Breaking Chains, Part 2

Breaking Chains

Part 2

by Rooks

Disclaimers and warnings: See Part 1.

Chapter 3

Faith woke to the ringing of the phone on the nightstand. Gabrielle must have reached out to her in her sleep because her hands were tangled in Faith’s hair. Gabrielle opened her eyes sleepily as Faith pulled away and the phone rang again.

"Hello?" Faith wiped her eyes. God, what time was it? She never slept in.

"Ms Dickinson?" It was a male voice on the other end. His voice was gruff.

"Yes. Who is this."

"I’m calling about the...ah...woman you found. It’s my girlfriend, Katelin."

Faith felt an unexpected explosion of anguish go off in her stomach. She hadn’t expected Gabrielle’s family to find her so soon.

"Ms Dickinson?"

Her paranoia snapped on. "Your girlfriend?" she demanded suspiciously. "What’s her last name?"

"Baker," he answered immediately.

"Is that right?" Faith drawled. She thought for a moment. "She was found wearing a silver chain. Can you tell me what’s on the end of it?"

"Look, I don’t have to answer these bullshit questions, just let me..."

"Hey, I don’t have to let you do anything buddy," Faith said, "tell me what’s on her necklace!"

"It’s a silver cross?" he said.

"Nice try," Faith said, rolling her eyes. She hung up and turned to Gabrielle, who was sitting up in bed and looking shy. "This might take longer than I thought. I should have realized that the entire male population of LA would be calling here. Damn. Why didn’t I realize? You’re so pretty..." she stopped.

Talking to Gabrielle, it was too easy to just start speaking her thoughts, Faith realized. She rose.

"I’ll make some coffee," she mumbled, leaving the room so Gabrielle could get dressed. Just as she shut the door, the phone rang again.

"Shit," Faith cursed. It was going to be a long day fencing with Gabrielle’s would-be suitors.

But she smiled a bit as she walked to the kitchen phone, still feeling Gabrielle’s arms wrapped around her.

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Faith hung up for the eleventh time that morning and let out an exasperated sigh.

"This is getting pretty old," she commented to Gabrielle, who was sipping another mug of coffee. She had her legs pulled up under her on the couch and was wearing one of Faith’s old LAPD sweatshirts. She yawned.

"You tired?" Faith asked, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Hello?" an aged voice called, the door creaking open.

"Yes? Can I do something for you?" Faith asked, rising.

An elderly woman of about sixty entered the room. "Actually, I think there’s something I can do for you," she said pleasantly. She wore a long, flowery skirt and a frilly bodice, with a red shawl. Her dull brown hair was tied back in a bun, and she wore two appalling costume earrings. Faith thought she looked a bit like a gypsy. Only without all the makeup.

"Ms Dickinson?" she inquired, looking at a copy of the article in her hand. Her voice was leathery, but kind. Her eyes were friendly. "I’m Beth Joyce."

"What can I do for you Ms. Joyce?" Faith asked. She was actually kind of relieved. This was the first woman who had spoken to her all morning. "Are you supposed to be her grandmother?"

Ms. Joyce looked down at Gabrielle and smiled. "No I’m not her grandmother. I’m no relation whatsoever actually. But I saw your... article in the ah, Times this morning and since I wasn’t too far away, thought I might drop in to pay you a visit." She sat down on the couch next to Gabrielle and said, "I think I can help you."

Gabrielle blinked sleepily and looked up at Faith. Faith shrugged. "How can you help?"

"I see cases like this all the time. I’m a hypnotist."

"A hypnotist?" Faith asked doubtfully, "Uh, no offense, but I don’t go in for that sort of thing."

Ms. Joyce shrugged. "Well, let’s ask her then, shall we?" She looked at Gabrielle, "I promise dear, it will help you get your memory back. There’s really nothing too strange about it at all. When someone experiences something awful, they want to forget it completely. But the human brain is a tricky thing, and it goes and forgets everything else as well. All we have to do, is regress you back to a happier time, and then ask you who you are."

Gabrielle looked up at Faith hopefully.

"Look, I don’t have the money for this sort of thing..." Faith hedged.

"Nonsense. We’ll deal with her family when we find them. I’m sure there will be some sort of reward for my services."

Ahhh. Faith nodded in understanding. "I see your angle now."

"Is it really so hard to believe that I simply want to help the girl?" Ms. Joyce asked with a wry grin.

"In this day and age? Sure."

"You’re a wise woman, Ms Dickinson," Ms. Joyce said. "Come. Let’s have a seat at the kitchen table."

Faith remained doubtful, and glanced at Gabrielle. The blonde still looked up for her approval.

Well, what was the worst that could happen? "All right," Faith said. "How does this work?"

Ms. Joyce had taken a small white stone and a piece of black felt out of her pocket and laid them, one on top of the other, on the table.

"Now this isn’t magical or anything my dear," she winked as Gabrielle sat in the chair across from her. "It’s just to give you something to focus on. It will help you ignore any distractions in the room. I want you to focus on that stone. Stare at it in fact..."

Faith noticed that Ms. Joyce’s voice had taken on a very gentle, very monotone quality, that she found quite boring to listen to. Perhaps that was the point. Faith wasn’t convinced.

"Now, I want you to imagine yourself slipping slowly into a very warm swimming pool. And as the water covers you, I want that part of you to become totally relaxed. First your feet. Then your ankles. So relaxed that you can barely feel them yourself. Your muscles are loosening. Now your calves..."

Faith leaned up against the back of the couch and listened to this bizarre swimming ritual. After about five or ten minutes, Faith found herself getting tired of the whole process. But Ms. Joyce had hardly stopped speaking the entire time. And Gabrielle’s eyes had closed. Faith smiled, wondering if the blonde had fallen asleep.

