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A Gap in the Clouds
by Dolores Labouchere
E-mail: dolores_l@hotmail.com
Summary: Joyce goes on a visit to LA to seek out her future.
Improv: ragged invent decade cascade
Spoilers: General season 5 Joyce related stuff.
Rating: G
Distribution: List archives, JOYFFA, otherwise just ask
Disclaimer: They're not mine, they never have been and they probably never
will be. I promise to put them back when I'm finished although they might
be slightly soiled.
Notes: Not a shippy fic at all, despite my track record of pairing poor
Joyce with any minor character going. I haven't written the Host before so
here goes nothing. Thanks so much to Faithtastic for beta'ing and being
fab.
"This I not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with
great force." - Dorothy Parker
***
One long leg dangled out of the jeep, then another. Joyce heard her high
heels meet the wet sidewalk with a damp scratch, and cast her eyes skywards.
It had been raining most of the way there, but though Los Angeles was
overcast, the clouds were becoming thin and ragged, with darkening blue sky
threading through the gaps. Rain didn't look likely, so she figured she'd
be ok to make the short walk to her destination.
It was the first time she'd been back to her hometown since the operation.
Not that she really missed the place; it reminded her of Hank and divorces -
and other things that weren't worth her consideration anymore. She paused
to look in her side mirror, running stiff fingers through travel-flattened
hair so that it sat better on her head. For a moment she caught a glimpse
of her scar, a white right angle that contrasted sharply to her tawny locks,
but she ignored the sudden dread that gathered like fog at the pit of her
stomach. So many things weren't worth consideration.
The future was worth consideration, however, which was why she was here.
A quiet discussion with Rupert had lead to a phone call to Wesley, which in
turn had got her to Los Angeles and a bar called Caritas. A bouncer stood
at the entrance, and he clearly wasn't human. His purple head swivelled in
her direction, an odd contrast to the black tuxedo and white shirt, and
Joyce smiled despite herself. Not three years ago she would have dismissed
him as a publicity stunt, convinced herself that it was just a man in a
strange costume, or invent some other 'logical' explanation. Now she knew
better and she'd got to the point where it didn't even shock her. You've
come a long way, baby.
The bouncer appraised the slim woman. In a deep, melodious voice he
intoned, "Our bar is not for humans."
"I - I know what sort of bar it is, thank you," Joyce replied, trying to
sound confident.
There was a moment of silence as the bouncer continued to stare at her.
Then, "Very well. Please respect our other patrons. Also use the human
toilets."
Joyce nodded. "Thank you."
She walked past him and into the bar. The second face on the back of the
bouncer's head watched her go. "Did we get reviewed in the Post or
something? The humans better not think we're trendy."
***
Joyce walked down the short flight of stairs into the main bar area, raising
an eyebrow at the site of what appeared to be an octopus singing 'Do You
Know the Way to San Jose' on the stage. Blinking a few times she made for
the bar itself, an ordered a Virgin Mary.
The barman nodded and asked, "Is that blood or tomato juice?"
"Oh, tomato juice. Please."
"Coming up."
She nursed her drink for a few songs, watching as various creatures made
their way to the stage and sang into the microphone. Wesley had warned her
what she had to do if she wanted to get any information from this . . . what
was he again? Analogue demon? Fortune teller, anyway.
She winced as the thing that was on the stage murdered another line of 'My
Heart Will Go On'. Sure, Celine Dion had been bad, but this was just
torture.
"Dontcha just feel like your brain is gonna cascade out of your ears any
minute?"
She jumped, the voice a surprise. She heard a low chuckle. "Sorry,
sweetling, I didn't mean to scare you."
Joyce looked at the source of the words and saw a tall, green demon in a
white suit, clutching a glass of cocktail in one verdant hand. He used the
other to indicate the singer, still marauding through his song.
"Kevin has a thing for Celine. I'm not sure if Ms. Dion would see it as a
compliment or a grave insult, but he tries his best, bless his little
heart." He gave Joyce a friendly smile. "So, my lovely lady, are you going
to show us what your lungs can do?"
"I guess. I don't know what to sing though. Is there a certain type of
song that helps him?"
"Helps who?"
"The demon that can see the future."
"Peaches, you can sing what you like. Although I have a soft spot for the
old divas. Aretha, Chaka, Diana. That sort of thing."
"Oh. Oh! You're him?"
"The Host, at your service."
"Joyce Summers."
***
He watched her on the stage, quavering through 'Son of a Preacher Man'. He
liked that she'd chosen Dusty. He didn't like what he was seeing, or rather
not seeing. Damn, he hated it when this happened.
She finished the song to gentle but genuine applause, and wobbled over to
where the Host sat at a table to her left. She sat down, breathing hard.
"I can't believe I did that."
"Sweetheart, you did her memory proud."
"Thanks."
The Host gave her a serious look. "Now for the clairvoyance bit.
Concentrate." He paused. "You've had some rough times, haven't you? It's
not been your year. Not really been your decade."
Joyce nodded, not really wanting to say more.
He took one of her hands in his own, patting it with his other. "Honey, all
I can tell you is this: it's gonna rain sometimes in people's lives whoever
they are. What you have to do is enjoy the gaps in the clouds, because, my
love, you don't know when it's gonna rain again. You've got a gap just now.
Make sure you enjoy it."
"Is something bad going to happen?" Joyce asked, a worried expression across
her face.
The Host smiled at her for a moment, a gentle expression. "Sure there's
thunder a-coming. But you'll deal with it when it rumbles."
"What about my daughters? Will they . . . are they going to be ok?"
Red eyes flicked to the middle distance. "They'll manage."
Joyce opened her mouth to ask more questions. The Host put a finger to his
lips. "Hush, now, my dear. I can't tell you everything. I don't know it
all. Just you go have some fun. You're young, free and single after all!"
Joyce nodded again, slowly this time, as if she was trying to understand it
all. "Thank you for everything."
"My pleasure."
She got to her feet and left, and the Host sat back in his chair, watching
her go. Poor woman. She wants to know her future and she doesn't realise
that she doesn't have one.
***
Joyce was back at the jeep when the first spots of rain began to bounce off
the hood. She got in and pulled the door shut, sitting for a moment
watching rain streak the windscreen. Then she reached into her handbag and
pulled out a business card. An art dealer called Brian had scribbled
'Dinner and a movie sometime?" on the back. She flipped it over, pulled out
her cellphone and tapped in the number.
She was going to enjoy the gap.
***
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