Title: A Year in the Life - February Author: ren Fandom: Askewniverse Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob Archive: Go for it, Charles. As if you didn't know by now. Series/Sequel: Part of the Year in the Life year-long J/SB series. Follows on from starla's January. To be followed by March, eventually. Rating: R for language, drug use and a couple of rather disturbing scenes. Unashamed Justice-bashing. And High Melodrama! Warning: When I say disturbing scenes, I mean they disturbed the fuck out of me, and I wrote them. If you're sensitive or weak of stomach, please take a moment to brace yourself with your drug of choice before reading. Warning 2: I know nothing whatsoever about the American legal system. If you do, please suspend disbelief for the duration of this story. Notes: This took forever, what with the new job and the fucking big move, but finally `tis done! Dedicated to Charles, who started the challenge and keeps the fandom alive, to starla, who got the whole thing off to a most excellent start and also sacrificed herself to the beta gods, and to Kel, who keeps my fannish heart beating. Summary: January was the month everything started falling back into place after the shitstorm of 2004. February is for pulling on loose strings and unravelling things. Jay and Silent Bob get themselves tangled in variously coloured threads. FEBRUARY The day Randal lifted the restraining order from the Quick Stop was a day of much rejoicing and celebration. So much so, that Randal threatened to court-order their asses right back where they started for another year. Thinking quickly, they gave him some free home- grown and plied him with cheap vodka until he decided to keep them. Then he threw up and went home. It was a good day. All things considered (and Jay did, with the stunned concentration of the very stoned), it was a good start to the month, and a sign that things were getting back to the way they ought to be. February was going to be a good month for him and Silent Bob; he could feel it in his bones. In fact, it was pretty much the only thing he could feel at the moment: his home-cooked weed was turning out to be a lot more potent than either of them had expected, and Jay thought that maybe he was starting to understand where all those Canadians were coming from. Aside from Canada. The thought tipped him over onto his side with the giggles, and he could only watch as the gaudy `Welcome home' banner (also homemade) decided to give up and join him, detaching itself from the bricks and fluttering slowly down to land on his head. He laughed harder, almost choking, until abruptly the sign was pulled off his face and the winter sun lanced into his eyes, making him stutter to a halt, squinting. "What the fuck, tubby?" he demanded. "I was all cosy `n shit down here, wrapped up all like Miss Universe in a fuckin' rug. Now I got the sun in my face. Bitch, `f I get a melanoma it's gonna be all your goddamn fault." Silent Bob blinked at him patiently, the banner still dangling from one hand, and pointed towards the bus stop. "Oh, you wanna take this party home then? Yeah, we've advertised our wares long enough, I guess. Let's get the fuck outta this shithole before the clerks come back." He rolled to his feet, staggering briefly, and then started weaving his way towards the bus stop. Silent Bob watched him go for a moment, almost smiling, then wrapped the banner around himself with a flourish and followed behind. ----------------------------- Things fell into a pattern, after that. It was a nice, February- shaped pattern, which was almost exactly like the February before, except for the little differences brought about by the year just gone. Jay liked the little differences: it was like someone had smoothed all the jagged edges out of his life and left it all fitting a little bit better than before. Walking down the street, people he didn't know sometimes smiled and nodded at Silent Bob, or stopped to exchange discreet hellos and ask about the state of business. More often than not, they bought a foil or a twenty bag, and all without the help of what he had always come to know as his business speech. Mostly with these people, he let himself hang back and watch the transaction, only stirring himself to pull the merchandise out of his pocket and hand it over. Bob took the money, and he was okay with that. Bitch wanted to network without him, it was all for the greater good. If people he did know noticed his newfound peaceable nature, they didn't comment, and at any rate he kept the chatter up easily enough when they were among mutual friends. The circle of business was just a bit wider than before, and while a lot of the time he was still the salesman, now Silent Bob was more of an upfront man and less of the silent menace in the background. It was... comfortable, Jay realised; as close to domesticity as he'd probably ever come. A (hetero) life partner, a steady source of income, and at nights they went home together and ate dinner and watched TV, and talked about their day. Until one night in the middle of February (and he remembered the date, the seventeenth: it was the day after Bob's mom's birthday), when everything changed quite suddenly, and the