AFTER EFFECTS

by Mr. David R. Dorrycott

Once a dangerous criminal mastermind, Janet Hobson was now sitting alone, waiting silently in the still darkness of her home. At the moment she was gently nursing her broken wrist, shattered by the alien do gooder Yarnith during this mornings bank robbery. Gently she pressed on the still damp plaster cast, her act helping to relieve her pain. 'Funny' she thought, 'It used to be me doing the robbing, not being robbed.' Picking up her water glass she slipped another of the green and yellow capsules into her mouth. Janet hated drugs, but with damage like this the pain was too great to stand long without some help. Besides, she only had two days of sick time left, her Doctor had told her that rest was the bodies best healer. Carefully she thought back over the days events. She'd been working her normal shift as a Junior Teller at Los Angeles Free Bank, a job she'd held since moving here two years ago. Six men had come in, heavy weapons drawn and ready. They'd killed Frank, a rent-a-cop bank guard, the moment they saw him. It wasn't just money they were after, they had started taking everyone's valuables as well. All none too gently.

One of the tellers managed to trip her alarm as they shot Frank. In response one of the thieves had blown the young tellers face off for her efforts. Helen.. a boy at home and five months into her second pregnancy, a young husband who was an artist. Janet didn't remember moving, didn't remember the rage. She'd just suddenly found herself pounding the last gunman's face in with his own weapon, when a grip she couldn't hope to break stopped her, snapping her wrist in several places at the same instant. Sometimes that damn hero forgot his own strength, or maybe he wasn't aware she was so out of shape. Or just making a point that he could hurt her now. But the truth was, more than likely he'd thought she was one of them. He probably didn't know she was working at the bank, though he had to know she was in his city. She had registered with the parole office when she’d arrived.

Yarnith had apologized once everything was cleared up. Janet though had walked herself to a nearby free clinic, refusing his, or anyone's help. There were tears to release and she didn't want him, or anyone who knew her to see them. Nor did she want someone like Yarnith knowing she couldn’t afford an emergency ward visit, as once she’d had a private Doctor on call at all times. Now she was home, trying to ignore both her constantly ringing phone and the unending pounding on her homes front door. 'Funny' she thought. If it hadn't been for her lack of time off she'd be with Susan and John, her son, watching Susan’s younger sister Elizabeth accept her degree at San Francisco University. Poor Helen, she'd only been doing her job. More tears began to flow.

Her wrist throbbed again, pulling her back to the present. The pounding on her front door had changed. It was stronger, more authoritive. "Police Miss Hobson. We'd need to talk with you."

She groaned in response, not now. Not with her mind so fogged she could barely think. "A minute please" she called, her voice weaker than she'd expected. Wiping her face with a tissue she stood slowly, everything seemed to want to move sideways at the moment, and walked carefully to the door. Opening it she could see the throng of reporters, though faces were a blur. At least fifty she thought. They were being held back by at least a dozen more police officers, two which now stood at her door. One was obviously a Detective, from the badge he shoved into her face. Poor Susan's rose garden had already been trampled into the ground. She grimaced, remembering the heavy, vicious thorns. 'They probably gave as good as they got' she decided. "Come in" she invited, studying the two. A Detective and a Sergeant.

"No lights?" the Detective asked as he entered.

"Sorry" she apologized. "Pain medication. I hadn't noticed it was so late." She touched a switch and the room lit up. Her eyes flinching at the sudden brightness.

"Your roommate?" the Sergeant asked.  

"Susan's in San Francisco with my son John, has been since yesterday afternoon. They'll be back tomorrow afternoon on the three thirty train. Please, sit down." She moved several of her son’s toys from her battered sofa to make room.

“I see, thank you. I'm Detective Harrison. This is Police Sergeant Vance. I'm sure you know why we are here."

"The robbery. Yes sir" she answered politely as she herself sat, almost falling to the floor as the pain medication caused her sense of balance to shift wildly.

Harrison pulled out a tape recorder, looked around, then slipped the pack of cigarettes that had come with it back into his jacket. Janet noticed the obvious courtesy. One he wouldn't give her if he was arresting her. "We've already talked with witness's, viewed the surveillance tapes. What we don't know is why you put your own life on the line. You were out gunned and outnumbered. Badly."

"I couldn't tell you" she admitted. "I don't even remember making the decision. After they shot Helen... I don't know. The next thing I remember is Yarnith pulling me away from the leader."

