Where the Streets Have No Name

[Star]

Funny, that they were talking about electricity. Her touch was the 'pop' of static on a dry winter day. His pulse jumped and chest froze when she stepped closer; for once, he was entirely motionless. Unsure. Nervous. The periphery of his vision darkened as he focused on the fen-water eyes, then darted to the side when he felt her hand on his face before returning to hers.

Confusing.

Then it was over. The step backward was like a step off of his chest, the invisible pressure slowly fading. Breathe. Was it the first time she'd initiated? He wasn't sure. Didn't care.

Confusing.

He laughed at the bad joke. It was silly. It was a pressure valve. With the sound of it, conscious control returned and he squeezed the small hand gently. "Best. S'name. Ever."

The smile faded, and his expression became a hair closer to bleak than neutral as he nodded to her question. His hand pulsed in hers, moving to gesture, but deciding to remain. For a long moment, he was silent, wondering how much he should say. Which was unfair, and he knew it, but that didn't make it easier. And it could be A Test. Because Smiley's People.

Confusing.

"Yeah," the word drew out with a long exhale. The Deal's the Deal. And she hadn't. Kissed him.

"I was, am, I don't know, a pretty terrible person." Jump. Right. In. And that was really glossing over it. "Lot of grifting, conning. I think... I think I thought because I could trick people, or get them to do what I wanted, that I understood them? Or was smarter than them." His words fell into a soft monotone, and his eyes slid away from hers. "Stealing. Just... treating people like, what could I get. Like that was their only... value."

Partly? His family. Half of them, anyway. And, partly? They'd treated him like a dirty swamp rat, so why not? But those were excuses. He'd been good at it, too. Because he could see the Lies, and Illusions, and create them. Even the Illusion of who he was.

"Anyway. When I... fell... it messed me up. I didn't... think I'd walk again. No insurance, got dumped in social services' lap. Lotta vets." He shook his head, and his hand tightened in hers involuntarily before he realized and relaxed it. Striker? He'd tried. His head shook, remembering.

Confusing.

He was rambling. But he'd never had to put it into words. Sure, they knew, but they'd dug it out of his head. "There was no, like, one thing. Just... little things. No one visiting. Seeing other people. Trying. Succeeding. Failing. Fear? I don't know. It made me realize... I didn't know anything, or understand anything. But. Uh... yeah."

A deep breath, and he finally looked back at her. "It's hard to explain, except, maybe, it was when I saw the Lies I was telling myself?"

His eyes fell again, and he lapsed into silence. It was profane. No, they weren't the same. Maybe they'd both been trappped? But. She hadn't had a choice, and risen like a phoenix. Him? He'd almost gotten what he'd deserved. Fingers loosened slightly, ready to release when she drew her hand back.

[Avis]

"It sounds like, maybe, your crucible is one you made for yourself," she said after a desolate silence. What he said, she didn't know what to think. Not quite. But she did understand the turmoil that was revealed through every pause in his voice, blooming the space between sounds like a tree of thorns. Self doubt. Self hate. They were stains she lived with, and she could see them lurking in the cracks Star was showing her, dulling that inventive energy inside him. That was more telling than what he'd said. So he'd lied and cheated, and stolen. He'd been a parasite. Or he felt like he'd been one. Whatever. What she knew, or what she believed, far more than the picture he'd painted of himself, was that no matter the past, Star--er, Chris--was not that any longer. Without him, the Veiled Threats would not be. Without him, the man with the audacity to call the former Hierarch a Monkey and a chain restaurant, the Consilium would be far bleaker. And that was far more important than most people realized. Madness did not just lie in trauma, it also lay in desolate, empty plainness, and any amount of life and creativity was necessary to stave it off. Like he'd said, it was the little things.

"What I mean is, you sinned. More than most, sure, but you feel pain from that. There's trauma from it, and even though it might have been self made, you used it to evolve. To grow. That's a crucible, and I can understand that, even if I don't know the lies, or what you've stolen, or the people you've hurt. And I--I don't care about any of that. Not in relation to me. The only way I care about it is because you care about it, and because it's a part of you."

