Participants:
| Scene Title | Men |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Whatever was between Len and Jet goes up in flames. |
| Date | November 15, 2009 |
It's night. The night after her and Adam went and found her a new body, compliments of St. Luke's hospital. It's been on the news, Jet's old face flashed here and there as the body she left has no memories, none. Temporarily displaced due to Jet's possession. And now, it's time for her to move on. Len has been doing whatever and she hasn't heard from him. That is why there is a full travel jug of gasoline sitting on the kitchen table while the now blonde female is stuffing what items of personal effect she had in a duffel bag. He said it was a model home afterall, it won't be missed, right?
Perhaps there's a little nip at the back of Len's mind, but something within urges him to give Juliet a call to make sure things are alright. Tracking killers and running shop does take a lot of time, as well as starting a new relationship. He hasn't had much time to check in on her, though he's certain she can handle herself. She does know how to contact him if she has any problems. However, past conversations between the two have been awkward at best, perhaps partly due to Juliet's possession of Len. Regardless, as he sits in his office at Fort Hero, he picks up his cell phone and dials his home.
Jet is in the kitchen when the phone rings, pulling a butcher knife from the block as she inspects it, turning it this way and that. It's once she puts the blade in the duffel bag that the phone rings, her light blue eyes turning to her cell for a moment before picking it up. A check of the display, a sigh from her as she answers it with a breathless tone, a unknown female voice to him. "Hello Len."
Len has known Juliet through at least a couple of different bodies, so when a stranger seemingly answers his phone it doesn't shock him too much. "Juliet." He leans back in his chair and pulls up the browser on his computer. "Been busy, I see." He hasn't yet read the news report, though it's not entirely one of those things that would cause him to immediately think of her. However, if he reads it later, perhaps it will. "How's the house? Everything in order? I can swing by tomorrow if anything is in need of repair. I'm trying to be a good landlord, even if you aren't paying me any rent."
"I'm burning your house down in…" a glance to the kitchen clock then to her bag. "About twenty minutes." This is said in a very nonchalant voice as she cradles the phone against her shoulder as she moves into the bedroom, pulling open the drawers in search of whatever is valuable and his. "I'm sure the Company has insurance."
That gives Len a moments pause before he responds. "And you'd do that why? Your way of saying thanks for giving you some place to stay? For not tranqing you and bringing you into the Company? You can just send flowers. Might be more appropriate." The last thing Len needs is a fire at his safehouse, potentionally putting the other houses in the area at risk. "If you want to leave, then just leave. There's no reason to burn the place down. I gave you a pass when you possessed me. And you told me you were no killer, but setting that house on fire could spread to other homes. You kill someone and all bets are off. You want to leave, just go."
A laugh from her at this, "A place to stay? I have two other homes Len. I was here… for you. But it seems that it was in vain. I stayed here so I could see you. I haven't seen you. At all. You haven't even followed through with my parents. Yes, I know, you're tracking a killer, but goddamnit Len, the world moves on. And so do I. I have my own body now, and I'm going to start a -real- life. With love, and wanting." Fingers unscrew the gasoline cap as she speaks, "I don't want my essence here."
"You don't want my attention. Not like this. I told you from the start that my life was filled with complications." He's already out of his chair and grabbing his jacket as he heads towards his weekend receptionist, handing her a note to call 911 and have emergency services sent to his place. "Is this really what you want?" After he leaves the note and the receptionist is on the phone, he's out the door heading towards his Jeep. "Juliet, just walk away."
A brimming of tears on her part though they are blinked away, "No. It's not really what I want. you, Len Denton, are a fool for not seeing what I wanted." Moving over to the stove now she pulls out a baking sheet, complete with edges as it's moved to the table to be placed in the center of it and filled with gasoline that she takes care not to splash. "Or if you saw, you suck for not… doing something."