edges came edging back into life like they had never been evened away. ---------------------------------------------------- "Helloooo, Miss February. Didja miss me, baby?" Miss February smiled at him, as she had all month, and pointed her perky nipples in his direction. "Ooh baby, is it cold out or are you just happy to see me?" He said pretty much the same thing every time they got home in the evenings, but she never seemed to get tired of it. Sometimes she almost seemed to be winking at him, although that could have just been the little tear in the picture where a badly flung shoe had hit the calendar during an argument about who drank the last beer the week before. Sensing Silent Bob's indulgent head-shake as he hung up his coat, Jay smirked and played it for attention. "Don't worry baby, I'll warm you up with my long... hot..." Bob's coat flew across the room and smacked him in the head. "...Tongue," he finished, almost purring. The coat fell to the ground as he leaned into the calendar and licked a long, slow stripe up the glossy paper from the 28th, lingering around the good bits and finishing at the very top of Miss February's airbrushed head. Spinning around, he met Bob's smirk with one of his own. "Bitch, you better not have come on that when I wasn't looking." Silent Bob blushed, and Jay's eyes grew wide. "Oh, ew, you did? Argh, I got Silent jizz on my tongue! Ack!" Coughing and spluttering, hearing Bob's helpless giggles behind him, he stalked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer, making a great show of washing his mouth out and gargling with the first mouthful. Leaving Silent Bob to organise the food, Jay wandered over to the phone and checked the machine. There were five new messages, and he deleted them without bothering to listen. If it was important they'd call back, and if it was Justice... He didn't really want to think about that, but sometimes it niggled at him; a feeling uncomfortably like guilt squirming round in his belly. Justice loved him: she always told him so when she called. And she'd talk about their future together, all white picket fucking fences and him in a suit and two point three little kids, and none of that future included Bob. Sometimes he wished she'd just find herself a nice girlfriend in prison and leave him the fuck alone. Or maybe let him watch. Grinning at that thought, he mooched his way over to the couch and sprawled with his legs apart, kicking off his shoes and turning on the television. "News, news, news, fucking news... where the fuck are my cartoons?" he moaned, sinking back into the cushions and raising the bottle to his lips. A second later he sat bolt upright, clutching the bottle white- knuckled against his chest. Oh, fuck. No no no fucking NO. "...This daring jailbreak occurred sometime in the early hours of yesterday morning. So far, no trace of the fugitives has been discovered." The news lady looked earnestly into his eyes as she spoke, and she was pretty hot, but all Jay could do was stare at her in stunned horror, feeling Silent Bob come up behind the couch to hover curiously at his shoulder. "There was apparently no connection between the three escapees, whom authorities believe have all fled in different directions, which will make capturing them more difficult than if they had remained together. If you spot any of these fugitives, please call the crimeline at 609-..." The phone number fell unheeded into the silence, as Jay and Bob stared at the face of Justice, still pretty in prison garb, staring back at them from the television screen. There was a knock on the door. Jay jumped, startled, and lost hold of the bottle. Beer spilled into his lap and soaked into the cushions of the couch, but still he sat there, unmoving, eyes fixed on the door and willing whoever was on the other side to leave, to go the hell away, to be *gone*. In the end, it was Silent Bob who answered the door. ---------------------------------------------------- It was Justice, of course; he didn't even need to look. Instead, he stared at the empty space on the wall above the TV, letting various voices soak their way into his brain. "...other news, President Bush denies any knowledge of erotic correspondence with the Australian Prime Minister..." "Bob... I tried to call, I really did... nobody answered the phone..." "A local high school has expelled a student for possession of marijuana on the premises..." "...had nowhere else to go..." "...psychologists claim..." "Jay..." "...beneficial to eat the wrapper, rather than the burger itself..." "Jay? Jay! Please, say something, *please*..." He looked up dully to find Justice standing next to the couch, tearstained eyes pleading with him and Silent Bob hovering anxiously in the background. "Hey Justice," he said quietly, and her eyes welled with all new tears. "No," she whispered. "That's not... you were supposed to call me..." "Boo-boo kitty-fuck," he murmured, and she smiled, sniffling. "Yeah," she moaned, and threw herself down into his arms. Jay looked up, and met Silent Bob's gaze over her shoulder. Big brown eyes were eloquent, saying exactly what he was thinking himself: "What the fuck are we gonna do now?" --------------------------------------------------- Eventually