[milliways] Through The Looking Glass

[dejah_thoris]

 [After this.]

Dejah wakes and eats her breakfast on the terrace, looking out over the city.  When she's done, she finds herself pacing the floor, waiting for the door to Milliways to show up again.

The moment the sun hits the far wall, it reappears in a shimmer of dust motes. Dejah smiles with relief.  She grabs up the copper-clad box with the data crystals, and a few of her notebooks.  She starts over the threshold, and at the last moment, she whirls around and grabs Curtis's hat off her pillow.

The whole place is bustling, so she looks for him in his usual place at the bar.

Comments

[dejah_thoris]

"Not here," Dejah says. She takes the steps lightly, and backs into the door of her floor. "Wait until we're in my rooms."

"Anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

[2goodarms]

"Well, uh." His smile dims a fraction, despite his best efforts. "Edgar got a sword. That...metal you guys were talking about. From Tars."

[dejah_thoris]

She stops in the middle of the hallway, her eyes gone wide. "What? Tars gifted Edgar a sword?"

[2goodarms]

"Yeah."

Trust him, Dejah, he and Edgar were just as stunned as you are. His fingers fidget against the side of the box.

"A huge fuck-off sword that's gotta weigh at least fifteen pounds."

[dejah_thoris]

"A Thark sword. Huh."

She starts walking again, her attention still clearly on Curtis.

"Well, if Tars gave him a sword, I have no doubt in my mind that Edgar earned it. The Jeddak of the Thark is not one to gift metal to just anyone."

[2goodarms]

He nods. If he keeps fidgeting, he'll drop the box, so Curtis deliberately stills his hand and keeps moving forward.

"Kinda got the sense," he says. And then -- "I'm proud of him. I am."

[dejah_thoris]

"Pride is one thing, and I suspect you already had that. With metal comes respect. Respect anyone can see without knowing who they are looking at. It means people will think twice before causing trouble."

It could save Edgar's life, she thinks. That's got practical applications beyond pride.

She pauses at her door, hands full. She has to bend and hit the panel with her elbow. "Which reminds me, your arm..."

[2goodarms]

Curtis' eyebrows lift. As he follows Dejah into her room: "Yeah?"

He squats down to deposit the box on the floor, patting its top absently as he stands back up, as if checking to make sure it's secure.

[dejah_thoris]

"Bring that in here, please." She's depositing her armload of books on her desk.

"Your arm is metal. And it's a gift from me."

She regards him with a wary, hopeful look.

[2goodarms]

Stunned silence follows.

After a couple beats, Curtis realizes his mouth's hanging open, and quickly snaps it shut.

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah laughs softly, her gaze falling to the books which apparently need stacking very precisely. There's a flush of color in her cheeks, if he's paying attention.

"Some day, maybe you'll be able to tell me the whole story." As if that could explain why she thinks he's worthy of such a gift. She doesn't have to justify it, of course. She's the Jeddak of Helium. She could give metal to whomever she wanted, whenever she wanted, and no one would question her.

But that's not who she is.

"Anyway, it will be seen as such. And you have my leave to tell anyone who asks that it was a gift from me."

[2goodarms]

Words still aren't coming. Why the fuck can't he say anything?

But words have never been as easy for Curtis as action, anyway. Almost before she's finished talking, Curtis crosses the room in a few quick strides and sweeps her into as tight a hug as he can manage with his one arm, face buried against her shoulder.

Obligation, gift, honor, whatever the fuck it all means -- despite the way he grumbled about front-sectioners and their bullshit in private with Edgar, he knows this is a big damn deal. And he can't even figure out how to say thanks for it.

(A war wound, she called his missing arm once. Worthy of its own metal. She gets it, even if she hasn't gotten the whole story yet.)

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah's eyes go wide and she squeaks as he engulfs her. Her laugh is bright and warm, and she tries her best to wrap her arms around him in return.

"So stoic," she whispers, nuzzling into his hair, her eyes falling closed as she breathes him in. Her hands fist in his shirt, pulling him close.

