The Weapon - Resurrection - part 5
By Diana the Valkyrie
The mugging
Update: 16/05/2003 to valkyrie05



I checked my watch, but I couldn't see the time in the dark. "It's after three
am," she said. I wondered how I was going to get home. I'd been sort of
assuming that maybe she'd fly me home, or maybe I could get a cab, there's
always some around Picadilly.

"OK, mate," a loud voice intruded. I looked up, there were two men standing
above us. "Give us yer wallet, and I'll let you keep yer teeth." The other one
laughed.

I wasn't worried. They had no idea what they'd just walked into. Wendy would
go through them like a meat grinder goes through steak, and barely notice that
she'd done it. I sat there, waiting to see what would happen next.

She put her hand into my jacket, took out my wallet, and handed it to one of
the thugs. "Here you are," she said, "now please don't hurt us." They ran off,
laughing like hyenas.

"Hey," I said. "What?" "You just gave those muggers my wallet." "Yes."

"Why didn't you stop them?" "David, it's just a wallet, there's no reason for
anyone to get violent about it." "Yes, but I had money there, and my credit
cards."

She showed me what was in her hand. "Oh! How did you do that?" "Magic. Just a
little bit of magic," she said, handing me back my cash and plastic. I was
pretty sure she meant the kind of magic that entertainers do at children's
parties, I've read that she liked doing that sort of thing.

"Are you feeling warmer now?" she asked. I nodded, and asked "Would it be
alright if I put my arms round you?" "Silly boy," she said, "you just go ahead
and do it. If I don't want something to happen, then it won't happen." "But I
don't want to, well. Make you angry." "I already told you, I'm not going to
hurt you. If you want to put your arms round me, you just try and do it. If
you find that you can't, then take that as a no." I put my arms round her, and
she pulled me closer. Now that I was warmer, she'd gone back to a more normal
temperature.

"What's going to happen when they find it's an empty wallet? They'll be back,
and they'll be angry." "I won't let them hurt you, don't worry." "Yes, but."
"But what?" "Well, if you want to avoid violence, maybe we should get away
from here."

"Good idea," she said, and stood up. I also got to my feet, and then I noticed
that it had started snowing. Not a blizzard, just a steady silent splattering
of snowflakes. The grass was already covered, and so was the path. I looked
around. "I can't see where the path is."

"Hold my hand," she said, "I can see it." I looked around the park, it was
rapidly becoming covered in a white blanket. "Could we go to your place?" I
asked. "What place is that?" she queried. "I mean, where you live, your flat,
your room, whatever."

"I don't have anywhere."

"You're homeless?"

"I suppose you could call it that. The only home I ever had was when I was, I
was. With. Uh." She stopped talking.

I looked across at her, and she was crying again. I stopped walking, and
tugged on her hand. She stopped too, and I stepped up close to her and held
her while she got over it.

I never thought talking to her would be so damn difficult. Is this going to
happen all the time? One minute I'm asking her some very ordinary question,
like "Where do you live", and a few seconds later I've stirred up her
memories, and she's crying again.

"So where do you sleep?" "I don't sleep, it isn't something I do. I can
pretend to sleep, but I'm not actually sleeping. I used to pretend when Duncan
and I, when we ..." and she was weeping again.

We walked on in silence while I waited for her to get over it. I felt like
getting hold of her and shaking her, telling her to snap out of it, not to be
such a ninny. But I knew that wouldn't be a wise thing to try.

"You see, you need somewhere safe and warm to go, so that you can relax and
sleep without worrying about what might happen to you, where you won't freeze,
or get robbed. I don't need that, so I didn't get myself anywhere." "What
about your stuff, where do you keep your possessions and stuff?" "I don't have
any." "What, nothing? What about clothes?" "I don't wear clothes."

I stopped and took her other hand in mine. "Wendy, you're wearing clothes
right now, what are you talking about?" She looked down at herself. "This
isn't clothes, it's just me, making it look like I'm wearing something. Look."

Suddenly, I'm standing in front of a naked woman in the middle of Green Park,
while the snow silently patters down all around us. "Aren't you cold?" "I
don't get cold." "You look cold" "I'm not cold" I looked around, checking that
we were alone. "We're alone," she said, "I'll just get dressed again." And she
was wearing her waitress outfit, with a cherry red coat on top, and a red cape
flying out behind the coat.

Seeing her naked, made me feel cold myself. And I started to shiver again, it
really wasn't the sort of night you wanted to be out in. She saw me shivering,
and pulled me towards her again, to warm me up. "No, I'm OK," I said, "look,
if we can't go to your place, how about we hail a taxi and go to my home."

"Home," she said. Wistfully. "Wendy, there's so much I want to ask you, so
much I want to know about things, please?" I was still shivering from the
cold. "Home," she repeated, very quietly. "Home. OK then," she said, "but
you're freezing right now." She took off her coat, and started to wrap it
around me. At first, I tried to refuse, but then I realised that I was being
rather silly. Why should I suffer the cold? It wasn't as if she'd be cold
without her coat. And what on earth was this coat of hers anyway, she says it
isn't clothes, it's just her. What have I got wrapped around me? It certainly
made me feel warmer, though.

As we left the park, she reached into the snow by the side of the path, and
gave me back my wallet. I began to wonder just how much of what I thought I
was seeing was reality, and how much was illusion. And of the illusion, how
much of it is conjuring tricks, and how much is some incomprehensible power of
hers.

Did those muggers even exist, or where they come sort of construct she'd
magicked up for my entertainment? Or did they exist, and I'd been mugged, and
she'd emptied my wallet with a simple movement of the hands, and then found
where they'd dumped the wallet which was useless to them. What is real, and
what isn't? My head hurt. I suppose I could ask her, but then I'd find myself
asking about every little thing. Like how did she know my name - she read it
on my credit card. So simple. Maybe the sensible thing to do is to assume that
everything I see, hear and feel, is real. Otherwise, I'll be digging back into
the roots of philosophy all the time, and life's too short.

Once we were back in Picadilly, it was easy to hail a cab. I say "easy", what
with the snow, they'd made themselves a bit scarce, and it was half an hour
before I managed to get one to stop. Meanwhile, the snow was pattering down,
soft and cold. Although I noticed that it didn't seem to fall on her, or me.

I persuaded the cabbie to take us to Cricklewood. Cabbies don't like to leave
the West End, because they aren't likely to get a fare back. But once you're
inside the cab, they can't actually refuse. I sat back on the leather seat,
and enjoyed the sensation of not having a bitterly cold wind knifing through
my bones.

I wanted to ask her a million questions, but I didn't want to get into
anything that might make her cry, while we were in the back of a cab. I had a
mental picture of the cabbie assaulting me on the assumption that I'd been
ungentlemanly.

It was after four in the morning by the time we reached my home, and I was
absolutely shattered. I wanted to stay awake and talk to her, but I couldn't;
the spirit was keen as mustard but the flesh was cream crackered. I suggested
that she could have my bed and I'd sleep on the sofa, but she told me not to
be silly. "Oh," I said, "I forgot. You don't sleep." She nodded. I staggered
into the bedroom, and managed to get myself undressed before I fell into bed.
The last thing I heard just before I was embraced by the arms of Morpheus was
a voice very close to my head. "David?" "Uh. Mmmf." "Do you mind if I?" "Um?"
"David, please can I ... I mean. I'm lonely, all alone, and I miss him so
much. If I could just be next to you while you sleep? Just so I can hear you
breathing?"

How could anyone say no?