#which i will not elaborate on. for risk of reverting to my ten year old self

[harriet-chambers]

Your Kara tags on the fandom post, LITERALLY what I was thinking about hkgkfkgnvmv I Do Not See It

also i think the reason it pisses me off so bad is because fandoms only ever do this to characters who are more seen as more optimistic or happ. like it happens in others but its especially stupid here because in canon she's so intelligent and it adds 2 her character and idk. people just treat her character as a joke so often when it's literally her show

[miserablesme]

The Les Miserables Changelog Part 5: 1992 UK Tour

Hello, everyone! This is the latest edition in my attempt to chronicle all of the musical and lyrical changes which the show Les Miserables has undergone over the years. Much like the last part, this one focuses on changes made not to the official libretto, but to one particular production: namely, the 1992-1994 UK tour. However, in contrast to the last part, the vast majority of these changes at least made it elsewhere at some point. This will be a bit longer than Part 4, but still shorter than any of the first three parts. With all that cleared up, let us begin!

Like the West End production before it (more on that later), the UK tour swapped these lines from "At the End of the Day":

What is this fighting all about?

Will someone tear these two apart?

He thus instead sings:

Will someone tear these two apart?

What is this fighting all about?

The first noticeable difference original to this production occurs during "Lovely Ladies". Originally after Fantine's "Ten francs will save my poor Cosette", there was a rather complex section in which the sailors and prostitutes sung different lines simultaneously. It went as follows:

(SAILORS - simultaneously with prostitutes' lines)

Lovely lady, fastest on the street

Wasn't there three minutes

She was back up on her feet

Lovely lady, what you waiting for

Doesn't take a lot of savvy just to be a whore

Come on lady, what's a lady for?

(PROSTITUTES - simultaneously with sailors' lines)

Lovely ladies, lovely little girls

Lovely ladies, lovely little ladies

Lovely girlies, lovely little girls

We are lovely, lovely girls

Lovely ladies, what's a lady for?

The UK tour totally reimagines this scene as an exchange between a prostitute and a pimp:

(PROSTITUTE)

God I'm weary, sick enough to drop

Belly burns like fire

Will the bleeding never stop?

(PIMP)

Cheer up dearie, show a happy face

Plenty more like you, dear

If you can't keep up the pace

(PROSTITUTE)

Only joking, dearie knows her place

This is quite a massive departure from the original! I imagine it would be quite a bit easier to get right given that it involves only two actors, neither of whose dialog overlaps the other (in contrast to the original scene with an entire ensemble of actors with distinct but simultaneous lyrics and tunes). It's hard for me to decide what I prefer. Thematically, the revised version is better, given that it makes the negative and exploitative aspects of prostitution quite a bit clearer than the original. However, lyrically I prefer the original somewhat simply for the sake of consistency. The sick prostitute scene, as it's sometimes been called, is the only point in the entire song where that chorus is used without some variation of the words "lovely ladies". Feels a little out-of-place to me.

"Fantine's Arrest" also gets different lyrics - for a time, at least. I have two different audios from the UK tour, from April and December 1992 respectively. The December audio reverts to the original lyrics for Bamatabois (though not for Fantine). I wonder whether or not someone just forgot to tell the replacement Bamatabois about the lyrical edit, or if it was a conscious choice to revert the scene? I also wonder if the year-plus of the tour after that performance kept the original lyrics or put the new ones in again. Regardless, this is how the exchange between Fantine and Bamatabois originally went:

(BAMATABOIS)

Is this a trick? I won't pay more

(FANTINE)

No, not at all

(BAMATABOIS)

You've got some nerve, you little whore

You've got some gall!

It's the same with a tart as it is with a grocer

The customer sees what he gets in advance

It's not for the whore to say "yes sir" or "no sir"

It's not for the harlot to pick or to choose

Or to lead me a dance

The UK tour initially revised the sequence into the following:

(BAMATABOIS)

Is this a trick? I won't pay more

(FANTINE)

I won't have you

(BAMATABOIS)

You've got some sauce, you ugly slut

You've got some gall!

What's become of the world when a whore from the gutter

Can suddenly get such ideas in her head?

Your job is to lie on your back for your betters

This hideous harlot believes she can choose

Who she takes to her bed

I guess the revised lyrics feel a bit more threatening, as well as a little less contrived. (Who the hell has ever actually used the phrase "lead me a dance"?) Still, I prefer the original ones because the rhyme scheme feels a lot more natural.

