Prodigal

[dejah_thoris]

After a long day in the forge, and a long night of pacing the corridors of the bar looking for Curtis, Dejah had come back to her rooms and tried to work on the prostheses.  She'd made significant progress, building the initial layer of isolates and imprinting the neurological signature she'd recorded the very first day onto the layer itself.  It took an incredible amount of focus and when she was done, she lay her tools on her work bench.  Bleary-eyed and exhausted, she made her way to the bed.


She didn't wake for many hours.  Not even the recurring image of Curtis's shy smile melting into the leering grin of Matai Chang could manage to stir her from sleep.  It was late in the day when she rolled over and peered at the window.  The sun was going down.  Or was it coming up? She couldn't tell.

Comments

[2goodarms]

Soon after, a swift trio of knocks echoes from her door.

[dejah_thoris]

She scrubbed a hand over her eyes, dragged her hair back from her face and fumbled at the foot of the bed for her robe. She pulled it on and fished in the folds of fabric for the ties. She hadn't ordered room service, so that should be -- well, there was really only one person it could be.

A moment later, she cracked the door open and peeked out.Her eyes went wide. "Curtis." She stepped back immediately, inviting him in with a sleepy gesture.

[2goodarms]

...Whoa.

(Okay, focus, Curtis. Don't stare. That robe is just very...dammit, stop staring.)

"Hey," he says, swiftly ducking into the room. "Sorry, did I wake you up?"

[dejah_thoris]

"No. No no. I was just getting up." She closes the door behind him and turns to him, a soft drowsy smile on her face.

A moment later, she's stepping in close again, hands lighting on his coat lapel, smoothing it down. It takes a moment for her gaze to travel to his face, as if she knows somehow that if he looks, he'll see everything. She's always been utterly useless when it comes to hiding her emotions. "Everything all right?"

[2goodarms]

"Yeah." Unthinking, he circles her waist with his arm. "Finally out. Thank god."

It hadn't been too bad until the caffeine kicked in. He spent a good six hours feeling even more jittery than Edgar, pacing the whole perimeter of the cell just to work off some of the energy. Some of it's worn off by now, but he still feels way more awake than usual.

A little gentler: "You doing okay?"

[dejah_thoris]

He puts his arm around her and she exhales, and closes the distance between them. Her arms go around his neck and she hugs him. Cheek to cheek, temple to temple, she gives a quick little nod.

"I thought I'd lost you."

It's ridiculous, she knows. A fear with no more weight than a nightmare. But -- of all the people she knows, he probably understands how such things can linger.

[2goodarms]

He does know it well. A flash of yellow, a measuring tape; Paul, Gerald, Timmy, Andrew. Too many people plucked from the tail on a whim, with no hope of ever coming back.

"Hey." Still gentle, but far more concerned. Curtis presses a kiss to her hair. "You didn't. I'm back."

[dejah_thoris]

She nods again, her grip on him still tight. She holds him for a long moment and tries to remember how to breathe.

"I'm sorry. I told him not to. He -- I thought he'd listened to me."

[2goodarms]

"He, uh..." Curtis has to smile, just a little. "Seems like the type who doesn't let go of an idea once he's got it."

Not that Curtis knows anyone like that. Of course not.

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah pulls back, just enough to cover her face with one hand, giving him a quiet, dry chuckle.

"Yes, well. Clearly I come from a place that's been breeding for aggression for ten thousand years. He is -- he's family. And he has been, for a very long time. I had no idea he would be so..."

She sighs, frustrated. Her hands idly pluck at the collar of his coat. "I'm sorry. I should have come to you and warned you he was upset."

[2goodarms]

"Don't worry about it," he murmurs. Curtis moves his hand to cover one of hers. "It's handled."

Also, he's gotta admit: fighting an actual enemy, even if he and Edgar were hopelessly outclassed, felt much better than going another round with the heavy bag.

"No harm done."

[dejah_thoris]

He covers her hand and she gently shifts it, so she can rest her cheek against his palm. Her eyes close and she exhales a long breath.

This is hopeless. It will never work. He probably despises the very thought of Barsoom by now, thank you Tars. And after his arm is done, what reason will he even have to come and talk to me?

Her eyes clench shut a little tighter and she swallows hard.

[2goodarms]

Curtis leans into her touch, loosing a quiet sigh of his own.




