Where the Streets Have No Name

[Star]

He nodded as she explained.

A little tension bled away with the words; tension from doubt, tight between his shoulders that had them drawn up slightly without him having realized it. Sometimes? He wished he could stop the What Ifs. In another light, it wouldn't have surprised him in the slightest -- he would have been surprised to think that the Arrows didn't share their idiosyncrasies.

It was with wry amusement he considered having the same thoughts. Not specifics, but concerns. They were more than they had began -- all of them -- and he could almost feel it pushing and pulling against each and the whole. For three of them, at least, it didn't seem to come easily.

He was probably the most guilty, and knew it.

"Yeah, I totally get it," he agreed, walking again when she did. Where she'd looked down, he looked up, using his mind's eye to summon up the memory of what was hidden from them in the lines of power.

"It's... gotten, hmmm, complicated? But not in a bad way. Even besides some of us not being used to this, the cabal, or expecting it, I think some of us...," he paused as he searched for the words, "Are used to our, uh, jobs, coming first. Like, that it's been our, what's it called, support system. Or even identity."

It was why he hadn't told Zoey who.

"But. I think it's different, things coming up at the right time? Versus just holding out," he agreed. His head dipped, and his forehead creased as his eyebrows drew together in thought. This was part of the storm building, and a bigger Thing than this moment. Because Smiley's People. "I go back and forth with Zoey," he admitted. "Aspen... intimidates me. But we're, or, I'm, getting past it." Another admission.

His hands clenched in his pockets. He could feel his shoulders tightening up again.

"Wait. I... I have to tell you something."

The butteflycondas had changed into pit vipers, the venom of fear starting to spread like icy, wet needles. He was no Vivamancer, but he could feel his pulse jump. He hadn't meant to, not now. But now felt like the right time. Well. There would never be a right time, but there would sure be plenty of wrong times.

Really, really wrong times. The worst part? It was probably something she would never find out.

But that's not how The Truth works.

"Uh," he paused, inhaling sharply. "Zoey and I. We. We...," Say. It. "We kind of had a casual thing." Would she know what that meant? "Like, ummmmm, we were sleeping together."

And there it was. Out. There.

"But we stopped. I told her, uh, I needed to. Stop. When I realized... that. That I wanted... to ask you out. But you should know, I feel like? So it's not like some secret thing. Or think that I was, uh, you know. 'Making the rounds'."

Was he holding his breath?

[Avis]

"Fucking what?" Avis barked, spinning towards Star, hands collapsing into fists in the cages of her pockets. Eyes, normally dull, shown with an unusual feral intensity, and then her hands leapt from their confines. Not towards Star, but towards her own skull, alighting on the sides of her head, cupping her mind's housing as though that was the only way to keep it intact. She spun back away from him and walked three paces away and stopped again, turning then to bridges railing. Eyes sought out the black mirror of water again, her hands seeking the solid, immutable presence of the bridge's steel.

It felt like something was descending, falling away from her, out of her, but she didn't know what it was. Maybe it was her sense of surety. Or maybe it was the illusion of an illusion falling away. She couldn't put what she'd felt towards Star into words, not even into images or dreams, but it had held a wondrous quality to it. Something that reminded her of what it felt like, to awaken from the bleakness of a nightmare only to feel the kiss of the sun washing over you. But now, now there was a tempest. Something roiling, disorienting as the crush of ocean waves driving one into the depths. Except, the sensation was fading, ever so slightly. Mellowing to something approaching acceptance, yet still a valley away from it. All she could think of was how strange it was that she'd of sex, not the act of it, just the word itself, and how it could foul meanings when two minds tried to connect and share themselves. How ironic that that would be what sprung up now, between them.

Not that it was the problem. It was intimacy that was the problem. That idea of openness, of being naked of all illusions, bare beneath the mind of another, and simultaneously seeing them all bared before you. Was that what he'd with Zoey? Something beyond the merely, inconsequentially physical? It didn't sound like it, but obviously something had passed between them. But, why was that such a big deal? Was it out of selfishness? Just like she'd been selfish, intending this entire conversation to be about her, and her desire to unburden and share? Or was it that she feared that, somehow, there could now be no openness with Star. Just a tainted intimacy that revealed her to another, one who she didn't wish to be open towards. At least not now. How could she feel open, knowing this now?

