tampered | log; in progress

log; in progress

When; Sept. 5th
Rating; safe!
Characters; Anew [

irresoluteness]
Summary; Anew returns to the City, and before visiting the network, she returns to the apartment she shared with Lyle, hoping, and yet wishing she wasn't, that he would be there.
Log; Anew Returner was not alive, yet nor was she dead, in a sense, and so the way she woke to some manner of sense and consciousness within the City with no name was slow and gentle. It was the feeling, first, a small reminder of how cool her body felt. At first, she thought she could not see, but soon enough came the realization that it was simply night- or seemed to be.

And in the end, it would have been hard for her to describe how she pulled herself up, how she oriented herself slowly, a hand uneasy at her breast to feel no pulse beneath, eyes adjusting to the dark as she sought out the landmarks she knew, the memories slowly resurfacing in her mind.

The City. Lyle, and- Revive had been here. City lights, and curses... Neil Dylandy, and fighting, even then, between-

And Lyle.

So in the end, she couldn't have been able to explain how she got up and made her way there, hand made its way from heart to head, sifting one by one through muddled thoughts and putting them back in place. But there were some things that didn't need re-arranging, some things that did not need doubting or contemplating.

She was an Innovator, and she was a woman who loved a human man- was loved by that man, and was glad to be an Innovator because of it. We understood each other, didn't we?

Could say how she ended up with her palm against the door, cheek pressed to follow, her eyes closed a moment, to gather herself. Perhaps he wouldn't be there. Perhaps... it was possible he'd gone home, returned to where he belonged... so wasn't it selfish of her to half wish- no, to truly wish he was here, that she might see him once more?

It was, and she knew it. But she drew back, and without trying the door, unwilling just yet to find out that way...

Anew knocked.

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How the City found him these days was in a state of complete disarray. The Lyle presented on the network was different from the Lyle beneath the surface, the one marked with disappointment when he arrived back, the absence of both Anew and his brother greeting him. Neil came back, but Anew didn't, no need to blame it on some practical joke of the City. On the surface, he could act as if it was just the luck of the draw, he'd come back, alone, like always; he'd have to learn how to follow his comrades like that. He'd have to learn how to be Lockon Stratos, rather than walk these streets and pretend a little longer.

But somehow he found himself marked with that lack of motivation. Even on his arrival back in the City, he thought hard over whether or not to introduce himself as Lockon Stratos, to take on the hole his brother left behind. It was less a hole and more a role; people needed his brother, wanted his brother, never left him alone. Lyle wasn't the same charitable soul, advice doled out when he just randomly overheard something, and political quandaries pouring their ways through his head while he laid in his bunk. He was never as social, as graceful, as at ease as his older sibling, and so he remained Lyle.

For as much as he could let go of some things back home, he couldn't let go of himself here.

This left his apartment in an interesting state. Articles of Anew's clothing weren't packed up, little panties and bras still laying in their original places. The couch itself was where he took up residence, pillow resting against the arm, blanket haphazardly sprawled out. If he slept in the bed, he took the risk of removing the scent of Anew. The clean and sanitary stations of Ptolemy didn't let him keep even a strand of hair in her absence, but little bits and pieces of her were here. Even if she was quite obviously not. Even if he swore to go on, to press on, the City seemed to just play at constant reminders that he thought this was the place where he might meet her again. If it could be so perfect, perhaps Amy, mother, father—they all might arrive some day.

Wouldn't it be nice to have them all, rather than to feel alone, his beating heart in his chest not moving in unison with the important people around him?

Still, he didn't show any of this when he went out for coffee or stopped at the library. And he wouldn't show it now. He discarded the cigarette in his mouth, tapping the half-smoked cylinder into an ashtray before he got up and stretched his body, carrying himself across the room. His footsteps were quick, but not too quick, while he combed and patted at his hair. He would look okay, better than okay—though his smile would still lack the practiced warmth that seemed to fill Neil. Without erring on the side of caution, he opened the door, and immediately fell still.

