Home Truths
by Mab
I wrote this for Moonridge 2008, with thanks to Merlin for her generous donation to the charity. This is my second story set in the universe of The Children of Cascade.
Cascade society was, in some ways, used to the idea that there was more than one way to perceive something. Half of its people saw, heard, smelled, tasted, touched what the other half was never going to perceive. Despite that duality, Cascade had achieved a balance, a hard-won homogeneity of ideas. Jim knew his history. He'd studied it with new eyes in the last few months, and new perceptions. There were times when Blair scared the shit out of him, and made him angry, because Jim couldn't help but hear the treasured stories of Cascade told in a different tone of voice now.
Jim and Blair could do the transit ride between home and Foreign Corps together, even though technically they worked in different areas of the department. The FC building was built to at least hamper any temptation to privacy and confidentiality violation, but nothing was ever going to completely circumvent that simplest privacy violation of all – overhearing gossip in the breakroom. Jim was primed to pick up any mention of his guide's name.
"Sandburg's tutorials? Seditious bullshit!"
"I heard that that three of the new intake are trying to veto participation in Sandburg's seminar."
"Blair Sandburg. He has some interesting ideas, but why should we take on foreign concepts when our own have worked for us for centuries?"
So much for the day's gossip. Since arguing Blair's case, or smacking little Mr Seditious Bullshit across the head would only advertise Jim's privacy violations, Jim tried to let go of the temptation and irritation, even while he filed the information away for future reference. In the transit station for the ride home together, Blair looked tired; the energy he usually broadcast dulled. Jim hated that. He looped his arm across Blair's shoulders, and lowered his head so that his lips nearly touched Blair's ear. "Tough day, huh?"
Someone across the platform stared and smiled, presumably in approval at this proof of the rightness of the decision to bring the Child home. Nobody was going to bother them, but Blair's face was becoming more well-known. Give it a while longer and Jim was going to ask for a FC vehicle permit, and bring his little vehicle into work. He estimated somewhere between another two to three years after that before they'd have to start negotiating a security detail. He hadn't told Blair that, but Jim knew his own people. He sighed. If anyone was dealing in sedition, he was. Blair at least had the excuse that he was raised off-planet. Jim's only excuse was that he felt that he now owed more to Blair than he did to his birthright and heritage. It was a perception that left Jim feeling strange when he saw himself in a mirror sometimes. Living proof of the seductive power of new ideas. Evidence that Cascade could change.
"If I had the tough day, then how come you're the one sighing?" Blair didn't turn to face Jim, but he tilted his head to lean against Jim's shoulder.
"Because I love you and I get sick of the crap you have to field."
"Who have you been talking to?"
"Nobody talks to me about you, Blair. That would be inappropriate."
"Then who have you been listening to?" Blair did turn his head then, and smiled ruefully up at Jim. "Yes, yes, I know. That would be inappropriate too."
"Talk when we get home, huh?"
"Yeah, sure. Nobody came back to you on the Request?" Capital letters in Blair's voice for that. Jim didn't blame him. Blair needed and deserved contact with his mother, and the blocks that were being placed in his way were moving past ridiculous and into obscene.
"No, nothing yet."
"Somehow, I'm not surprised." Blair's arm was around Jim's waist; their unit arrived and they got on and sat together, and Jim breathed Blair's scent in all the way home.
Blair bustled around, clearing the space around the 'puter, setting the chairs up just so. Jim shook his head.
"Do not do that, Jim. I don't care." Blair stood practically under Jim's nose and waved his hands between them. "At some point, they're going to say yes...."
"I know that they are," Jim began, but was cut off again.
"And when they do, about one second afterwards this is going on an outbound ship, no delays, no nothing."
"Blair," Jim said uncomfortably.
"Yes, I know, there will be the obligatory delays and 'something' while they analyse my private message to make sure that I don't give away any precious information about Cascade other than its existence and very approximate position in space," Blair snorted, "but the point is, this will be ready." He stopped, maybe finally registering that he was scaling a wall of behaviour into mania. His hands fidgeted – squaring the chair, shifting the screen some infinitesimal distance on the table. "I just want it ready, Jim. You know?"
"I know. So sit down and record your message."
Blair's finger stabbed towards the other chair. "You sit down, too. You're a calming influence," his gaze flicked distractedly over Jim's body, "most of the time. And then you can add your piece."