Except wait, maybe it should do the opposite, encouraging an openness? No, wait, that wasn't it. Maybe it was the opposite. Maybe it was she that had tainted the openness, and the intimacy Zoey had with Star. Maybe that was why Zoey and her had been having...whatever it was that they'd been having. God, how fucking disturbing was it that she'd basically asked his ex-lover to help her buy clothes, to drive her around? The thought, for reasons she couldn't name, made her feel ill. No, she could name them. It made her feel like a shit. A parasitic, selfish, user. Did this mean she was the cause of this turmoil? Obviously it had never been her intention, it was all about Star's intention, but she was the fucking catalyst for it, so she was still implicated. Unless she wasn't. She hadn't done anything to hurt Zoey, she hadn't even known. But sometimes it didn't matter.

Fuck, it was so confusing.

"I don't even fucking know what this means," she mumbled, still looking at the water. She swallowed, and then looked back to Star. "Should we...I don't know. I almost fell like we should tell Zoey, but I don't even know if there is a we. We had a dinner and spent a night on and in a fucking train. That's not exactly enough to define whatever we have, is it? Or maybe it is, I don't know. Was there nothing between you? Like, you need to explain. Was it just fucking? Was it just reciprocal masturbation, or what?"

[Star]

He jumped a little. Maybe a lot. It ward to tell, because he'd tried to inhale again --the way the body does when it's startled. A half second spent suffocating on the lungs full of air he already held while his brain and body re-synched made the moment hazy. The flood of oxygen blew his senses wide open and his eyes jumped when her hands burst free and went to her head. Total. System. Reboot. Half formed ideas and words of explanation, assurance, defense -- all gone.

That moment? There was only one thing: Hopefully, he'd get counter a big enough piece of her Brain Blaster to not be permanently lobotomized. When the moment passed, and Avis turned away, spent air rasped out. A tremble rippled through him like a slow shiver as the Red Alert chemical response of his body demanded an outlet. He was no Seal Team Six. It took a few moments for rational thought to come back, to calm his nerves, and let his autonomic functions even out.

In the span of time that passed before she spoke again, he only managed to produce two productive thoughts. The first, that he was pretty sure he was OK. Yes, he would point and laugh (all day) at the guy who got Blasted by his girlfriend-ish, but he sure as heck didn't want to be that guy. The second, that she was still there.

Which had to mean... something.

His mouth opened when she began with telling Zoey. Guardian stuff aside? Zoey didn't care. That was the whole point.

what

"Yes," he clipped off the last of her words. It was probably the most vehement word he'd said in the city. "Yes, there's a 'we'." The eyes that met hers flashed for a second. No, it wasn't conventional. None of the 'normal' check boxes had been ticked. But they were not-defining it Together, and it had Meant Something, and don't Lie about not knowing.

Yes, he'd wondered, himself. Moments ago. But now he knew.

The foxfire in his eyes disappeared as he closed them and wrestled it back down. Stop. It's about her. True Fact: When you Drop A Bomb on someone, it's not on them to be OK with it.

"Or. There was. And is. If you want. You're right. I need to explain. Yes, it was absolutely, literally, Just Sex." His ears burned slightly with a flush. He could tell her it was Guardian Thing. Or that Zoey had practically assaulted him. He passed on the finger pointing. "I don't think it means anything? It just... happened. But you deserved to know?"

He took a few steps closer, but kept his hands in his pockets.

"That was Nothing. And this is Something. Because... it means a lot to me."

His lips compressed, and he fell silent. Maybe she had more questions.

[Avis]

"Are you sure that's all it was?" Avis challenged, unafraid to meet his eyes now that the strange, vehement intensity had dropped out of them. "Not for you I mean. Obviously I have the answer to that, but are you sure that's how she feels? Cause I get the impression that Zoey has some, ya know, issues with getting close to people. Like, she runs from it, she's not honest about it. To herself or anyone else. Like, she might be blunt and flippant a lot, but I think that's also how she lies, how she distracts from everything she's omitting. So are you sure that's not what happened there?"

[Star]

His brows bounced together in confusion.

