Hey everyone, another quick update from a sudden bout of terrible inspiration! I hope it's not just another storm in a teacup, meaning I hope it lasts. And more importantly, I hope it doesn't let my writing down. Though I think this chapter is quite nice if I say so myself, but you'll be the judges of that. But I like it, so yeah, feel free to be influenced :) No, really, though, please tell me what you think :)

Thanks so much for your wonderful reviews, you bring me a smile every day :)

P.S. Yes, this chapter takes place before Legends of The Mall, hence the title, but it can be taken as a simple title, without reference to the following episode. Also, Mr. Taylor is Brittany's dad, in case anyone had any doubts. It's in relation to the events of Groped By An Angel.

Enjoy!

10: Before The Legends

This is how spring grows weary, when it turns into summer.

The summer days were longer and the sun followed them wherever they went, him and his copy of Wasteland. It had become his. He was not done reading it, but what did it matter? He was the only one who could see both its beauties in one; the beauty of the page turned so many times by childlike fingers and the beauty of the words sprung from a heart similar to his. Only the mind was infinitely superior. But the mind is first to go after death, whereas the heart only stops beating.

The heat of the darkened rooms of the Zon brought the people together. He went to have a piss in the bathroom and he was accosted by the image of a woman spread over the sink, her breasts, two soft fists melting, her legs dangling in the air, like flies caught on tape. Her hair was wet and stuck to the clear, calm surface of the mirror. Her eyes were beautiful.

When he went back on stage, he felt richer. Although no one could see it, he was feeling everything and everything hurt. It was too much to take in one gulp and it stung because he had never tried swallowing so much.

From the corner of his eye he could see Jane and Tom, holding each other's hands at the bar. His nose was nuzzled in her hair and she was smiling.

Trent was singing to them. He was their entertainer. He remembered the days in the tent. He had watched Jane from a crack in the fabric. She had walked up to the zipped entrance and waved at him, pointing at the tray of cookies she had left on the grass and then she had run down the pavement to the car parked outside where an older boy was waiting.

Then, years later, a friend of his had come to him and said he had seen Jane's paintings and they were really beautiful and inspiring. She had real talent. He had believed him and he had been happy. He had gone to see her show. She was in eighth grade. He had met her Arts teacher. She had told him Jane had given her hope for the generations to come.

'They won't be completely lost with someone like her leading the way,' she had said, smiling aloof.

He had felt so proud of Jane. The crowning queen of a generation. The cold statue of dying youth.

He wanted to thank her for saying these wonderful words about his little sister, the sister he had never known.

He had taken her out. Her legs had also dangled in the air, but it hadn't been very warm, even if it had happened in the Tank.

The morning after, he had gone up to Janey's room and he had kissed her forehead.

She'd asked him if mom was home. She said she would come.

And instead of lying to her, instead of telling her anything else, he had replied:

'She never said that.'

Everything hurt now.

Jane squeezed his hand lightly as he approached their table. Tom looked away and took a solitary sip from his beer.

'You guys were better than last week,' she let him know.

'Not possible,' he answered smiling.

'Don't be self-deprecating little brother, it does not become you,' she said winking.

'Many things don't.'

'Alright, enough with your cryptic replies. I want to know the truth; did you steal the pizza I brought home yesterday?'

'I will need some alcohol before I can answer that,' he said lightly, tapping his hand on the bar table.

'So, Tom, what did you think of the set?' Jane asked, raising her eyebrow.

'Pretty good for you guys. Couldn't get the lyrics though,' he said absently, stroking Jane's hand with his thumb.

Trent looked at him grimly.

'Thanks.'

'No need.'

'Are you two going to stay for the second set?'

'Well, maybe if…' Jane began.

'Actually, we were kind of hoping to call it a night. I want to take Jane to this old movie theater I discovered,' Tom interrupted her.

'I see. Well, we'll let Janey decide then,' Trent replied.

Jane looked from one to the other with a confused expression on her face.

'Let me decide? That's hard…I mean you know I can't resist a decaying mass of entertainment, but I think I'll go with the theater.'

Trent punched her lightly on the shoulder.

'Very funny, Janey.'

'I thought so. Do you mind?'

'Not at all. We've got plenty of Mystic Spiral enthusiasts right here,' he said dryly.

'Since when do you use the word 'enthusiasts' ?'

'Since I found it yesterday in the dictionary. I was looking for 'entity',' Trent explained, joking.

'Huh, that's actually believable,' Tom remarked, smiling to himself.

Trent got up quickly and coughed loudly.

'You'd better go then. See you later.'

He walked away from them as fast as he had come.

He was sitting on a large box in the backroom, packing his things slowly and looking at the small window above his head from time to time where two silent stars had appeared, when all of a sudden, there was a knock at the door.

Without any warning, Tom walked in.

'Hey, sorry to bother, it's just Jane wanted the house keys,' he said coldly and extended his hand.

'Really?' Trent asked, raising his eyebrow.

'Yeah, she told me she left hers at home.'

'She told you that?'

'Yes, Trent.'

'Why would she need the house keys? I'll be home when she comes.'

'It's just in case, you know.'

'In case what?'

'Can we stop playing twenty questions?'

'I'll be there,' he said firmly.

'I am sure, Jane sent me here for a reason and I wouldn't like to let her down, so please,' Tom asked, irritating seeping in his voice.

'Please what? If she wants the keys she can come take them herself.'