Jim sat down. Blair fiddled again, adjusting camera angles, and Jim restrained an impulse to smack those restless hands, and then maybe take Blair to bed and channel his nervousness somewhere else. Blair swallowed convulsively and then pushed a button in the small remote in his hand and said carefully, "Record", before staring fixedly at the 'puter.
"Hi, Ma," he said, with an uncertain smile. There was a long pause. "Oh, fuck. Wipe that. I mean, cancel. Cancel."
"Just tell her the basics, Blair. It's not a performance."
"I know that," Blair snarled. "But this is complicated."
"No it's not," Jim said, denying the anxious flutter in his chest. "You tell her you're alive and that you want to see her, and that the representatives of Cascade who've brought the message to her will be happy to assist her to come to you."
"Happy!" Blair snapped. "Yeah. Sure."
"Make your recording." Jim's chair was out of camera shot, but he had long legs, and he caught Blair's calf between his own. Blair's leg still kept jiggling, but Jim ignored that and watched as Blair got better control of himself.
"Okay. Record. Hi, Ma." Another pause, but not so long this time, until Blair took a breath and continued.
"This is going to be a shock to you, I know that, but I really am alive and I really am okay." Blair's smile stretched out tightly and he took a quick look at Jim. "I really am okay, Ma, and I would love to see you. If you're okay with that. I'm on Cascade, and I know about my father, and I," another desperate look at Jim, "I seem to have gotten married, which I know is going to be just about as big a shock as me being alive in the first place."
Blair took another breath. "Ma, if you want to come and see me, that would be great. It's safe. I promise. I'm not talking to you under duress or anything weird. I know what went down when you and your father were here all those years ago, and it's okay to come to Cascade. If that's what you want." Jim pressed his lips together, and pinned that jiggling leg between his own just a little more tightly.
"I – uh – I'd really like you to come. The government of Cascade – you'd have respect, Ma, I promise. I'd love it if you came. And, if you give me a minute, I'll put Jim on the message. He's my husband, spouse, partner. We met a lot of words for the relationship when you and I were travelling together, didn't we? Okay. Stop record." Blair's grin was broad and his face was flushed. His eyes were over-bright. "Okay, man. Time to introduce yourself." Only not quite, because there had to be more arranging and set up of chairs and the 'puter and its camera. Blair stood off to the side, a book in his hand that he wasn't even pretending to actually read.
Jim eyed the setup with a fake serenity, and put on a smile that was pleasant and welcoming and just as fake. "Record," he instructed. "Naomi Sandburg, I'm James Ellison of Cascade. By the laws of Cascade, your son and I are what you would regard as married, which makes you a part of my family. I would welcome a chance to meet you, and I know that it would make Blair very happy." Jim took a deep breath of his own. "I know that you will have a great many questions. Cancel that section of recording."
Blair was shaking his head. "Yeah, my mom will have a whole pile of questions. How many am I going to be allowed to answer for her?"
Jim shrugged. "There'll be negotiation about it all before you ever get a chance to send this out. You know that."
"I know a lot of things. I don't have to like them."
Jim stood then. "Let's play your section back. Come on." He put his hands on Blair's shoulders and steered him back to the chair and the table and its 'puter.
Blair watched his recording and briefly put his hands to his face. "I look like someone is standing just out of camera shot with a gun pointed at my head. That's going to reassure her. I don't think."
Jim rubbed at Blair's shoulders. "You can redo it."
"Of course I can. Because there's plenty of time yet. All those questions and their answers that have to be negotiated."
Jim sighed. There were couple of still shots of Naomi Sandburg on the 'puter that Jim had brought from Solana for Blair. He knew what Blair's mother looked like. He tried to imagine the sort of voice that the elegant, beautiful woman might speak with, and then he imagined the sorts of answers he could give when Blair's mother asked, "And how did you two meet?" He'd lied to Blair when he first met him and he didn't see how he could avoid doing the same thing to Blair's mother.
He leaned down and murmured into Blair's ear, "Come to bed."
Blair hesitated, staring at the screen, before he turned his head and nuzzled his face against Jim's. "Okay." He shifted to announce the intention of standing and then, once on his feet, he took Jim's hand and held it hard.
"What?" Jim said quietly.
"Nothing. Just me being weird. Bed is a good idea."