But then Ms. Joyce nodded at her, and Faith looked at Gabrielle in alarm. The blonde’s eyes were closed. She was very still. Was that it?

"Now," Ms. Joyce said gently, "I want you to think back, to the happiest time in your life. Think back, to before all this happened..."

Gabrielle suddenly screamed. "Oh God Please No!!". Both Faith and Ms. Joyce jumped in surprise. Gabrielle’s eyes flew open, and she gasped for breath.

Faith was at her side. She probed Gabrielle’s face with her eyes. "Are you all right? Gabrielle?" She spun on the hypnotist. "What the fuck did you do to her!?"

Ms. Joyce sputtered, "I...I didn’t do anything. It was her. She was remembering..."

"The hell she was!" Faith cried, "she was fine until you started..."

"F-Faith?" Gabrielle said in a small voice.

Faith’s yell died in her throat. She turned to stare at Gabrielle, open mouthed.

"Oh my, you certainly can speak, can’t you?" Ms. Joyce said in awe.

"Gabrielle!" Faith cried in delight, then realizing... "do you know your real name? Anything? Why did you scream?"

"I don’t think her memory has returned just yet Ms Dickinson," said Ms. Joyce. "She wasn’t under long enough for me to get anywhere."

This was confirmed by Gabrielle shaking her head no.

"How do you feel?" Faith asked. Her hand had found Gabrielle’s and curled around it.

"A bit better," Gabrielle said hesitantly, and then smiled at Ms. Joyce. "Thank you."

"Not at all my dear." Ms. Joyce gave her a bright smile. She stood up, "but I’m afraid I have an appointment I have to attend."

Faith rose to face the hypnotist.

"If you like you can come by my store this afternoon," Ms. Joyce said, digging around in her purse. "We can have another go. Hopefully get a bit deeper. Maybe get her memory back completely." She finally handed Faith a card.

"’Surrender Dorothy’?" Faith read.

"Yes, it’s a little used clothing store on Carlin street I keep with my mother."

"Your mother?" Faith blurted. "What is she, a hundred years old?"

Gabrielle covered her mouth with her hand to hold back a chuckle. Faith looked at her. The sound of her laughter made Faith’s heart dance lightly in her chest.

Ms. Joyce ignored the comment, and only smiled. "I’ll see you this afternoon?"

"Oh yes, thank you," Gabrielle smiled.

"Wonderful. Don’t worry, I can let myself out." The door creaked shut behind her.

Faith found herself alone in the apartment with Gabrielle. A Gabrielle who could talk. Suddenly, she felt awkward again.

"So how does this work? Do we have to introduce ourselves or something?" Gabrielle asked, smiling.

"Um... I... I..."

"You don’t talk much, do you?"

Faith’s lips quirked. "Look who’s talking."

"It’s good to finally be able to use my voice," Gabrielle agreed. "You don’t know how frustrating it is not to."

Faith nodded, Gabrielle’s candor putting her more at ease. Gabrielle’s voice was warm and happy, and contained a gentleness that Faith decided she really liked.

"I can’t imagine what it must have been like." She took a step closer and crouched in front of where Gabrielle was sitting. "Are you sure you can’t remember anything?"

"No. Nothing. It’s the strangest feeling. I can’t even think of my...my parents. Or what I do..." She shivered.

"Hey..." Faith took her hand again. "It’s ok. You’ll remember everything soon. I’m sure. If a few minutes can get you talking again, maybe a few hours will help even more."

"I hope so," Gabrielle folded her fingers around Faith’s palm. "Faith...um... thank you," she said quietly. "For helping me, for letting me stay here. And for...the dream. For staying with me last night."

"It sounded like a terrible nightmare." Faith said, concerned.

"I can’t remember what it was about," Gabrielle said. "Only that it was terrifying."

Faith was quiet. Gabrielle silently caressed the back of Faith’s hand with her thumb. Faith’s heart fluttered. Her eyes lingered on Gabrielle’s lower lip.

"Um..." she cleared her throat and rose, uncomfortably. "Ah..."

"Yes?" Gabrielle asked playfully.

"Uh...do you um, want to go out to get some lunch?" Faith asked. "We have some time before the next hypnotizing...thingy..."

"I’d love to," Gabrielle said. "And maybe on the way we can get me some new clothes? I’m afraid yours are all a bit too big for me."

"Oh sure," Faith agreed. She could put up with a bit of shopping. It was only a few hours. She grabbed her jacket, and a sweater for Gabrielle. "I know a nice little Italian place on the corner of Third and Fairfax we can go."

Gabrielle slipped the sweater over her head. "Is it a place you go to all the time? Or just a place you take women who want to get laid?"

Faith’s mouth hung open. Then she blushed furiously. This time she was too stunned to even stammer.

"Hey, I’m just teasing." Gabrielle smiled, and squeezed Faith’s arm. "You’re cute when you’re embarrassed."

Faith watched dumbly as Gabrielle sauntered past her and out the door.

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"Delicious," Gabrielle decided, after a forkful of pasta. "You were right Faith. This food is great."

Faith was pleased. Gabrielle seemed to be very happy, despite the obvious and frightening fact that she couldn’t remember anything about her life. She marveled at the young woman’s ability to be cheerful, despite everything.

Gabrielle was now dressed in faded, stone-washed jeans, and a clingy, red cotton top that accentuated her soft curves perfectly. Faith couldn’t take her eyes off her.

"So, you still haven’t told me exactly what it is that you do, Faith."

Her work, she could talk about. "I’m a P.I." Faith said, sipping her wine. "I find people."

"That’s it?" Gabrielle asked with interest.

"Yup. There’s a lot of that in this city. People go missing all the time. I help their families find them. Or sometimes it’s someone who’s lost their family, like you."

"What about your own family?"

"I don’t really have one. I grew up at St. Sebastian’s. My parents died when I was three."

"I’m sorry to hear that."