Anew.

(We understood each other, didn't we?)

To find him so easily, no report on the network, it meant that she knew where he was, that she was arriving back with a memory. His processed worked quickly through this recovery, and then to the next step: that for as much as he patted at his hair, she would notice the slight difference in him. His cheeks were paler, his hair a little longer than how he normally kept it (which was already long enough). A month did enough of a number on the younger Dylandy twin. "It's about time, Anew," he spoke, warmly, not even waiting for her to step inside. Instead, he moved forward, enveloping her (cool) form in his arms, chin bent down while he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Another thing that she couldn't have articulated as well as she might have hoped- how she had those small nagging fears within her. That he might not be there. That he might not believe she'd return. That he might hesitate, that he might mistake her for some curse of this City- and she wouldn't have been able to blame him if he had. It seemed like something that could happen here too easily, using intimate things, personal things like that, illusions of them to hurt a person most.

But he was so warm, and real, just as she was real, even if she was dead and gone, and even if, more than those doubts, those little things, she'd felt far more that he would believe her. That he would just know her, because he had always been the one to know her, more so than the others, Ribbons Almark or even the one who was of the same type, Revive... no. Lyle alone had truly known- still knew.

"Lyle," Breathed out against his chest, even as her arms immediately rose to such a natural thing for her, holding him tightly, fingers tangling up in the back of his shirt. He smelled the same as he always had, as silly a thing to notice as that might have been, and he felt the same- not a silly thing.

"You're still here." As badly as she could have felt for wishing to see him, wishing he were trapped here once more... it could not be more strong than the content that welled up in her, the happiness, and that feeling she knew as love- that which made her human above all else.

Hesitation and silence passed while he held her, arms holding her close. There was no need to share their business with others like this, but he remained out in the hallway. If it was up to him, they would go further, fingers pulling at her until they awkwardly tumbled down. But he restrained himself, awe and relief holding him back. The smell of her, the feel of her—somehow, it was better this time. It was better than coming back after his first break, his good-byes said to gravestones, promises made for a new tomorrow. It was better than her first arrival prior to that, his pleads and worries that he might never see her again, but his casual ease carrying him. Better to tell no one that Anew Returner was dead. Better to keep it between them.

Her statement was amusing enough, though, and after he stymied some of those flooding emotions, a wry smile moved its way over his lips. "I wouldn't be so quick about 'still'," he told her, pulling back and looking down at her. "It looks like we left around the same time for a while. But I've been alone here for a month. But I've had some time with Neil, even if he wasn't here when I arrived." It was a hectic month, with all that happened with Eden, and despite that, he did nothing to improve his position. It was hard to take on that full role of normalcy when any reason for it seemed fragile, fleeting, uncertain.

She was loath to let go, but loathe not to look at him, and grateful to be able to do both, and so she supposed in the end she was perfectly content with it. Not that it prevented her from letting her hands inspect him, just to be sure. A pause over his chest, that comforting pulse of his that set her own cold one to a slight warmth, the lines of muscle and bone that she remembered so well, as if it were yesterday... to her, had it been, when leaving this place only meant that she returned to death, and nothing beyond? And fingers found reassurance at his neck, cheek, even as she frowned slightly for his pallor.

"You don't have to be alone anymore." Whispered, and even she didn't have the mind at the moment to move from where she was- a hallway, the apartment, it didn't matter if he was there.

"... But I can tell, you know." A little hint of teasing chastisement, fingers moving to pass through his hair in indication of what she meant. His brother, and she left that where he said it, to allow him his own control in that.

"You're the only one who can." It could be said in many words, detailing how he allowed his life to fall into easy desolation, but the coloration in his cheeks, the length of hair—it all spelled out a story that he wouldn't need to tell. Lyle didn't add more, didn't say how hollow he felt hearing the news from Haro about Neil's absence, because Anew wouldn't need those words. She didn't need to hear that it bothered him. The slight softening in his voice from now on when he talked about Neil would indicate it: he was happy about his brother's presence. But it would be no easier to tell than before.