It was decreed that Blair's only contact with his mother should be at the enclave at Lower Plain. Blair argued over this. He pleaded. He shouted. None of his efforts were to any avail. He came home and he paced the floors of their modest apartment and he bitterly lectured Jim on the evils of self-righteous paranoia and grudge-holding, while Jim quite literally bit his tongue. He gritted his jaw a fair amount too.
When Blair stepped into the small meeting room and saw Naomi for the first time in over two years, Jim was nearly overwhelmed by what he sensed from his guide. That was his own fault. He'd let anxiety strip disciplines that should have been second nature to him. But Blair – the smell of anxiety rose off him as well. His heartbeat was a thunder in Jim's ears, despite the fact that Blair had been meditating for most of the journey to the enclave, one hand held still and loose within Jim's. The slightest tremor ran through him, and it rippled into Blair's voice as he said, "Ma?"
Naomi, just as beautiful as her images, rose, her arms stretched out. "Blair. Oh, Blair," she cried, and Jim stood still and trapped at the outskirts of the meeting room. For the first time since he'd laid eyes on Blair, he had to grant someone else's right to him. It was harder than he'd expected. Blair practically ran into his mother's arms, and Jim acknowledged that the small, sour pain under his ribs was jealousy. Naomi burst into tears, and Blair's own voice shook.
"Hey, hey, don't cry. Don't cry," he begged.
Naomi laughed through her distress. "Oh, I know, I told myself I mustn't. This is a happy day, sweetheart, but I... I thought I'd got it all out of my system, but knowing you're alive just wasn't the same as holding you." She wiped at her eyes. "My beautiful son."
Blair ducked his head, embarrassed, Jim presumed, by his mother's emotion. Then Blair turned and put out a hand to Jim.
"Naomi Sandburg, James Ellison." His voice was rote, but then a smile that was very sweet to Jim bloomed on Blair's face. "Ma, this is Jim."
Jim stepped forward, hoping that his face was not as stiff as his gait. Naomi was taller than her son by about an inch and she wore dainty, fashionable shoes. It meant that Jim didn't have to stoop too much when he bent his head for the traditional greeting as he took Naomi's hands in his. He felt the tiny hesitation in her – hadn't her escort explained this to her? Or was she just unsure of her new relative? Their foreheads touched. She smelled of some subtle perfume which rose lushly but not overpoweringly around her. The two of them stood there, touching but not in any sort of communion, before Jim drew back.
"Naomi Sandburg."
"Just Naomi, Jim. We're family now."
"Yes," Jim said, and found nothing else to say. He was angry with himself for this silence, and sought for some polite small talk. "Did you have a pleasant journey?"
"Ships are too utilitarian to ever be truly pleasant, but I was taken very good care of."
There was an edge to Naomi's voice. Jim could well imagine the solicitous, gentle suspicion, and he wondered whether any of her carers might ever have seen the variations of the Remembrance service that he showed Blair on that momentous night. This woman was as much a symbolic figure on Cascade as her son, with even less knowledge of her status than Blair had received.
"Very good," Jim said, flat-voiced. At Blair's look he tried to be more enthusiastic. "I'm pleased that you've received all appropriate attention." Could he sound any more pompous?
Blair approached his mother. Her arm slipped through his and she clung to him. "So, sweetheart," she cooed, like some exotic bird, "tell me everything."
"There's a lot of everything to tell," Blair protested, but he smiled as he said it.
"Then let's start with the big things. How long have you been married? How did you and Jim meet?" Naomi's beautiful eyes were wide and enquiring as she popped that question within minutes of seeing her son. But of course – any caring relative would be curious, would care what had happened to someone they loved. And because Blair cared what happened to Jim, he had an answer ready and waiting.
"We had a big family ceremony about eight months ago. Jim was one of my staff when I got here and we just clicked."
"When you got here. When they kidnapped you, you mean."
"Ma. That was..."
"What? An unfortunate miscommunication?"
Blair cast a look at Jim and another at Naomi's 'liaison' waiting by the door.
"Something that's over now," Blair said firmly. Naomi opened her mouth, and Blair said, "Please." There was an awkward silence, that Blair broke with a nervous voice and a hopeful smile. "I have a lot of things to show you. Pictures and recordings of Salo, and my sister, Serayne. She's a sweetheart, you'd love her."
"I don't get to meet them?"
