Laughably, her dress was inspired by one of her favorite television shows. It was covered in various forms of frill and color, seemingly trying to reach beyond itself and grab a passerby. I thought maybe his tuxedo was too; it was almost entirely black with an unusual jacket that closed on his left side. But I never saw the show, so I didn't know. I, in my battered clothes, dusty knee-length jacket, and windswept hair probably looked even more out of place than I felt. I had to be there though. I owed both of them that much, and more. Thankfully people are willing to ignore a lot of things on happy occasions.

Eventually, the music ended, the food plates emptied, and the punch bowl ran dry. Slowly the celebrators wandered out the door, leaving the newlyweds to a massive pile of wedding gifts. And an even bigger mess.

For the first few moments, I let them be, waiting to see if they would notice me. After talking quietly to each other a bit and then staring in dismay at the mess, he went towards the kitchen. When he got to the door, I cleared my throat loudly. Both of them quickly spun my direction, a hint of paranoid fear in his eyes.

I smiled and stood. "Good evening, sir, madam, I'm wandering around selling books, and as you two just got married and all..." I started to laugh, quietly but sincerely.

His jaw dropped nearly as far as her dishes. She ran to me, nearly tripping in her heels, and embraced me in a vice-grip that one wouldn't expect she was capable of.

I coughed as she squeezed the air out of my lungs. "Hey, hey, calm down, you're gonna kill me and get dirt all over that nice dress."

She stepped back and slapped me. "I should kill you, showing up like this!" She turned and stomped off into his waiting arms as both he and I started laughing.

He helped her brush the dust off of her sleeves as he spoke, "Old habits never die, eh John?"

That knowing smile worked its way onto my face again. "Well, sometimes, but like old friends, they usually come back."

I bowed slightly to each of them. "Roland, Marie." He laughed.

She looked up into his eyes. "How can you act like that?"

Confusion crept into his brow. "Like what?"

"Like it's absolutely no surprise that he's here! I mean..." She turned to me. "How? Why are you here?"

He laughed a little at that. "It's John. Of anyone to appear mysteriously, it would be him. Especially today."

She turned to me, confusion still obvious. "But, but, John, they said you had died. How can you be here?"

"They've said that before. Several times." I grinned. "You should know better by now than to assume that anything 'they' say about me isn't necessarily true."

She sighed. I knew she wouldn't be satisfied with that. There would be questions. Of course.

My grin broke into a smile. "Save all your questions. Today is too happy a day to dim with dark tales."

That earned an eyebrow-raise from both of them, but they knew me well enough that they weren't going to ask anything more that day.

I laughed with them, and talked, and discussed the "good old days" though they weren't really that old. But time's funny like that. It had only been a few years, but it felt like forever. To all three of us, apparently.

After I helped them clean, I told them I had to go. I didn't really have anywhere I needed to be, but this was their wedding day, after all. I'm sure they wanted some time alone, and a few old memories were telling me it was time to clear out anyway.

I stepped out into the cooling air, the evening drifting into night as the last of the sun slipped over the western horizon. I closed my eyes and listened to the nighttime sounds of the tiny little town, the barely metallic smell of cold beginning to creep into the air.

Quietly and carefully at first, but quickly gaining in confidence and noise, I heard footsteps crunching the gravel behind me. There was only one person it could be. I'd been running from her for over a year now, but every once in a while she caught me, which had yet to be a pleasant experience.

I sighed. "What do you want?"

Her voice was harsh, yet somehow still completely feminine. "This was a mistake, John." I slowly turned to her. Long black hair, great figure, good-looking face. She could've been really beautiful. But her eyes, they always seemed to be screaming at someone. And she never smiled. It was too bad, really.

"Yeah, it was a mistake. Why'd you have to go and follow me? Such a silly thing to do." The anger in her eyes deepened. If looks could kill and all that, y'know?

"I mean you coming here. You're supposed to stay dead to your old life."

Somewhere in the background, a cat's outraged yowl was heard. "Old life, new life, it doesn't matter. Those are my friends. You don't control me, no matter how much you'd like to."

She took a step forward, menace springing to her eyes. "You listen to me, you spoiled brat. You tell them so much as one detail about where you've been in the last thee years, and I swear that I'll destroy everything that has ever been aware of your presence since this began."

Suddenly a flash went through my brain. Memories overlaid each other, fitting together like an Escher painting. An all-to-familiar sense of déjà vu overwhelmed me. I turned to her.

"Have we... Had this conversation before? In this place?"