Harrison nodded. "I've heard that before. Hell Miss Hobson, I've done it myself. Is there anything you can remember that might help us understand why they were shooting everyone?"

Janet leaned back, trying to remember. "They shot Frank the instant they saw him. He hadn't even started to move. When the alarm went off they sort of winced, like it hurt them. Then they shot Helen. It was as if they believed that by doing it, it would stop the noise. But how could they know who tripped the alarm? It’s a common circuit. I don’t know.” She paused, fighting to push that image of Helen’s face exploding out of her mind. “They all seemed so frightened. Suddenly it seemed like they had no idea where they were, or what they were doing. That's all I really remember. I'm sorry."

Both men nodded in agreement, "That's what the staff shrink said too. A 'Classic Case of Combat Reaction' I think he put it. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you not to leave town, not until the case is over. But then, your Parole officer told us you'd not made any requests to leave since arriving. For now that's all the questions we have. There will be more you understand, later. For now... Thank you for your time." He shut the little machine off and stood.

"One favor please?" she asked.

"If I can" Harrison agreed.

"Will you get those damn reporters out of here. I don't want to talk to them. They've already destroyed Susan's rose garden. No matter what they think, this is private property and a child lives here."

He looked at his partner, then back to Janet. "We can get them off your property Miss Hobson, even make them pay for the damage. But their not leaving until they get a story. What if you just spoke to one. I'm sure they'd all leave then."

Janet thought it over. "All right, just one, only a few minutes." She pointed to her bottle of pain pills, "Warn them to hurry. I'm afraid I'll be a lot more loopy soon. I'd taken some just before you knocked."

Long minutes after the two men left there was another, lighter knock. Opening the door again Janet found herself staring into the face of the well known crime reporter Rebecca White. "I guess you couldn't dodge this job Miss White" Janet said dryly. "We do have a history, don't we? Come on in. Lets get this done so you can go wash the filth of my presence off."

Rebecca White entered without a word, even the following interview was almost as quiet as no sound at all. Rebecca had a list of thirty some questions the others had given her. She barely spoke, simply handing the papers to Janet and writing down her answers, or lack of them. "Hero?" Janet had managed a short lived laugh at that question. "I'm no hero. I'm a coward. Next question." Finally it was over. Rebecca had just stood to leave when Janet called her to a stop. "It's time Miss White. And this is the best place. Go ahead and get it over with."

Rebecca turned to study the taller woman before her. "I used to hate you, even after I learned why you did what you did, stealing to buy your family out of a third world prison. But it's hard to forget being mauled in public. Even if it’s the only way to save your own life. Only luck kept anyone but Bill from seeing what you did. You hurt me, badly. I’ve never been touched by a woman like that. But with some help I've gotten over it. What I want to know is, why did you settle for that cheap little bank job? It's probably barely making ends meet. I checked. You just finished your Doctorate in Journalism. With a minor in Archeology. You are a shoe in for any paper in town. Abraham would be delighted to have you."

Janet looked away. "Actually the job doesn't make ends meet, but it's the only career one my Parole officer had available. So I took a second job, with his permission." She stopped talking, running through her mind the next words she'd say. "Until today I was a night janitor at the Star. Those commodes you use? I was the one who cleaned them. But I was only a part time employee, there's no sick leave for part time, so since I can't be there tonight I've lost that job." She shook her head carefully. "No worry Miss White. I'll get another. There's lots of commodes in Los Angeles."

Rebecca sucked in her breath. "Your more intelligent than that. Why?"

Janet turned her back on the reporter. "I'm a criminal Miss White. You know the saying. Ones never an ex-criminal. Then too word gets around. True, no one but the ones that needed too saw what happened that night. Your reputation is safe at least. As far as I'm concerned it never happened. But enough rumors got out about me and Susan... No, I was very lucky to get that job at the bank. I only finished College because Susan asked me to." She turned back to face Rebecca, her hands held behind her. "Try showing love to another woman in public Miss White. One you love more than your own soul. Try just holding her hand, looking into her eyes, touching her cheek. Try kissing her when others can see, then find out how fast doors slam in your face. Now it's time you hit me Miss White. As hard as you can. At least once... Probably a couple dozen times."

When Susan came home she already knew about the robbery and Janet's wrist. But the battered face that greeted her was a shock. "My God Janet. No one said anything about this."

Janet touched her bruised lips to Susan's, barely feeling the contact. "No one knows. An old victim finally got her chance at revenge."

Susan sat the little boy down, shutting the front door behind her as he ran towards the stairs and his own toy filled room. "What did she do? Beat you with a baseball bat?"