"There anything else I gotta know about Mars so this doesn't happen again?"

He's thinking ahead, considering the possibilities: someone else from Barsoom turns up in the bar; Tars loses his temper again; he takes Dejah up on that offer to see Helium someday.

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah's eyes open and she looks startled. Had he just -- overheard her thoughts? She bites back a little laugh, one that was a touch on the hysterical side.


"First off, it's Barsoom. And if you want to know more about her..."

She looks up into his face, the blue fire of her eyes vibrant in the half-light.

"... all you need to do is ask."

[2goodarms]

"Barsoom," he corrects himself. "Sorry."

Her eyes shine bright enough to blot out every detail of his thoughts. It takes a few seconds for him to regroup.

"Like...I don't know, if you took me to see it. Sometime. What should I do?"

Or shouldn't do, as the case may be.

[dejah_thoris]

He asks like he actually cares about the answer. Like he's considering actually accepting her invitation. Like this is something more than...

She takes his hand between both her own and draws him farther into her rooms. "Well, there's -- a lot to know. Please, come in. Make yourself at home. Can I take your coat? Your hat, perhaps?"

[2goodarms]

"Coat's probably a good idea," he says, wryly. (He always forgets how warm her room can get until he steps all the way inside.) "Hang on -- "

Reclaiming his hand, he starts to unfasten the buttons.

[dejah_thoris]

She doesn't let him finish by himself. Still smiling, she starts at the bottom while he starts at the top, eventually peeling it off him and draping it over the back of one of the book-covered couches. When she turns back, she beckons him to join her on one of the low, over-stuffed couches beneath the windows. It looks like it's recently been excavated, perhaps for someone to nap on.

"First off, Barsoom has half the gravity that Earth does. So a human there is twice -- sometimes more than twice -- as strong as he would be on Earth. It means you'd have to adjust to that." There's a hint of amusement running under her voice.

[2goodarms]

Huh.

He joins her on the couch, tucking his legs up with absentminded ease to take up as little space as possible, and raises his eyebrows. Deadpan: "So maybe I could finally take you in a fight?"

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah, in contrast, drapes herself across the cushions, one arm resting along the back so she can touch his shoulder. Her legs are pulled up but in the more comfortable fashion of someone used to sitting on the ground. She idly tugs the shoulder of her robe back up.

That got a bright laugh. "You don't think after forty years of living with an Earthman, I haven't learned a few dirty tricks?"

[2goodarms]

Still straight-faced: "Oh, I believe it."

(That's as far as he'll go acknowledging the double entendre. If it was a double entendre. The robe still isn't helping to move his thoughts off that track.)

Curtis coughs into his fist. "So, okay. Lower gravity," he says. "That's -- does that mean it'd be like walking on the moon?"

He vaguely remembers stories about that, and video of men in bulky spacesuits bouncing along the surface of Earth's moon. Curtis pantomimes it with his hand along the back of the couch.

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah is not above a good double entendre, but no, she did not intend that one. She'd be pleasantly surprised to know he'd taken it as one.

"Yes, precisely. You will have a period of adjustment, but it's only a few days. You'll also be stronger there, so be aware when you get into a fight. Killing a man with a single blow is not outside the realm of possibility."

She catches the bouncing hand with a soft touch and lightly laces her fingers through his.

[2goodarms]

"A few days," he echoes as they twine their fingers together. Some of the lightness fades.

He's not sure Edgar would like the idea of Curtis being gone so long. (Curtis isn't sure he likes the idea, either.) Even more pressing, though:

"Can I even leave the bar that long? I heard weird shit can happen if you're dead."

[dejah_thoris]

Her smile softens and she meets his gaze, just looks at him for a long moment. (Those eyelashes will be the death of her.)

"I've heard varying information. I understand that you'll start to fade after a period of time. Three days. Seven days. If you do fade entirely, they say you'll just reappear here in the bar. But one or two days, you'll do fine. We could always return here to the bar to sleep every night. I mean, if it ever, you know... comes to that."

She's heard of several couples from different worlds who managed to make a trans-universe life work. And she's a firm believer that if you want something to work, you find a way.

[2goodarms]

"Okay," he murmurs. Curtis gives her hand an absent squeeze. "Yeah. That could work."

And that'd at least give him a chance to check in on Edgar.

"What else do I need to know?"