The Course of True Love (8/14)
by Jayel
Tara's last prayerful thought before sinking into the deepest sleep she had known in months was, "Please, God, just let me wake up first." The trek across the burning sands of guilt Danziger was almost certainly going to insist she accompany him on in the morning would be torturous enough even if she had a few minutes to wake up, get dressed, and mentally prepare. To awaken halfway through naked and all-unknowing would be too brutal to bear.
Luckily, her prayer was answered and in the affirmative--when she opened her eyes, Danziger was still snoring. As a matter of fact, his snoring was what woke her up, jogging her away from a dream about earthquakes and chain saws inexplicably combined. "Ye gods, John," she grumbled, smiling nonetheless as she slipped regretfully from beneath his heavy arm. "No wonder True-girl sleeps with me." Planting a kiss too light to wake him on his bare shoulder, she pulled the blankets closer around him and got up.
The snow had stopped falling, leaving the thinnest frosting of white on the world outside. The possibilities of a snowball crossed her mind, but she decided against it--no need to tempt fate just yet. She dug a small but efficient-looking shovel out of Danziger's pack, pulled on her gloves, and went out into the sunrise.
Getting back into the ground lockers proved a little more taxing than she'd anticipated, even the small one she'd opened the night before, but once she was inside, she had little trouble finding what she wanted. The white plastic box was at the top of the largest locker, exactly where she'd left it when Val had finally convinced her taking it with them simply wasn't practical. "We'll be back," she remembered him promising, his arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple as she tearfully closed the box and shut the locker cover.
"Yeah, I know," she remembered answering, dashing the silly tears away. "And hey, it's not like I'll be needing it again, right?"
Don't go there, Tara, she advised herself sternly, lifting the box out without opening it and tossing it on the snow behind her.
Her second treasure was a little harder to find. The tiny capsule was buried under piles of Val's old books and a bag filled with her half-finished knitting. Why did we bring all this stuff? she grumbled in her head, working it free of the clutter.
The seal was still intact, and a dot of light glowing red at one end indicated that the contents were still viable. I should wait, she thought, fingering the release button. I mean, this is definitely something he would want to discuss first . . . But if I ask him, he's just going to say no, and then I'll have to try to convince him . . . Easier to apologize than ask permission, she decided, pressing the button gently. Besides, who says it's going to work?
The red light turned green, and the softer black end of the capsule slid free of its hard steel shell. Tilting it slightly, she dropped a tiny, writhing glob of living tissue into the palm of her gloved hand. "Please be okay," she whispered, watching it grow and take shape. "I don't think I can kill you, even if you're screwed up . . . "
When she got back, Danziger was awake, dressed, and fumbling around with the coffeepot. "I assume you know what you're doing there," she teased, dropping the shovel and the white box before the fire.
"Mostly," he retorted, shooting her a murderous glance fairly typical of his usual morning demeanor. "Where'd you go?"
"Out to get my stuff," she explained. "That is what we came here for, right?"
"Yeah," he muttered, setting the coffeepot on the glowing embers. "So you said."
She started to say exactly what came into her head, but bit down hard on her tongue and counted ten instead. "Those ground lockers were frozen over pretty good," she went on, peering inside the deep inner pocket of her jacket to make sure the treasure there had made the trek indoors without injury. "It took me ten minutes just to scrape the ice off the locks . . . then I had to try to remember the combinations . . . " Tired of addressing herself to the back of his head, she turned her attention to her newborn creature, lifting it free of the jacket and cuddling it against her shoulder.
"So this is it?" he said at last, waving absently at the box. "This is what we came here for?"
"Some of it," she replied. "And this is the rest."
He turned around and found her nuzzling a kitten, still so new its eyes were sealed shut. "What the hell is that?" he demanded, going to her. "And where did you--"
"It's a cat, obviously," she interrupted. "I got it out of one of the ground lockers--or the embryonic material for it, anyway." She took a tiny bladder of synthetic milk from her pocket and brushed it over the kitten's tiny, mewling mouth. "How do you make these things eat?"
"You have to squeeze that thing," he explained gruffly, taking both kitten and milk bladder from her. "How's he supposed to know there's milk in there if all he can taste is the plastic?" He squeezed the bladder gently, dripping milk on the furry little face until the kitten seemed to get the message and started sucking on his own.
"Danz, you're a man of many talents," Tara teased, smiling goofily up at him in spite of herself. "Think True will like him?"