"It’s all right. It was a long time ago."

Gabrielle took another bite of her food and said, "So you work all day at solving other people’s problems, and you live all by yourself in that little apartment."

Faith shifted in her seat. This was turning a bit more personal than she had wanted. "Um. Yeah. That about sums me up," she said stiffly.

Gabrielle smiled sympathetically. "I’m sorry Faith. I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. And I know I’ve only known you for twenty-four hours, but I think there’s a lot more to you than just that."

Faith was touched. "I... I meant to...um... apologize for the way Simon acted yesterday. I don’t think he realized you could hear him. He was born with his foot in his mouth, you know?"

"Don’t worry. I know."

Faith was quiet for a while.

"It’s not entirely wrong...uh... what he said. I did used to bring women...back to my place. But I haven’t done that for a long time."

"Why not?"

"I don’t know," Faith said softly. "It was never...never the same person twice you know?" Faith stared at her hands. "Anyway...I uh, don’t really know why I told you that. Just forget it. I think you’re getting the wrong impression of what I’m like."

Gabrielle reached across the table and took Faith’s hand. "I don’t think so."

Faith’s heart started hammering. She smiled quietly, "I guess I can’t ask you about your life, can I?"

"I’d tell it to you if I could remember it," Gabrielle said.

"Can you tell me anything about the dreams?" Faith asked.

Gabrielle’s eyes cleared. "Someone is...is trying to get me I think. Sometimes I think I see real things, and other times just images. It always seems so real, but I can never remember. It’s like bits of my own life, and bits of someone else’s." She shook her head. "That must sound crazy to you."

"It’s strange," Faith agreed. "I wouldn’t put too much stock in the actual dreams though. We need to focus on why you’re having them. The dreams probably don’t have much to do with what happened to cause you to lose your memory."

"I don’t know," Gabrielle said absently. "I think there’s more to it than that. I don’t know why...it’s just a feeling I have." She leaned closer, giving the impression that she was entrusting Faith with a precious secret, "I feel as though I’m running down a corridor, and I can’t go left or right, only straight ahead. I don’t know if it’s good or bad...only that it’s happening. Like something’s going to happen that I can’t change."

Faith arched an eyebrow. "I was never one for metaphors. If this hypnosis stuff works, I’ll be happy enough. Which reminds me, we should get going."

Gabrielle gulped the rest of her wine and Faith called for the check.

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‘Surrender Dorothy’ turned out to be a pretty eccentric store. Piles of old clothes dating back to the fifties were piled in shelves and hung on hangers. There were costumes and bell bottoms. It was a rainbow of coloured cloth. The entire place smelled of dust and mothballs.

Ms. Joyce closed up the store and led them into a back room through a doorway covered with hanging drapes. In back there was a small table and two chairs. It was, apparently, where Ms. Joyce held all her hypnosis sessions.

"All right," Ms. Joyce said, once Gabrielle was seated across from her. "Let’s begin. Mother is reading upstairs. I’ve told her we’re having a session down here, so there shouldn’t be any distractions. Now then. I think, since this is our first real session, that we’ll only go for an hour or so, hmm?"

Faith sat cross legged on a trunk against a back wall, determined to listen to whatever Gabrielle had to say. With her trained investigator’s ear, she hoped to glean some clue as to where the woman’s family or friends might be found.

Ms. Joyce began, "I want you to stare at the stone on the table again, and imagine yourself slipping into water. As the water covers each inch of your body, you will become more and more relaxed..."

Faith waited, and purposefully kept herself alert, while Ms. Joyce soothed Gabrielle into hypnosis with her voice. Faith watched Gabrielle's eyes slowly droop shut.

"Now, Gabrielle, since you became rather excited this morning," Ms. Joyce said, "I want you to distance yourself from anything you might see or hear. You are not an active participant, do you understand? Just an observer. Now...think back. What is the happiest time you can remember?"

Sound emerged from Gabrielle’s throat. It sounded like deep sleep-talking. "The day... the day we first met..." she said in an anxious moan.

"Easy..." Ms. Joyce soothed. "Distance yourself. You are only an observer here."

"The day... Josephina and Blythe first met..."

"Blythe who?"

"Blythe...Dawson..."

Ms. Joyce looked at Faith. Faith shrugged. She had no idea who that was.

Ms. Joyce coughed a bit, then took a sip of water. "All right. Tell me about the day Josephina and Blythe first met. How long ago is this? What year is it?"

"...it’s...nineteen forty-nine..."

Faith’s eyebrows shot up. "Ok...all right. That’s enough."

Ms. Joyce looked sternly at Faith. "Ms Dickinson! Please be quiet." She whispered sternly.

"Excuse me? She just said the year is nineteen forty-nine, and you want me to be quiet? Snap her out of it."

"Ms Dickinson, she is perfectly alright, I assure you."

"How do you explain this then?"

"Sometimes hypnosis can take people back, not just into their past, but also into their past lives."

Faith ducked her head. "Are you kidding me?"

"...the production was...The Merchant of Venice...that night..." Gabrielle said.

"You see? I’m not telling her to say anything," Ms. Joyce whispered. "She’s in her own world right now."

"You expect me to just believe this?" Faith hissed.

"It really doesn’t matter what you believe, Ms Dickinson," Ms. Joyce said. "I suggest we take her through this and see what happens."

Faith looked at Gabrielle with nervous concern, but she seemed to be all right. And the hypnosis had helped her to get her voice back, and that had been after a fright.

"She was so beautiful..." Gabrielle said, smiling, eyes closed.

Faith sighed, and nodded at Ms. Joyce. Then sat back, and listened.

Chapter 4

It was the grandest production of The Merchant of Venice Los Angeles had seen in years. Blythe Dawson’s performance as Portia was nothing short of stellar, and in the end she received a standing ovation.

