The Course of True Love (13/14)
by Jayel
Devon and Danziger walked together through the trees, not touching, not talking, until all sight and sound of the Eden Project had disappeared, leaving them alone in a forest that seemed to Devon as exquisitely untouched as the Earth's first winter dawn. "So beautiful," she almost whispered, compelled by the scene to speak but loathe to disturb the silence. "You know, back on the stations, I sometimes allowed myself to have these fantasies . . . dreams, I guess they were . . . of what it might be like here." She stopped, touching the snow-stained trunk of one of the larger trees with her gloved fingertips. "Of what it might be like on a planet still utterly unspoiled." She glanced up at him and smiled. "But even in my wildest dreams, I never pictured anything as beautiful as this. Nothing in my life before could possibly have prepared me for the life we're building now."
"I know what you mean," Danziger said, squinting up at the flat blue sky before smiling back. "But you know, Dev, that word . . . unspoiled . . . That gets kind of complicated."
She leaned against the tree for a moment, clinging to the trunk as she took a single, ragged breath. "What do you mean?" she said evenly, meeting his eyes.
I mean you're gorgeous and I should be shot, he thought as he looked at her. Her delicate features were carefully arranged to appear utterly placid beneath his scrutiny as she waited for him to go on, but her eyes . . . Those blue eyes were afraid. They were the eyes of some innocent creature--no, not innocent. Wounded . . . wounded so long ago that the complicated whys and hows of whatever had inflicted the hurt were all but lost, leaving only the memory of the pain itself, still fresh and clear enough to make her shy away from the slightest threat . . . . But she trusted him. The last time those blue eyes had looked into his, she had told him point-blank that he had her trust . . .
"You belong here," he said, letting the words just come without deliberation. "That word, unspoiled--that's something you can believe in without question. You look at these woods, this whole planet, and you don't see the Z.E.D. or the convicts or the cold, hard winter. You see someplace new, a new start--Paradise." He smiled. "The *Eden* Project? That's no accident, and it's not a joke. When you talk about New Pacifica, what you mean is new perfection, a place where your child--where everybody's child can be grow up safe from all the things that made life on the stations so hard and ugly." He briefly touched her cheek. "You stand here in the dirty snow and you see beauty so intense you can barely believe it's real."
Her eyes searched his face as she smiled. "Would you like to hear something funny?" she said. "When you and I . . . when we all ended up in that desert together, and the ship had crashed, and things were so . . . I worried about you a lot."
"Worried about me?" he asked incredulously.
"Not that you wouldn't be all right physically," she clarified. "That you'd never . . . I know how resistant you are to the very idea of such a thing, but you're a natural leader, John, much more so than I am. People were afraid, and they gravitated toward you and made you their spokesman . . . " She grinned. "And you cut me no slack whatsoever," she continued. "I was worried that I'd never be able to win you over, to make you understand why what we were doing, what we *had* to do was so important. I was frankly terrified that you would never understand me." She reached out and took his gloved hand between her own. "But you do . . . more than anyone else." She smiled again. "So how did that happen?"
"I don't know," he admitted, holding her hands in a gentle grip."Devon . . . you're right. I do understand you, at least as much as anybody ever understands anybody else. And as hard as it's been for me to admit it, I love you." She opened her mouth to answer, but he shook his head. "Wait," he ordered. "Trust me; you want to let me finish." She looked as if she might protest, then nodded. "I understand you . . . I love you . . . But I'm not like you."
She just stared at him for a moment. "Meaning what?" she said, pulling away.
"Meaning . . . I don't believe in unspoiled," he answered, letting her turn her back on him. "I love it here, too--but as much as I'd like to believe that we can create this perfect world for our kids--"
"Our kids?" she echoed with a bitter laugh. "Look, John, why don't you just go ahead and tell me what you came here to tell me? I'm a big girl; I can take it. Just don't try to make me believe it has anything to do with True or Uly or New Pacifica--"
"You're right," he interrupted. "It's about you and me."
"And Tara," she added, turning on him angrily. "Right?"
"Maybe," he retorted, his own emotional hackles beginning to rise. "Not actually, but if you want to bring her into it--"
"I don't want to bring her into anything," she shot back. "As a matter of fact, had I known then what I know now, I wouldn't have . . . " She stopped.
"Finish, Adair," he said. "You wouldn't have brought her into the group? As I recall, when Tara first came into the group, you were in no condition to object." And when she was left alone here, it was to save your life and ours, his mind added perversely, a thought he firmly pushed aside for later.
"I don't know," Devon admitted, her eyes filling with tears. "I didn't mean . . . I hate this!" She kicked at the snow. "Why does it always have to be this way?"
"What way?" John asked.
