FOUR:

The night of the Presidential Gala in New York was less exciting than I had been anticipating. I had been psyching myself up for it- the publicity, the exposure, the dancing- for a week beforehand- and so I may have perhaps been too overprepared for what it actually was.

For our part, we were largely ignored in the crowd of dignitaries. The war had been a year and a half ago and while the wounds were still fresh, they weren't so fresh as to warrant our intensive grilling. Mine in particular. Throughout the night I still found myself thanked by heads of state of numerous countries around the world, by famous stars and the like, but I knew it was all a formality. They had done this before, the first time, after the invasion. I hadn't been at that one, but they had still grilled the rest to within and inch of their lives.

It's late that night that I find myself on the roof, overlooking the city below. I lost my tux jacket somewhere back inside- did I leave it on my seat?- and it's starting to actually get cold in the dim, winter breeze. I have half a mind to go back and get it, but that'll just suck me back into the pomp and circumstance that, if I'm being truly honest, I care very little for.

Am I hiding? Probably. I should know, I've done it enough so far already. Hid from the first gala, hid from the second. How's that for consistency?

The breeze picks up for a few tense moments and I'm sure now I have to do something. Number Four will not freeze to death, mark my words.

I look around for something… combustible. The place is mostly barren, and surrounded by a wrought iron railing that prevents humans from falling but does little to stop that wind, but in the farthest corner I spot a trash can. That'll do.

I float it over to me, close to the entrance to the stairs, and light my lumen. Even with that, my hands still feel chilled, but I know soon enough that'll abate. With any luck at all. A chill runs down my back as the grubby contents catch flame and start to puff out grey smoke that itself gets picked up by that wind and carried away.

After a few minutes, I finally stop shivering, mostly. A distant thought tells me that I could just go back inside, but, well, that means confronting the masses yet again. More hand shaking by diplomats and celebrities. Anyone else's dream, I suppose, but for now I just soak up the silence.

It's New York, so it's never truly silent. Down below the honks of car horns and the distant roar of the wind brushing through the avenues permeates. But it's nothing compared to in there- they have Yo Yo Ma in there, playing some fugue I never cared to learn when I was on the run, and don't care to learn now.

Some time later I hear a door open and shut. Probably Six. She's been so matriarchal lately, it actually gets annoying. I want to shout at her to go fix whatever went wrong with her and Sam and leave me alone for a little while, just a little while-

But it's not Six. I see as I turn that it's actually two people. One is the elusive Daniella Morales, and the other is Marina. Strange couple.

"John Smith! Haven't seen you all night!" Danny shouts across the wind.

I turn the rest of the way and lean back against the iron railing. "Didn't feel like making much of an appearance."

"Heard that one before from you," she retorts as she stomps up to my trash fire. "I have better things to do, let the lackeys handle the press. Yeah, yeah. Lackeys can handle it. Right."

"Just as long as you don't medusa me, I think I'll live," I chuckle.

Marina doesn't say anything, but there's nothing unusual there. She follows behind Danny almost timidly, but there's nothing timid in her eyes. They glint against the glow of the fire and tell me- I get it, I do. Don't let Danny boss you around.

"Don't give me a reason," she presses two hands up against the railing and breathes in the smoke and city air. I assume she's more used to it than I am. Marina reaches out her hand and I take it, squeezing and pulling her closer as I drop down to a sit.

"The Hungarian president is in there, giving everyone a hard time," Mar fills me in. Slowly she rests her head on my shoulder. "Insists on photographs, insists on talking about the future with each of us for as long as we let him…," she trails off. The wind whips her hair into her face, and she brushes it away and tucks it behind her ear.

"You've been there, right? To Hungary?"

She sucks in a breath. "I don't know where I've been and where I haven't, John. Adelina never told me everything."

"Didn't you keep track? You knew your names for some counties."

"Some of them, yes."

Then Danny rounds the trash fire and looks down at us, eyebrow cocked, smirk evident. "I'm not used to being the third wheel, you know."

"Go grab a date and bring him back up, it shouldn't be hard," I say, trying to match her bravado subconsciously. "Go make out with some handsome secret serviceman. Imagine the scandal."

She kicks me lightly with the side of her flat, but she still bites her lip and looks away, somewhere off over the horizon. Eventually, she moves to sit down next to Marina, drifting off into her head for a while.

