Morgan showed me her computer, displaying a news article. "Did you see the society page today?"
I am sitting at my desk in our home office, next to hers. "They still have society pages?" I asked.
"I suppose. I did not know that either until I went and looked for this. I became so tired of being in the paper in Houston, I admit I have not looked for such a thing for a while. The Cabal delighted not only in publishing my solved cases but putting in speculation about whether the so-called 'famous single detective' was going to be getting serious with 'Mr. Right'. It was always a picture of me on a date with some white guy. Never when I was was out with a person of color. I had to try to not let that channel me away from dating good people merely because they were light-skinned."
"That sounds truly awful. Not to mention stressful for whoever your date was."
"On several occasions, it was Mike. He said it amused him. I am not certain that it did. It amused me from the point of view that the Cabal was more interested in his skin color than his occupation as a bartender in a sexually oriented business. Not that I cared about either, but some did not understand my defense of the industry, what with being a woman and all. The Cabal appeared to prefer skin color to occupation, or more likely were customers of those in the trade."
"These people were the worst. Hands down." I opined.
"Agreed. Back to this: This is an article in the local paper covering the big charity ball from last weekend. Big event. Many pictures of important people. Items such as the Mayor and his husband attending the event. Or here, the woman that owns the largest female-owned business in the city with two dates, and a blurb wondering if they are dates, bodyguards, or both. That kind of thing."
"Society pages have not improved since you used to appear in them, you are saying. Except that this is Austin and so it is less judgemental about same-sex marriages, and possible poly relationships."
"They have not improved significantly. The verbiage is indirectly catty to the point of sounding envious about the idea that this woman has two men to take to bed after the event. I hope she did, and that there were five more on standby. Not the reason I brought this up. This article is about society, and so when someone who is not one of the beautiful people appears, they wonder who they are. Some mystery couple stole the evening, out-dancing everyone at the ball, not to mention being in the most fabulous clothing."
Morgan tapped the screen which made it zoom in. "Look at the picture."
The photo is of Helen and I dancing. She is extended away from me, holding hands, the other arm outstretched. Her fingers flipped up in a sort of flourish. It is a still picture, but such a good shot that it is easy to infer the grace of Helen's body that led to it.
Because of the angle of the shot, my face is in side-view, but Helen's is full face and slightly right of the center frame. The geometry and composition make sense. I am not the important one in that picture or that dance. I am not Danny Kaye to her Vera-Ellen. I am a counterbalance to Helen, who is the blonde beauty of many legends, dressed to match the part of a goddess of dance, right down to her shoes.
I reached across the desk to the screen and further zoomed in.
"Wow. I need the original of this. Helen looks so happy. The joy radiating from her every line." I said sort of abstractly as I looked at her. The perfect beauty, the perfect pose. The hair swung out. Excellent shot. I hope this is in high resolution.
Morgan waited for me to absorb the image, knowing it affected me. "When we get this from the paper photo archive, we need to put this with the pictures Bob did of all of us. When was the last time you saw that expression on Helen's face?" she asked.
I thought about it. "I have never seen that expression. Not even when Rachel was born, because she looked happy and worried all at the same time. When we were doing the pictures with Bob, she was happy and laughing, but this is different. That is... joy. Pure and unadulterated joy."
"Helen is so very much in this moment. If you are going to wear a suit, that is a good reason to right there." Morgan has always been more accepting of a work uniform than I.
Morgan looked at the picture. "I have never seen that expression. When you all came home from the weekend? She was singing. Helen. Well, humming, but still. Helen! Not a modicum of her normal snarky self in her body. You and your purple suit loved it right out of her. I have known Helen longer than you, and I have never seen her like this."
"The suit is a costume, and we compromised on the tie. Helen found something to love about it not being there. I figured I can wear costumes to ComicCon, I can wear costumes to go dancing."