[Star]

Had he? Evolved? Wasn't the saying that you used a thief to catch a thief? He knew things. Truths. He knew that The Diamond was full of it, and the power was not enlightenment. He knew that Bad Things had to be done. He did not know if he'd evolved. Tried? Sure. Nature. Nurture. Maybe one day he'd know as much about Truth as Lies, and know.

He also didn't know what to say.

He'd never expected to say the things he had. Uncharted. Territory. He'd thought it would be fun, and cool, to swap Sights. See. Instead? They were Seeing each other. It was draining, and liberating. And scary. Eyes tracked up from the ground, running over formless grey terry cloth. Curiosity flashed in the pan -- chicken scratches -- but he didn't dwell on it, continuing upward to their hands.

Was she lying?

Maybe not intentionally, or maliciously? But in the vacuum of Incredibly Awkward, a placeholder. No. Even if he credited her with that much social grace, he wouldn't insult her fearlessness with that. Maybe later? Because percolation. It frightened him, a little, that she'd drawn it out of him. But it was liberating. It also frightened him that he'd wanted her to know. To See him. Because We. He hadn't let himself Want anything for a long time. Was asceticism his new Lie? No. He just hadn't known.

By the time his eyes ventured up to hers, the silence was deafening.

"I'm... trying," he admitted. To let her assume he'd Changed would be a Lie. Maybe his Crucible wasn't finished. Maybe she was part of it. There was confusion, and fear, but there was also warmth and hope, and sense of connection that was pure and untainted by half-truths and omissions. "And... thanks."

A line creased his brow as eyebrows came together and his free hand came up to lightly touch the hand he held.

"May. Uh. I would like, that is, if it would be okay?" The question came out of his mouth like a dictionary thrown into a blender, with random words flying out of the open top. "Can I... uhhhhm. Kiss. You."

Affirmation? Sure. But connection.

[Avis]

Despite the bloodied shadows of memory that had been dredged up, despite the tears and the fear, and the uncertainty, and all the other emotions that had coursed through her in a current of enervation, Avis felt a bone-tired happiness dredging itself up inside her, pooling in her stomach and rising up her throat to her lips, and her eyes. It was not a pure happiness, not like spring water or fine wine. A taint of vinegar sat inside it, but she had been longing for something like it ever since flocks of nightmares had taken roost inside her skull, and she now clung to it in spite of everything. In spite of the splinter that had just planted itself in her mind. The splinter that echoed the word parasite behind what she'd just told Chris. She hadn't lied, hadn't meant to, and even though what she'd said felt like truth, she knew it had come from a desire to comfort more than anything, and it was in that crevice of doubt that the splinter now lived. It was possible the splinter would bloom, fed by the manure of Chris' sins, or hers, but that was just a maybe. Just a chance. There was so much more on the horizon, so much more that could be. The splinter was the fantasy of a shattered, abject shard of her psyche. Yet another knee jerk of the evening, yet another obsolete, ignorant defense against something unidentifiable. It was stupid and it was shitty after all they'd just said, and all they'd shared, both in the train car and right now, and though it did not disappear, it was easily smothered.

Looking into his eyes, feeling the warmth of his caged hand, it was easy to ignore the vinegar and embrace the dusty, travel worn contentment asking to be let in. The faint breeze off the star touched river, the softness of the cloth on her skin, the sound of feather soft breath from the person asking to embrace her, it told it's own story. Told it's own truth. What was in her head was not yet in the world, and while it could be a part of her reality, it was only a possibility. Standing before her, bared just as she was, was another possibility. All she had to do was step forward, bring her free hand up again to cup his cheek, and embrace the current that would unite their lips and flood them with an entirely different energy.

So she did.

No other words had to be said, no other ideas had to be thought of. They'd all been said, all been possible, and from them, this was what she chose.