"True?" he echoed. "Wait a minute--"
"I got him for her," she interrupted. "Actually, we brought him along for me--he's a clone of a cat we had for years, even took him into cold sleep with us--Watusi, we called him, God only knows why--maybe because he was huge. Anyway, when we came here, we knew we couldn't keep him anymore, so Val had him cloned and gave me the makings as a sort of bon voyage present, I guess. We always meant to take this little guy out just as soon as we were settled." She paused for breath and dared a quick glance at his face. Not at good idea--he looked just as grim as she'd expected. "I know True always wanted a cat, so I thought, since we were here--"
"Tara, this was not a good idea," he began. But she noticed he wasn't just feeding the kitten; he was stroking the tiny head with one massive fingertip, cradling the fragile little body in his palm. Oh my sweet love, she couldn't help thinking to herself, melting inside just watching. "How are we supposed to take care of a kitten on the road?"
"It's easier than you might think," she promised. "And besides, he won't be a kitten very long--These tube-clones tend to reach full maturity within a few hours--"
"Assuming they survive," he finished. "Julia might have told you we've already had some experience with this sort of thing."
"The horse--yeah, she did," she answered. "But that kind of genetic defect is unusual, I promise--For whatever reason, the embryos Julia found had been coded to mutate that way."
"Still, we don't tell True anything about this until we know he's going to make it," Danziger ordered.
"Absolutely," she agreed with a smile. "Look, we probably won't even see True until he's full-grown and well out of the woods."
The kitten had stopped eating and curled up in a ball in his hand, obviously preparing for a nice, long nap. "Here, take him," he ordered. "If we don't pack up and get out of here, he'll be on his third or fourth life by the time we see True again."
"Okay," she agreed, taking the warm ball of fur and holding it against her. "But I think he likes you better."
"Of course he does," he muttered, throwing scattered equipment into his pack. "What's not to like?"
She shot him a mischievous smile. "Not much, actually." She tucked the sleeping kitten back into her jacket pocket. "You're a little bossy sometimes . . . and I've got to tell you, you snore worse than anybody I ever heard in my life."
"I don't snore," he grumbled without looking at her.
"Excuse me?" Tara retorted. "Don't go to hell for a liar over something as pitiful as that, John Danziger--"
"Hey, don't do that, all right?" he interrupted, turning to her.
"Do what?" she asked, genuinely mystified. "Tell you you're going to hell?"
"No," he said, going back to packing. "Call me 'John Danziger', like you might be my first grade teacher or my mom or something. Devon does that all the time, and it really gets on my nerves."
"Then by all means, let me delete that phrase permanently from my vocabulary," she murmured, more to herself than to him. "So tell me what to call you instead."
"What?" he asked, stuffing bedding into his pack with a shameless disregard for proper folding.
"Tell me what to call you instead of 'John Danziger,'" she replied, giving the name a broad hint of Devon-style inflection. "I was thinking maybe 'pookie'--"
"Oh shut up," he ordered, but she could tell he was trying not to smile.
"I'm serious," she laughed. "Our relationship has undergone a dramatic change--we are actually acknowledging that, right? Or was one of us sleepwalking?"
"Tara . . . " He stopped packing and just looked at her for a moment. "I don't think I could have slept through that," he admitted at last.
She couldn't think when she had felt more encouraged . . . maybe the world didn't have to just end after all. "Me neither," she answered with a smile, going over to him. "Seriously . . . do we need to talk about this?"
"Oh, probably," he grumbled morosely.
"Don't sound so excited," she retorted.
"I'm sorry . . . I'm just not very good at 'talking' about this sort of thing, but lately it feels like that's all I ever do," he complained.
"Well, maybe not all," she teased, touching his cheek with affection. "Okay, so you don't want to talk . . . fine, just listen--"
"Something tells me I'll like that even less," he muttered.
"Hush," she ordered, sinking down onto his lap. "I'm crazy about you, but you know that--at least, now, you know that, and I got the impression that you weren't entirely repulsed by the knowledge."
"Of course I wasn't--"
"I said hush!" She put a hand over his mouth and continued. "But you don't want to hurt Devon. As a matter of fact, you're not even sure you wouldn't rather *be* with Devon--you've certainly put a lot more time and energy into that possibility than you have with me. And besides, I may just be some crazy woman who's tired of sleeping alone and looking for someone whose special purpose reminds her of her husband's--yours doesn't, by the way, but in the interests of grace and gentility, I won't elaborate on why not."