"Salo's dead, he's been dead several years now." Naomi made shocked, compassionate noises but Jim could see that she wasn't particularly moved. Why should she be? Salo Jensen was nearly thirty years in her past.
"And Serayne...?" Naomi asked.
"She travels – for her work, and she's pretty junior. She can't get leave." So many tactful lies that Blair had 'negotiated' as his answers. It bothered Jim. He ought to feel relieved that no outsider would know more of Cascade than she needed. He ought to feel pleased that Blair was placing the needs of the community above his own wishes to share with his mother. Blair was chattering about inconsequential things – their home, the sorts of meals they ate, some popular music that he wanted to share with his mother.
Jim sighed. The visit would be short; only a week was permitted.
It was going to be an eternity.
Naomi, as Blair's mother, was of course accorded respect and careful treatment, but Jim could see the tensions in the two young agents assigned to this job. There was no particular prestige attached to this assignment. If Blair was the Child, then Naomi was the Thief in popular association. Cascade had little sentiment about biological parenthood, not like some places Jim had seen. When half the population was likely to choose within their own sex for a life partner; when the Progenitors had made adjustments that meant that the people of Cascade were less fertile than the human norm; when you dealt with those social pressures, the bond between mother and son was valued but not romanticised.
Blair simply loved his mother. However, Jim had come to the unabashedly cynical conclusion that Naomi loved her motherhood as much as she loved her son. And she expressed both those loves in the constant need for assurance that Blair was happy, was content, was satisfied.
It wasn't Blair who broke under this barrage of doubt about his life on Cascade, or even Jim. Late one evening, after dinner and conversation and a vid, acceptably vetted, on Cascade's standards of ecological protection, (which was one thing at least that Naomi approved of wholeheartedly, along with the food presented to them) there was a knock at the door of Blair and Jim's suite. Jim was already on the way to the door; he'd heard the footsteps in the hall. Blair leaned up on his elbow in bed, his hair waving crazily around his head.
It was Yoviene Riley outside. She was physically small, but her reviews commended her efficiency and intelligence, while warning against occasional impulsive behaviour. Jim had read the staff files. He had no say in the appointments, but he wanted to know what he and Blair were getting.
Blair asked, "Jim?"
Jim gestured 'silence' and 'wait' and opened the door. Riley was alone. She did not appear under threat, but she was considerably chagrined, and blushed painfully when she saw Jim.
"Agent Protector Ellison. My apologies for disturbing you so late." She swallowed.
"I presume you have a reason for this intrusion."
Riley drew herself up. "Yes. Agent Protector Ellison, I regret that I have acted inappropriately through an error of judgement."
That could mean anything. "Let me get a robe and I'll talk to you in the lounge."
Blair was completely awake now, which Jim regretted. Blair had hovered comfortably on the edge of sleep before the knock on the door. He sat fully upright in the bed now.
"What's going on?"
Jim grimaced in annoyance. "Staff problems. Try and go back to sleep. I'll deal with it."
Covered, he stepped out and shut the door behind him, gesturing to Riley to walk beside him.
"I think you should explain yourself, Agent."
"I've been indiscreet. In a manner which will cause distress to you and Blair Sandburg."
Jim pressed his fingers against the top of the bridge of his nose. The habitual gesture didn't make the sinking feeling in his stomach go away.
He opened the door to the lounge, which was immaculate. The tea cups had been cleared away, the cushions plumped, the information discs and keys put tidily back in their case. "Sit down," he directed, "and start at the beginning."
Riley sat and picked at the cuff of her dark blue uniform. "I inadvertently informed Naomi Sandburg as to your original field status in the retrieval of Blair Sandburg."
Jim sat in frozen outrage before he barked out, "You did what?" He struggled for control, which only meant that his voice lowered to a growl. "How the hell did you do that?"
"I did not mention your rank or position, but I..." Riley swallowed again. "I appreciate that other planets' ways are not ours. And I understand that from an outsider's viewpoint bringing the Child back home could be regarded as high-handed."
"Get on with it," Jim snapped.
"I've watched and listened to Naomi Sandburg these last few days, heard her question our ways and patronise our people..."
Jim shook his head. Naomi had been, by foreign standards, fairly polite. This girl obviously hadn't done a stint at the merchant enclaves. Too many friends in high places.
"That doesn't excuse rudeness to a guest and it certainly doesn't excuse a security breach."
