milliways_bar | (no subject)

He nods, wondering if Julia knows exactly how things are going to happen and just isn't telling him. Of course, that would be so perfectly Julia of her, and he doesn't want to know anyway. However this thing with Vicious plays out is the way it plays out and he pretty much feels like things have been set into motion and it's too late to call them back.

It's kind of funny, he knows, but back in Blue Crow, he almost forgets the way things have happened here. He remembers them but only in the back of his mind, the way someone would remember a dream a few days later with that oh yeah! moment, trying to piece things together and having them be just out of reach when all is said and done.

"I told her. About Titan. About how I knew Vicious. Didn't stop her from shooting at me, though."

"It's hard to believe anyone who knows Vicious. Most people don't come out of knowing him alive."

She stubs out her cigarette.

"Where is she now?"

For the first time since he arrived, he smiles. "Handcuffed to my bed."

She isn't exactly sure how to respond to that, but what comes out is a small laugh. "I thought you weren't into women," she teases in her sultry voice.

"Women aren't really my style." The smile finally reaches his eyes. "She was already getting irritating: she walked in on me in the shower. I told her everything. What would the point have been in making something up at that point?"

He shakes his head, amused. "But Vicious called when I was in the shower, and she overheard the conversation. I sat her down and made her a hot toddy and told her the story: about Titan, about Vicious, about the music box, about you, about the red-eye deal. Then she started taking shots at me, so... I cuffed her and left."

Gren frowns. "She didn't seem bad at first. I used to be a better judge of character."

"She's not a bad girl. If things had been different, I just might have taken her up on her offer." She smiles at the thought of that kind of life. Of any kind of life.

"What offer's that?" He blows across the top of the hot chocolate before taking a sip.

Sometimes, he thinks he would grasp at any offer anyone made to him right now, just so he wouldn't have to see the whole thing through with Vicious tomorrow. But then he thinks of the flip side of the whole thing: he'll know, finally, if the rumors are true and it was Vicious who set him up as a spy. And that knowledge will be worth more than gold, and he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small hand-crank music box. He sets it on the bar in front of Julia.

"Remember this?"

"She asked me if I wanted to team up. I might have taken it if things were different."

A thousand memories flash in her mind when she sees the music box. The music box she gave Vicious. The same music box he gave Gren. The same music box that played the tune she recognized Gren playing at the Blue Crow. The same music box she told him to open. The same music box that had the transmitter. The same music box that revealed Vicious' betrayal.

"Of course."

Gren gives Julia a very appraising glance: she's never really seemed to be the teaming up sort to him, but what does he know? He knew her for a short while a few years ago.

But that's not fair.

Yes, he knew her for a short while a few years ago, but there's always been something sweetly special about her: she inspires him to song and that's not something that comes lightly or easily to him any more, and he knows -- he knows deep in his heart -- that he needs to enjoy this evening and this night and this precious time with her.

It might be the last chance he has.

Turning to Julia, he grins. "So, Julia, what am I going to do with the woman handcuffed to my bed? Because I'm not going back to Callisto tonight." He reaches forward and touches her hair.

It feels like silk.

"Faye's a big girl, she can take care of herself." It's not said coldly, but with true honesty. Faye is capable when she wants to be.

She smiles when he touches her hair. His hands are so soft and smooth. They don't betray the killer that he is behind the musician. "Does that mean you're staying here tonight?"

"I think so."

Really, there's no place he'd rather be. He gives her a sort of a wistful glance, then reaches forward for the music box. "I need to fix this."

When he turns the crank, nothing happens.

"I need to fix this before tomorrow."

It's a small piece of the plan, but a critical piece.

She reaches out and takes the music box in her hand. Her palm really; it's so small.

"I could fix it." He looks up at him. "If you wanted."

"That would be great."

Relaxing, he smiles at her. The whole being shot at thing kind of fades from the forefront of his mind. The hot chocolate is tasty and warming him up, and he makes a conscious decision not to let whatever might happen the next day -- or when he goes back to let Faye go -- bother him.

My terms. I do this on my terms.

"Think you could?"

She examines it, turning the crank. "I think I can, yeah."

She knocks on the bar and a set of small tools appears.

Taking up a little screwdriver, she sets to work on it.

Gren watches her, fascinated: he didn't know she was so good with attention to small detail this way. While she works he sits back and finishes the hot chocolate, and thinks.

And thinks.

And thinks.

That music box is the last thing he needs to make this deal with Vicious work out in his favor. What he's about to do is cold and bitter, but it was cold and bitter to be sent to jail for spying when he'd never done anything worse than misunderstand a lover.

Eventually, he leans forward. "When did you meet Faye?"

She fiddles, unscrewing, rearranging and re-screwing.

She talks as she works. "Well, in your time I'll meet her a few months from now. She helped me out of a bad situation."

Gren's not sure about time and timing. There are theories that say that all time happens at once and people just perceive it as being linear. Then there's another theory that says nothing's happened before and nothing happens after, and it's only the present moment that's real.

"Maybe I'd better go back and let her go, then. I wouldn't want to mess up what happens to you in a few months by leaving her tied up."

Then again, maybe I have to leave her tied up.