At the party afterwards, Blythe was the center of attention. Everyone wanted to have a moment with the prima donna, who was dazzling with her shining sea-blue eyes, cascading golden hair and her emerald-coloured, satin gown. Blythe was lively with everyone. Her passion for her acting clearly showed. She talked and talked about her strong female character, and of the new characters that she wanted to play. Older men, the hoity-toity mostly, began grumbling when Blythe started on about women’s rights and the injustices that had occurred in women’s employment after the war. But the young actress flaunted social conventions, and stubbornly argued the men into corners. Despite all that, her natural charm in a social setting prevented anyone from holding a grudge against her for long.

One of the costume designers for the theater was a woman named Linda, a single mother of about thirty. She had brought a friend of hers to the party that night; the woman who lived next door to her in her apartment building. Linda’s friend was very tall, with impossibly black hair that fell straight down her broad back. Her bright blue eyes took in everything in the room. A black, silk dress hung over her curving figure, setting everyone’s imaginations fluttering.

Blythe’s eye was attracted to the stranger the moment she entered the room. She noticed how the men shied away from her, despite her porcelain beauty. Everyone seemed slightly intimidated by her stature, and bright blue eyes.

When Linda finally approached the actress with her friend in tow, Blythe’s heart fairly leapt out of her chest. The woman was even more beautiful up close.

"Miss Dawson, may I present Josephina Wright," Linda introduced.

"How d’you do?" Blythe said, offering a bright grin. Josephina smiled kindly, quietly... intriguing the actress further.

"Miss Wright is a writer," Linda informed them.

"Really?" Blythe said with interest. "Anything I might have read?"

"Probably not," said Josephina. "I published a novel in Britain, but I’ve been working on a play for the past year or so now."

Her voice was a low and gentle purr. Blythe’s entire body trembled at the sound of it.

"Pr’aps Miss Dawson could star in your play," someone said, followed by a range of chuckles.

Josephina dipped her chin, never breaking her gaze from the actress before her. "Perhaps she could," she said softly.

"As long as it has a strong female lead, I’d love to do your play," Blythe said to Josephina, completely oblivious of their listeners.

"Hopefully you’ll get lucky and have another success, right Miss Dawson?" someone piped.

"I pick my roles carefully, fellas. Luck dun’t have much to do with it. ‘Chance fights ever on the side of the prudent.’" Blythe quoted.

"Euripides," Josephina said, acknowledging the reference.

Blythe’s eyebrows rose in surprise. "Ah, an educated woman," she commented happily.

"I’ve found knowing the Greek playwrites to be very useful in my work," Josephina said. "For inspiration at least."

"Course, all the great Greek playwrights were men," Blythe said wryly.

"Not all. Just the ones we know about," Josephina said, flashing a breathtaking smile. "And Euripides was one of the least misogynistic of the lot."

"Very true," Blythe laughed. "And I suppose I should admit that some of my favourite poets are men. It’s my one dark secret."

"A poetry lover as well as an actress?" Josephina said. "You seem to have many skills."

"Well, I wouldn’t call myself a poetry lover," Blythe bantered back, "But I do have my favourites."

"Such as," Josephina’s lips were turned up with amusement.

Blythe bit her lip thoughtfully. "’Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by. And that has made all the difference’," She recited. It was one of her favourite passages.

"Robert Frost," Josephina said quietly.

"That’s right," Blythe bubbled happily. "You’ve read him?"

"I’ve met him," Josephina said. "Two years ago, I was up at Berkeley doing some research, and he was there receiving an honourary degree."

Blythe was agape. "My God. I’m jealous to death."

"Well, Frost isn’t necessarily the best poet around."

"Quote me something better then," Blythe challenged with a smile, and folded her arms competitively.

Josephina thought for a moment, then said, "’Knowing my way, I can truly be free. Love fulfills my destiny’."

"That’s beautiful," Blythe said. "Who is it? Tennyson?"

Josephina’s eyebrow arched. "No...Wright." She winked.

Blythe’s mouth opened in delight. She was absolutely charmed.

Josephina disappeared into the crowd then, leaving a disappointed Blythe to deal with the crowds of people waiting to speak to her. But all she could think of for the rest of the night was Josephina. Those blue eyes, that bright smile...

As she was leaving that night, she spotted Josephina walking down the steps of the theater towards her car. She ran after her, and caught her arm.

Josephina turned towards her, and Blythe suddenly didn’t know what to say.

"I...I..."

Josephina smiled. Out of nowhere, she said, "You looked very beautiful tonight, Miss Dawson." Her lip quirked in amusement. "...In the play I mean, of course."

Blythe smiled and blushed at the same time. "Please. Call me Blythe."

"All right. Blythe," Josephina tasted the name, and found it to her liking.

"I was wondering if you’d like to have a drink tomorrow evening," Blythe offered shyly. "Just bump gums for a bit?"

Josephina smiled. "That would be wonderful."

Blythe was overjoyed.

After that, the two of them were never seen in public apart. Dinners, parties...wherever Blythe was, Josephina was. Los Angeles was bursting with activity. It was after the war, and there were always things to do, places to go, people to meet. Los Angeles seemed to be immune to influence from the outside world. In September, Truman announced over the radio that the USSR had got the bomb, and no one seemed to care. It made for nothing more than interesting small talk at parties.

Blythe’s career was flourishing. People were already beginning to call her the ‘Olivia De Havilland of the stage’. Rumours about her life abounded in the social circles, but Blythe endured them all with admirable aplomb.

But sometimes, when the crowds became too much for her, she managed to sneak away with Josephina for some private time together. Sitting talking alone in Echo Park, or walking at night along the beach, listening to the ocean wash against the sand.

On one of these nights, Blythe linked her elbow with Josephina’s and leaned against her as they walked. She said, "Ya know Jo, I think the luckiest thing that’s happened to me was your coming to that party all those weeks ago."