Tom noticed something glittering on a shelf next to Trent's box.

He stretched and grabbed the keys quickly.

'Are these the keys to the house?'

'I won't tell,' Trent said, looking away in boredom. 'And you can put those back. Otherwise I'll have to take that as stealing.'

'Oh come on. I just took some lousy keys from a lousy shelf, that's not going to get me in trouble. Now can we please stop wasting time here? Are these the keys?'

'Maybe, maybe not. You're just going to have to trust your instinct,' Trent replied, remembering the lines of a song he had recently written. He frowned. He'd better rewrite that soon.

'Nice try. But I'm going to wait here until you tell me. And something tells me you don't like me a whole lot right now, so if you tell me now, you'll get rid of me much quicker.'

'What makes you think I don't like you?'

'…let's not pretend our last conversation didn't happen.'

Trent nodded his head in resignation.

'Alright, no more pretend,' he said, raising his hands in defense.

Tom sighed and looked at his watch. Seeing as Trent wasn't moving, he sat down next to him.

'Okay. Just be a nice brother and tell me.'

'No.'

'Then you're not a nice brother.'

'I try.'

'You don't try enough. See, if you really tried, you would tell me and then Jane wouldn't have to wait anymore.'

'Let her wait this time. I'm sure wherever you're going doesn't have a schedule.'

'You're going to miss your second set.'

'I was packing. I told Jess to cover for me.'

'You're leaving?'

'Meeting with someone.'

'Who might that be?' Tom asked, curious.

'That might be no one.'

'So I'll tell Jane you're meeting with no one then?'

'Tell her...tell her I'm seeing Mr. Taylor.'

'Mr. Taylor?'

'That's the name of the guy.'

'Sounds familiar.'

'Well...he's hired me.'

'To play?'

'Nah. To strip,' Trent joked.

'Well, you could pull it off.'

'I hate to break it to you, but I like women.'

'I know, trust me, I know,' Tom assured him, smiling.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly and looked up at the green light coming from a green-coloured light bulb. It smelt like smoke everywhere.

'You know, I spoke to my dentist the other day.'

Trent shrugged his shoulders indifferently.

'Mr. Williams. Does the name sound familiar?'

Trent's eyes snapped open. Images and words flew right through the window and crossed his vision for a split-second. Of course. Of course he knew. The house, the knees, the bathroom. The kind man who had taken them in.

He had told them he worked at Sunny Smiles.

'He asked me about you,' Tom said, chuckling. 'He said you and your 'nice' girlfriend were looking for me.'

Trent took out a cigarette. He lit it.

He couldn't help it.

'He said you and Daria left his house after you found out I wasn't home, but he would have liked for you to stay longer. Because you were 'such a nice couple.' Those were his words,' Tom said bitterly.

'Yes…I remember him,' Trent finally spoke, exhaling the smoke.

Tom waved his hand, wrinkling his nose. 'You do, don't you?'

'Yeah. He was kind.'

'I know. He's a good dentist too,' Tom said looking away.

'Figures'

'But…you and Daria,' he began, uncertain, 'you're not a couple.'

Trent stared at the trails of smoke crowning his head like a stormy cloud.

'Guess not.'

'You guess?'

'You can't know for sure. People change,' he said, taking another smoke.

'Not that much,' Tom insisted.

'They change a lot,' Trent said. 'Well...afterwards, they don't change.'

'Sorry?'

'You think I'm the same. You think you're the same. But we're different, every moment,' he said, looking around for Wasteland. He had left it at home this time.

'What do you…'

'And then we come back to who we were,' he continued undeterred. 'And then, then we change again…and then we go back to our last change. And we're always the changes we made before another change. That's why it seems…it's all the same.'

Tom stared at him in surprise. He was at a loss for words. His mind felt somewhere far. He couldn't bring himself to think.

He had never expected to hear this from Jane's sister while sitting next to him in a backroom of the Zon.

And it somehow made sense.

'That was…really inspired Trent.'

'Was it?'

'I think you might even be right,' Tom said, looking in front of him blindly.

'Do you think so?' Trent asked quietly, taking another smoke.

'It sounds right.'

The minutes passed in silence. They suddenly felt comfortable with each other.

Tom rested his head against the shelf.

'So…what did you tell the dentist?'

'I laughed in his face,' Tom replied, chuckling. 'I mean, really now, can you imagine?'

'Yeah…funny as hell.'

'You would never work together.'

'How would you…'

'Because no one really works with Daria,' Tom said quickly.

'Is that so?'

'She doesn't need…anyone.'

Trent had to admit that was true. He took another smoke and coughed.

'You sound sad about that,' Trent remarked.

'I'm not. Not at all. I'm just…'

'What?'

Tom couldn't avoid his heavy stare, as much as he tried. He felt it was pointless to hide now.

Shit, Trent realized.

It was obvious. Tom was in love.

'Those are the house keys. So you can go now,' Trent said all of a sudden.

Tom blinked surprised. He felt he was waking from a long sleep.

'Oh…right.'

He got up and put the keys in his pocket. He felt the weight there. Then he sank his hands in the pockets of his jacket awkwardly.

He started walking towards the door.

'Tom?'

'Yes?'

'I expect you to break up with Jane soon.'

'Trent, I really care about…'

'I'm giving you two weeks,' Trent said. 'I don't want her to hear it from me or anyone else.'

The stars blinked and disappeared.