More changes occur during "The Runaway Cart". The original (rather clunky) conversation among the townspeople was as follows (with each line separate due to being said by a different person than the previous one):

Look at that

Look at that

It's Monsieur Fauchelevent

Don't approach

Don't go near

At the risk of your life

He is caught by the wheel

Oh the pitiful man

Stay away

Turn away

There is nothing to do

There is nothing to do

The UK tour rewrites most of the scene into the following:

Look at that

Stay away

You'll be crushed by the cart

Don't approach

Don't go near

It'll fall on you too

Oh my god, who is that?

It's Monsieur Fauchelevent

He is caught by the wheel

Oh the pitiful man

There is nothing to do

A far more natural progression in my humble opinion, and less repetitive as well.

The later scene involving the townspeople doesn't actually include any lyrical changes. However, like the West End production before it (more on that later), it does take lines that were previously in the singular into ensemble lines. The sequence was generally being performed as follows:

(MALE TOWNSPERSON)

Don't go near him, Monsieur Mayor

The load is as heavy as hell

(FEMALE TOWNSPERSON)

The old man is a goner for sure

(MALE TOWNSPERSON)

It will kill you as well

The UK tour instead staged it as follows:

(MALE TOWNSPERSON)

Don't go near him, Monsieur Mayor

(ENSEMBLE)

The load is as heavy as hell

(FEMALE TOWNSPERSON)

The old man is a goner for sure

(ENSEMBLE)

It will kill you as well

This ensemble business, which was already being used in the West End at the time, is an interesting callback, perhaps, to the pre-Broadway libretto in which much of the segment was sung by the ensemble. Personally I consider this edit an improvement. It feels far more frantic when the entire crowd is involved in the scene.

Once Valjean actually saves Fauchelevent, his lines are originally as follows:

Monsieur Le Maire, I have no words

You come from God, you are a saint

The UK tour changes them into the following:

Monsieur Le Maire, I have no words

You saved my life, you come from God

I guess the rewrite makes the reason for Fauchelevent's gratitude clearer, though it was already perfectly clear to begin with. The edit certainly doesn't hurt anything though.

The preamble to "Master of the House" retains the original "Hell, what a wine" instead of the post-Broadway "God, what a wine" edit.

Similarly, the "Waltz of Treachery" number has Thenardier ask the original "Have we done for your child what is best?" instead of the post-Broadway "her child".

A slight variation can be heard after the “Waltz of Treachery”. Usually Little Cosette asks:

Will there be children

And castles to see?

However, in the UK tour she instead asks:

Will there be castles

And children to see?

This variation also occurs in some early post-Broadway West End performances, and in the Complete Symphonic Soundtrack. I’d be interested to know whether or not that soundtrack may have inspired the choice during the UK a tour.

Interestingly, “Look Down” reverts an exchange back from the 1987 libretto into the original pre-Broadway version. Perhaps drawing from the West End show which was still using the original variant of this particular moment, the sequence officially sung by the ensemble as follows as follows:

When’s it gonna end

When’re we gonna live

Something’s gotta happen now or

Something’s gotta give

Because, as it was originally written, sung by one person at a time:

When’s it gonna end

When’re we gonna live

Something’s gotta happen, dearie

Something’s gotta give

My thoughts on the two variants can be seen in Part 3 of this blog.

Like the Australian tour, the UK tour has Thenardier say "God rewards all the things that you do" during "The Robbery" instead of "the good that you do".

Also, for some reason Thenardier refers to "the brand across his chest" instead of "upon his chest" later in the number.

The UK tour borrows the revised lyrics to “Stars” from the Australian tour and the West End production. Instead of the original lyrics:

A fugitive running

Fallen from grace, fallen from grace

It used these ones:

A fugitive running

Fallen from God, fallen from grace

Instead of these lines:

He knows his way in the dark

But mine is the way of the Lord

And those who follow the path of the righteous shall have their reward

It uses the shortened variants:

He knows his way in the dark

Mine is the way of the Lord

Those who follow the path of the righteous shall have their reward

Finally, instead of these lines:

And so it has been

And so it is written

It used these ones:

And so it must be

And so it has written

You can read my thoughts on all those differences in Part 4 of this blog.

