Seeing the City (and a friend) in an New Light
The next morning, James and Cindy left the apartment, leaving their books and notes in it. The only thing they did take were the uptime materials, as well as half the money (the other having being securely hidden in the apartment). The Democratic National Convention was in full swing, with all the craziness attending it, but James and Cindy didn't bother with that.
After all, who cared about some fellow who barely merited a single test in their American History class. James thought about that, and remembered a conversation.
"It'll all be forgotten," Mom said.
"But Mom, you're on the news-"
"Retrospectives, mostly." Mom told him. "Most of what I do now is testifying, or badgering people for money—your father and I hardly ever go on missions—well public missions any more."
"Better that way." Dad said, "You wouldn't believe how nasty some of the scandal sheets can get." The 11 year old James didn't understand that, and his father continued, "If they can't find dirt, they make it."
Mom glared, "Like what they did to poor Shego." James boggled, Poor Shego? Kim continued, "Digging up everyone she'd ever been with to get the 'dirt' and she couldn't even flambé them since she was going straight-" Mom shook her head. "Anyway, James in 20 years, the only people interested in your father and I will be obsessive types and historians."
"Isn't that the same?" Ron asked.
"Hush, you." Kim laughed, "And that's not bad—because if enough time goes by, you'll always be forgotten—so never do anything because you want to be known, but because it's right…. Even if it will be forgotten."
"By man, at least." Dad said, sounding uncommonly serious. "Doesn't mean it won't be remembered by Somebody."
"James?" Cindy asked.
"I was thinking of seeing the Convention, but who cares." he said, "Let's just go and see the street performers."
"And the rest of the city." Cindy said. "Except Times Square."
"Yeah, I think we saw enough of that."
And so they did. Starting in the morning, James and Cindy ate at one of the many small cafes in Greenwich Village, watching the street performers and the students and the passer bys. They looked like a pair of teens out for the summer, and James had a hard time taking his eyes off of Cindy's dress. It was the same one she'd worn when they'd had their close encounter with the angel dust addict, washed the day before.
And it was pretty.
Or maybe that was who was wearing it. Cindy had a scarf tied over her head and her long hair done in a thick braid. James liked it, but he'd have liked to see her hair unbound more…but the green highlights did attract attention, so it was wise to keep it a bit more under control.
Rockefeller Center was crowded with businessmen, the golden statue of Prometheus gleaming in the sun. Cindy paused, and took out her communicator.
"Cin-"
"Relax James." Cindy said, "People aren't paying any attention to us, and it looks like a pocket camera." She gestured at a store selling small cameras. James had to admit that they were pretty close in size to the unit Cindy was holding and…
Ah, who cares. He thought. Cindy grinned and took a picture of him, and then James did the same for Cindy. She stuck the sensor in James' shirt pocket and grinning set it to continuous record.
"Why not." Cindy said, "It has 120 hours of recording space."
'Yeah but-"
"But we'll have something when we get back home—we'll show our friends." Cindy said, and if there was a flicker of doubt in her eyes at that, she banished it quickly. "Now let's go—this is a BIG city."
And it was. They'd been advised to stay away from Central Park and James decided to listen to the cabbie. After all, Cabbies always knew more than anyone else. Cindy grinned and suggested they hit the Empire State building, where she leaned out and enjoyed the breeze on her face, only giving a minor grump at the wire grating that surrounded the observation deck.
Later, they headed out to Little Italy, since James' dad had raved about it.
"Okay." James said, "Dad was right."
"stp" Cindy gulped down her mouthful of ravioli, "stop talking and eat before it gets cold." James obediently complied.
We've been doing missions since we were 13. James thought, and yet this is the first time we've really…just walked. No running back because it's a school night, or anything else. He'd been to Tokyo several times…but never just seen it. Granted he'd been in Japan more than that, but most of that was to stay at Yamanouchi, which in general didn't tend to result in leisurely strolls.
Of course, they also hit a few shops. Why not?
But the city was large and there were only so many hours in the day. As the sun was going down, they walked down Broadway street, looking at the Marquees and crowds in the theater district. James found Cindy leaning into him, her arms intertwined with his.
"Um, tired?" He asked.