That? That was a weird question. Wasn't it? He'd kind of expected, maybe, whether he liked it, if he still wanted to, that sort of thing. Zoey? Of course it didn't mean anything.

"Zoey treats me like her brain-damaged younger cousin."

Well... that didn't sound right.

"Ummm. Not... like, I'm saying she's into that. Just in the obligatory-affection-without-respect relative sense. So, yeah, I'm pretty sure it didn't mean anything to her."

It was funny, really, because he probably got a double helping of what Avis and Asp got, since he worked with her. Honestly? Aside from convenience factor, Zoey ahd probably cared as much as she would about changing batteries. Did he think Zoey didn't care, at all? No. Just not... Like That.

"But, a more, hmmmm, real answer? She didn't mind, when I told her I wanted to stop, because I was interested in someone." He paused, and pulled out his phone. Stared at it. "I'll tell her. Now? If you want. That it's you. Us."

Sure, Zoey might rat him out to Principal Ari. And maybe he'd get Talked To. That was OK. Because Sincere Face. Smile and nod, yo. He also doubted she needed to be told. They'd totally just ditched them both. It's not as if Zoey or Asp were stupid.

He looked back up, meeting her eyes again. Was this really about Zoey?

"Listen. Avis? I'm sorry. Not, like, fake sorry about something that happened before us, but sorry... that... I did something that hurt you. If, you know? If I had ever known there would be, this, I wouldn't have."

[Avis]

"What? No, it's not..." Avis sputtered, and then trailed off. It wasn't that he'd hurt her, it was just that, for whatever reason, she felt raw. It was just what happened when reality intruded upon the dream-like expectations she'd constructed for herself.

"It's not that you hurt me, it's just, I don't know. I was worried we might have hurt someone else. Someone we should be, ya know, helping. Never hurting. But, I guess, somehow, that's not an issue, so I won't worry about it. And, uh, we should tell her. Eventually. Not now. Ok? Eventually we should. But, like, only once we know more about what we are. Cause, I do, ya know, feel something. For you. I can't name it, but it's there." She broke off again, and looked away.

"You should know though, I can't promise you anything. Most of the time I'm so caught up in my own shit that I can barely recognize that other people have problems, and needs, too. I want to change that, I really do, but I don't fucking know if that's ever going to happen. For a long time, it's just been me, taking care of me, so I'm damn good about thinking of me. Not so much about other people. So, um, until we know more, lets just keep it between us, ok? And in the future, if you ever do, ya know, decide there's someone else, you should tell me, too, ok?" The last part came out softer, but certain. It was an attempt at tenderness, of concern for another, rather than a quail or whimper about what the future might hold. Her eyes said as much when they sought his out again.

[Star]

He shrugged, and nodded, keeping his eyes on her as he put away the phone. If that's how she wanted to do? He was OK with it -- even if he did wonder if it was going to be the elephant in the theater one day. But it didn't really matter. The apology had, though. Even if she didn't need it. Because he was.

A little smile peeked out, evidence of the warm flush that spread through him at her Saying It. It was the first ray of sunshine after a storm of lightning and thunder that rattled the windows and made a person jumpy. It was light-headed relief, letting go, or feeling it bleed away -- the roiling mess of nerves and tension that had consumed the past few minutes.

"OK. OK. And... OK," he agreed. They would wait. He didn't expect anything. He would tell her. This Sincere Face? Totally real.

"But? I think it's happening. The other people thing. Like, the way you care about bread lines."

That needed to be said, while he was thinking about it. And he still had questions. But they could wait, and he didn't want to think about either of those things, just for a little bit, because they, The Plural, were going to be OK about The Thing.

So hit the Pause button. He shuffled forward a step, and his hands came out of his pockets.

"Ummm. I... want a hug."

[Avis]

"Ummmm. Ok. Sure," Avis agreed after another pause, her mouth quirking into something like a grimace, just for a beat, which then morphed into an amused grin, with a certain amount of surprise mixed in. Her hands came off of the steel railing and hovered at waist height, hesitant, but then she woodenly walked the last few paces up to him and wrapped her arms around him in an embrace. Really, it wasn't the first hug they'd had. It was just the first one they acknowledged as one, and the first one they'd shared, facing one another.