The next noticeable difference occurs at the beginning of “Red and Black”. Previously the song opened with the beginning chords. However, the UK tour added a short musical sting before these chords. If I’m not mistaken, this musical addition was placed in to account for a change in staging. Originally the number began with the barricade set sliding off-stage, revealing the ABC cafe set behind it. However, around the time of this tour the blocking was adjusted. Now, the turntable instead revolved at the beginning of this number, revealing the ABC cafe set on the other end of the turntable and allowing the barricade set to double as the walls of the cafe. I believe the opening sting was added to allow time for this slightly more elaborate staging.

Additionally, as was the case in the West End at the time, no one shouts Enjolras' name during the instrumentals to "Red and Black".

In “Red and Black”, Enjolras usually sings:

We need a sign

To rally the people, to call them to arms

To bring them in line

However, the UK tour replaces it with the following lines:

We need a sign

To rally the people, to fire their blood

And to bring them in line

I guess “fire their blood” has a certain idealistic flair that fits Enjolras’ character, but I still definitely prefer the usual lyric. It conveys the message a lot more directly.

After the number, this is Enjolras’ original remark regarding General Lamarque’s passing:

On his funeral day they will honor his name

It’s a rallying cry that will reach every ear

In the death of Lamarque we will kindle the flame

They will see that the day of salvation is near

The time is here…

The UK tour rewrites those lines into the following:

On his funeral day they will honor his name

With the light of rebellion ablaze in their eyes

From their candles of grief we will kindle our flame

On the tomb of Lamarque shall our barricades rise

The time is here…

Though there’s a bit less rhyming in the revision, it strikes me as somewhat nicer and less clunky-sounding. The sentences’ subjects no longer feel all over the place, and the phrasing is far more poetic.

As with “Look Down”, some lyrics to “The Attack on Rue Plumet” are reverted to their original form (which was also still used in the West End at the time). Thenardier’s official lyrics following Eponine’s scream were as follows:

You wait my girl, you’ll rue this night

I’ll make you scream, you’ll scream alright!

Leave her to me, don’t wait around

Make for the sewers, go underground

The UK tour brought them back to this form:

Make for the sewers, don’t wait around

Leave her to me, go underground

You wait my girl, you’ll rue this night

I’ll make you scream, you’ll scream alright!

You can read my thoughts on these variants in Part 3 of this blog.

As with the Australian tour, Philip Quast changes “we’ll be ready for these schoolboys” into “I will join these little schoolboys” in “One Day More”. Unlike the Australian tour, the UK tour would maintain this variant even after Philip left. You can read my thoughts on this variant in Part 4 of this blog.

That’s it for the first act! The first noticeable difference occurs right before “A Little Fall of Rain”. Instead of opening with the beginning music, the UK tour added a short musical interlude beforehand. In my opinion, this music sounds terrible and feels extremely out-of-place. I wonder whether or not there was some change in staging to account for these extra notes.

After Enjolras' "Night of Anguish", the instrumental music is edited. Originally the number was followed by the same tune which would later be heard in "Drink with Me". However, the UK tour replaced it with a reprise of the tune of "A Little Fall of Rain". This is one of my least favorite edits for the tour. The original music felt highly emotional, and, since it predicted a later number, it implies the sense that, despite Eponine's death, there is more to come and the revolution is far from over. I'd argue that simply reprising a song that just happened suggests a degree of closure that is not appropriate for its context.

Everything is as usual right up until the epilogue. As with the Australian tour, the UK tour uses the “I’ll lead you to salvation” line instead of “And lead me to salvation” for Fantine and Eponine. You can read my thoughts on that change in Part 4 of this blog.

That’s it for this part! If I missed anything feel free to let me know, as my goal is to create a changelog as thorough and complete as possible. I plan on making more parts in the near future covering all the changes that have been made in the show up until this day (discounting concerts). Any feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated. As a side note, both for this project and my own enjoyment, I want as complete a collection of Les Miserables audios as possible. I already have most of what’s commonly circulated, but if you have any audios or videos you know are rare, I’d love it if you DMed me! Until the turntable puts me at the forefront again, good-bye…

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Jigsaw // Red: Part One

Valhalla 

A/N: Picking up right where we left off with Blue (which you can find on the Billy Russo page of my masterlist). Billy’s on the run and needs to find a place to hide out while he comes up with a plan. 

