He has to get back to his den at some point. Exhausted and numb with booze and other stuff, he lets himself in and trudges up the metal stairs. In the dark, he tears off his coat and tee, puts the kettle on and goes to relieve himself. Hears the kettle switch off and drops the rest of his clothes onto a pile of damp washing by the shower. Naked, a towel in one hand, he steps back into the bedroom - and freezes.
"Hi," Kiri says from his place by the computer.
A wedge of yellow light slices into the darkness from the open bathroom door. Katze stares at the gun in Kiri's hands. They are steady, the muzzle with the silencer pointing at Katze's stomach. It's his own weapon, and he knows it's ready to fire.
"It's true," Kiri says, waving it lightly at him. "You're one of those..." He trails off, undecided. His eyes are clear, his voice lost and raspy.
"Yes." Katze covers his groin with the towel. "One of those." It doesn't do much to him, no more than a twinge of something unpleasant that he can shrug off. "You sound sober."
Kiri blinks. "I cleaned up. I'm working now."
Katze's lips twitch. Kiri shakes his head. "I'm cleaning cars. Washing windows, that sort of stuff. The garage two blocks down, by the old checkpoint." A small break, but he clearly doesn't like the stillness. "You saw me the other day, didn't you?"
Katze takes a step into the room, stills when Kiri rises from the edge of the desk and clasps the gun more firmly.
"You ran," Katze says. Or perhaps I ran, the day I saw you at the garage...
Kiri swallows, his bony adam's apple jumping. He looks very young in a grey tee and slashed jeans, ratty trainers and a denim vest that smells of cheap washing powder.
Katze can see his nails whiten. "Go on," he says, "do it."
Kiri bites his lower lip. "I wanted to ask..."
Katze wants a cigarette. "Can you be quick?"
Kiri pulls back the safety catch. It clicks, disengages. Katze draws a slow, deep breath. "Ask then."
"Were you lying?"
Katze thinks a moment, watching the gun in Kiri's hands, then glancing up at his face, eyes that are huge and accusing, the pinched line of his mouth, the hollow cheeks with a shade of dark stubble, the messy dark hair that reminds him-
"When? At the old station? Or back then, when you sold out? You remember, don't you? He helped along with that, right?"
"Yes," Kiri rasps, a sob rising in his voice, "I remember... some stuff at least."
"You want the truth?"
The gun trembles. Kiri scrubs at his eyes with one hand, then stares back at Katze who can tell he isn't sure.
"Truth," Katze says, "it's overrated. "Ask five people, you get five versions. Nobody made you lie to Riki or get Guy worked up. You made a few choices, like everyone else. Every turn of the road, you decide which way to walk. And this is where it got you." He watches, takes a guess, a cautious estimate, and another step towards Kiri. "You back with him?"
Quickly, Kiri wipes his runny nose against his shoulder. "None of your business."
"He still hitting you? Making you shoot up?"
Kiri swallows hard. "You're... nasty." There is something helpless about the way he says it, the childlike words, plaintive and without force. Katze finds this worse than shouts or tears. It wrenches around in his guts but there is no time to worry about anything but the loaded gun in Kiri's surprisingly calm hands.
"You knew," Katze says, probing, "back at Dana Bahn, didn't you?"
This time, Kiri stays silent. Katze takes another step and is almost within reach. The muzzle takes a dip, pointing at his feet, then swings up again slowly until it homes in on the towel.
Katze can feel cold sweat run down between his shoulder blades. "Kiri."
The young man jumps, draws his shoulders up. He presses back against the desk. Seizing his chance, Katze reaches for the gun. "Give that to me."
For a breathless moment, Kiri's knuckles whiten, but then he sags. Katze takes the weapon from his limp fingers. He puts the catch back on and carefully sets the gun on the footend of the bed. "Jesus," he mumbles as he wraps the towel around his waist. Groping for his cigarettes, he finds them in his coat pocket. His hands are shaky and he has to try a couple of times to light up. He bites the filter as he takes a few hasty drags.
Kiri turns and makes a mug of strong black coffee. "I know you're still having nightmares," he says over his shoulder. "I've been here... before. You were sleeping."
Katze watches, breathing smoke from his nose and waiting for his pulse to slow. Of all the people to teach me a lesson... Forgiveness. What a strange thing. When he thinks he can speak again without his voice cracking, he talks to Kiri's back because it seems easier that way. "I'm sorry."
Kiri turns, links his fingers and makes the joints pop. He stares at Katze, who finds it difficult to hold his gaze. "We're even now," Kiri says at last into the silence between them. "Aren't we?"
Katze takes another pull at his fag. "I won't come after you. Or him."
"Whatever."
"You need something, you know where to find me," Katze says, the words coming as if on autopilot.