"Why am I always the outsider?" she demanded. "You say you're not like me, meaning, obviously, that you're more like Tara--but why? How can you be more like Tara? You think I live in this fantasy world, that I have no concept of real relationships, but--" She broke off. "Look, John, it doesn't matter," she insisted, struggling to smile. "You're right; I never should have brought Tara into the discussion--"
"No, I think maybe I should have," he said. "You're right, Devon; without Tara there'd be no need for this discussion--"
"Danziger, I am not a child," she interrupted impatiently. "I've seen Tara, and I can certainly imagine that she would be . . . She's obviously taken with you on a physical level, and you wouldn't be human if you weren't flattered--"
"Devon--"
"All I'm saying is that if you and Tara have had some sort of fling, I don't need to hear any details," she finished, blushing hotly. "Believe me, John, confession may be good for your soul, but--"
"A fling?" he repeated. "That's what you think? That I've betrayed your trust so I could go off and shank Tara for the pure animal hell of it? And now you think I've come crawling back to you for some kind of absolution? Great, Adair, just great . . . "
"So I'm wrong?" she persisted. "There's nothing going on between you and Tara?"
"Of course you think that," he went on without listening. "Hey, I wasn't with you, right? You weren't watching me, telling me what to do--naturally I turned back into some hairy, mindless beast--and of course, Tara, being less than human, too, was right there to take advantage--"
"What are you talking about?" she demanded.
"The funny thing is, I kept defending you," he crashed on, working himself up to a major tirade. "I told her to get off your back, that you were only trying to help--"
"I *am* only trying to help that damned woman!" she shot back.
"Why?" he asked. "If you don't like her, if she's some monster you never should have allowed into the group, why try to help her?"
"I never said that!" she cried. "You said I didn't want her in the group, not me--Do you want to know what I think of Tara? Is that the issue? Okay--I think she's a spoiled brat who has always gotten her way in everything who has lost the poor sweet soul who took up waiting on her hand and foot when she ran away from her parents, so now she's looking for a new model." She could feel her usual reasonable, nurturant self watching in abject horror as these words kept pouring out, but she couldn't--wouldn't--make herself stop. "And because she blames me for depriving her of her husband's protection, she's decided that the only one who can take his place is the man I want for myself. Don't get me wrong; I'm sure she finds you quite alluring on your own--after all, I do. But ultimately, I think this is all about hurting me and finding a new place to hide--killing two birds with one stone, I guess you could call it." She stopped, giving him the opportunity to stop her or add his own input, but he simply stood there listening with the same look she had seen him give Morgan a thousand times. "I didn't want to think that there was anything going on between you, but I couldn't help it--I wanted to trust you so much. But then Magus . . . "
"Magus?" he prompted, his expression softening somewhat. "Magus what?"
"Magus pointed out that Tara is very . . . in touch with her femininity," Devon answered slowly. "And that men tend to be . . . And I knew I had been just awful about something similar just a few days ago, and I couldn't help thinking maybe . . . " She looked up at him, hope shining in her eyes so brightly his heart hurt just watching. "But if you tell me nothing happened, I'll believe you," she said. "And I'll apologize to Tara, and I'll do everything I can to make things right for all of us--"
"Devon, you can't," he interrupted, putting his hands on her shoulders. "It's not your responsibility--you can't just fix everything--"
"I can try," she persisted. "John, please, just let me try--Sometimes just trying is enough--"
"And sometimes it isn't," he finished. He turned away--there was no way he could face those eyes and say this. "I can't tell you there's nothing going on between Tara and me, because there is," he said, pushing so hard to get the words out that when they came, they sounded as flat and cold as the slate-blue sky above them. "And it wasn't just a roll in the sack . . . I care about her. She needs me, Devon--"
"*She* needs you," she repeated incredulously.
"And maybe I need her," he continued. "You're right, Dev--she's no more like me than you are. As a matter of fact, I can't imagine her being much like anybody else I've ever known, and I don't mean that as a starry-eyed compliment. But the things she needs, the demands she makes--they're all things I can give. I never have any trouble figuring out what it is she wants from me--"
"No, I'd bet not," Devon shot back bitterly.
"Hey!" he warned, turning back to her. "Don't start--"
"And why shouldn't I?" she retorted. "It sounds to me that my problem may have always been that I'm too nice--so fine. From now on, let's everybody be honest and upfront with their feelings like Tara. No more sugarcoating, no more sparing anyone else--let's get it all out in the open so we can pick it apart and have hysterics together. Won't that be fun? Nothing will get done; no progress will be made toward meeting that colony ship; the kids won't get fed; the delicate network of social interaction we've all worked so hard to build and maintain over the past year and a half will go up in a blaze of glory that should last about a minute and a half; but hey! At least we'll all be honest. At least no one will ever have to spend a single moment wondering what's going on in anyone else's head. And after all, that's what's important--taking care of number one."
"Are you finished?" he asked mildly when she finally fell silent, all but gasping from anger and hurt.
"No," she answered, taking a step toward him, so that her face was but a few scant inches from his. "No, John Danziger, I am not finished," she said, steadily meeting his eyes. "Not by half--and I doubt I'll be finished for a quite a while to come. This looks like it's going to be a long, hard battle, and I promise you I'm not about to surrender." She took a step back. "But I think that right now, I'm going back to camp."
End of Part 13
Chapter End Notes:
Comments of every variety are still more than welcome.