"This from the woman who isn’t supposed to believe in luck," Josephina said quietly, smiling.

"Sure sure. It was just a figure of speech. I don’t actually believe in luck. Or fate."

"Fate? I believe in fate. Definitely," Josephina said.

"You don’t think we control our own destinies?"

"Well sure I do. But I also think certain things are meant to happen. That everything happens for a reason." Josephina laughed, "I mean...otherwise, what’s the point?"

"Do you think that fate brought you to meet me?" Blythe asked in a trembling voice.

"I don’t know Blythe. But if it did, I’m glad."

They walked up into the city, and down a small private street. Josephina noticed Blythe’s hands were trembling. She stopped in front of a small church, and turned to face the actress.

"Are you cold?"

"A little, but I’ll live."

"Blythe, is something on your mind?"

Blythe looked up. Josephina’s bright blue eyes were reflecting the lights of the city.

"I want you to kiss me," she said.

Josephina smiled in the darkness. "What took you so long?" She took Blythe in her arms and kissed her. First gently, then passionately. Blythe wrapped her arms around Josephina so tightly, her body trembling with pent-up desire.

They finally broke, and smiled quietly at each other.

"You’re a woman who certainly knows what she wants, aren’t you?" Josephina asked.

Blythe grinned rakishly. "Yup. Go for everything in life, that’s what I say." She looked up. "And in front of a church too. Not exactly what I’d call romantic."

"I wonder if any of the priests are staring out at us, disapproving," Josephina said wryly.

"I don’t care. I’ll always remember this place," Blythe touched Josephina’s cheek and whispered, "...this perfect moment."

"So will I." Josephina leaned down to kiss her again. Then she took the actress by the hand and led her back to her apartment.

They met Linda in the hall as they came up the stairs. The costume designer was taking out some garbage with the help of her ten year old daughter Lizzie.

"Good evening Josephina," She said brightly. "Miss Dawson! What a surprise to see you here." She gave a little frown of confusion, not expecting to see the bright young actress in her building. Blythe was at a momentary loss for words.

"I was just going to show Blythe my apartment," Josephina said smoothly, "You know...to see what kind of squalor we grunts of the theater live in."

Linda laughed obligingly as Josephina fumbled with the key to her apartment.

Blythe smiled sheepishly at the woman and her daughter in the hallway. Then she brightened and dug into her purse. "Say kiddo, I’ve got something for you, see?" she drew out a lollipop, "Here ya go, this is for you. Would you like it?"

"Yes please!" Lizzie said happily.

Linda smiled indulgently at Blythe as her daughter took the candy. Josephina managed to get the door open then and the two of them grinned at their company and ducked inside.

"Geez Louise, I don’t think that smoothed it over at all. You know this rumble’s gonna be all over town tomorrow morning," Blythe said with a grin. "The two of us sneaking back to your place. Everyone is fascinated by my life."

"You’re a star," Josephina shrugged. Then she pulled the actress into her arms and held her close. "No, change that. You’re my star."

They kissed again, their slow passion building to a tangle of arms and hands and lips. Josephina could barely control herself as they shuffled to the bed. She struggled with strips of clothing. Then she pulled the actress down on top of her and they made love, smiling in the darkness, Blythe’s sweet voice crying out into the night.

The gossip did get around, but not as badly as Blythe had thought. Everyone viewed the two of them as the best of friends. The idea that they were lovers hadn’t seemed to enter into people’s minds. Perhaps Linda had decided to keep that piece of information to herself. If, indeed, she even knew. In any event, none of their friends or colleagues even suspected that the two women shared a more intimate relationship.

Not yet, at least.

In January, nineteen fifty, Blythe turned twenty five. Her manager threw a huge birthday party for her at the theater, and everyone who was everyone attended.

Blythe was once again the center of attention, while Josephina watched her from the back of the room. But Blythe never forgot to send her lover a smile or a quick look. And she always received a brilliant smile in return. Things were perfect.

There were many guests present that night. One of those guests was a young reporter named Nadia Wilson.

Nadia was a thin woman, with short blonde hair, a winsome smile, and an intelligent gleam in her eyes. Her career as a writer for the LA Times was just beginning to garner notice. She had recently been transferred out of the catacombs of writing obituaries to the gossip column.

When Nadia met Blythe for the first time her eyes lit up, and shook the actress’ hand vigorously.

"I loved your latest performance, Miss Dawson," she gushed in a high musical voice.

"Well thank you very much Nadia. Please call me Blythe."

Nadia smiled and nodded. She found the actress quite charming. "All right, Blythe."

"So tell me Nadia," Blythe said amiably, "What’s it like being a newshawk huh? You must get to see an awful lot of interesting things."

"Oh sure. I’ve seen my share."

"And is writing gossip all that much better than writing obituaries?"

"You know my work?" Nadia asked, impressed.

"Oh, I like to know a bit about everyone," Blythe grinned.

"Well, it is a little more satisfying than covering deaths," Nadia agreed. "At least I don’t need to make trips down to death row any longer."

"Death row?" Blythe asked seriously, "Are you serious? You’ve been there?"

Nadia nodded. "Just over a year ago. And hopefully I’ll never have to go again."

Josephina came up. Blythe beamed at her. "Jo, have you met Nadia Wilson? She writes for the Times."

Josephina shook hands. Nadia stared at her, her eyes wide at Josephina’s impressive height.

"You’re a playwright, is that right Josephina?" Nadia asked. The reporter noticed how close Josephina was standing to Blythe.

"I try to be. I’m working on a play right now, actually."

"So I s’pose I’m a matchbook writer compared to you then?" Nadia asked with a slightly sarcastic edge.

Josephina arched a brow. "I wouldn’t say that. But do you really find writing gossip particularly satisfying, Miss Wilson?"