Janet almost laughed, her voice giddy between the pain and drugs. "No Susan my love. No baseball bat. Just her fist, and only once, that I remember. But she hits like a prize fighter."

"Sit down, let me get a cold rag." Susan spotted the pain drugs. "At least you can't feel it."

"That is a plus dear love" Janet agreed somewhat drunkenly. "I'm not sure, but I think it did her a lot of good. I sort of passed out. When I woke up she was gone."

Susan returned from the kitchen with a damp cold rag. "And you stood there and just let her hit you."

"Yes.. OW. That stings."

"Idiot" Susan growled as she began cleaning the ignored cut.

When Janet woke the next day she could hear Susan downstairs, talking to someone. Crawling out of bed she dragged her worn robe on, pulling it tightly around her. Overnight the drugs had worn thin, not only her wrist but now her face ached. 'Next time I'll duck' she decided. Walking out the bedroom door she started slowly down the stairs.

"I'm certain your right Mr. Rhone. But Janet already has a job" Susan was saying. "Between us we are quite comfortable." Janet walked into a strange tableau. Susan was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee, talking to the Star’s sports reporter Bill Rhone and Rebecca White. Absently Janet noted Rebecca's right hand was heavily bandaged. At the same time Bill Rhone took in the yellow-green bruises on Janet's beautiful face, glanced at his wifes wounded hand, and somehow managed to keep his mouth shut.

"Susan" Janet asked softly. "Why are these people in our house? You know I asked reporters to stay away."

Susan looked up, noted Janet's strained expression and stood. "Sit down. I'll get you a glass of water and your medicine." Janet started to object but Susan had already vanished into the living room.

"She truly loves you" Bill stated flatly. "A lot of people spend their lives reaching for the unattainable. Only a lucky few find true love."

Janet blinked, the rooms ancient lights were suddenly too bright. "I guess so... going after the District Attorney really was a bit of a stretch" she admitted. "I mean, how could I expect him to love me? I was a criminal. No. Your quite right Mr. Rhone. Susan taught me that the best course in life is to take what you have, then treasure it. Dreams are for when your sleeping."

"Your son is very handsome, who's the boys father" Rebecca asked bluntly.

"Mighty Joe Young. He is a rather muscle bound fighter, but after Karl said no I sort of went ape over him, for a while."

"Very funny" Rebecca snapped. "I watch old movies too. Isn't he at least helping support you?"

Janet smiled ever so slightly, "He doesn't even suspect" Janet replied. "And he never will. So now you know all you'll ever need to know. Don't you Miss White." Though her brain was fogged, her lips shattered, Janet’s voice held the edge of a killing blade in it.

"That's enough" Bill interrupted, cutting short the impending battle just before Susan returned. They waited while Janet took her medication, then Susan sat down close beside her.

"They came with a job offer my love. Trainee Reporter for the Star. It's what you studied so long for."

"Yes" Janet admitted, "I did didn't I? But my Parole Officer would have to okay it and he won't. It's not a listed job. There are others on the waiting list better suited. I have to be a good girl from now on, wait my turn. Anyway, it might put me in contact with other criminals. You know the rules Susan. All I have to do is say hello to Benny the Snitch or a gang banger and it's back inside for the next eighteen years, with no chance of parole." She looked up at the two reporters, "I really do thank you for the offer, but I have to follow the rules. As I finally discovered, no one is above the law. I want to watch my son grow up in person. Not through rare photographs tacked to the wall of my cell."

"I understand" Rhone acceded, "But Abraham is very impressed with your school work. He said that your PHd defense was brilliant. I'm certain something can be arranged."

"Go away" Janet ordered, suddenly tired and now very bored with the whole argument. With the whole world. "I've already ruined my chance and to be truthful, I really can't seem to care any more."

Susan looked into Janet's eyes, her shoulders slumped at what she saw. "I'll see you to the door" she told the two. "I'm afraid she's just not in any condition to be convinced." She walked the two reporters to the front door, shaking Rhone's hand. "Thank you for the offer but I know her too well. Your really are wasting your time." She turned to Rebecca White, firmly grasping the woman's injured hand. Rebecca gasped in pain as Susan compressed her cracked bones, sending lances of pain up the reporters arm. "And if you ever touch her again Miss White... I'll break your back" she hissed just loud enough for both reporters to hear. “Very slowly.”