"My apologies, James Ellison. She made some comment to me on her way to bed, that she could see much to value here, but that her son had made different plans for his life and I - commented – that if his path for his life had lain elsewhere, then why had he formed his life's bond with the very first of his countrymen that he met?"
"I see."
Riley blushed again. "I said no more than that, but regrettably, Naomi Sandburg made the association that you must of course have been involved in the Child's retrieval."
Blair had made a joke of his return to Cascade – "They were pretty kind once I came out of the cold sleep, Ma." Of necessity, it was one of those things that had not been discussed in detail. Jim could sense the heat and scent of anger rise from Naomi's skin whenever the topic even looked like being broached.
Riley was a sentinel, and Jim knew that she could sense the considerable heat and smell of anger that his own body was generating. Good.
"Does Naomi Sandburg want to see me?"
"No, not at all. She was very angry. But you are the senior officer here. And it's your privacy which I've violated. I am very, very sorry."
Jim stood. "All the security checks have been done?"
Riley nodded.
"Then I suggest you retire. I'll make a report in the morning and arrange your replacement." Riley winced. "For now, I'll go speak to Naomi Sandburg."
"Is that..." Riley began, before she broke off with a look of distress.
"No, Agent, it 's not a good idea, but ignoring the situation won't do much for damage control either."
"I'm very sorry," she repeated.
"Oh, I'm sure you are." Jim dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "Get out."
He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. Cascade didn't romanticise the bond between parent and child, but the bond between sentinel and guide; that was another matter. Blair had laughed himself silly when he realised that aspects of the popular media had made the two of them into an epic love story. "Oh, man," he'd sighed when the fit ran itself out. "Do you think that I should leak the info that you have the hardest toenails known to humankind? That green peppers give you gas?" Jim had been torn between relief that Blair was amused and irritation at the level of amusement, and his voice had been dust-dry as he said, "That would be regarded as too private to broadcast." That had set Blair off again for some reason, until Jim had made tea for them both and Blair had decided to sit in meditation for an hour or so. Maybe he hadn't been quite so amused as his laughter suggested.
Yes, they were Cascade's great love story, another myth for people to focus on now that the Child's return home was an accomplished fact. And Yoviene Riley, damn her, was clearly a romantic. Jim grunted in utter frustration. What a fucking mess.
Blair was sitting up in bed, reading, when Jim returned to their room. "So what sort of a staff problem do we have?"
"We have no staff problem." Which was true enough. Riley's error wasn't Blair's problem to deal with, although too many of the consequences would be.
"You're getting dressed."
"Nothing gets past you. Congratulations."
Blair pushed the covers back in sudden alarm. "Is Naomi okay?"
Jim bent swiftly and took Blair's wrists gently in his hands. "Your mother is perfectly safe, Blair. We all are. This is just a piece of stupid crap that the senior officer in the enclave has to check out. You," he kissed Blair's brow, "can rest." He pulled the covers back over Blair's hips. "I'll be back soon."
Naomi's rooms were through the lounge area to another area. Close to her son, but still separate, apart. Not of Cascade. Jim knocked quietly at the door. He knew she was awake. He'd scouted with his hearing. Naomi was light on her feet, but he heard agitated steps, rough breath, the harsh thump of her heart. "Naomi Sandburg? It's James Ellison."
The door swung open at speed and Jim blinked but didn't flinch as Naomi slapped him hard across the face.
"Mr Anders, how very nice to meet you," she shrilled. "And how well you look for a dead man." She flung herself away from him and paced the room with a desperate energy that Jim had seen before in her son.
Jim stepped in. He was in civilian clothes, not fatigues, but he stood as if he was waiting for official rebuke.
"How dare you? Abuse my son's trust, abduct him - and now!" Naomi's voice shuddered down deep in her anger and disgust. Jim could see the small shivers that travelled across her skin. "You've done a wonderful job of brainwashing him. Was it worth it? He's a public figure here, isn't he? You must be expecting some excellent perks."
Blair had suggested as much about Jim's motives in the first bitterness of imprisonment.
"Blair and I are together because we love each other. That much I can promise you."
Naomi spun around, her face contorted. "I dropped a wreath in the water where the flyer went down." Her voice trembled. "There was a service, but of course we didn't have a body. And you did that! You did that to me! I hired a boat, and people went out there...we..." She covered her face. "Get out. I don't want to see your face ever again. Get out."