"What do you want me to say, Jules? Obviously you have no clue what I go through on a daily basis. I don't have time to try and figure out what people want. If that makes me a bad person, then so be it. I'm a bad person. The fact that I'm divorced might say alot about my track record with women. You do what you have to do, Jules. Whatever help I may have been able to offer, I'm assuming you no longer need that help. I have already put out some feelers on that information, but haven't received anything back. Combine that with the fact that there's a killer out there that needs my attention in the worst possible way, and you see how things are for me. I had no clue you had other places to stay, which is why I offered mine in the first place. Just remember, you took the first shot when you took it upon yourself to possess me. Yet, I'm supposed to warm up to you? You have something you need me to know, then you need to tell me. Stop thinking I'm going to guess. If it'll make you feel better to burn down my house, then burn down my house. But whatever bridges you had with me will be burned along with the house." Len is pulling out of the parking lot and headed into the city. He's not going to make it in time to stop her from doing what she's going to do, but emergency services should be on their way. "I've already called 911. I suggest you get out of there."
"It was just a job Len, and I didn't even hurt you. God, you can't even get past that. I've tried to make it up to you, but…" A grunt from her at this as she strikes a match then tosses it into the metal pan. There is a WOOSH of fire but then it dies down. And now Len has a 8x11 cooking pan on fire, and that's it, the gasoline fuel burning inside on the pan and that's it. "I want to see a therapist," she simply states. "Screw 911, this is my home, I'll send them away." The diamond ring on her wedding ringer is worked off now, held above the flames before it's dropped down into the gasoline.
"Don't worry. They'll know who's home it is." If he can hear the flame over the phone he doesn't let on. He turns off the freeway, but at this point the sirens can be heard getting closer to the house. "To you it was a job. To me, it was personal. And I let it slide. A thank you card would have been just fine." This is more like a 'fuck you' card. "You need to be gone when I show up, Juliet. Get out." He's done feeling sorry for her. He hangs up the phone and continues to drive. He'll arrive in the next half an hour. Whether or not he arrives to a house aflame or not, will depend entirely on her.
Jet looks at the phone he just hung up on her and there is a rapid blinking of her eyes. Looking at the pan on fire she turns from it and moves to the cupboard. Flour is grabbed, opened, then poured on the fire to smother it. Then pot lids follow suit. Only and only then when it's smothered does she pick up the congealed matter and goes into the bathroom. It's dropped into the tub with a hard clatter as water is turned on and it's all washed down. She's mumbling as she works, at times slipping into French and then Japanese as the gasoline is dumped down the drain as well. The sirens do get louder, the ring being saved by the grating over the drain which she wipes off and slips it back over her finger. Her duffel bag picked up she leaves the home, but she does not go far. No. She simply goes across the street to the neighboor, and sits cross-legged up in his yard, watching.
The firetrucks and ambulances arrive long before Len does. When his Jeep finally pulls into the driveway, they've already searched for fire. There was a fire, but it was put out when they arrived. Nothing, as far as they can tell, has been burned, except a cookie sheet that was found in the bathtub. Len thanks them for coming as he walks up the steps to the place he never really calls home. As he stands on the porch, it's then he turns around, perhaps sensing she's watching him, from somewhere. He has a feeling he hasn't seen the last of her.
As Len said, always there but never around, or was it never around but always there? Either one could be applied to Len. And there in the shadows of the neighboors yard sits a young woman, blond hair, normal clothes, a small duffel bag by her side. He can probably see part of her, and she's watching all of him. A hard swallow from Jet as she turns the ring around and around on her finger, just watching the proceedings. She looks almost lost, perhaps she is. No doubt waiting for the action to be over before she vacates.
Whatever sense of loss that she's feeling, it's not felt in the least by Len. He's angry. Angry that she put him in this position. Tomorrow, the house will go up for sale. He'll find a new place. She's playing games with him in a time when he has no time to be playing games. If he sees her, and he does, he doesn't so much as nod his head in her direction. He turns and steps into the house, closing the door behind him. He'll call a locksmith later, but for tonight, he'll be staying here.
Juliet has all the time in the world. One of her problems. Time with no direction. Watching Len go into the home she just sits there for a very long time, throat workings, keeping her emotions in check. "It's better this way," she speaks idly to herself, finally pushing herself up from the grass yard and brushing off the grass. "Can't even see, don't even know." Slinging the bag over her shoulder she shifty foots for a very long time, as if debating whether or not to approach him. It's like she's torn. One half shoving him away, the other half not letting go. With a hard grunt she removed her duffel bag and -slams- it into the grass, and with a huff the possessor plops down on the grass once more. She's keeping watch over him tonight, it seems the not letting go part winning as she keeps a watchful eye on the Compant Agent. She does care for him, but only she apparently can see that. Men.