessary for you to give up your bed. I've slept in far worse places."

      "Which is precisely my point. You've been in jail for how long now? The least I can do is let you have the comfier option."

      West sighed. "If you insist on being difficult, I will be forced to point out that the bed will fit both of us comfortably. And it's not as though it would be the first time."

      "You never let me stay over."

      "That's not entirely true."

      "Isn't it?" Thinking, she shut the lights off and followed him to the bedroom.