Instead of saying more, he dropped a hand to grab her wrist, pulling her in with him past the threshold of the apartment door. "Where did you go, Anew?" he asked, curiosity filling him. There had to be a void, right? Some absence, something that might better answer the meaning of this City. He found himself more and more curious since that unusual song, found himself keeping more records on the matters of curses. Now that their numbers seemed to be dwindling and Sumeragi seemed to be a never-to-arrive type, he found himself wanting to participate more in the logistics of things. The mysteries of the City were involved in that, if only because he no longer saw it through rose-colored glasses and the improperly naive belief that this was where he needed to be for now.

She didn't deny that she might be that only one, because it would have rung hollow. She couldn't imagine that... though she believed him capable, and though she prayed he would eventually, he would simply change from the Lyle she knew, and loved, so soon. And part of that man was this, that he might still keep himself somewhat apart, and that the others, if they remained the same, still would have that uneasy distance- the combination of issues left still buried, for brothers, of comrades yet unknown, for those of the earlier times, and this place...

"I don't know." But Anew did not sound too sad to say it, even as she followed the tug on her wrist inside, smiled softly for the hazy recollection. "It wasn't... bad. Just... nowhere." A void, that unfeeling and unconscious space that was death, perhaps. She'd never contemplated a life beyond her own- a death was a death, and so she did not feel disappointed to find no other side. But-

"Wherever I was..." A step more to toe than heel, to wrap her arms around his neck and press a kiss to his cheek, gentle, yet somewhat longing- for having been gone- or more knowing she had, rather than having experienced it in that void, had dredged up that sorrow of separation in her once more.

"I'm home."

Where she went provided no immediate answers, so he pushed his curiosity to the back of his mind, allowing for the moment to be swallowed whole by her embrace. The feeling of her arms around him (he ignored the cool feeling of her skin, even welcomed it) and her lips against his cheek were enough to distract him from the swimming curiosities in his mind. They would come to talk about it—the various things he was dragging up, keeping files on, but never pursuing. Others sought out answers about the workings of the clock, but he felt that the clues, the real indications of the City, could be found in other things. Visiting a place that provided no answers time and time again didn't help them. He knew, in the past, that Celestial Being was displeased with the state of things in the City, but more than that: he was confused by it all. If it wasn't that place, why were they here?

Yet Anew took hold of him, ripped him away from that methodical way of thinking with a knock of her hand against the door.

"It's a good thing you decided to come home, too," he told her. "If you arrived in the fountain and let some other man come and find you, I wouldn't have liked that. Nothing changes here." Lyle paused to guide her toward the couch, one arm stretching to pull the blanket up and toss it onto the floor before he turned and sat down, drawing her toward him—literally on top of him. There was no need to stop touching her. His arms slid around her however she chose to sit before he continued. "You're still my woman, Anew."

Maybe it was silly, but she couldn't even go so far as to call it that in her mind. Right now... it couldn't be about science, or logic, or the City, even, beyond it being the way she could see him again, be beside him again- be a human woman, be Anew Returner, rather than be who the Innovators made her to be.

There was no hesitance or contemplation to following him, to fit there against him in some half-atop sit on and against him like she belonged there. Because she did, didn't she? Even before he'd said those things, ripped the cockpit from that suit and held out his hand for her.

"I wouldn't let anyone but you pick me up from that fountain, Lyle." Anew murmured, fingers still entranced with the warmth of him, calming and achingly familiar.

"I don't want to be anyone else's woman." Even if she hoped he could forget the pain of losing her, one day, even if she hoped maybe one day, he'd find someone to love him like she had... to be happy- Selfless thoughts, at soft war with the selfish, that had her in this moment and wanting no one else.