she must have noticed the stiffness of his posture, because she tensed and sat up, drawing away to sit on the couch beside him. "You don't want me here," she accused. "You're not pleased to see me at all." "Uh." Jay looked frantically to Bob for inspiration, but got only a shrug. Fucker couldn't put his newfound people skills to an important use. Yeah, big fucking surprise. "You don't love me anymore!" Her voice was getting louder and higher pitched, and Jay flinched slightly, resisting the urge to move further away from her on the couch. Then he wondered why he'd bothered when she flung herself up to start pacing back and forth in front of him, arms wrapped around her chest in a protective gesture he thought he might have found endearing a year ago. Now, it just made him feel slightly sick. "Boo-boo," he started, and then did flinch as she flew at him, shrieking. "Don't! Don't you fucking call me that now! I broke out of jail for you, because I couldn't not be with you anymore, and this is the welcome I get! You moving *politely* away from me like I'm covered in *shit* - you're never polite, Jay! What the fuck?" "Um." Lost for words, Jay tried one of the classics, in a timid voice that made him cringe even as he heard it coming out of his mouth. "It's not you, it's me?" She snarled at him, and rounded on Bob, who was staring at her with the widest eyes Jay had ever seen. "It's you, isn't it? You turned him against me! You never liked me, because I was taking him away from you. I was going to give him a better life, and you couldn't *stand* that." Her voice was full of loathing, and hearing that tone of voice directed at Silent Bob was enough to loosen Jay's voice right up. "Bitch, you don't talk to my boy like that." The anger in his own voice shocked him a little, but Justice didn't seem surprised at all. "Oh no," she spat bitterly. "Not your *boy*. Can't say anything bad about your-" "No, no, you stop right the fuck there." Jay was on his feet now, too, sneering into her face and using all the spite that he hadn't felt the need for in the past month, feeling it all come back like he'd never put it away. "You leave Silent Bob the hell outta this thing, `cause this `better life' you keep moaning about? That's bullshit, okay? I don't want your fucked-up better life and a `real job' and a house in the suburbs and a fucking dog, you get that? This is my better life, here with Silent Bob. That's what I want. Not you." He watched with a kind of weary satisfaction as her eyes filled with tears again and she slumped bonelessly to the floor, still staring at him. "Not you," he repeated quietly, as she hid her face in her hands and began to sob. He turned helplessly to Silent Bob, looking for... something, some kind of sign that he'd said the right thing, and surprised a look of such absolute joy on Bob's face that it stopped him momentarily in his tracks. They both stood there for a long moment, just looking at each other in silence, until they were interrupted by Justice saying something behind him, muffled by tears and her hands still against her face. Jay turned reluctantly to look at her, and she tried again. Her face was a mess; blotchy and red, tearstained and smeared with snot, but she gazed up at him with an odd kind of dignity as she spoke. "Jay. I don't have anywhere else to go." Jay had absolutely no response to that, and he jumped when Silent Bob's voice came from behind him. "Stay here." They both stared at him in disbelief, but he didn't pause, or really even change his expression from the calm, patient one he wore, with lingering hints of its earlier happiness. "Just for tonight. Stay here on the couch, and tomorrow you can figure out what you're going to do." Justice swallowed hard, and nodded, her eyes fixed upon Bob's face like she couldn't quite believe him or what he was saying. "Yeah," she said quietly. "Okay. Thanks." A few hours later, wide awake in bed and staring up at the darkened ceiling, Jay found himself wishing fiercely for the old apartment with its connecting bedroom doors. He was tempted to write February off as a fucking terrible month, the bad month to end all bad fucking months, but still he found himself remembering the peace of the time before Justice returned, and the brief strange happiness he had found that night, staring into Silent Bob's eyes and realising that he had everything he wanted, right then and there. -------------------------------------------------- The next morning, Justice was gone, pillow and blankets folded up in a neat pile at the end of the couch and a note in careful handwriting sitting under the TV remote. `Dear Jay,' it read. `I couldn't stay to face you this morning. I wanted to see you so badly, and you were so mean to me. Thank Bob for me, for the offer, but I couldn't face him either. I've found a hotel, and I plan to stay in Red Bank a while longer. I won't lie to you - I still love you, and I want you back. Please give me the chance to try. I'll see you around. Love, your boo-boo kitty-fuck.' Jay put the note down carefully, like it might explode, and edged around the couch on his way into the kitchen. Hearing Bob shuffle from his bedroom into the bathroom, he started a pot of coffee