"I'll try not to." Kiri huffs. "I couldn't even do this right."
"Was it his idea?"
Kiri gives him a small, bitter smile. "Guess. I just wanted to know... Never mind. He said it was pointless."
And when the garage door creaks shut behind him and Katze sits down with the mug of coffee cradled in his hands, he thinks that they'll never be even, and that it's a good thing Kiri won't, or doesn't want to understand. And how, in the end, it's great to be alive.
xxx
The armed police units leave. The news are blaring across Ceres from radios and public screens - the state of emergency has been lifted. No more red alerts and curfews, no road blocks. A day and a night of uniforms trekking back from the chaotic streets of Ceres, the monotonous droning of diesel engines, the thumping of boots on cracked tarmac, barked commands and the grinding of tyres and chains on dirty roads, they are gone, withdrawing from Ceres as swiftly and efficiently as they had overwhelmed it. The silence is deafening. The streets remain empty at first, no one sure what's going on. No one trusting the apparent ceasefire. People stay hidden, watching stray dogs and tumbleweed, scraps of paper tossing about in the dusty breeze, and a few daring rats dashing past. When it sinks in, people tear apart the barricades and set light to the debris. The next few days are not much different from the riots during the weeks before, but the celebrations die down soon enough, and Ceres is back to normal.
Job done, Katze thinks as he drops onto his bed the evening he is told that the last fires have been put out. He sets a tumbler with something sharp to drink and a packet of cigarettes onto his chest. He lights up, fills his mouth with alcohol and lets it burn his tongue before swallowing. The flavours of booze and smoke make him gag, and he starts laughing as he watches a spider abseil from a fresh web on the ceiling. It is Raoul who gets in touch at last, as a silent, cool dawn rises over Ceres. It's a laconic message that pops up on the screen of Katze's new laptop.
Congratulations.
xxx
His pass opens the doors to the city for him, and he finds himself walking the long, sweeping hallways that he knows as well as the backstreets of Ceres. Somehow they also feel like home. The godfather paying a visit to a colleague... He smirks as he catches the gaze of a passing Elite. Get used to it.
His old laptop sits in its docking station, on its usual place. Katze's place, opposite Raoul's chair behind the glass desk.
Raoul is on the terrace. Wearing casual grey, he is leaning against the bannister to watch the watery autumn sky fade into a hazy dusk. A breeze is stirring his hair, this glorious, incongruous flood of pale gold, and Katze thinks he can smell its scent, sharp and sweet.
It nearly takes his breath away. For a moment, he has to pause, overwhelmed, his knees going weak and his heart pumping faster, a rush of heat flushing through him that makes him dizzy. Desire, biting sharply. Longing, a disturbing ache deep in his chest. He leans against the wall by the door to steady himself, and to watch Raoul for a little longer. Until he feels up to facing him. To ask for the laptop back and tell him to stuff his privileges where the sun doesn't shine.
On the ledge, by Raoul's elbow, stands a glass of red wine. The bottle, half empty, is on the desk next to a clean glass.
Katze draws a deep breath, shakes his head and pushes away to cross the room. Raoul turns abruptly. The glass drops and shatters. The red wine splatters over the pale tiles and stains Raoul's trousers. Katze pauses. For a moment, everything is in balance. And then he does what his reason tells him is stupid, absolutely hopeless, idiotic. He steps over the shards and splashes of rusty red and reaches out.
Their embraze is hard and quick, but as they pull back, there is a tiny break, a rift in time, before they draw close again, tightening their hold on each other until they become one. There is silence around them. His ribs hurt, he starts sweating, and his nerves are fraying. He also senses an odd calm settling in his mind. It is a strange mix.
Raoul lets go first, stepping back so he can catch Katze's gaze. "I missed you," he says, cool and certain.
Katze recovers. "It's gonna rain tonight," he retorts dryly. "There've been traffic queues this morning because the ban on Ceres work permits has been revoked. A bunch of nutters been preaching in my club last night that the world's coming to an end, what with all the dancing and whoring going on. Guess what, nobody cared. It's a shame, really, the way morals have gone down the pan, right?"
For a second, Raoul looks puzzled. "Excuse me?"
Katze reaches into his coat pocket for his fags. He peels back the foil at the top and taps out a fresh cigarette with his gloved hand. He has replaced the spent Black Moon, and there are two of them, as always, wedged between the usual white ones. Lighting up, he glances at Raoul through a breath of blue smoke. Katze's eyes glitter, narrow and almost yellow as he smiles thinly. "I like you too," he says, "a lot."
And that is all they will tell each other.
It is enough.
xxx
THE END - if you prefer happy endings, I suggest you stop here. If you like bitter drama, read on with chapter 9 but be warned.