When he first met her, something had clicked into place, like the pieces had fallen—like a little bell rang in his mind, and that didn't change now. Anew was still Anew. Though she may wish for him to move beyond her, there seemed to be that silent vow that he would always have this. His flirtatious behavior was always a test, a feeling out of other people, but never genuine (though he would not have minded the attention). It stopped almost completely when he met her, taken over by this need to watch her, to hear her voice, to grow closer to her (and closer he did). Falling in love with Anew was instantaneous, but falling out, moving on—it seemed an impossibility.

If she suggested such a thing, he would be baffled. As much as he was a thirty-year-old man, some things didn't come to mind. Before her, it might have. She wasn't the first woman he told he loved, but it never came like a ringing bell, gentle let urging, pushing him toward realizing what stood right before him.

That was why it never mattered—her deceit, her accidental lies. All that mattered was that he had her. Even if she bordered on a possession, it was as if he had been walking through life searching for this. Nothing else had been his. Not his face, not his identity, even as he lived easily away from the name of Neil Dylandy, the very structuring of self-hood was always a contradiction to who and what his brother represented himself as to others.

"I didn't think you'd say anything else." Lyle appeared absolutely entranced as he raised one of the wrapped arms to brush it through strands of purple hair, combing it out a little. "You'll have to be the moneymaker again, too. I used the last of our leftover money on a dozen eggs yesterday." And cigarettes, but that went without saying.

There were so many things between them, that to others, may have seemed so very heavy, such cumbersome burdens between two people. Lies, and betrayal. Death, and destruction. Emptiness, and loss. And yet, they seemed to Anew to not be so, as much as they were simply there, tempered by such a beautiful, if not fatal, understanding.

As he was there, warm and real against her, and as she was there, now.

"I don't mind." Her answer came softly, as if she thought a loud noise might disrupt something, shatter something. She could not feel the others- not Revive, not Ribbons, and it gave her more peace, in that moment. Her fingers chased his hand, laced and tugged his fingers before her.

"You should have hired a maid with that money, you know?" That gentle, teasing voice again, even as she did not truly mean it- because she understood the disarray around her, understood the sight of one of her clothing draped over the back of a chair.

"Or gotten a haircut..." And again, even as her eyes closed, pressed a kiss to his fingers, to knuckles. A sniper's hands- but they did not seem so very stained within her own.

Edited 2009-09-06 06:59 (UTC)

"I did all right on my own when I bothered to clean," he retorted easily. Though his tone was amused, his gaze was obviously following the movement of her mouth against his hands. His hands were stained, but he didn't mind. When he took up fighting, his motivation was different. He didn't seek revenge, only saw that change needed to come in fighting who was dangerous in the world, who sought to repress others. Fighting, joining Katharon, and eventually Celestial Being—it was all about having the power to do what was necessary.

After all, at the time, he had little else in the world. He just didn't admit it to himself. What kind of man was he, though?

"It doesn't look too bad. But I think my ends are split." Any other man wouldn't have noticed this, but sure enough, any inspection of the ends of his hair would show just that. "It's amazing what devastating things happen when you're gone." Meant as a joke, of course, and he even delivered it with ease, but there was something in his gaze that didn't quite match up with the feeling there.

"I hope you learn how to clean again, or how else can I find time to bring home the money?" If she thought about it, it might have been somewhat odd, how she could simply slip back in to this place, this home, being with this man, being a lover, and a woman, being Anew Returner. Yet to her, it seemed like all time and no time had passed, leaving her with a discomfiting tug between missing him and not having missed him at all, when it seemed like she'd seen him just the day before.

Stained hands, but- she'd loved those hands, still loved them, every part of him. And her kissed followed, to wrist, before she leaned and pressed them cheek, to hair, to hide the slightly pained expression in her eyes, for the sad distance between what his gaze and mouth said.

"I'd rather they happen when I'm here," Whispered, there, against his ear, "So that we could get through them together." But that was a heavy thing, and she sought to temper it, her fingers left his to tangle up him, shirt, against his neck, in that longer style. "... Even if it's just your hair."

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