He wonders if his actions will change anything for either of them. But really, he only brought Faye back to his apartment because he was lonely and wanted someone to talk to. He never dreamed she'd know Vicious.

And at least Julia's never shot at him.

"Or maybe I'll stay here." He runs his hand through his hair, suddenly not knowing what to do.

"Well, I think you already know my answer." She closes the music box back up and turns the crank. It plays her song.

"Fixed."

His smile widens. "Thanks."

There's just one last thing he needs to do with the music box, but he can't do them here. The supplies he needs are back at home.

Gren rests his arm on Julia's shoulder: it's good to have a true friend.

"How's the food here?"

"I really couldn't say. I don't think I've eaten anything that isn't alcoholic since I've been here." She smiles softly, handing the box back to him.

He tucks the music box away carefully.

"I was at this bar on Ganymede one time and they had the most amazing thing. It was an ice cream sundae completely drenched in brandy. You could eat the whole thing and not even know it was so alcoholic until you tried to stand up afterwards."

He rests his hand on hers. "Want to share one with me? I've always wanted another."

She smiles at the story and his question and, of course, his hand. "I'd love to."

It appears, along with two spoons, on the bar.

"Ladies first." Gren slides a spoon over to Julia and he doesn't know how it works or why, but the sundae looks just like the one he remembers. Vanilla ice cream, toffee, and brandy.

They say people see their lives flashing before their eyes right before they die. He's not sure he's going to die, but he's certainly been feeling the weight of fate the past few days.

Someone's going to die on this deal. If it's him, at least he'll have had the chance to relive this really fond memory.

Gren watches as Julia takes the first bite of food she's had since... well, since however long it's been. He pauses, spoon hovering over the ice cream.

"How is it?"

He's not anxious and he's not tied to her answer. He's just relieved to feel normal again. It might be this place or it might be Julia or it might be the calm before the storm, but it doesn't matter. He just feels like Gren.

She lets the ice cream melt in her mouth, tasting every bit of it.

"Delicious." She smiles. "You've got good taste, as always."

"Glad you think so."

Eyes crinkling into a grin, he dips his spoon into the sundae and tries it. It's every bit as good as he remembers and then some, but mostly he's just glad to see her eating something. He can't help it; he's always had a pretty strong... what does he want to call it? Maternal instinct? Desire to take care of people is more like it, and Julia's no exception.

Why change his fundamental nature and belief system just because someone's dead, after all? What does it matter?

There's a long moment of companionable silence where they just sit there eating ice cream like any friends anywhere in the world.

In the solar system.

In the universe.

She takes another bite, enjoying the silence. Well, it's not exactly silence. It's filled with the way they understand each other and the way they can say things without saying things. They know each other and could easily exist together in silence. The talking is just a plus.

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow: is there a way to turn back time? Stop it? Make it go away?

I have no fear of death.

Either way, I don't have much time.

What does any of it matter? I'm out of place and out of time and out of the range of normal, and I merely survive on Callisto and I can do this thing. I never expected to see Julia, but she makes it easier.

He'll always see her as she was: sitting on the corner bar stool, smoking, drinking, a sparkle in her eye and a sad smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

It will be nice to stop carrying the weight of the world. He wishes he'd brought his saxophone instead of his gun.

The sundae is quickly disappearing between the two of them.

"It's been so long since I've had ice cream. I can't even remember when the last time was."

"Me either." He laughs, and it's a genuine laugh. Surely, the brandy has nothing to do with it.

Let this night be full of laughter. Gren knows full well it's a romantic notion, but he is a romantic. He always has been, and he will be until his dying breath.

"We should do this more often." She knows there may not be any time for them to do it ever again, but she says it anyway. It brings her hope. She still needs that.

"Julia."

His voice is just a little harder, a little more serious. "What do you want?"

What do you want, comrade: from me, from anybody?

"If there were no limits: what would you have?"

If you weren't dead...

"Is 'a normal life' too cliche an answer," she asks with a slight laugh.

"I have no idea what normal is, Julia." Gren sets down his spoon; the ice cream dish is empty. "I've never known normal. I don't think very many people do."

Shaking his head, he stands. "My conscience might be making a fool of me, Julia, but I think I need to get back to Blue Crow and let Faye go. Or at least make sure she doesn't decide to shoot up everything in my apartment."

He fingers the music box in his pocket. "And... I have one more thing I need to do before tomorrow."

She looks up at Gren. "I understand."

She stands and, without asking, she moves into him slowly, embracing him.

"I hope this makes you whole again."

The embrace catches him by surprise; it takes him a moment to recover long enough to return her hug.

I'm whole enough to be two people, Julia. But he only thinks the words and doesn't say them at all. Instead, he pulls back and smiles at her. "Thanks for fixing the music box. It would have taken me all night."

That's a lie; he's dexterous enough to play a saxophone and he's dexterous enough to fix a music box. He just didn't want to.

He kisses her softly on the forehead. "Goodnight, Julia."

When he turns to the door, his eyes fill with tears.

She blinks back tears of her own, and even though he's long gone, she says in a small voice. "Goodnight, Gren."

She wonders if she'll ever see him again.