Warnings: character death

Word Count: 3,730

.

Left. He hit the sidewalk and immediately turned, shifting himself sideways to disappear down the alley. Go, go, go. Legs turning over with perfect form, he ran between the buildings, a blur of red brick on one side, pale gray concrete on the other. The sound of his breathing drowned out everything but the voice in his head telling him where to turn. Right. Coming through to the next street, he spun, socked feet splashing through a puddle of condensation from the A.C. unit in the window above. Alley, now. A trash bag lay across the opening of the narrow space. Jump it. Right leg extended, he vaulted over the garbage heap, springing off his coiled left calf and landing in stride, continuing to run without missing a beat. An aluminum chain link fence greeted him at the end of the alley, and he quickly calculated the necessary motion to climb it. Wait! Back pressed against the grime covered wall, he held his breath in the shadows as two police cruisers flew by, sirens wailing. He counted to ten, waiting to see if any more were in pursuit. He could hear more sirens joining in from other parts of the city, but for now the way was clear. Go, up and over. Securing the folder inside his zipped sweatshirt, he jumped and gripped the fence with both hands, fingers curling through the wire diamonds. He pulled himself up with ease, throwing one leg and then the other over the top and landing hard on the soles of his feet.  

Keep fuckin’ going. Listening to the commanding voice in his head, Billy immediately took off running again. His lungs were on fire and he had a cramp in his gut but just like in an active warzone, he knew that he couldn’t rest until he’d reached the checkpoint. Not that he had one in mind when he broke free, but as he scaled the fence he realized that his legs were taking him to a specific location- an abandoned warehouse in Red Hook. Of course. He coughed, wheezing slightly as he pushed himself to follow his feet as fast as he could. Of course that’s where I’m goin’. He reverted back to auto pilot, following the commands to make turns and slip through alleys, allowing his thoughts to traverse the labyrinth in his brain like a mouse in a maze, desperate for the cheese. With a wince and a jerk of his head, a memory tumbled to the frontlines as he got closer to his destination.   

 ..  .. ..  .. .. ..  .. 

‘S’just an idea I had,” Billy shrugged and shoved his burger haphazardly into his mouth, filling it with food so he’d have an excuse not to elaborate too much. You watched him from across the retro red table, tapping your thumbnail against the grooved aluminum edge.

  “It’s a great idea, Billy,” you’d said encouragingly, French fry suspended over your plate, a dollop of ketchup plopping off the end of it.

 He chewed around a small smile, keeping his eyes on you as he reached for the pebbled plastic soda glass in front of him. He swallowed the bite he’d taken and chased it down with a few loud slurps of his drink before setting what was left of his lunch back on his plate. “I dunno about great,” he said with a minute shift of his shoulders. “Still got a lot of work to do. Gonna need investors and warehouse space and-“

You stopped tapping at the aluminum trim and stretched your hand across the small two top booth to grip his, giving a light squeeze. “Yeah,” you said with a nod. “Yeah, you got a lot of work to do. But the idea is a good one, and a lot of good people will benefit from it.”

She gets it. He cleared his throat and sniffed, nose wrinkling up. “Yeah, I mean… just thinkin’ about guys like me’n Frankie. Guys that gave decades of their lives to the military. Guys that need to have somethin’ to fall back on when they get home… what kinda jobs are gonna hire 38 year olds with no experience, ya know?” He was talking mainly about Frank, but he wasn’t far behind his friend in terms of age or the things he was willing to risk as that number went up.“Give ‘em a chance to use the skills they have instead’a tryin’ to scramble to fit in to some 9-5…” Let ‘em be with guys who understand…

 “So what do you have to do then, Billy? How do you make this happen?” You’d pushed your plate aside to give him your full attention, one hand still linked with his over the scarlet and silver boomerang patterned laminate.

He’d hesitated to tell you about his idea of starting his own private security company, because saying it out loud meant that it was real. Telling you about it was essentially sealing a promise to himself...and to you, that he’d make it work, and he wasn’t sure that he could. But the way that you asked those questions, with nothing but clarity and belief in your tone, the way your hand never left his, it made him feel like maybe it wasn’t so crazy. Maybe I can. “Well, I gotta figure out how much I need to get started. Equipment, endorsements, facilities,” He ticked those off on the fingers of his free hand before his tongue came out to lick his lips.  “I...actually, I looked into this one warehouse in Brooklyn already. Not that I’m expectin’ it to still be available when I’m ready to pull the trigger but… I wanted to look into the numbers.”