Janet sat quietly, letting the drugs soft fog gently drift over her. Susan's scent slowly filled her senses, the soft feel of her skin cut through the drug induced fog like a knife. "You were wrong to say no" Susan told her.

"I know" Janet admitted. "But I couldn't work with them. Not after what I did to Rebecca. Bill must hate me even if she doesn't. She is his wife, remember?"

Susan snuggled down, carefully pressing herself against her wounded love. John would wake soon, short moments like this was all they had right now. Susan had learned to grab each precious moment as it came. "Tell me. Just what did you do to that Ice Queen anyway?"

 A short time later Susan's gentle laughter could be heard through the ancient mansion's rooms.

Janet had been asleep for several hours when a soft knock came to the front door. Susan woke from the chair she'd fallen asleep in, dropped her ever present book and ran on stocking feet. A quick peek out into the dusk told her all was well. When she opened the door her sister Elizabeth leapt into her arms. After a quick hug the younger woman dropped to the floor. "Trains are very cold" she whispered as she looked behind her. "Help me get my bags in, then catch me up on everything while I change like we planed" she whispered. Like two schoolgirls the two slipped silently around the house. Blissfully unaware of the late evening newcomer, Janet Hobson rested in her drug induced sleep.

 “I’m still welcome right?” Elizabeth asked while Susan worked multi-colored ribbons into her hair. ““The downstairs bedroom? I’ve no place else really, and you two are the best choice I’ve got.”

“Your welcome to live with us forever Elizabeth” Susan answered. “You’re my little sister after all. After what you did that night to save Janet, and all your help after. There will always be a place for you in our home.” She had just settled the last ribbon in place when there was a second knock, this time on the back door. "I'll see" Susan hissed, "Probably another dumb reporter wanting an exclusive. I’ll just kick his teeth in."

Elizabeth nodded in agreement, taking the time to pull something from one of her bags. "I'll back you up" she replied, gaily colored ribbons flickering in the light.

Susan stared at the be-ribboned woman, now holding a police style revolver. Probably one of their brothers collection. "You have got to be kidding" she giggled. "Well, maybe the shock value will help." They slipped to the old buildings rear.

A black and silver costume told Susan she wasn't going to find a reporter. Opening the door she found herself facing the alien creature known only as Yarnith, his silver eyes impassive. "Come to break her other hand?" she asked caustically. "Or her neck? You'll have to do me first."

Yarnith shook his head. "I saw your sister arrive, so I knew you'd be up Susan. It's Susan Hobson now isn't it."

"So what?" she answered. "Your going to dump Child Protective Services on us? Two lesbian's raising a little boy? My, what a social outrage." Her voice was getting harder, he could tell she wasn't acting. He could also tell she was near some edge she shouldn't be. "Elizabeth? Nice outfit."

Elizabeth blushed, then got hold of herself, pointedly cocking her firearm. "If you think you can get through sis your in for a surprise. Even if you do, you'll have to deal with me. And I’ll be mad by then. Real mad."

Yarnith just smiled. Though no Earthling suspected, he was an immortal, a godling. He had survived weapons that could melt cities and worse. That two mortal women thought they could stop him. The idea amused him. It felt strangely good that someone who wasn’t a criminal would stand up against him like this, knowing that they hadn't a snowball’s chance in the suns core of hurting him.

"I came to apologize Mrs. Hobson" He looked past her "Elizabeth. I need to explain. Were you aware three of the robbers are almost dead of their injuries. Another two crippled for life? Your dear delicate wife was about to kill the leader. It would have gotten her the gas chamber with her record. In the least she’d be in jail now for life, without parole. I couldn't let her do that Susan, Elizabeth. And yes I've been keeping an eye on her. On both of you. Not because I don't trust you. A certain person in San Francisco is very interested in her life. He's also a very good friend of mine.” He looked behind himself for a moment. “May I come in please? This isn't the safest neighborhood in town. I wouldn’t want to be mugged out here." He looked at the two women. "I think that's about to change though."

"Let him in sis" Elizabeth decided. "I'll get my recorder. He's like a cockroach. If you don't deal with him now he'll never go away." She vanished while Susan led the way to their small kitchen.

"You mind not walking like a ghost?" she asked. "Make a little sound at least. This silence gives me the shivers."

Yarnith smiled, allowing some of his true weight onto the floor. Thick ancient boards creaked. "All my weight?" he asked with a gentle smile.

Susan studied the aged floor. She knew the understructure was weak, centuries of time and generations of neglect had taken their toll. "I'm learning to be a fair carpenter Mr. Yarnith" she answered. "But I don't need the extra work."