Jim inclined his head in a small, formal bow, which Naomi didn't see because she was turned away from him, and pivoted to leave.
"What if I tell the truth when I get back to civilisation?"
Jim stopped. He kept his back to her and stared resolutely at the carefully polished wood of the door. Inexpensive wood, plain, but still put together with care, made to last, cut to display the beauty of the grain. "Your commitment to our security requirements was a condition of your visit."
"And if I break those conditions Blair will suffer, won't he?"
"One way or another. And I don't want that."
"Oh, just get out," Naomi moaned. "Get out."
He left, shutting the door quietly behind him. The mark of Naomi's hand burned his skin; for a moment the pain surged as if she'd thrown acid at him, as messages from his nerves were wrongly interpreted to magnify hurt into more than it actually was. Jim took a gasping breath. He had control, and he had his guide, waiting for him just a few rooms away.
Better for Naomi's first fury to be vented away from Blair. Better for Blair not to see
his mother slap Jim. There was more anger to come, but the first shock was over.
He ducked into the small communal bathroom off the lounge. His cheek was reddened, but not excessively so. Even if there was a light on in their room, the light would be low and Blair probably wouldn't see the mark. Jim stared at himself; Naomi's bitterness took him back to when he'd spent his days and his nights wrestling with how he could be Blair's protector and friend, and still keep his people's counsel and secrets. Wrestling with the need that gnawed at him all the time. Touching Blair, smelling his scent, and feeling like a pervert, a liar, a thief.
He had Blair now, openly in the eyes of the world, with Blair's willing consent. Jim took a last look in the mirror, and for no particular reason, washed his hands. Then he returned once more to their rooms. There was a dim light on, and Blair might have been trying to sleep, but he shifted as soon as Jim opened the door.
"You're back. Emergency over?"
Jim stripped off his clothes. "Yeah." He shut off the light before he got into bed.
Blair wriggled closer, his nose pressed into Jim's back. "Only one more full day," he murmured.
Jim patted Blair's hand which lay loosely curled across his abdomen.
"I'm sorry," he said. A warm sigh across his skin was the only answer.
Jim slept restlessly and woke early, to find Blair's arm across his chest. "Awake, are you?"
"The sentinel knows all," Blair said.
"Wish I did." Jim stroked gentle fingers across the back of Blair's arm. "Blair, I didn't tell you the whole story last night."
"I wondered."
"Agent Riley - she let slip to your mother that I was Jim Anders."
Blair didn't move a muscle, but tension arced from him. "Shit." He jerked away from Jim to turn on the light. "And you didn't tell me?"
Jim shrugged. "It was late. Your mother was distressed. She didn't ask for you. I would have said if she did." The litany of excuses died away.
Blair was out of the bed. He stood staring at his clothes before muttering, "I suppose I should have a shower. *God*." He turned, a shirt held in his hand. "How distressed?"
"How distressed do you think? I think that my welcome to your clan is revoked."
"Not by me it's not. Although don't think I'm not tempted," Blair growled. Then repentantly he burst out, "I don't mean that. It's just.... damn it! Talk about an awkward conversation over the breakfast table."
"I know." Jim sat up in the bed and leaned against the headboard. "Riley will not be present for any conversations. I'll tell M'taka that he's the duty officer."
"No."
"Blair, your mother knows about some of our security operations, however nebulously. The Anders persona had contacts and associations..."
"I'll make sure that Naomi doesn't say anything. But I'm not having some security guard standing around listening to us fight, Jim, and it will be a fight, and you are just going to have to trust that I say what's appropriate."
"You're right. You'll be fighting and you'll be distressed and..."
"No. Just no, Jim. No way. Do you let the FC in our bedroom?"
Jim turned his head away from Blair' s gaze. "Okay."
"Okay. I'm going to shower and get dressed and if she's asleep I'll sit with her until she wakes up, and if she's awake people are probably going to hear our 'discussion'," Blair smiled bitterly, "in Independence."
Jim rose also, and prepared his report while he waited for Blair to finish showering. Then he showered himself. When he came out, Blair was gone. Jim dressed. He made arrangements regarding Riley and the other staff of the enclave building. And he fought the urge to listen, to let his hearing roam and wander and find Blair. When he found it a losing battle ('How do you know, sweetheart? How do you know what's real and what's manipulation?' 'Stop it, Naomi, just stop it!') he stood and went outside to the garden within the courtyard.