"Maybe not as satisfying as writing an entire play. But it does pay the bills, doesn’t it?"

Josephina narrowed her eyes. "I suppose it does."

Blythe grabbed Josephina’s hand. "Come on Jo. I want you to meet someone. It was nice talking to you Nadia!"

"Nice talking to you too," Nadia said absently, watching the two women depart. She stroked her chin thoughtfully, and watched Josephina’s hand slip around Blythe’s waist when no one else was looking.

Blythe spent the evening alone with Josephina after the party. She had moved into Josephina’s apartment full time, not quite having the desire to go back to her own place. Josephina sat at her desk, in her apartment, writing, while Blythe made them dinner.

Over candlesticks, Josephina said, "That reporter from the Times didn’t like me very much."

"Nadia Wilson? Oh don’t mind about her Jo. She’s just trying to dig up dirt. It’s her job."

"She thinks I’m a snob."

Blythe smiled at her indulgently. "No one thinks you’re a snob. I can go set her straight though, if you like."

Josephina smiled quietly and reached across to cover Blythe’s hand. "Always trying to protect me, aren’t you?"

"Well sure! How else am I going to star in your play unless you’re around to finish it?"

"Actually," Josephina replied, "the main role I’m writing would be perfect for you. Power, passion, danger...all the stuff you love."

"Oh sure, mock me. That’s the way to win my affection," Blythe teased.

Josephina smiled, then rose, and left the table.

"Where are you going?" Blythe called.

Josephina returned immediately, with a small wrapped box. "For you."

"Jo! You didn’t have to do this."

Josephina smiled secretly. "Just open it."

Blythe grinned and unwrapped the blue tissue paper. Inside was a necklace. It was a gold chain with a circular charm on the end. A silver hoop, with a gold pattern and nine tiny sapphires decorating the edge. On the back was an inscription in Greek. Blythe’s hand flew to her mouth.

"Oh Jo," she whispered. "It’s beautiful. How on earth did you afford this?"

Josephina shrugged. "I’ve been saving."

"I love it!" Blythe hugged Josephina fiercely, and kissed her cheek.

"Here. Turn around. I’ll put it on for you."

Josephina swept Blythe’s golden hair away and fastened the chain around her neck. "Now this isn’t just a regular piece of jewelry, Blythe. It’s very special. The old woman I bought it from told me that it is an ancient symbol...from Greece I believe, or around there. The inscription says something about how everything keeps coming back around, everything’s connected. But what it means is that, when one person gives it to another, they become... forever attached. Like two halves of the same person. Nothing can separate them." Josephina paused. "Not even death."

Blythe turned around and looked up. "Really?" she whispered breathlessly.

"Yes." Josephina looked at her seriously, and said, "I love you, Blythe."

Blythe’s eyes filled up with tears. "I love you too."

Josephina pulled the actress into a fierce embrace, pressing the small, trembling body against her heart. Then she leaned down and captured Blythe’s lips with her own, slowly caressing her.

She never wanted it to end.

Chapter 5

"Three...two...one." Ms. Joyce snapped her fingers, and Gabrielle’s eyes opened.

Faith exhaled and ran her hand through her hair. She honestly didn’t know what to make any of this. Gabrielle looked equally doubtful.

Ms. Joyce saw their expressions. "I know what the two of you are thinking, and let me assure you that this sort of thing isn’t really all that uncommon. I’ve read papers of psychiatrists who have been involved with past lives all the time."

"Are you serious?" Faith asked sharply.

Ms. Joyce rubbed her chin. "Was what you were seeing real?" She asked Gabrielle.

"Yes. I’m sure it was real."

"But...but," Faith stammered. "couldn’t it be that you just read about this?"

"No," Gabrielle shook her head. "This was much clearer than something I ever could have read."

"Well..." Faith was at a loss. "Ok. Lets assume that all this really happened. I’m still not willing to believe that you were actually there. I mean it was fifty years ago for christ’s sake!"

Ms. Joyce shrugged. "Whatever the reason, I think the sooner we work through the whole story and find out what has been troubling you, the sooner you’ll recover your memory."

Ms. Joyce rose to get another glass of water. Faith slid off the trunk and crouched next to the table. "Do you...um... feel better? Gabrielle?"

"Yes. I feel much better. At least I’m remembering something."

Faith concentrated. "I wonder if any of those people you were talking about are still alive. Maybe I can find them. Talk to them."

Ms. Joyce came back in. "I’m busy with church and other things tomorrow, but Monday morning I can see you again. How does eleven o’clock sound?"

Gabrielle nodded happily.

Out on the street, they walked towards Faith’s Miata, and Gabrielle said quietly, "You think I’m crazy, don’t you Faith?"

"No. Not at all!"

"But you don’t believe that what I was saying was real."

Faith looked away uncomfortably, "I don’t know what to believe right now."

"She looked a bit like you, you know."

"Who? What was her name...Blythe?"

"No. Not her. Josephina. I mean, it was only a small resemblance. She had different coloured eyes. Her hair was long, not short. But it was there."

"I think you’re just blending your present life into your dreams. You know, like you said before? You just met me, so that makes sense."

"I don’t know," Gabrielle said softly.

"I have an idea," Faith said. She hesitated for a moment, then took Gabrielle’s hand. "Come on. There’s someone I want you to meet. Someone who can give us a real medical opinion. I’m sure she’ll agree with me that this couldn’t have been a past life experience."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Sounds to me like she had a past life experience," said Stephany.

Faith’s jaw dropped. "Are you serious? You are a medical doctor, right?"

Stephany held up her hands. "Hey, I know it sounds crazy. But sometimes it happens."

They were sitting in the psychiatrist’s office. Faith had gambled that Stephany would be in catching up on paperwork. It was how her friend usually spent her Saturdays. Faith sat next to Gabrielle on the couch. Quite close to her, actually, Stephany noticed.

