Pas de Deux

By Cheshire Court (TheLoveCats@juno.com)

Note: If you're pathetic like me, you'll realize the two puns in the title (hahah, there's another). If you slur it to 'Pas de Deus' and deliberately forget all you know of French and Latin grammar, you can get 'Without God'. Turn it to 'Pax de Deus' and do the same trick, and you can get 'Peace of God'. All these meanings for the title apply (including the original, which refers to both a dance step and a social encounter, I think). Slur it again and return it to semi-French, and you can make-believe it means literally, "Not of Two". Yes, I know it's improper use of both languages. Yes, I'm too demented to be let near a language dictionary. Unlike 99.9% of everything I create, I'm unrepentant for writing this one. I /did/ write it fast and in the fashion of a 'rambling voice'--hence the dramatically looser grammar, run-on sentences, and simpler words. I'll look back at this soon and curse myself for not having revised it better, don't worry. And--oh, bah, this has massive spoilers. You have been warned.

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We have our good days.

At those times, there is nothing better than our existence together. There's too much energy between us for one body to possibly hold, so we go racing out into the sands of Bledavik's desert, trying to burn some of it off before we start breaking things. Or people. Sometimes I imagine that he is physically there beside me, and we run neck to neck, howling laughter across the dunes.

When we're both in high spirits, the world is a wonderful toy. In moments of pure adrenaline, there are no words--all that's needed to pass between us is the feeling. Life is pared down to the here and now, eternally revolving around each second that passes, each breath drawn somehow new and exotic. If I falter, my shadow takes over, and when he stumbles, I pick up the slack.

Some nights, Elly lies beside me and looks up with those eyes--/those beautiful, beautiful blue eyes, Id whispers/--that say they can understand anything, everything, as long as it is shared. She wants me to tell her why I smile for no apparent reason at times, laugh to myself, sing counterpoint to no one in the dark. But this is something that she cannot empathize with, even if the words could be found. There's only Id to nod his tangled locks, and say that he knows how it feels.

How could I have thought that the moment of enlightenment that held me upon encountering the Wave Existence would last? How could I have thought the integration to be permanent, simply because a few memories got passed around?

Id tells me that it's all right, that mutability is the ultimate ruler of the world, and so any peace is gained and lost in a heartbeat as reality whirls onwards. You have to either rediscover serenity each time or adapt with the flow. That the tighter you hold onto peace, the faster it slips away. I ask him when he became so philosophical.

He tells me he's had a lot of time to do nothing but think.

We have our bad days. The littlest things can set Id off, tip the balance of glee into despair. I can pick up on his emotions more than I'd like to admit--we're close now, not so much that I mistake his rage as being mine, but enough that it infects my moods. Occasionally I get pulled down by the world, crushed by the worries and cares and pettiness of the people we're trying to help, and it is his turn to play the role of the better half.

Sometimes it starts because we spoil each other's fun.

The times when we're at our worst--every twist of our moods screaming off the feedback of each other, with no way out and no solitude available--Id rips the body away from me, sends it roaming through the wilderness, taking out his frustration on anything foolish enough to walk by. When he gets like that, he tells me that we're going to feel like misfits for the rest of our lives, always out of place in any crowd--even among our good friends. Sometimes I can't help but believe him.

I've gotten so used to living the world with layered vision that I forget that other people are alone in their heads. Comprehending the difference is like trying to compare the fighting tactics of land Gears to those of ones with flight--there are so many factors in three dimensions, so many actions going on, that you're not even aware of the difference until it is brought to your attention. See a crisis, let Id slip by. Analyze the situation while he licks blood from his fingers. Step back into the waltz and make use of the conclusions drawn, barely noticing when he takes a moment to dodge and return a round of blows. Swing to the left, change and return partners.

Occasionally I slip up, and use the word 'we' instead of 'I' in conversation. Thankfully, I can always hide it behind associations with groups and friends. Id laughs at me when this happens. He never apologizes when he does it. "Why hide?" he asked once, safe in the folds of his own confidence. "There's nothing for us to be ashamed about." Doc would figure it out. He almost guessed it the last time we spoke to him. The encounter was going well, and then Id--lazy with how well he thought he was hidden--slipped into the last of the parting conversation and waved a jaunty goodbye to Citan. I tore him up and down for that one. Doc knows I don't smile while showing that many teeth.

Id told me not to worry, that he could 'handle Hyuga'. Sometimes his satisfaction worries me. I don't want to look too close at it to discern if it stems from a murderous instinct or a friendly one. There's history between the two--or maybe only between their Solarian aspects. And I prefer to think about Citan on the basis of my own interactions with him.

It's a shame we can't talk to Doc--he's the one person who might not try to 'fix us'. But the last thing Id and I need right now is to be mistrusted again, to have people look at us as if we might explode into senseless mayhem at any time.

As if our hair is only one shade away from red.

They hate the demon and revere the Contact, conveniently forgetting that there's malice in everyone--the difference is, I know exactly where the bulk of mine is. Both of us have changed since that time of the integration. Id spends less time fighting himself, me, and the world, and more energy enjoying life. I've become quieter, more responsible with the weight of my destiny. We support each other. We have to. We're stuck in this situation together, and we both want to live.

Neither of us speak to the Coward.

Elly asked us the other day about the possibility of having children. But what kind of parent could I possibly be? Given a role model of my absent father, and tempered by Miang's hands--no amount of hope and love can ensure that I never resort to the behaviors they taught me in times of stress. I've learned first-hand that intellect does not always rule over instinct.

Id, conversely, is hoping for a daughter. I asked him why, and he turned startled eyes upon me, as if amazed that I didn't see the answer right away. "People always tend to underestimate women as being dangerous," he enunciated slowly, "and she can /use/ that." He's planning to teach her hand-to-hand combat early, to pass down the fighting techniques of our father to a new generation. I told him that it would be our /child/, not our student. He gave me that look again--the kind that said he couldn't believe he was paired with someone as idiotic as I--and said, "Fei, it's the same thing."

I suppose I should start trusting his judgement more, but it's in my nature to wonder and worry about him. And we have all the time we need to learn how to get along. Never alone, but eternally isolated. We are partners, dancing in lockstep. Devil and angel in one, inseparable no matter how the mythos may fall.

The sunset licks at the dunes' horizon. It's time to return home. He's calling for me to follow. Impatience rules his voice, but I know that he will never leave me behind again.

We'll run the way back together.