and leaned against the breakfast bar to wait for it to finish. He wasn't really the deep-thinking type, he admitted that, but since he'd gone to bed last night he'd been going over and over events in his head, trying to figure out just exactly how much things had changed and what he'd have to do to get everything back the way it had been, before Justice showed up at the door. She wanted him back, she'd said. Hadn't he been clear enough last night? He'd been pretty fucking harsh, he'd thought, and if she was still dumb enough to come crawling back, that was her problem. He wouldn't encourage her, Jay decided. Not even if she offered him sex. Not even for a blowjob. Not even... He stopped himself before his imagination could get away from him, and adjusted himself in his shorts. He couldn't help it if he was irresistible to women, right? It was all just part of the magic that was Jay. Nodding smugly, easier in his mind than before, he poured himself a cup of coffee and wandered into the living room to watch cartoons. ----------------------------------------- Last night had been... bad. It had shaken them both, and they agreed that the day was best spent sitting at home, smoking a bowl or three and emptying the fridge of beer, playing Playstation and relaxing. Their customers could wait another day for the daily dose, and while most dealers claimed that sampling your own wares was a Bad Thing, Jay swore by it. After all, how could you claim you had the best if you hadn't tried the shit out for yourself? Even relaxed after a drink and a lazy peace pipe, though, they both jumped when something landed against the apartment door with a thud. Too heavy to be a knock, not heavy enough to be the cops trying to kick the door in, it sounded instead like someone had thrown something against the door with great force. Something shoe sized maybe, Jay thought, having had great experience with the sound of shoes as projectile weaponry. Eventually, one of them had to go see what it had been. They knew that, and still they both sat there for long minutes, looking back and forth from each other to the door. Finally, Bob sighed gustily and heaved himself to his feet, prowling over and listening hard before finally unlocking the door and swinging it open. What he saw made him recoil, and Jay fought a brief moment of panic - what the hell could make *Bob* turn that sickly shade of paste? - before getting up to look for himself. It was a kitten. Or had been, before someone had taken to it with lighter fluid and a match. It was dead, and Jay took a moment to be quietly thankful about that before he spun on his heel and ran to the bathroom, puking up beer and peanuts and Twinkies and more beer until finally, heaving dryly a few more times and then collapsing against the side of the toilet, he curled in on himself and shook, feeling the hot spill of horrified tears run down his cheeks and drip coldly onto his neck. Silent Bob came in then, and washed his hands quickly and thoroughly, scrubbing away dirt and ash and... other things, before thinking better of it and stripping off completely, climbing into the shower and standing under the hot spray, head bowed and shoulders jerking with what Jay realised were quiet sobs. Pulling himself together, he left Bob to it, heading straight into the kitchen and cracking open the bottle of Beam they'd been saving for when the beer ran out. He carried it into the living room, and then made a quick trip into Bob's room for some clean clothes, which he left quietly on the toilet seat for when Bob was done. It give him a sense of purpose to do these things for his friend, and he felt a small calm creeping over him, pushing the upset into the back of his mind for later. For now, Silent Bob was hurt, and it was his job to make things better. He took a moment to drink from the bottle, though, the taste of revulsion and strange grief still sick and sour in his mouth. Silent Bob came out of the bathroom, then, dressed in clean clothes with his gaze directed at the floor, and Jay steered him over to the couch and sat him down, handing him the bottle. Bob took a long drink, swallowing four or five times before lowering the bottle and looking at Jay helplessly, his eyes sadder than Jay had ever seen them. "It's okay now," he told Bob gently. "Baby kitty's in Heaven now. He's all happy and shit, playing with God and pissing off Megatron." Silent Bob almost smiled. "Metatron," he corrected softly, and Jay smiled back at him. "Yeah," he said. "Metatron. `S what I meant." Silent Bob leaned a bit sideways, and then a bit more, until he was leaning tiredly against Jay's shoulder. They sat together then, quiet on the couch and sharing the bottle back and forth until it was empty. ----------------------------------------------------- They must have slept, eventually, because when Jay woke it was the next morning and Silent Bob was stirring on the couch next to him. Scrubbing at his tongue with his teeth to get rid of the taste of old bourbon, he detached himself from Bob and wandered into the bathroom. After no sales yesterday, business would be booming today, especially from the regular customers at the mall and in front of the Quick Stop. Yesterday's... what had