“Will you show it to me?” The excitement on your face pulled his cheeks up slowly, almost making him laugh.

“What?” He shook his head looking down at your hands. “Nah, you don’t wanna,” he looked back up to find that you hadn’t so much as blinked. “I only got two days left, you wanna waste one of ‘em in a dirty old building?” But even as he tried to talk you out of it, Billy realized that he did want to take you there.

The server came over then, coffee pot in one hand and stress written all over her tired face despite the fact that there were only three other occupied tables in the joint. “Get you two anything else?” The way she asked the question dictated what she hoped the answer would be.

Without missing a beat you turned to respond to the woman. “Nope, we’ll take the-” she dropped the puffy black check presenter on the table where it clapped together with a soft thud. “-check, thanks!” You pulled your hand from Billy’s and let him inspect the bill before he dug his wallet out, tucking some cash behind the curled thermal paper and then placing it on top of the dented silver napkin holder.

When he had returned his wallet to the back pocket of his dark jeans, you tilted your head and cocked one eyebrow. “What?” He asked, to which you’d only changed the angle of your chin. “Really?” Your smirk answered and he felt a swelling in his chest at your stubborn faith in him. “You’re serious.” That one wasn’t a question.

 You stood from the booth and wrapped your scarf around your neck before slipping your arms into the sleeves of your jacket. Billy did the same, following your lead. When you’d both donned your outerwear, you pulled your hair up and over the thick cable knit loops of your neck covering and bounced up on the balls of your feet to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I am, Russo.” Motioning toward the door and lacing your fingers with his, you licked your candy apple lips. “Lead the way, Billy.” 

 ..  .. ..  .. .. ..

His breathing picked up, uneven and ragged, fingers shaking as they clutched the rusty gate, swinging it open. The chase was over and his body reacted accordingly, heightened senses returning to normal levels, the adrenaline slowly draining from his blood. The greedy gulps of air he was taking would make him sick. He knew that, but there was nothing he could do. His survival instincts got him as far as they needed to before vanishing into the abyss, leaving him alone. Closing the gate behind him, Billy staggered through the fenced in loading dock of the abandoned warehouse, shoeless feet tripping on the cracks in the pavement where stubborn weeds were pushing through the concrete. Broken glass littered the ground as he got closer to the building, an entire pane having fallen from the third story, nothing but a few jagged spears remaining in the window frame.

The crunching, crashing sound of glass shattering echoed in his ears, forcing a wince and a pitiful hissing sound that was a mixture of pain and fear. Tearing his eyes from the fragments, he gripped the top of his head and shook it hard, jogging the sound and the visions that came with it from his mind. The blare of a bus horn from a few blocks away brought him back to the moment. Chest heaving, Billy gripped the folder that he’d tucked under his sweatshirt, confirming for the tenth time since his escape that he hadn’t lost it. What little relief was left for him trickled through his body as he finally reached the door and found it unlocked.

Tugging the handle he pulled it open, flakes of rust falling from the hinges as they creaked and screeched their disuse. The bottom of the door dragged over the concrete, scraping a crescent shape into the ground. He stumbled inside and yanked the door shut behind him, giving three hard pulls to close the stubborn portal. He kept moving, using the sunlight that filtered in through the thick, clouded windows to seek out the staircase on the near side of the vast and empty space. It had been over a year since he’d last been there, but he was confident that the steps hadn’t decayed past the point of use. Testing his weight on the bottom few he saw that he was right. He gripped the oxidized rails, the peeling metal rough against his palms as he climbed to the second floor, footsteps echoing in the vast, empty space.

This wasn’t Anvil’s home, but it might have been, almost was. There was more graffiti than there was the last time he’d set foot inside, depleted spray paint cans littering the ground and coming into view as he took the last few steps. The word Valhalla was scrawled across the bricks in the loft, accented with flames and shadows, a few broken, lumpy chairs and mattresses spread beneath the mural. The room had clearly been used as some kind of illegal den for drugs or other illicit activity, and simply hadn’t been cleaned out when the inhabitants had been dispatched. A rat scurried out from under one of the dilapidated pieces of furniture and found refuge inside of a potato chip bag in the corner. Billy stood before the painted wall. Valhalla. What a crock of shit. He recalled the way that he and his brothers in arms had often compared themselves to the Vikings, to the Gods of War, talking about valor and the glory that was waiting for them back home. There’s no glory left, no good death for me. He tore his eyes from the lettering and sank down onto one of the badly torn couches, a broken sound coming from his throat as he pulled the folder from where it was tucked beneath the zipper of his sweatshirt, letting it fall to the ripped cushion beside him, his head falling to hang between his hands.