The garden was laid out very simply, intended to be easy to care for. Jim only knew the names of a few of the plants. Everyone knew the wind dancers, with their looped tassels. The smaller, plainer varieties grew wild, not like these lush things. There was fever tree. There was Milo's bush. But for all its simplicity, it was also a garden laid out with sentinels in mind. There were scents, mild, but sweet and tangy, on the air. The foliage changed in patterns if you knew what you looking for, and Jim did. He sat on a plain wooden bench and let himself see only the garden, hear only the rustle of small breezes and the scuttling of insects, the call of birds. He owed Blair privacy. More than that, he didn't want to hear how Blair tried to calm his mother – whether he cursed Cascade along with her, or twisted himself in knots trying to defend what she would regard as indefensible. He let himself be lost, just for a while, while pattern and scent played in his head and drowned out hearing.
There came a time when he knew he wasn't alone. There was a thumb rubbing circles on the inside of his wrist. It was annoying. Ticklish. He ignored it for a while before he eventually blinked and refocused his eyes, and let his ears open to the world once more.
"You were pretty peaceful there," Blair said. "I let you be for a while, but I'll confess now I probably disturbed you because I was jealous."
Jim turned to look at Blair. "You've been crying."
"Oh, me and Naomi, man, but that's over. I'm okay now."
"And your mother?"
"She's not okay, so much, but I think she understands better now. But my situation – it was kind of a hot button for her. Normal circumstances, her culture, she'd have terminated the pregnancy." Blair winced at Jim's look of horror. "Babies are easier to come by other places. She was sixteen, Jim. But she couldn't do that. Nine Worlds didn't want to exacerbate the situation by giving any more cause for nastiness, and then when it was too late they realised just how determined Cascade was about getting their Child back, and she spent her life...she'd had plans, Jim. But she loves me anyway." Blair shrugged. "I tried to tell her how it is with you and me. Without telling too much."
Jim looked at the garden and its changeful peace. "I'm sure that you found the right words to explain things to her. You're good at that. Don't you ever get tired of herding words and chasing fine shades of meaning around, Blair?"
Blair smiled. His face was still high-coloured with emotion and his eyes too bright. "It's what I do, Jim. No big deal." Jim wondered what was in his own face to make Blair's fall like that. "What's up? I don't blame you; it was that idiot Riley who let loose the shit storm."
"I know."
"So what is it? I know it'll be awkward. If you want, I'll make your excuses to Naomi. Important business back in Independence."
"Which she'll know is a lie."
"More of an obfuscation."
"And you've had so much experience with lies and obfuscations! One story for your mother, and one story for the Foreign Corps, and another story buried under that to tell yourself. And all of it because I started the shit storm by bumping into you in a cafeteria line."
Here Jim was, sitting in a garden with his guide, and neither of them looking at one another. Blair heaved a huge sigh, and took Jim's hand in his. Blair was very still, except for the hand he grasped around Jim's, which he squeezed in a quiet, unconscious rhythm.
"I try to make every word I say true, for some degree of truth, and that's hard because sometimes what a man needs is a good blurt. I miss blurting. But these days, just not a good idea. I need to pay attention to everything I say, and that's not your fault, that's my choice, I chose it." His hand was squeezing maybe too hard for comfort but Jim didn't say anything, didn't move a muscle.
"'We stand here before witnesses of community and clan to fulfil a long-considered intent.'"
A tremendous surge of heat rushed through Jim's skin; embarrassment, because Blair didn't need to say this, mingled with an aching need to hear the words anyway.
"That's how it starts, right? It's not so long ago we said it. 'We commit to a true bond, joining body to body, mind to mind, life to life; honouring ourselves and those celebrating with us today.'" Blair leaned close, his lips nearly touching Jim's ear. The quote finished, his voice became earnest to the edge of desperation.
"You think that I didn't know what I was saying? I don't have any shades of truth with you, and you're about the only person I've ever been able to say that about. Ever, Jim."
Jim's free hand directed their joined hands up and he leaned forward, resting his forehead on the clasp between them. "I know." He turned towards Blair, smiling, trying to reassure, despite the weight of other feelings.
Blair looked embarrassed himself, and his hand still held on way too tightly. "Well. That's okay, then."
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