happened yesterday couldn't keep them from their appointed rounds, he reasoned. Although, he thought that if Silent Bob wanted to stay in today, he'd let him. Just this once. Later at the Quick Stop he found himself hyper vigilant and jumpy as hell, and he could see that Silent Bob was having the same problem. Whoever had murdered the baby kitty for them yesterday could be lurking around anywhere, he realised. Could be the guy who bought half an ounce off them with a wink and a handshake, or the smelly teenager who glared at them as he wandered past into the video store. Hell, it could be Randal, he thought a little hysterically, wanting revenge for the greening they'd inflicted on him at the beginning of the month. He could feel his breath starting to catch in his chest, his hands curling into convulsive fists every time somebody came close, and it was starting to scare away business. Just as the hitches in his breathing started to turn into steady, shallow panting, he felt a hand fall onto his shoulder and jumped, nearly shrieking with rage and fright. Justice stood there, looking at him with a bemused expression. "Did I scare you?" she asked hesitantly. "Sorry - I thought you saw me coming. Guess you were miles away, huh?" "Miles," Jay said blankly. "Yeah." An awful suspicion started nagging in the back of his mind, and he tried hard to ignore it. Justice was talking again. Or still. Whatever. "...thought I'd drop by and see how business was going. I had to ask around - I always thought customers came to you, but I guess you wouldn't want them knowing where you live, right? Could be dangerous." Jay shivered. "What the fuck's that supposed to mean?" he asked sharply, and Justice looked wounded. "Nothing," she said meekly. "Just making conversation. Anyway. I thought maybe, if you weren't doing anything later..." she trailed off hopefully, and Jay stared at her for a moment, not quite understanding what she was saying, her earlier words still echoing in his brain. Could be dangerous... "Home," he said abruptly, and threw a pleading glance over to where Silent Bob was concluding a deal. "Uh, me and Bob. We're going home now. We got, um. Laundry. To do, I mean. We gotta do laundry." Justice stared at him, her face twisting into an odd expression. "Laundry," she said blankly. "That's awfully... domestic. Then again, I guess you two have to change the sheets pretty often, huh?" She laughed, like even she didn't think the joke was very funny. "I... well. I guess I just wanted to apologise for being so... last night. It was a bit of a shock, you know? And we do have to talk, Jay, but... well. I'll see you around, okay?" She pressed her lips together and walked away, holding herself stiffly, like she was trying not to run. Jay supposed it was only a matter of time before she tried again, but for now he had more sinister things on his mind. Waiting until Silent Bob came back to his side, he grabbed him by the arm and hissed urgently into his ear. "We gotta get out of here, Silent Bob. I think it was her, yesterday, who did that thing. Justice. I thinking she's fucking *stalking* me." Silent Bob looked at him in shock, then grabbed him by the front of his shirt and started dragging him in the direction of the bus stop. "Whoa, hold the fuck up!" Stumbling, trying to keep up, Jay finally freed himself from Bob's grip and broke into a quick trot to catch up. "She's not gonna try anything here, right? Right?" Bob's grim look sent a chill through Jay and he took the lead, reaching the bus stop and searching the street anxiously for any sign of the bus. Silent Bob lit two cigarettes and handed him one. Jay took a deep drag, feeling the burn of the filter against his lips and the nicotine rush to his bloodstream, calming him down slightly. "Okay," he said on an exhale of smoke. "Okay, so we go home and we figure this shit out. Maybe it isn't her at all. Maybe she's just in love with me and that's it. Hell, Silent Bob, chicks want me all the time and we never had any trouble before, except for that one time with the boyfriend and the restraining order. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe..." The bus pulled up then, and they got on, sitting close together and staring out the window, and Jay wanted nothing more than to be at home with the door closed, where it was safe. ------------------------------------------------------- There was another mess on the door when they arrived home; spray paint this time, slashed ugly and black over the door: YOU'RE NEXT. ------------------------------------------------------ Several drinks later, their hands red from scrubbing and cleaning products, they sat on Jay's bed in a shaken huddle, passing a joint back and forth and sharing the last beer between them. "If it is Justice," Jay said finally, slowly, "then it's you she's after. She fucking loves me: she wants us to get married and have mortgages together. She wants you to be gone, Silent Bob." The awfulness of that thought caught up with him a moment later, and he curled up with a quiet moan, feeling Bob's hand come to rest warmly on his back. "And if it's not Justice?" Bob asked him. "They could be after either one of us. Or both of us." Somehow that thought wasn't