"Special purpose?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow.
"That's what my dear departed mother-in-law always called it, and I think it's a very descriptive phrase," she retorted playfully. "As I was saying, you find yourself, romantically speaking, caught between a rock and a hard place--say, I wonder which one of us is which?"
"Is there a point to this charming recitation?" he said, but his eyes were sparkling with amusement.
"Of course there is," she promised. "The point is, you don't want to hurt anybody--fine, honey, don't. Don't hurt Devon--she doesn't deserve to be hurt. And maybe I do--"
"No," he interrupted. "You do not."
"Good," she said. "Then don't hurt me, either--not yet, anyway. Am I correct in assuming that you and Devon have sort of unofficially put off taking your friendship to a higher plane, physically speaking, until after we get to New Pacifica?"
"That seems to be the idea," he admitted slowly.
"Fine," she said. "That gives you plenty of time to make up your mind--who knows? Miz Magus might get you yet."
"Magus has more than she can handle already," he retorted. "So what are you saying? That we should just pretend this didn't happen until we all get to New Pacifica, and--"
"No, not exactly," she interrupted, caressing his hair with a dreamy smile. "You and I, to each other, should pretend no such thing, although I dare say a repeat performance within the confines of the camp might prove problematic. But to everybody else? I think, for the moment at least, that might be best."
"So what you're saying is that you won't tell Devon if I don't," he said.
"Exactly . . . or True, or Yale--I might tell Julia, but she won't tell anyone else if I ask her not to," she explained. "What I am saying, my love, is that I can wait. For the good of the group as a whole, I can continue to pine for you in silence--you're right; I could use some time to sort this thing out myself."
"But what about my relationship with Devon?" he asked gently.
"That's your business," she answered. "Yours and Devon's--just like your relationship with me is yours and mine, not hers." She grinned. "If you can wrestle, coax, wheedle, or trick her into the sack between now and the time we get to that rendezvous point, more power to you--just don't tell me about it."
He gave her a sharp look. "For a Catholic, you have some pretty interesting ideas about morality," he remarked.
She laughed. "Well, maybe when Val got killed that way, I figured the good Lord owed me one," she admitted. "Or maybe . . . Maybe I'm just desperate." She threw her arms around his neck dramatically. "Or maybe you're just irresistible; my morals are simply no match for you."
"Very funny," he growled, obliging her with a kiss that made her think she had made the right decision for once. Patience was definitely the key. He wanted her, too, and not just for one night--she could feel it. If she could wait long enough, everything would work out just fine. "So as far as the rest of the world is concerned, when we get back, everything is just as it was," he said, breaking the kiss at last. "With the possible exception of Julia."
"Exactly," she answered, planting a final kiss on his nose. "Until we get to New Pacifica. And then all bets are off."
End of Part 8
Author's Chapter Notes:
WARNING: This section is nothing but Tara and Danziger, and the people who skipped part of Part 6 are definitely going to want to skip it. (Hopefully, those of you who share my perversity will enjoy it .) For a synopsis of plot points necessary for an understanding of the rest of the story, skip directly to the end and read only the stuff in ALL CAPS.--Jayel
Chapter End Notes:
SYNOPSIS: TARA AND DANZIGER HAVE SPENT THE NIGHT TOGETHER. (STEADY ON, IT'LL BE OVER SOON . . . ) WHEN THEY GET UP, TARA RETRIEVES A LARGE, WHITE BOX (WHICH SHE LEAVES UNOPENED) AND A CRYO-TUBE FROM HER GROUND LOCKERS; INSIDE THE TUBE IS THE EMBRYO OF A CAT SHE RELEASES AND ALLOWS TO GROW, INTENDING TO GIVE IT TO TRUE. DISCUSSION OF THE PROS AND CONS OF KITTEN MAINTENANCE IN TRANSIT AND WHAT TO DO ABOUT THE NIGHT BEFORE. AT TARA'S URGING, THEY AGREE TO PUT THEIR RELATIONSHIP, WHATEVER IT MIGHT TURN OUT TO BE, ON HOLD, REVEALING IT TO NO ONE (EXCEPT MAYBE JULIA) UNTIL THEY REACH NEW PACIFICA, AT WHICH POINT, TARA STATES, "ALL BETS ARE OFF."