"Shit. I was hoping you were going to be on my side." Faith said.

"Well, I’ve never used hypno-therapy myself, but a colleague of mine up in San Francisco has used it quite a bit. It’s worked well for him." Stephany turned to Gabrielle. "Do you feel it’s been working for you?"

"Well, it did help me to get my voice back."

Stephany nodded. "I think this lady is on the right track."

Faith shook her head unhappily. "I don’t care who she was in any damn past life. I want to find out who she is in this one."

"If Gabrielle experienced some trauma in a past life, then chances are that could be the reason why she’s lost her memory. If you work through that, I think you’ll remember who you are. It’s all about karma."

"Karma?" Gabrielle perked up. "What exactly is karma? Isn’t it where if you do something good in one life you’re rewarded for it in the next one?"

"Sort of," Stephany said. "’what we sow in one life, we reap in the next’. Karma makes sure that you keep meeting the same people over and over. It’s like a big chain that repeats itself. A person who was wronged in one life might have a chance to fix it in the next, or get revenge, or whatever. You carry what you learn with you. Unfortunately, you carry the emotions too, which is what is happening with you, it seems."

"I don’t know," Faith said unhappily, "this all seems pretty...out there."

Stephany laughed. "No one said you were an easy sell, Faith."

Gabrielle smiled at her tall friend. The two of them got up to leave, but Stephany caught Faith’s arm as Gabrielle walked out the door.

"Is this the Father Andrew case?" Stephany whispered, nodding at the retreating Gabrielle.

Faith nodded. "Yeah. So?"

"She’s gorgeous. And she likes you."

Faith tore her arm away. "You don’t know what you’re talking about," she hissed.

"Oh come on Faith, give me a little credit. Human behaviour is my work."

"I don’t care! Nothing has happened between us."

"Did I say I thought anything had happened yet?"

"Shut the fuck up."

"Why are you being so defensive? Hey...do you have feelings for her?" The redhead asked in a sly whisper.

Faith’s face darkened. "Why don’t you keep your God damn opinions to yourself, doctor," she spat, and Stephany could see she had gone too far. Her face softened.

"Faith, I’m sorry. Ok? No more teasing. I’m being serious now. Do you really think I don’t know how lonely you are?"

A look of sadness flickered over Faith’s face, "That...that doesn’t..."

"What are you afraid of?" Stephany urged. "I want to see you happy, Faith."

"I’m fine," Faith mumbled. "Leave me alone. If I want anything to happen with Gabrielle, I’ll do it myself. God knows I’ve done it before. And if I get that good fuck you wanted me to have, I’ll be sure to let you know."

"I never said I wanted that. I said I wanted you to have someone to hold you."

Faith paused at the door. Then left without looking back.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So," Gabrielle said, as Faith joined her in the car, "what now?"

"Um...I want to go down to the paper," Faith mumbled.

"Is everything all right?" Gabrielle asked gently.

"I’m fine," Faith figured if she clammed up, Gabrielle would quit asking.

"Come on. Something’s bugging you."

Faith didn’t say anything.

"Faith," Gabrielle laid her hand gently on Faith’s arm, making her heart jump.

"I just..." God, she was on the brink of telling Gabrielle what Stephany had said. "I’m...worried about you." Well, it was true too.

"You are?"

"Yeah."

Gabrielle smiled. Her hand traced lightly up Faith’s arm.

That wasn’t flirting, Faith decided. That was tantamount to foreplay. Fantasies were dancing behind her eyes... of Gabrielle’s head thrown back, her body arching under Faith’s hands. Her sweet voice crying out Faith’s name. It was that stupid Stephany’s fault; the doctor’s words still very fresh in her mind.

But old, old memories of feminine skin and hair under her fingers lingered there too. One thing that Faith was certain of, despite what she had said to Stephany and all the confusion of the day, was that she didn’t want Gabrielle to be just another body in her lonely apartment. Just another memory. No, she couldn’t bear it.

Her foot slammed down on the clutch, and she turned over the engine. "Let’s go down to the paper. I want to see if I can find any information on those people you were talking about."

Gabrielle nodded and graciously removed her hand.

"After that we can...uh...go see a movie or something. If you like." Faith lauded herself for that one. A movie didn’t involve talking...something which she was having a decidedly tough time doing lately.

"You mean like a date?" Gabrielle asked, amused.

"No...no. Not a date. Just...a do."

"Just a do, huh?"

Faith risked a glance at the cute blonde and saw her grinning. Laughter sparkled in her green eyes. Faith found herself smiling back a little, and the nervousness receded to the pit of her stomach.

Who did she think she was kidding?

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The two of them sauntered into Simon’s office. His glasses were lit by the glow of the computer screen, and he was surprised to see them.

"Faith! What are you doing here?" A smile filled his face and he put on his ‘charming’ voice. "Hiya Gabrielle."

"Hi Simon. Nice to see you again."

Simon’s jaw dropped. "You’re talking! What happened?"

"She got bored with my company and decided to liven things up," Faith retorted. "Simon we need some help. I need you to look some things up in the file morgue for me."

The file morgue was the archive of all the old articles ever printed by the newspaper. Faith gave Simon the names and sent him reluctantly down to pull the search.

He came back in with a stack of photocopies. "Here we go. All the stuff on Blythe Dawson and Josephina Wright." He set the stack down on the table with a thunk as Faith and Gabrielle gathered around eagerly.

"So they did exist," Faith murmured, mostly to herself.

"Sure did. Say, why are you two interested in a murder case anyway?"

"Murder case?!" Gabrielle exclaimed in surprise.

Faith was alarmed. "What are you talking about?"

"Look," Simon pointed to an article. "Josephina Wright killed Blythe Dawson in their apartment. With a...a pair of old barber scissors I think," he rifled through the stack of paper.