quite so bad, and Jay found himself hoping that it wasn't Justice, after all. "Okay," he said firmly. "Okay. This is what we're gonna do. We're gonna stay here, at home, and not give this fucker a chance at us. Maybe they'll get bored and go harass some other poor bastard. Or if it's Justice, maybe she'll find herself some other hot guy and get married and leave me alone." Silent Bob raised an eyebrow. As plans went, it wasn't fantastic, Jay admitted. Still... "Just for a while," he pleaded. "A week or something. Just to try. Maybe it'll work, Silent Bob, and then you'll have to admit I had a good idea and I'll be the brains of this operation for a change, and design all the blueprints and give life lessons to people in diners." Silent Bob's lips pressed together tightly under his beard, his eyes laughing, and he nodded. "Okay," Jay said again, determined. "So we'll need to stock up on some shit. Move into the siege mentality, Silent Bob. We're hitting the mattresses." Bob's eyes flickered down to the bed and back, and Jay smacked him. "Like the Godfather, you stupid sack of shit. We're like the good mafia, and that stalker's like the bad mafia, right? And we have to hole up until someone snaps and there's a fucking bloodbath, and we have to move to Sicily. Come on, I gotta call someone to go shopping for us. Make a list. Beer and smokes and bourbon, and some titty magazines... what else do we need?" The list Bob eventually handed him had extra things on it, like food and stuff, but all the important bits were still there. --------------------------------------------- The first phone call came the next night. On edge from waiting for the stalker's next action, Jay let it ring six times before he picked it up, and his "Hello?" sounded so unlike his usual voice that he frowned. He frowned harder when there was no immediate answer. "Hello? Hey, asshole, you call someone on the phone you're supposed to talk to them. Fuckin' stupid -" The laughter started then, and Jay froze. It was a high, steady giggle, barely recognisable as human, and he waited for it to stop, only it didn't. Just kept going and going, winding his nerves tighter and tighter until finally he snapped, screamed "Fuck off!" into the receiver and slammed it down. Silent Bob had come running at his shout, and they both stared at the phone as it started to ring again. This time Bob picked it up, and didn't say a word. After a moment he shrugged, and hung up. "No laughing?" Jay asked him, and he shook his head. Nothing at all. They both jumped as the ring started up again, and this time Jay was faster. "Fucking *what*?" he barked into the receiver. "Jay? Is that you?" Justice sounded nervous, and a little confused, and Jay clenched the receiver so hard in his fist it creaked ominously until he lessened his grip. "Justice," he said flatly. "What do you want?" "I... God, this is hopeless," she said, her voice breaking. "Jay, please. I'm trying, really I am, but you're not helping me out at all. I just want us to have another chance, that's all. You owe me that much, right?" Jay saw red. Literally. "Bitch, I don't owe you a goddamn thing," he told her through gritted teeth, and hung up the phone with a clatter. He stood there seething for a moment, then stalked over to where the cigarettes sat on top of the television. Lighting one, he concentrated on the movement of smoke in and out of his lungs for a while, cooling down until the urge to break things had passed. "That little cunt," he said finally. "It's her. It's gotta be her." Silent Bob just spread his hands apart and looked at him. So what now? "We keep on waiting," Jay told him, still taking furious drags off his cigarette. "It's only been one day, right? She'll get bored, or she'll get the picture - no matter how fuckin' dumb she is, she has to get a clue eventually, right?" Silent Bob's silence, at this point, wasn't particularly welcome. ---------------------------------------------- There was another phone call at three the next morning, then roughly every ten minutes after that, the same high, mad giggle every time Jay answered the phone and dead silence every time it was Bob's turn. They tried leaving the phone off the hook, but the suspense left them both wide awake, the telephone sitting there like an elephant, impossible to ignore even when it was silent. The calls tapered off around six, and they figured even psychotic stalkers needed their beauty sleep. There were no phone calls for the rest of the day, and despite themselves they started to relax. After so much tension, one loose- packed blunt was enough to send them both drifting, sprawled on the living room floor and staring at the ceiling, the occasional giggle or hiccup escaping from one or the other, until the buzz wore off and they sat up, turning on the TV and starting to think about food. After nachos, and the zillionth repeat viewing of Sweet Breakfast in Pink Sixteen, Jay finally felt safe enough thinking out loud: "Maybe she's given up? Thought the idiot bitch from hell had some stamina, but I guess I was wrong." He got up, stretching, and raised his arms in a gesture of victory. "Mere mortals are no match for the brain power of -" The phone rang. Jay slumped, defeated, and