It was nice, feeling someone's arms around her, and not for the purpose of causing pain, or subduing her. She wasn't sure how long to linger there, so instead she let Star decide. She wouldn't mind if it was for awhile. Everything they'd just talked about, and everything she'd worried about, felt distant in those moments.

[Star]

The care he took wrapping his arms around her could have been a little silly, because deadly Arrow. But a person is more than one thing, and the other part of his 'we' felt thin and small against him. D.H. Lawrence. It took a moment to relax, and rest his cheek against her, enjoying and drawing the comfort he'd asked for.

See? We.

He didn't know how long it was. Long enough for the memories of yelling to fade, jagged nerves to settle, and what-ifs to still. Eventually, long enough to notice.

His arms slid away before his pulse got all jumpy again, and he leaned toward the bridge, drawing her by the hand to the edge with him. When he looked at her, it wasn't a stolen glance. The eyes that studied her were calm and gentle as the water below, with curiosity playing across their surface like the moonlight.

"So. Tell me... about the dime?"

[Avis]

There was only so long that a hug could be held before it began to feel stagnant and stiff, yet when the press of Star against her faded, a touch of ardent nostalgia lingered behind. She let him guide her over to the railing, the contact of his hand welcome enough. An edge of anxiety rode beneath the comfort his touch gave, no doubt fed by the recent drama that was only now dissipating. She tried to ignore it, instead turning into the twin pools of gentle, attentive blue-green. The did nothing to calm her when his question came. Or rather, they only did so enough to persuade her to speak and break her web of omission and misdirection.

The urge to look away grew strong, the temptation of sliding one last barrier into place before she ventured into the desolation of honesty, but she held his gaze. Doing so was an act of strength, and the more she struggled with it, the more conflict arose from something as simple as where her eyes dwelled, the more confident she felt about telling her tale. Or this part of it, anyway. She hadn't lied before. The questions Star asked were much more than a formality. They were almost a crutch, it was true, but at times only a fool eschewed would help when stumbling.

"Do you remember when I said I moved to Chicago when I was eleven?" she began, her focus riding the line between reflection and engagement. "Well, as you know that didn't happen, but I did move when I was 11. Just not out of Louisiana. Something had happened, to me, and my family, and after that I was institutionalized. For a while in juvie, then later in a...a mental hospital." Her resolve almost fractured at the admission, but she held on, clutching the broken shard of her will, turning it into a weapon, one that cut, but one that worked for her. Emotions, volatile and brittle, became the fuel for her story.

"I grew up there. Trapped in a maze of white halls and the daze of anti-psychotics. It would have come out to being around 11 years, if the state had it's way, but I didn't let them. I broke out. A lot. And I failed, a lot. It was like a game. Hide and seek, Who's got it?, and arts and crafts: make your own lock picks, all rolled into one. It might sound crazy, but trust me, when you have only one goal spread over a lot of years, you can usually find a way to make it happen. And, like I said, I did. I got out, and I stayed out, for awhile, trying to live someplace free of fucking shrinks, orderlies, and locked doors. In some ways, it was a lot better. There was freedom, of a sort. I didn't have people coercing me into acting like a quiet little doll anymore, but I did have hunger, and fear, and withdrawal all clawing at me, and I preferred their chains and cages to the ones that I had in the asylum. From where I am now, I know it wasn't much better, but at the time, it was almost paradise.

But it didn't last forever. I got caught and sent back again, and again, and again, and then process would repeat itself over the course of that decade. It was like a waking nightmare, honestly. It's not the worst thing that I remember, not by far, but sometimes it gets hard. I still feel, I don't know, trapped a lot of the time. Yearning to go out, and do stuff, like meet people and experience life and all the world has to offer, except that it's hard to do that a lot of the time. I'm used to four walls, and looking out at the world through a sheet of glass. Sometimes that's what feels comfortable, other times it drives me crazy, so I do go out and try stuff. Best as I can anyways." She trailed off, releasing his hand and turning so that her back was to the railing.

"So, uh, that's what I meant, about almost doing a dime." A panic lurked in her eyes when she finished, a fear. It was only her contempt of that vulnerability that kept her there, and kept her eyes from skittering away like wounded animals.