Outside, the clouds shifted in the sky letting hazy afternoon light find its way through the damaged windows. It created a spotlight effect that drew his gaze to a hastily sprayed “X” on the floor in the center of the room, the splotchy ruby red paint scuffed from where careless boot soles had stepped over it. His mouth fell open, an incredulous breath bursting forth as he dragged his palms over the close cropped hair on top of his head, fingers curling around the helix of his ears and memory hurtling back to the last time that he’d been in that building.

..  .. ..  .. .. .. 

You reached the door before he did, both hands gripping the chunky steel door handle, eagerly trying to tug it open but struggling to do so. He watched your shoulders hunch up as you tried to pull harder before you turned to look back at him. The excitement on your face would have been more suited to opening the door to a luxury suite in a gilded mansion than a rundown old paint factory with more broken panes of glass on the floor than existed in the window frames, but he knew it was there and it was real. Because she loves me. That simple, overwhelming thought was the hardest thing he’d ever wrapped his head around. He shook his head as his lips parted, one side quirking upwards involuntarily. “Easy there killer, lemme do that.” Billy reached passed you and grabbed the handle, a flush of warmth flooding his veins as you leaned back into his chest, your fingers falling away from the door as he gave a hard pull to pry it open, the bottom scraping the ground. “Still can’t believe this is what you wanna-“

  You turned quickly and pressed two fingers, skin chilled from the early spring air, against his lips to silence him. “Believe it. This is where I wanna be. Nowhere else. Now,” You winked at him and turned back towards the darkened entry that he’d just wrenched opened. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. Russo, but you were going to take me on the tour of your new facility, were you not?” You started to take a step through the door when his arms quickly circled around your waist, stopping you. They flexed, tightening his hold and forcing a bubbly laugh to spill from your soul.

  “Yeah,” he brought his lips to your ear, pressing them to the flesh behind it. “Right this way, ma’am.” He unwound his arms and took your hand, carefully leading you into the building. The heavy door swung shut with a thud and you jumped slightly. “I got ya,” he said, squeezing your hand as the metallic sound of the door echoed throughout the cavernous space. You squeezed back and threw a smile in his direction.  

  Late afternoon light was streaming in through the remaining glass panels, showing off an iron staircase that lead to a lofted office area, and behind it an enormous room with concrete flooring. “So down here we’d build this out for training purposes,” he motioned to the space with the hand that wasn’t holding yours. “Put up walls, build rooms for guys to run tactical drills in. S’enough square footage to run two teams through drills at once.” He cleared his throat and nodded. “I uh, I looked into that, too.”

  He’d looked into more than he let on at the diner, already researching contractors that might be willing to work with a US Marine vet when it came to budget. He watched you take in the room, blinking slowly in the dim light, breathing quietly in the musty air. “It’s perfect, Billy.”

  He shrugged but allowed his cheek to twitch up towards his eye in a one sided grin. “It’s not. But it doesn’t haveta be. Just has to be big.”

  You dislodged your hand from his to explore the space some more, wandering between the support poles that ran from cracked floor to vaulted ceiling. Swinging around one of them, your hair fell like a curtain over your face and you pushed it back. “Well it’s definitely big. So check that off the list.” You came back towards him as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “What else?”

  “Well,” his eyes darted to the staircase, yours following until they came back to meet. “Up there is where the offices would be.” Tongue flicking out to lick his lips and teeth flashing behind them, he said, “Where my office would be.”

  Your grin turned mischievous. “Oh yeah?” He nodded. “Just up those stairs?” Another nod. “Well this I gotta see,” you said, taking off in the direction of the loft.

  “Hang on, wait,” he shot his arm out, catching you by the wrist and wrapping his fingers around it. “Lemme… I dunno if the stairs are…” you let him go ahead of you, testing his weight on the rickety staircase. Satisfied with their structural integrity, he looked back at you. “Okay, c’mon up.” He gave you his hand again and you took it, the familiar weight of it grounding him.

