The Crow

IX: Intrude in flight

Sarah had fallen asleep on the couch in the apartment's small living room, clutching Eric's album in her hands like a well-loved security blanket. What woke her wasn't the sound of the morning news talking about the possible upcoming Devil's Night infernos as well as those from last year, but it was the smell of cooking food.
She rolled off of the couch onto her feet and rubbed her eyes to see her mother, clad in a fresh white robe, busy over the stove cooking eggs. When she noticed that Sarah was up, she offered the best loving smile she could, and Sarah realized that her gaze, though tired, was sharp and focused.

"You like 'em up or over?" Darla asked. "I can't remember."
"What are you doing?" Sarah asked in return as she walked into the kitchen, sitting down at the tiny table. "I don't even like eggs."
"Wait…you loved eggs", Darla stated, a touch hesitantly.
"Yeah, when I was five."
"So", Darla stated, "What do you want instead – black coffee and cigarettes?" Was that humor she was trying to put into her voice? This was really weird.
Sarah told her mother as much before asking, "What'd you take to become Mother Of The Year?"

At this, she could see some apprehension flash in Darla's eyes and her smile drop slightly as she responded, "Oh…it wasn't drugs. Someone kinda woke me up."
"Who?" Sarah asked, even though she had a feeling that she knew already.
It was as if Darla was trying to decide whether or not to answer, and how, before finally stating, "It was nuts" with a shrug.
"Seriously, you're acting really weird", Sarah said again. "Did you win the lottery or something, Darla?"
Darla looked back at Sarah, a genuinely saddened look on her face – a look that Sarah hadn't seen there in a long time. Immediately, Sarah felt a stab of shame at seeing the harsh effect her words were starting to have on Darla – her mother again? She wouldn't go that far yet, but she was genuinely trying to be, and Sarah couldn't fault her for that.
"Oh, just forget it", Darla sighed sadly, moving to the trashcan. "I never was good at this mommy shit."

"Overeasy!"
Sarah had bolted up from her chair, gently grabbing her shoulder to stop her from dumping the readied food into the plastic can. Their eyes met again.
"I like them overeasy…Mom."
Her mother's smile came back, and Sarah was finally starting to remember just how bright that smile really was. Her mother flipped the eggs over in the pan, and with the chuckle between them that followed; the atmosphere inside seemed almost as bright as the sun that shone through the windows.

That bright mood seemed to infect Albrecht as well – he was just leaving his office and ready to hit his beat, a smile on his face that hadn't been there for a very long time. The sun was out and it seemed the dangers of Devil's Night were subsiding. Life was good.
At least, until Torres seemed to decide that he needed to make it worse. "Hey, Albrecht."
With a sigh, Albrecht lifted a hand to gently rub his eyes before stopping at the doorway of Torres' cramped office, the desk buried under mounds of papers and a computer at the corner. Another file was held out to him in Torres' hand, the photos of the roasted hulk of a car and its driver on top.
"That's the third hit on your beat in 24 hours. We just fished this out of the river – he's fused to his own car. We're gonna have to ID his teeth."
Albrecht looked down at the photos, the melted face of the driver frozen in a permanent yawn, the blackened shades of his skin scorched into the ruined leather of the car's interior. But even without looking at him, Albrecht knew who this driver was.
"His name's T-Bird; arson was his specialty", Albrecht stated, unable to keep a chuckle from permeating his voice. "Looks like he zigged when he should've zagged. Case closed."
Snatching the file away from him with his usual testy expression, Torres gave Albrecht a look that would've burned through other cops. "Bull-fuckin'-shit! Come here." They walked into Torres' office proper, he sitting down on the desk while Albrecht leaned against the window.