Morgan looked at me with a Mona Lisa flavor of a smile. She wears that better than anyone other than Mona Lisa herself. "I never really thought of my work clothes as a costume. I went from a short stint as a uniformed officer to a detective, and 'detective' had its own uniform. I largely kept the uniform as a private detective. It is a costume, now that I think upon it. It is not me. Me is naked. With a lover. Helen is good with naked, but this is her too. Like this." She tapped the picture which made it wiggle a little on the screen.
I paused for a thoughtful moment. "It's one little thing. Honestly, my Morgan, I had no idea Helen loved to dance like that. So many centuries to bridge. So much life she has experienced before our lives together that a baby like me cannot even comprehend it. Her life before us had to be more than palace intrigue and sneaking off the broom closet with scullery maids."
"She absolutely did that." Morgan said. "Broom closet. Attic. Wherever in the castle a bisexual woman needed to go to have her illicit-at-the-time love."
"I am sure she had many pre-laid-out locations for her sex before she was forced to leave for France. What I was thinking about is that she once said that, post-Vampire-turn, she loved two of the humans she married, even if the larger project was Helen doing a Mata Hari thing for the Vampire world and despite that being a part of her larger plan to get on Council."
"I remember her saying that. I was unsure of how to respond."
"My exact point. How does that work? How do you feel in the aftermath of a relationship with a human that lasted longer than I have been alive? To love and lose a human spouse? An ephemeral love?" I shook my head at that concept. "Whatever all that is, I have never felt so close to her. So married to her, as after the evening we lay there and talked about Laura and boats. As costumes go, that is a magical one. Even better than your Supergirl one, and that is saying something!"
Morgan took back the computer, looked down at the screen, still zoomed in on Helen's face. "For that effect, that look on her face, I would pay you to wear that costume. That is... Amazing. Such simple, happy, carefree joy."
"You can bring her the same joy." I pointed out.
"How?" Morgan asked, disbelieving.
"Same way I sort of accidentally hit on dancing. I never told you why I suggested Helen and I do this. I found her in the garage, touching motors. Listening to you and Jessica singing and dancing up in the house to one of Jessica's favorite songs. She looked really down. Excluded. She was out in the garage looking at your world. We do the week away per spousal pair thing, but that is once a year. We need something more. Helen and I decided we needed a thing that is just her and I. You and I have a ton of them. From the park to the PI business to the coding to the bar... Things that are just ours, or are you, me, and Angel. You and Jessica have the garage and the singing and ... Well, you are her love. You kicked her ass so hard, with love and sex, over Alexander she realized how she felt about you. It was unexpected, but it is what it is. Jessica and I have things she and I do. Nightwing. ComicCon. You name it. Things we include others in from time to time, but that is ours. The Ski Condo in New Mexico where I recovered after first turning. There is a little beer and burger place by it we eat at. It's our tradition. Our place. You do work for Helen at her retreat, and things like that, but you two have no special things that are just yours. Think about it. Helen has five centuries of life to mine, looking for things for her happiness. Find some way to make her look like that. Happy, with her wife."
Morgan looked thoughtful. "The three of us were jealous when we saw you leaving, dressed like that, Helen chattering away as if she was going to the prom." Morgan laughed derisively. "Now I feel like such a chump." Morgan looked at me seriously. "How did you arrive at the dancing and the costumes, out of all the options?"
"First thing that popped into my head. I thought about the English and French courts, which made me think about the breast-baring fashions of the day, which made me think about courtly manners, which ultimately led me to this idea. A thing she used to do and love she never gets to do anymore." I explained. "Helen never really said it was something she loved, but I thought it was something two people can do. Her joy was ... Unexpected. If you listen to Helen most days, you would think the happy phase of her life started once Jessica took her to bed. All their adventures."
"Of course there are bare breasts in your inspiration. It is you." Morgan teased.
"I celebrate women's bodies. Sue me." I said gruffly.
"Oh, no. I like to be celebrated. However, I think that perhaps the reason she said nothing about her love of dancing from the court days is that her love of it is new. Brand new. Last weekend new."
Morgan shrank the picture, showed it to me. "This is the first time she was dancing with the man she loves. Makes a difference. That joy is not merely dancing. It is who she is with. The same way Jessica and I found each other, Helen found you."