After she had fed, Jill left the others, still talking about something, and went looking for Adrian.
Even though she "saw" him quite often she still liked to see him in person every now and then, and she found it quite odd that he hadn't shown up at all. Was he off brooding somewhere, maybe drinking and smoking in private? But she didn't feel any of the effects his intake of alcohol had on her.
Jill found him in his room, he was just sitting on his bed, doing nothing. The radio was on, playing something about playing games and rain; something about unhappy love, no doubt.
"Hey, what's up?" she asked, still staying respectfully on the other side of the threshold.
"Nothing, I'm just…" Adrian shrugged.
Jill bit down on her lip, wishing there was something she could say to make him feel better. But sometimes, when he was thinking about Rose…
If she could have seen his aura she supposed it would have been pitch black.
"This chick knows a lot about life", Adrian commented, "I bet we'd have a lot in common."
The bitterness was thick in Adrian's voice, as if he was drinking it in deep draughts, getting drunk on in.
Jill began to pay attention to the music. The singer, a woman, didn't sound sad, more like angry and determined. Forceful and strong, but yes, there was a core of deep pain there.
"…There's a side to you that I never knew, never knew, all things you'd say they are never true, never true, and the games you play you would always win…"
"Oh, Adrian… I don't think it's good for you to listen to this kind of music…"
"Yes it is", he said, "it's exactly what I need. Adele is talking to me. I almost want to go and see her in a spirit dream."
Jill wasn't entirely sure that he wasn't serious, but she chose not to comment on the absurdity of what he said.
"Listen", he said and began to sing along with the voice from the radio: "I set fire to the rain, watched it pour as I touched your face, let it burn while I cry 'cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name…"
Jill felt like crying, but she didn't know if it was because she felt small and helpless when she was confronted by his pain – she wished she could hide from it – if it was because she felt sorry for him, or simply because she felt his emotions hit her like a thunderstorm through the bond.
"As a water user", Adrian said, "what do you think of this? Would it be possible?"
"Would what be possible?"
"She sings about setting fire to the rain", Adrian explained impatiently as Jill was supposed to already know this, "and it pours over her and the deceitful ex lover, and it burns, of course it does. But can it be done? If you and, say, Christian… if you tried it together next time you see Rose, could you do it? Rain on fire?"
Jill scrutinized him, reached out carefully through the bond, trying to determine if what he said was spirit induced crazy talk, a bad joke, or… or just plain crazy.
"Well", she said, fidgeting uncomfortably, "as a friend of Rose, Christian wouldn't want to hurt her like that. And neither would I, that's so… so unethical to even try such a thing…"
"That's not what I was asking", Adrian snapped and there was something dark in his eyes. "I didn't ask for a lecture on ethics, I just want to know if it's possible to set fire to the rain, that's all."
"Adrian…" Jill wondered if she should go and get Sydney or Eddie, but instead she walked into his bedroom and sat down beside him on the bed. "Adrian, it's a song by a human. She doesn't mean it literally, it's… it's like poetry, it's supposed to be, um, whatcha-call-it, metaphors and stuff…"
"Jailbait", Adrian's voice softened and he squeezed her hand, "yes, I know what poetry and song lyrics are supposed to be like. I understand that this singer doesn't even know that magic exists. I'm not that crazy, not yet anyway…"
Jill sighed and squeezed his hand back. Adrian could visit her in his dreams but he couldn't read her mind and sometimes she was really glad about that. She didn't want him to understand just how worried she was about him sometimes.
"I was just curious, that's all", he said. "And for the record, Jill… I wouldn't want to hurt her like that either. You must know that."
"I know…" Jill put her head on his shoulder. He was her friend, her big brother, her saviour, her bondmate, and of course she knew, because she knew a lot more about him than she sometimes wanted. And yet she didn't always know, not that. Because of the darkness she sensed in him sometimes, in them both.
"Anyway", he said, "it doesn't really matter. Because she says it all with those words, really. You don't know it yet, what it feels like when someone who said they loved you suddenly don't anymore – and I hope you'll never know it – but if the rain could be on fire it would burn, burn and sting and hurt just like it does when Rose leaves me for him. Every time I remember it feels like that. It rains every time I think of her and the rain screams out her name, her name is on fire and the pain is on fire…"
Adele had stopped singing and someone else was on the radio, someone who was singing about finding someone new. If she could wish for one thing right then, then it would be for him to get over Rose and find someone new, but she knew better than to say it out loud. It was true that she didn't know that much about love and loss, but it was obvious that Adrian's pain ran too deep – but why? Jill knew that some people broke up and found someone new fairly quickly – for him to even consider it.
"I don't know what to say", she admitted, "but I'm pretty sure that the elements can't be combined like that. But if you really want me to try…"
"Nah, forget it." Adrian stood up and flashed a quick smile, a smile that didn't reach all the way to his eyes but it was a nice try. "Come on, Jailbait, let's go out to the others or they'll send in a rescue team for you, Sydney must want to go back to your school soon."
"Yeah", she agreed. "I guess sometimes poetry is just poetry after all."
Adrian nodded and followed her as she began to walk out. Then he added, thoughtfully as if he spoke more to himself than to her:
"I guess so. But that is not to say that poetry doesn't have its own special kind of magic…"