White Shadows

Chapter 17 - Come Together

I don't know how long we continue to lie there in silence, but every minute of it feels beautiful. I don't regret it, nor would I have it any other way. I believe the word you're looking for is "perfection." So much of it, in fact, we don't even need to say "I love you" afterwards. It's been said so many times over by our actions.

All right, sweet moment over. As much as I don't want to let her go, I have to. Because we have to get back inside the condo sooner rather than later. And before we do that, we have to get the rest of our clothes on.

Juliet goes out the door first, leaving a soft kiss on my lips on her way out. I take my sweet time folding my wings up and putting my shirt and hoodie on, then I follow her back inside.

Thompson's still talking to Elijah, but Elijah's not talking back. Gabe leans against the wall, pretending to snooze - the obvious fake snoring gives it away. Fionna sits around the corner from him, her head in her hands. When he senses my presence, he stretches his arms, yawns, and thinks, Congrats, guys. Both of you.

Juliet and I exchange glances. Uh...what are you talking about? she asks.

When people say "you stink of sex," Gabe says, they really mean, "you totally still have an O-face." He snickers to himself. Fionna looks up, the corners of her lips turning up for a moment, but then she turns away. Hey, don't worry, he says. I'm happy for you guys. Makes me feel like there's hope for me and my own sex life after all.

Uh...thanks, Juliet and I say simultaneously.

Don't mention it.

I grin at Gabe, as does Juliet. Man, there are times when I really wish I could live in Hell like he used to. Largely because demons in general are more accepting of others and their differences than angels (my friends notwithstanding, of course.) But in this case, it'd be easier to talk about sex with demons because, in Hell, slut-shaming (for either gender) isn't a thing like it is for some in Heaven.

And then I'm brought back to the present, to a more pressing issue for everyone. Something that's not so personal for me, and yet, it kind of is. "For the last time," Thompson says, sounding peeved, "how did you cross over to this universe?"

Stretching his legs languidly, Elijah says, "You act like I have some kind of secret entrance to the Third 'Verse you're talking about. Well, I do, but it's nothing special." He tugs his arms against the dark energy still binding him to the chair. Thank God for that. "If you've ever been into the Terminal," he says, "maybe you should try some of the other doors. They don't just connect this universe to Prime, you know."

"That's very helpful," Thompson says, "except for one infinitesimal detail. Two, actually. First, you're a hybrid - an artificial hybrid, but a hybrid and a Breaker nonetheless. Second, you've now died twice - that we know of."

Elijah blinks slowly at Thompson. "Like y'all don't have a dedicated dossier with my name on it." Thompson's about to continue, but Elijah briefly interrupts him. "You're right, though. I've died a grand total of two times. Both of which were in Prime, and yet, I've found myself in the Third 'Verse too. That's where this current body of mine originated."

Thompson cracks his knuckles, then steeples his fingers. "So...by any chance, would you have seen these people during your Third 'Verse travels?" He sticks his hand in his pocket and comes up with a pair of photos - actual printed photos, not images on a cell phone screen. (Because he's an old guy, I guess. Considering that scrivs are supposed to age hella slowly, he's probably old enough to remember when daguerreotypes were the next big thing.) One of these photos has Steve Walker in it. The other is of Marian Troy.

"I know I killed this four-eyed toad once," Elijah says, pointing to Steve's picture like he wants to rub a grubby fingerprint on his glossily printed face. "Don't recall having to do it a second time."