Cold Light, part 2: DC sleeps alone tonight

Cold Light, Part 2: You seem so out of context

This whole section of the universe is getting more and more fragile as time goes on; I'm not sure where it's going to end up, anymore. It's curious.

Bren and Stella, rooftops, and the moon; this happens in the evening after part 1, concurrently with part 3. (Also, it's vague and confusing and ought to be rewritten again, but I don't care anymore.)
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Footsteps crunched across the gravel behind her; Stella turned slightly in their direction. "Hello, Brenon."

She could hear him grin as he took a seat beside her on the roof ledge. "Hey there, Stella-bella. Stargazing?"

"Mm. It's a nice night for it, don't you think?" She could feel the stars hanging low in the sky; the whole world seemed closer, here.

"A little overcast, actually. But you can see the moon through the clouds."

"I can always see the moon, Brenon."

"Fair enough." He shifted slightly, and kicked his feet against the side of the building. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. I was fine before, actually, but you think I'm crazy, don't you?"

"I think we're all crazy." She still couldn't tell if his sincerity was honest or merely an affectation. "But Walker thinks you're the closest to sane out of all of us, and I trust his judgement. Even if he is a little biased."

She could feel his leer, and blushed in spite of herself. "This city is so much louder than the capital, so much brighter. So full of life- real life, not the half life of the warm ones. There's so much more to see and feel- sometimes I get a little lost in it. And sometimes things like that creature take me by surprise."

Gently, "It was a cat, Stella."

"Is that what it looked like? Curious." She shook her head. "I'm afraid of the dark, Brenon. Did you know that?"

He tensed. "Stella-"

"You are, too. I know. I know so much more than you give me credit for, Brenon. And do you know why I am afraid of the dark?"

"I know why I am." Sometimes, he was so young, it made her ache.

"So do I." She took off her glasses, and tilted her face towards the moon. "Nothing is as it seems. What you see as a cat, I see as the embodiment of everything I fear." She laughed. "I'll get used to it. When he comes back, I'm sure he'll be bringing that thing back with him. And, speaking of- how are you feeling, Brenon?"

"I'm fine. You can call me Bren, you know."

"I could. And you could try to not avoid the subject."

"But you won't, so neither will I."

"I suppose you're right; I don't think I will." She wiped off the lenses of her glasses and replaced them.

"Because that's what Theron calls me?"

She was silent for a moment. Mihonil would have used the shortened form of his name, as well, but Stella had never properly met the other woman. It didn't count. "If I said yes, you would hate me for it. Just a little, but you would hate me all the same." Her fingers bunched the wildly patterned material of her skirt. "He knows you better than I ever will. I do not think I have the right."

Bren kicked at the side of the building again, surly. "You mean he loves me better than you do. That's hardly your fault, and I'm more inclined to hate him for that. But I'm not that selfish, and I have other reasons to hate him."

"And yet you worry."

"Of course I worry!" He swung his feet over the edge of the roof, standing suddenly. The crunch of the gravel beneath his shoes was unnaturally loud. "Someone has to. That's my job, no matter who I am- I look out for him. And now I can't because he won't let me- and it doesn't matter how angry I am, this is what I do." He exhaled hard through his nose, and added softly, "I don't really hate him, you know that. I just have plenty of reason to."

"There are other people to protect, now. It doesn't have to be him," she said quietly, to her skirt.

His hand on her shoulder made her jump. "Get up. Come on. I want to dance with you."

"What?" But he was already pulling her to her feet.

"I'm tired of doing it metaphorically." He caught her hands and lead her away from the edge of the roof.

Suddenly, she couldn't see at all, and her feet stumbled. He caught her before she fell.

"Look, Stella- or, don't, whatever, you know what I mean. What's between the two of us has nothing to do with Walker or Theron. I promise. But I can't leave him until he lets me go."

"He won't. You know that."

"He will. I know him as well as he knows me." One of his hands slid to the small of her back. "Are you going to dance with me or not?"

"I don't know how to dance," she snapped. This close, she could hear the absence of his heartbeat, as thunderous and terrifying as the absence of her own.

"Sure you do. Only this time, I lead, and you follow."

"We don't have any music."

"You're just not listening hard enough."

For a single, discrete moment, she could see him clearly in her mind- he was tall, with a solidness that spoke of trees and earth and deep roots, a solidness incongruous with his wind ruffled strawberry blond hair and freckles. His smile was like the sun.

She doubted any of them really knew him at all.

Her feet fell into the steps of the dance easily- something in six-eight time, to compliment the song of city. Circles and circles, like the moon. Familiar territory.

"Do you-" she swallowed. "Do you want me to remember him for you? I could, a little."

His silence all the answer she needed. She closed her eyes and leaned a little closer.

"I think of you when it rains," she said in Theron's voice. "And it makes me wish I'd been kinder. But every summer makes me think of fire, and fire makes me think of you, too. And then I wish you'd stayed dead."

Their dance stuttered to a halt when Stella realized the only footsteps she could hear were her own. Walker's hand was cool on the back of her neck.

"That was unfair." His tone was neutral; he'd never learned to be judgemental. "He didn't need to hear that."

"I don't choose the memories." She lied, and huddled into his embrace. "You can apologize for me, later."

"You can apologize yourself, when the Voyance returns." Brenon was the only one who used his name; Walker would never dare.

She sighed, and led him to the edge of the roof. "Alright. I will. Now come look at the city with me. It's probably too cloudy for you to see the stars."

He touched her face. "I can always see the stars, Stella."

"Good." She leaned against him, and trembled with laughter. For a moment, she could almost see him in her mind- but then the memory was gone, leaving a shadow silhouette behind. After all this time, the Walker still had no face of his own- not one she could see. "Tell me what they look like?"

He put his arm around her and whispered words of light into her hair, until the moon set and the sun touched the bottom of the horizon.

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Gawd, Stella and Walker are weird. And Stella is creepily too much like Bren; I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this. Fortunately, Walker is nothing like either of them. Or unfortunately. (This is no love polygon! This is a four dimensional love tesseract!)

*headwall* I think this is going to have two more parts- the trial and the aftermath. Maybe three, if I want to write the opening of the tower. I don't know that I do; it's a little like writing the end of the world, and I'm not sure I can do that to this universe. And I don't know what the Fifth Era will bring, or what its mechanics will be like, so I think I'll avoid that for as long as possible.

I should go back to writing Blaine and Silverlock things, except they're going through an angsty phase. *sigh*