Bob went to answer the phone. A moment later, Jay heard his voice in an animated babble of Russian, and realised he was speaking to his mom. "Say hi for me," he mumbled, suddenly feeling incredibly tired, and wandered into his bedroom. Curling up fully clothed on the bed, he clutched a pillow against his chest and thought wearily that maybe it would never be over. That every time the phone rang for the rest of his life, he'd be listening for that vicious laughter, or waiting for another dead animal or black painted threat to be hurled against the door. He thought that if he only knew where Justice was staying, he could call the cops and tell them where she was, and it would all be over. Wait a minute... He sat up on the bed, stunned at the depths of his own fucked-up stupidity. The chances of `accidentally' bumping into Justice if he just went about his business in town were high to extremely fucking high, and he could arrange to meet her wherever she was staying. To talk, just to talk. And when he was sure he knew where she was living, he could call the police, leave an anonymous tip, and... And that would be the end. Seeing Silent Bob poke his head around the bedroom door, he gave a shout of sheer delight and leapt up, taking Bob's head in his hands and planting a wet, sloppy kiss on his mouth. Bob reeled back, gaping at him, and Jay threw back his head and *howled*. Maybe February would turn out okay, after all. -------------------------------------------- It was a whole five days until the next Justice sighting. Five days of hanging around the malls and the bus stops and the Quick Stop, and even some desperately conspicuous lurking outside various lingerie shops, using the logic that Justice had to run out of panties eventually, right? But it wasn't until Saturday, almost a week after the first phone call, that Jay, leaning with determined carelessness out the front of RST Video, heard the hesitant tones of his would-be girlfriend. "Jay?" He opened his eyes and watched her warily; she looked tired, and worried. "Jay, are you okay? You look exhausted." When he didn't speak she forged on, almost tripping over the words in her haste to get them out. "Listen, Jay, I know you don't want to get back together or anything, but I really think we need to talk. Get some closure, or whatever they're calling it these days." `Jesus fuck,' thought Jay happily. `She's doing all the work for me.' "It's killing me to have this thing not finished between us," she told him earnestly. `And I think it's bothering you, too. God, Jay - look at you! You're all pale and tired-looking, and jumpy as hell... come on, Jay. Really. We need to discuss this. We need to finish things properly." Inside he was doing a dance of equal parts terror and excitement. Outwardly, he smirked and said, "Whatever you say, baby. Where you staying at? I'll come see you there tomorrow. We'll talk. You can buy me lunch." Justice swallowed hard, and the hope in her eyes was almost too much; almost had him blurting out the truth and calling the whole thing off. "I'm at the Oyster Point," she told him, sounding embarrassed, and his eyes widened. "Holy shit," he said, impressed. "What'd you do, fuck the bellboy?" She flushed bright red, and he decided not to ask any more questions. "Honestly Jay, thank you," she said, her voice trembling. "You won't regret it, I promise. I'll see you tomorrow." Then she turned and fled, and Silent Bob appeared around the corner of the building. Jay took a deep breath. "Okay," he said. "Okay. Tomorrow I'll go meet her, make sure she didn't feed me a pile of bullshit, and then we call the cops. Then, Silent Bob, my man, we can put all of this be-" His voice cut off as he was shoved rudely aside by the smelly teenager who seemed to have taken up residence in the video store. "Watch where the fuck you're going!" hollered Jay, and the teen spun and glared at him, his face filled with hate. "You watch where the fuck I'm going," he snarled. "You watch real good, you little parasite." Jay flew at him, but the boy ducked into the video store and Bob's hands caught at the back of Jay's shirt, dragging him away. "Randal. Restraining order," he reminded Jay quietly. "Oh," said Jay, glumly. "Got it. Right. Fuck him anyway. Didja get a whiff of that teen spirit? Shit, Silent Bob. Kids these days don't even shower - whole fuckin' world's going to hell, I swear to God." "Amen," said Silent Bob. ------------------------------------------------ The bus trip to the Oyster Point was the longest of Jay's life. He sat and chewed his nails and fidgeted, wishing for a smoke, until the little old lady sitting next to him glared and pointedly cleared her throat. Jay glared back at her half-heartedly and settled back, looking out the window and wishing he hadn't been so stubborn about going alone. Silent Bob hadn't liked it; not one little bit, sighing and *looking* at him until Jay had snapped, pacing and waving his arms about like they would make his point for him. "It's fucking simple, Lunchbox. She's a psycho. She loves me, she hates you. I show up, we talk. You show up, and she's liable to go for your fat ass with a chainsaw. I go, you stay the fuck here and have dinner and my pipe and slippers