Faith felt a sinking in her stomach. What did this mean? Gabrielle’s face was ashen. Faith squeezed the smaller woman’s shoulder.

"But...but they were in love!" Gabrielle said.

"That’s what everyone else thought," Simon said.

Faith picked up one of the articles. It read:

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Josephina Wright found guilty!

By Nadia Wilson

LOS ANGELES – Yesterday afternoon, the thirty-one year old playwright was found guilty of the murder of her lover, actress Blythe Dawson. The jury deliberated for only one hour.

Wright was arrested for the murder last December when her finger prints were found on the murder weapon: a pair of silver-plated barber scissors found at the scene of the crime.

"I'm not surprised," said court liason Andrew MacTavish. "There was so much evidence against her. She never really stood a chance."

Josephina Wright

In addition to the murder weapon, the most convincing evidence of Wright's guilt, according to MacTavish, were the numerous friends of both women who testified to seeing Wright in a heightened state of jealousy and anger on several different occasions.

Wright continued to claim throughout the trial that a thief was responsible for the killing, however these claims went unproven.

The jury foreman recommended a harsh punishment, finding Wright "particularly cold and remorseless for such a brutal crime."

Sentencing will occur next Thursday.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Faith glanced at the author. "Gabrielle! Look...Nadia Wilson."

"I know," Gabrielle replied, looking at her own article.

"God. This is too weird."

"Why do you care about this?" Simon asked again. "This happened fifty years ago. Open and shut."

"It’s a long story Simon," Faith said. She was staring at a picture of Josephina Wright. The quality was grainy, but she could still make out some of the features. Long black hair, and a beaten-down, empty expression on her face. Gabrielle had been right after all. There was some resemblance.

"I don’t think she looks cold and remorseless," Gabrielle said, looking over Faith’s shoulder. "I think she just looks sad."

"Well...apparently she was put to death. She got the chair."

Gabrielle shivered. "Faith...can we get out of here please?"

Faith’s eyes darkened with concern and she nodded. She grabbed a small stack of articles to read, and turned to Simon. "Simon, I’ve got a job for you. I want you to find this Nadia Wilson."

"Me? How the hell am I supposed to do that? You’re the one who finds people."

"She used to work for this paper Simon, you should be able to figure it out." Gabrielle had already left the office, and Faith was hurrying after her. "Get in touch with me when you find her."

"Great," Simon said dejectedly.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Are you all right, Gabrielle?" Faith asked, budging the car up central avenue in the early evening traffic. It was Saturday, and the frenzied Los Angeles night was just beginning.

Gabrielle took a deep breath and managed a smile, "We seem to be asking each other that question a lot lately, don’t we? Yeah, I’m all right now. I just got a little weirded out back there."

"I know. I can’t imagine what it must be like for you. I think I would be terrified if I lost my memory. You’re very brave."

"I couldn’t be brave if it weren’t for all the help you’ve given me," Gabrielle said warmly. "Anyway, let’s not gush over it any more, ok? I seem to remember someone mentioning something about a date."

"That was you. Not me."

"Sorry. A do."

"Right. A movie, right?"

Gabrielle nodded and looked thoughtful. "You know, it’s strange. I can’t even remember my name, but I can still remember lots of little insignificant stuff."

"Insignificant stuff? Like what?"

"Like books I’ve read. Movies I’ve seen. This whole past life thing reminds me of stuff I read when I studied Pythagorus in school."

"Pythagorus? The triangle guy?"

Gabrielle laughed. "Yeah. The triangle guy. He believed in past lives too."

"Oh. Do you remember where you went to school?"

Gabrielle paused, then smiled and shook her head. "I don’t know."

"That is weird. But hey, at least you know you studied ancient Greeks. That’s something."

"Yeah, but who didn’t study at least one ancient Greek at one time or another?"

"Good point. All right...movies."

"You a big movie buff, Ms Dickinson?" Gabrielle bantered, turning her shoulders in the car seat so that more of her body faced the driver than faced forward.

"Not really, no. I think the last movie I saw in a theatre was 2001."

Gabrielle laughed out loud. "You’re kidding."

Faith’s lip turned up. "Nah. I mostly watch videos. What’s your favourite movie?"

"Bonnie and Clyde."

"That was a good one. You’re attracted to vigilantes?" Faith asked, smirking.

"I guess so."

"Faye Dunaway looked great in that movie," Faith said.

When no immediate response came from Gabrielle, she looked over. The blonde was looking at her amusedly. The evening wind was lightly tousling her short hair.

Faith blushed. "I...I mean..."

"One movie that I liked her in was Three Days of the Condor. You know, with Robert Redford? Young Robert Redford."

"I saw it. He had those God-awful sideburns."

Gabrielle giggled. "Yup. Good thriller."

"The only thing I didn’t like was how quickly they got together," Faith said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well you know. She slept with him when she hardly knew him. Then the next morning she says to him, ‘can you do me a favour?’ or something, and he says ‘have I ever denied you anything?’" Faith smirked. "I mean, it made for good dialog, but just not very realistic."

"Oh I don’t know. Sometimes a little while is all it takes. Don’t you believe in love at first sight?"

"You know, Simon asked me that very same question yesterday."

"I know. And I remember you tactfully changed the subject."

Faith tactfully changed the subject. "So what movie do you want to see?"

Gabrielle smiled. "Actually, what’s say we give the movie a skip and go to dinner? I enjoy talking to you."

Faith swallowed. "Uh...ok."

"Know any decent dinner places?" Gabrielle said impishly.

Faith glanced at her...waiting for her to say it. God, if Gabrielle made one crack about getting laid, Faith would break down completely. But the blonde didn’t say anything.

Faith forced herself to relax. "Yeah. I do actually," she said, pulling the Miata down a side street.

•••

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