[2goodarms]

Curtis cracks a tiny grin, gasps in a near-soundless laugh. He kisses her earlobe.

"Thank you," he whispers.

[dejah_thoris]

Her head tilts up and he can feel the shiver run down her body.

"Don't thank me yet," she murmurs back. "Not until you've been to Helium and seen what it is you're getting yourself into."

[2goodarms]

"Hey, still." He gives her one more squeeze, then eases back to look her in the eye, trying to find the words. "I know this metal thing's important. I don't -- get all of it. But I know enough. So."

He smooths his hand over her hair.

"Thanks."

[dejah_thoris]

Her eyes flutter closed and she leans into his touch, her hands still keeping him close. She lets out a long breath, and pushes up on her tip toes to kiss him again.

Not a quick kiss this time, but slow, thorough. Telling him again, the only way he seems to know how to understand.

[2goodarms]

He sinks into the kiss gladly, cradling her cheek, drawing out the moment as long as they're both able. When it ends, and he comes back to himself -- aware of more than just the two of them in their shared space -- he smiles, rests his hand on her shoulder as he keeps her close.

Soft, and teasing, "So are you gonna tell me all the details now?"

[dejah_thoris]

She blinks a few times, studying the fine lines around his eyes. The way his smile sits crooked on his face. (A familiar melody in the middle of an entirely new song.) She touches his cheek again, and lets out a breath.

"I will. Let's sit and eat, and I can go over what I know." She eyes the pancakes. "Let me make sure the door is sealed, and we can sit in front of the fire?"

[2goodarms]

A few creases form along Curtis' forehead, but he answers, amiably enough, "Sure."

Kissing Dejah's temple, he goes to retrieve the pancake boxes. It's probably just because of all that earlier talk about outwitting the sensors, he reasons; a security issue, like telling Painter not to draw the inside of the food vats. No -- more like trusting Nam to get them to the front without warning the guards they were coming.

(Nam wasn't the one they had to worry about there.)

He lowers himself to the floor near the fire, carefully doling out the silverware.

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah makes a circuit of the room, closing the door and pressing her palm against it. There's a near silent click as the door locks. She shakes her bracelet down closer to her hand and turns it so the pinkish grey gemstone set on the silver metal is facing up, and she puts her thumb over it. And then she methodically walks around the entire room.

She doesn't join him in front of the fire until she's certain that they're alone and that the room is secure.

"I know, you must think I'm being paranoid, but I cannot put Barsoom at risk by assuming I am alone and unobserved here in the Bar." She lets out a breath, and settles beside him. "We haven't seen sign of the Thern on Barsoom for some thirty years, but to assume they have forgotten us would be folly at best, and at worst, a devastating mistake with consequences for every living thing on the planet."

[2goodarms]

Takeout pancakes don't exactly need a lot of prep. Soon, Curtis abandons his idle fiddling in favor of watching Dejah circle the room, a faint edge of concern still lingering in his expression. When she finally settles next to him, he pries off the lid of one pancake box and pushes it her way.

"No, it's cool," he says, quiet. "I get it."

Or, like the concept of metal: he gets enough to understand the importance.

[dejah_thoris]

His trust calms something in her, and he can see her shoulders relax. She gives him a soft smile and settles next to him, taking the takeaway box with a careful hand. She sits close enough to rest her shoulder against his, slipping her shoes off and folding her feet beneath her like the first time they talked.

"So tell me about pancakes."

[2goodarms]

His smile eases back.

"They're pretty typical breakfast food. You dump spoonfuls of batter in a pan and fry them so they look like that." Curtis gestures to the box. "Sometimes they've got fruit on top, or you put berries in the batter so it cooks up with the pancake. And then you put butter and syrup on top."

Beat.

"Or just eat 'em plain."

[dejah_thoris]

He talks about cooking them and her brow furrows, but her smile never fades. John used to talk about making his food, too. It's something she has absolutely no point of reference for, but there's a wonderful sort of care in the ritual she can respect. You do nice things for the people you care about.

"I think -- I'll start with plain. And then add other ingredients one at a time."