She sighed, turning a pair of sunglasses in her hands, all the rage and threats gone in an instant. "To quote you, 'Do I see things others don't because I am more perceptive or less sane?' This time, it's less sane. Go home, John, get some rest."

"I don't have a home here, remember? That was your doing, after all."

As soon as I said it, she was back to her normal self. "Fine, sleep under the stars for all I care, just do yourself a favor and don't tell anyone anything." She turned and began to stomp off.

"Selina." She turned, I smiled a little. "When are you going to stop following me around?"

"When I'm through with you. Or when your heart gives its last pulse. Whichever comes first." She turned, somehow even more furious, and stomped away.

I sighed and began walking the opposite direction, staring up at the stars. "She so enjoys thinking that she'll be the end of me."

"Won't she?" asked a small voice. I kept walking. "She seemed quite frustrated with you."

"She's always like that," I said, still watching the stars as I walked. "Fury defines her, it sets her boundaries. She is rage. Though not in any kind of literal, 'if you kill her all that stuff dies in this world' sense. It's just the only emotion she knows exactly how to express. Which is sad really."

"Yes, sad..." said the voice.

--

I spent that night wandering the town, seeing how it had grown in the last couple of years. Wasn't much, but change was a slow thing to come to this tiny part of the American Southeast.

Finally I got too tired to keep going. I made my way to the field that they called a town park, and fell asleep on a bench.

I was rudely awakened late in the morning by a sheriff's deputy poking me with a baton. "Excuse me, young man, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Some woman called in, said a 'dangerous looking person' was hanging around the park. You planning on doing something stupid, son?"

Selina torturing me again. Great. "No sir, just passing through. This seemed like a place where I would bother the fewest people."

He nodded in a sympathetic but resigned way. "Well, still, I'm going to have to take you in for loitering."

I slowly stood and stretched my arms. "Uh huh... Well, that's too bad, I guess."

"Why's that?"

"Oh, well, y'know..." I bolted. Not the smartest thing to do, but I didn't have a lot of options. Given the shape that most of the local law enforcement was in, and the shape that the last three years had put me in, it was no contest. I jumped a fence and lost him in a wooded section on the other side of the park, and then turned towards the road.

Of course, she was waiting for me on the road, staring at me over the tops of a new pair of midnight-blue sunglasses.

"You make it way too easy, John. I'm going to be able to beat you without breaking a sweat. You'll be begging me for mercy by Midsummer's Eve."

I strode toward her. "I will, huh? Well, how about I introduce you to something an old friend of mine called the Mercy of Cuthbert?"

"The wha-"

She never saw it coming. Right hook across the jaw. She fell to the ground, holding her mouth. I stared down at her. "I've wanted to do that for weeks. Here's the deal. You quit following me, you stop harassing me, and you don't so much as glance sideways at my friends." I stepped past her and started walking down the road.

I heard her pull herself to her feet, then the click. She had pulled the hammer back on the revolver she carried. I stopped walking, not turning towards her yet. She'd pulled the thing on me before, but she had never fired it. Of course, I'd never hit her in rage and spite before either.

I decided to risk it. "If you're going to shoot me, pull the trigger and finally have it done with. If not, well, quit with the show." I started walking.

I could hear her bracelets rattling. Whether her arms shook with fury, indecision, fear, or something else entirely, I couldn't know.

Finally, about ten paces later, they stopped.

"Damn it," she whispered as she put the hammer back into place and let the gun hit the dirt road with a heavy thud.

I smiled. One more battle won, and that many more steps closer to freedom.

--

I traveled down the quiet back road, pondering what to do next.

A familiar, small voice piped up from behind me. "That was risky."

I sighed, still walking. "Why are you following me around?"

"Curiosity." The voice laughed quietly. "But my point remains. She could have killed you. Probably would have had you not spoken and forced her to pause."

"I don't think she can kill me."

"Why not? It isn't as though you can't die."

I paused for a second. "Psychologically. She's put such an interest in 'molding' me for her plans. I doubt she'd ever turn so much of her time into a waste."

"Hm. Perhaps not. But it becomes more and more obvious that you'll have no peace without allies."

"Allies?"

"Yes. Friends. Compatriots. Brothers and sisters in arms. All that nonsense."

"I've never needed them before."

"You do now. You need physical, tangible help. More than what I can do. You knew people here. Seek them out."

"Who?"

"Who did you know? Who can you trust implicitly? Also, I'd suggest arming yourself."

"Arming my- Oh no. You mean... No. Not a chance. He thinks I'm dead."

"John. Everyone thinks you're dead."