He smiled again and the floor lifted as Elizabeth hurried in. "We'll have to redo some of the ribbons" she was saying as she slipped into a chair, a recorder in her hand. "I accidently ran my hand through my hair. Now lets hear your story, oh great and mighty woman beater."

Yarnith frowned. "It was an accident Elizabeth, or should I say Dark Princess? I rushed, I forgot she'd given back her gifts. I over stressed her bones."

"Princess is dead, didn't you hear?" Elizabeth asked. "Double Talk tossed her into a tree shredder three years ago. Then Bushes fell in after her. It seems she got caught up in Princess's cape. Who would have thought? It's all old news. Even the DNA and organic weight tests showed they both died. And now Double Talk's gone catatonic without Bushes calming influence. It seems he really did love her after all."

Yarnith blinked in surprise. "I'd love to hear how you managed that one" he stated calmly.

"Send in the clones" Susan whispered. "Bushes... No one knew she gave a damn about anyone but Double Talk. How could they? It was an accident, changing the past. You could do that, but don't. You can't change the past without destroying the present. She really did die. Let her sleep in peace."

Yarnith studied Susan silently. "Your more than you let people know" he observed. "Mind if I ask you something? When is Janet going to tell Karl that he has a son?"

Susan pushed back on her chair. "Probably when she's tired of living and wants to take John, and us with her. You know why she's never said a thing. Why we're scraping out a living in a rotting old mansion, in the middle of one of Los Angeles's worst neighborhoods. Sure, there were a couple dozen break ins the first months after we moved here. They leave us alone now. But how much of a defense do you think even the three of us could put up, if certain international criminal elements discovered the truth. No Yarnith. John's father of record is a sperm bank donation. That's the way it is, that's the only way he can have a semi-decent life. The great District Attorney Karl Gable will have to look elsewhere for a heir. John's going to have a normal life."

"Even living with three women, two of them lesbians" Elizabeth added. "Who are going to have children of their own, all the same way." She grinned, staring at Susan. "Three months ago" she giggled, patting her own stomach. "Oh God Susan, after meeting John so many times I just couldn't wait to have my own. And I’m not ready to get married. Not yet at least." She made batting eyes towards Yarnith, giggling like a schoolgirl. “I could be convinced though.”

Yarnith found himself smiling again. "Look" he said. "There's nothing I can do about Janet's wrist unless she lets me, and she's already told me to.. I quote; 'Dry up and blow away.' But I will have a talk with the courts. Sometimes, not always, but sometimes, they listen to me. You do what Susan? Secretarial work at a local Law firm? You’re an accountant as I recall. I know a few honest people who'd die for a trustworthy accountant. Especially after they hear she threatened to break one Rebecca White into two pieces. Rebecca's a good reporter, but she's rubbed more than a few of the more honest businessmen the wrong way, back when she wrote the Business column. Your Janet will make a fine reporter. Yes, I read her work last night. All of it. As far as I know there are no criminal elements she would have to ‘talk with’ in the Sciences. Still... Elizabeth. What are your plans?"

"Garbage collector" Elizabeth answered bluntly. "My degree is in Chemistry, you probably know that. With a minor in Biology. I plan to apply for forensic work with the local police."

"Good choice" Yarnith agreed. "Listen, Janet's starting to wake up so I better hurry. I'll talk to some people today. It is today by the way. No promises. I may be Yarnith, but I'm only one person of thousands in these peoples lives. The three of you are a hell of a team, that your family... Honestly, I'm proud to have met you. I can't think of a better family for children to be raised in." He moved towards the back door. "Bill Rhone ask me to say he's not angry with Janet, its an open secret we’re friends. In fact he’s rather appreciative that Janet bothered to try and protect his wife. We both know why and we're amazed she had the guts to do something like that in public. Rebecca? I think she's over it now. That blow yesterday... Bill tells me she was in shock while they were at the hospital. She just kept saying 'She just stood there and took it.' I think that is a bit of history now too." He smiled brightly this time. "Next time, try tacky ribbons Elizabeth, or a larger swimsuit. They don't slip when you walk. Now, if you'd let me out the back door?"

Janet woke to a strange yet somehow familiar scent. She fought her way out of her drug induced sleep to find herself staring at a well known red-head, dozen’s of curly ribbons cascading from her hair like a child’s doll. "She followed me home mommy" Susan whispered in a childlike voice from beside Janet’s head. "Can I keep her?”