A Fearful Symmetry 7

Something is coming. She doesn't know what, but she can feel it like she can feel a storm gather before it begins. It frightens her, this not-knowing, so she avoids it as much as possible, but it is like he knows—he always knows, doesn't he? He tries to distract her with a new movie, an impromptu party, but they don't catch her attention. What is coming up?

Finally, he shows up alone: just him in his dark coat, no druggies or videos or even garlic breadsticks. "Come on, kid. We're going out." She looks at him blankly. He tries to nudge her out into the open whenever possible, and she appreciates that, really she does, but usually he knows not to push her when she's like this. She can feel a nervous breakdown in the style of her old attacks lurking on the horizon, and she is afraid a trip outside—however brief—might just bring it around.

But he just steps closer to her, his eyes unreadable but warm, and puts his jacket around her thin shoulders. "It's something nice, kid, I promise. You'll like it." His coaxing is so pleasant that she cannot resist anymore; entranced, she follows him outside. He always knows just how to speak to her to banish her fears. Where did he learn this trick? The Z addicts all have plenty reason to come to him without his charms, so who taught him?

Ah, well, it doesn't matter.

He guides her through the underbelly of the city to one of the nicer graveyards outside of town. "I've been setting this up for a while now," he murmurs. "I know it took me forever, but I had to scrape up enough cash for two headstones, and they don't come cheap anymore."

She looks up at him, confused, but then they enter the graveyard and she understands. Nathan and Mag. The two dearest people in her life. She collapses to her knees in front of the flat, low stones and covers her mouth with one hand, clutching the grass with the other.

"I know both of them would've been better by your mom," he murmurs, fidgeting somewhere out of her field of view. "I wanted to put 'em there, but… well, I couldn't afford it. Thought about asking you for the money, but I didn't want to spoil the surprise."

She has to blink back sudden tears; she is not sure if they are from the reminder of her father's death or his kindness. "I…" She swallows hard. "Thank you. This is… this is wonderful." She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. "I never found out what they did with the bodies."

He steps in front of her and puts his hands in his pockets with a little shrug. "Well, you'd be surprised what you can sneak out of a place when everyone's distracted like that." He squats and brushes a little snow off of Mag's tombstone. "Always wanted to see one of her shows in person. Never had the dough, though."

"Thank you," she whispers again. "I… I can't believe you did this for me."

He laughs, a trifle nervously. The sound echoes against the low ceiling and makes him fidget even more. "Honestly, kid? Neither can I."

O-o-O-o-O

Marni is so happy when Mag wakes up. It's been a long time since her happiness has been this simple, and she presses her teary face against Mag's hands out of gratitude. "You don't have to do that anymore," Mag murmurs, putting her hands under Marni's chin and tilting her face up. "I—I can see now." Her mouth open slightly in awe, she brushes Marni's tears away and searches her face. Her voice drops to a barely audible whisper. "You're so beautiful."

Marni laughs a little. "You only say that because you haven't seen any of the women who work here yet." She squeezes Mag's hands. "You'll change your tune soon enough."

"Never," Mag whispers, shaking her head a little. "Never, never." She pauses, and then she leans toward Marni. "I never… I never did thank you properly, Marni. I was too—" She breaks off.

Marni could finish Mag's sentence—too busy pushing you away, too disgusted with what you'd become for me, too angry that I still loved you even though that man touched you—but she has never been the type for hanging on to grudges. She loves Mag; that will never change. But… it's so different now that she doesn't think she could ever begin to explain.

The timbre of Mag's touch shifts suddenly. She moves her hands from Marni's face to her hair, like she always did before moving in for a kiss. She starts to move closer, but Marni gently removes her hands. "…Not anymore, dear," she murmurs, turning her face away from Mag's strange eyes for the first time.

Mag swallows hard, but then her hands cup Marni's. "I understand." She rubs her thumbs along the backs of Marni's hands; the two of them sit there in silence for a long time.