  The top floor boasted an exposed brick wall to the right and a huge half circle window high up near the ceiling to the left, long narrow windows running down beneath it. A series of smaller offices overlooking the first floor could be seen down a short hall. A few stray papers and paint cans were strewn about, and a pigeon cooed as it fluttered from rafter to rafter over your heads. You spun in a slow 360 degrees, directly in the center of the beam of light filtering in through the lead glass semi-circle. Maybe she’s right. Maybe it is perfect. “So what do you think?”

  “I think your desk should go right over there,” you pointed out a spot in the middle of the large brick wall. “You close this off,” you moved your arms to indicate the area around where his phantom desk stood. “Your secretary can sit-“ you looked over your shoulder at him, devilish grin climbing your lips to change the color of your eyes to a darker shade. “She’s not gonna like me, I can tell. But she can sit over there,” again you moved your arms to indicate where walls would be. “Outside your office. More privacy that way.” You’d come back to stand in front of him, slipping your arms beneath his and pressing yourself tightly against him.

  Billy looked down through his lashes at you as you reached up to fix a stray lock of his hair that had fallen in front of his eye, tucking it back in order before trailing your fingertips down the stubble on his face. “S’not what I-“

  “I know.” You gripped the back of his neck and flexed your fingers. “I know that’s not what you were asking. You wanna know what I think, Billy?”

  His hands came up to either side of your face then, eyes searching yours. “Yours is the only opinion that matters,” he said. “So yeah, I wanna know what you think.”

  You looked around the space again, hand dropping from behind him as his fell away from your cheeks. Finding what you were looking for, you smiled and took a few steps into the corner, bending down to pick up an aluminum can with a bright red plastic top. You shook it like a maraca, the liquid inside sloshing around to tell you that it wasn’t empty. Popping the top off, you walked over towards the area you’d cordoned off for his office, finger resting atop the depressor.

  “What are you…” his sentence fell apart as you stooped down and sprayed a big “x” on the ground, dropping the can and letting it clatter by your feet.

  “There,” you said, wiping your hands together and then brushing them off on your jeans. “X marks the spot, Billy. That’s what I think. I think now you have two things to come home to, lieutenant.”

  He shook his head and moved closer to you. “That’s not even… ‘course I’m coming home to you, that’s not-”

  “Yeah, you better.” You stood on the wet X, not caring about getting paint on your shoes. “But this? This place, this goal? I think there’s no way in Hell you don’t make this happen, Billy.”

  He reached for you then, pulling you off the X and into his body, wrapping you up as tightly as he could. “X marks the spot,” he said, lips covering yours, glad that this was how you’d ended up spending the rest of the day.

  ..  .. ..  .. .. ..  ..

  He stooped down to run his fingers over what was left of the red mark, the patterns from the soles of your shoes faintly visible in the splotchy paint. She should be here. She should be here and she’s not. Tears pooled in his eyes and spilled fat and heavy onto the floor as rage roiled in his blood. Frank did this. Frank and… and Madani. He stood then, shuffling back over to the folder in the couch. There’s gotta be… He knew needed to get their attention. Gotta be some way to flush ‘em out, to… 

He flipped through the file, the photos of the two of you from the park socking him hard. Military records, session notes, accomplishments, crimes, details from every aspect of his life typed out neatly in 12 point double spaced font. One name caught his eye as he turned the pages, one name that he’d only ever shared with three people in his adult life: Frank, Madani, and you. 

“So what do you have to do then, Billy? How do you make this happen?”

  Your voice filled his ears then, and he knew what he had to do to make Frank take notice.  

  Thoroughly exhausted from the events of the day, from the pieces he’d put into place and the staggering realizations he’d come to, Billy took the photo from the folder and fell into the broken couch. Outside, the sun had started setting, darkness slowly swallowing the world and ending the day. They took her from me. Slow, shaky breaths puffed through his nostrils as he crossed his arms over his chest, aching to hold you one more time. They took her from me and they’re gonna pay. 

  Though it felt like his anguish would keep him from sleep, his eyes slipped closed and he drifted off, holding your picture and repeating an address over and over, like counting sheep; an address he couldn’t believe he remembered after all these years. 

 They’re all gonna pay.

.

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