For a long time we don't talk. I listen to Marina's breathing for so long that I barely notice when it elongates, when it deepens. I glance over at her just to make sure she isn't asleep.

The darkness falls back over us when the trash fire dies. It's then that I catch the shine of the stars over the overwhelming brightness of the city below; and, like always, my eyes are drawn to one point in that black night. Because of the rampant light pollution I can't actually see anything there, but I know. I just know. Hundreds of light years away, but undisturbed. When the scientists came asking for the location of Lorien on a star chart, we made sure we never gave them the right one. That's something that's supposed to die with us. Let the dead planet rest.

When the honking from down below lessens a little, I think we should go in. When I realize I can see my breath, I know we should go in; Marina might be impervious to the cold, but others of us don't want to freeze our balls off out here. But I realize that I'm not cold at all, not really, because she's tucked up against me, still breathing, just breathing. I wonder what she's thinking.

I wish Danny would go away, she says in my head.

You tell her, then, see how that goes for you.

I just might.

How'd you two end up together, anyway? You're so different, I never imagined you as friends.

Got caught by that Hungarian at the same time. Even in her mind, her voice still takes on this rueful tone.

Ouch.

He wasn't rude or anything. No more than the rest of them. He was just… so insistent! He kept talking, even when I tried to walk away, he kept talking! I don't know what demon possessed him to try it.

Well, he's probably passed out on some hotel couch by now, if it makes you feel better.

Not really.

I chance a glance over to Danny. Her eyes are open still, but distant, looking into the shadows of the taller buildings around us, not really with us. Her mind has swam somewhere far, far away.

What happened to the others? Six and Nine? Nigel and Ran? Lexa and Ella?

Lex left before we did. She left Ella with Six, told her to not let the girl out of her sight. I didn't hear how that ended.

I could probably ask her. We're linked.

Don't, I hope she's sleeping. She should be, anyway.

I hesitate for a second, thinking of the possibilities. If Nine and Six are hooking up right now, how would that make you feel?

Don't make me think about it, please. She giggles a little, soft thing, not enough to wake Danny out of her trance. I've been trying to not picture it ever since I came up here. I hope they put Ella somewhere not with them. If they did it. Or… are doing it. Oh god, I dunno.

I wonder if they think, we're doing it. I grin a little, feeling her heart beat a little faster.

I don't care what they think.

You and I did disappear completely from the party. It's the only logical conclusion.

Not to someone who knows you, moron. Someone who knows you would know you'd be moping somewhere, and I'd be friendly enough to let you do it.

And what about Danny?

Oh god, they're gonna have questions, aren't they?

So many.

Nine'll try and high five you. If you return it, I'm killing you. Hear me? Hear me loud and clear?

Loud and clear.

"Are you guys telekinetically fucking over there or something?" Danny asks drearily after a while.

"Not as far as you know," Marina muses, giving me a smirk.

"Because I don't want to hear it, that's all."

At some point, Danny let her hair down, and now it whisks by her face in the harsh winter wind. She doesn't make any more to contain it, for whatever reason. It dances around her head like some black fire, strands picking up everywhere and flying everywhere.

"That one over there," she says, nodding, and Mar and I take a look. There's a taller one across a few streets, by a few stories, with nothing inherently recognizable about it besides the lights in the windows. "My best friend jumped off that one when I was 14."

I don't say anything, because what is there to say? I feel Marina shift and look to see she's grabbed Danny's hand, and she pulls her closer then, pulls her right up to her side, presses her close. Only then do I realize that Danny's started to shudder, and through the black fire I see bright tears twinkle down her face.

"And my step-dad didn't even care. He hardly let me sleep anyway, and he didn't make an exception then. And now he's dead, and… I feel bad. Why is that? Why is that? When he was alive I hated him with every part of my being, and now I miss him. I really miss him. He was such a shithead, but he was…. Normal. I miss being normal."

After that she doesn't say much. When her crying lets up and her breathing evens out, Marina pats her hair down and braids it into a single long, braid, and then she leans back into me and Danny leans into her. And for the fourth or fifth time that night, but truly only the first, I finally start to feel the contentedness that I should.

Sometime much later, the wind finally dies off, but low-hanging clouds still envelop the city long after we go back inside.

Little late, but better than never. There ya go! Don't remember to tell me what you think!