ready for when I get back, got it?" Bob had retreated to his room to sulk, and Jay had set off for the bus stop alone. Now, watching as his stop approached, he found himself wishing for Silent Bob in the seat next to him instead of some blue-rinse bitch with an attitude. With a long-suffering sigh he got to his feet and slouched off the bus. The parking lot was deserted except for some shiny cars, and he stood there chewing on a thumbnail, working up the nerve to go inside. The scuff of a shoe on the concrete behind him was all the warning he got before a blinding pain split his skull in half and he was on the ground, his face mashed against gritty tire marks. The sun was in his face: that or the blow to his head had fucked up his vision. All he saw was a vague, bright blur as a booted foot crashed into his ribs over and over. He raised his hands to protect his face, and the boot kicked him there as well, smashing his nose and lip and sending a tearing pain through his fingers. It didn't stop; just kept going and hurting and going some more, until all he knew was the taste of blood and pain and the sound of high, cracked giggles ringing in his ears until everything faded away. --------------------------------------- The next thing he saw was Silent Bob leaning over him, looking furious and scared. It was dark and cold - night time, his brain told him belatedly. He'd been out for hours? And nobody had rescued his ass? Fucking Red Bank, he seethed. Not a Good Samaritan in goddamn sight. The concrete was remarkably comfortable beneath him, and he flinched when Bob levered his arms under him, getting ready to lift him into the car that he saw was waiting. Dante was behind the wheel. Oh, God, the humiliation. He coughed and whimpered as Bob lifted him, placing him on the back seat of the car. Leaning slightly, he spat blood and gravel onto the floor, groaning as a million bruises made themselves known and his lips started bleeding again. His face felt hot and swollen and his chest and stomach were screaming, but long experience told him that nothing was broken or - Fuck. He made an embarrassing sound as the car moved forward and he shifted. Maybe he was wrong about the broken part, he thought. He was just starting to feel his fingers again, and wishing he couldn't. Silent Bob turned in the passenger seat and leaned over, placing a hand on his forehead. Vaguely, he was aware that there was a conversation going on without him, that Dante was suggesting a hospital and Silent Bob was shaking his head, and he felt blurrily grateful for that. He'd had worse, after all. Probably would again, even without the possibility of a second stalker in his future. That thought pulled him up short, and he tried to speak. Bob's hand moved down over his mouth, pressing gently there, and he stopped. "We'll call the police tonight," he heard, and the relief was so intense he heard a roaring sound and everything went fuzzy. Then he passed out again. -------------------------------------------------- He came awake again with a jolt, yelling something incomprehensible even to him. Silent Bob was there in seconds, pushing him down at the shoulders and shushing him and eventually he subsided, relaxing back and realising that he was bandaged from head to balls. He looked like the Invisible Man. Or half of him, anyway. He giggled weakly at the mental picture, and choked at the grinding pain laughter caused. Then he remembered how the hurt had come about, and patted Bob's chest with one well-wrapped hand. "Did they get her?" he croaked, and Silent Bob nodded, smiling. His eyes were very tired. "I called when we got home. They picked her right up. She'll be back in jail by morning." This time the relief was stronger, filling his eyes with exhausted tears and making him shake with the release of a week's worth of nervous tension. "S'over," he slurred, feeling Silent Bob nod slowly against his chest. Not quite ready to think about how it had got there, he patted the dark hair clumsily before letting his hand drop to Bob's shoulder, feeling his friend relax into sleep against him before drifting back off himself, quiet and safe. ------------------------------------------------ They were woken by the phone ringing. Jay tensed in dread, before remembering that they didn't have to worry anymore; didn't have to be afraid. Justice was gone. Silent Bob peeled himself off his chest and went to answer it; verbally for a change, Jay noticed with surprise. "Hello?" He paused, frowned, and tried again. "Hello? Hell-" Jay watched with a sense of slow, sick horror as all the colour drained from Silent Bob's face. Even from his position on the couch, he could hear the high, hard giggles that came from the receiver before Bob hung it up with a bang. It wasn't her. Justice wasn't the stalker. It wasn't her. It wasn't her it wasn't her itwasn'theritwasn'theritwasn'ther... Gradually he became aware that he was sitting up, held tightly against Silent Bob's chest, and both of them were shaking. "It wasn't her," he said quietly, testing the words out in his mouth. "No," said Silent Bob, very quietly. "No, it... no." ----------------------------------------------------- And that's the end until March. Muahahahahaha...