"No…" She said, in a surprisingly soft voice. "I'm just happy I'm not here all alone."
"Yeah, me too." James said and felt Cindy's head nestle into his shoulder. She didn't disengage until they got into another cab and headed back to the Village. Over them and the sound of the cars, James heard a jet above them, heading to who knew where. Then he blinked. The cab wasn't heading back to the Village, and Cindy had said something to the Cabbie.
"Cindy-what-"
"It's a surprise." Cindy said. They pulled up at a theater where a number of people were, and got out of the Cab.
"Here" Cindy said handing James a glossy photo. "I picked it up when you weren't looking, now go and get it."
"Get it?"
"The autograph, before we go see the movie." She said, "You jumped out of an airplane to see the trilogy, so you should at least get the autograph."
James looked at the man signing. The tall, somewhat rawboned man who had….
"Oh. No."
"Yes." Cindy said.
Clint. Eastwood.
He Who Created Mighty Westerns Himself.
James staggered up and managed to not make a complete idiot of himself.
Or maybe he did. He really didn't remember what he said, when Mr. Eastwood signed the picture of the Man With No Name. Cindy, grinning like… well Shego when she'd last won a bet with Kim was scanning the whole scene with the communicator she'd plucked from James' pocket. Then, James carefully, carefully rolled the photo up and stored it in his collapsed quarterstaff.
"How did you-" He asked Cindy
"Easy, when you said go out today, I took the time to check a paper, and imagine how surprised I was…."
"Yeah." James said as they entered the theater. "How did you get tickets?"
"Well, like you said." Cindy commented, "We can always get more money by gambling…so I ah, handed the ticket guy a 100 dollar bill to get a pair of tickets."
"You-" James wanted to point out how foolish that had been, but… "Thanks." He said. "You know, my brain sort of shut down…what film is this?"
"The Outlaw Josey Wales." Cindy supplied. "Now hush. It's starting."
"Yes Cindy." James said obediently.
"Good." Cindy said, but seemed more interested in James than the Movie. James noticed her green eyes gleaming in the dark…and not watching the show.
When it was over James was in a bit of a daze. They left, getting some hotdogs from a street vendor, and headed back to the apartment, now in full dark. There were still people on the street—it was a warm day and some night musicians were playing. Whatever the history books would say, what ever the people thought of this time, and James had seen enough newspapers to realize there was more than a little hopelessness and fear working… A city's spirit was hard to crush. He abruptly grinned at that, feeling the last of the depression that had been trying to cling to him from yesterday vanish.
Why not? After all, even if one person could save the world, they couldn't keep it saved without the aid of everyone else on it. And there were a lot of "someone elses'" doing their part.
He felt the need to slow down, not wanting to get to the apartment. It would mean the night was over, and maybe tomorrow or the next day they'd have to get back to planning on what to do.
Whether to keep trying to find a way to get back home…or do it the long way.
At least Cindy was here. She was right about that.
"James?" Cindy asked.
"Yes?"
"You know…" Cindy paused, and looked at him. "How long have we known each other?"
"Cindy? Like…forever." James blinked.
"And we've been friends for just as long."
"Yeah." What is she?
"Okay." Cindy said, and was stepping up closer to James, her face just inches from his. Without warning, she threw her arms around him, pulled them together and Kissed James.
The only persons who had kissed James before were mom and Grandma.
It was not a "Mom" kiss.
Oh Boy, it was not a Mom kiss in the slightest. It was not like anything James remembered In his life. He put his hands down on Cindy's lower back, abandoning the packages and pulled her close to him, feeling the way her body conformed to his. Feeling her warmth.
After a while, Cindy broke off and looked at James, faced flushed actually panting a little bit.
"I…Cindy?"
"It's…I just…" She paused, "Are we still friends?"
"Yeah. And a bit more…" James said, still feeling dazed. "I…"
"Good." Cindy said, "Let's get back." She smiled and took him by the arm.
"Okay."
Wait a minute. James' forebrain said, But that means, the bed—there's only one bed, and before Cin was Just a close friend I can't
His hind brain broke into the conversation.
Yesyesyesyes-Forebrain responded SHUT UP! THIS IS CINDY!
She didn't mind-
A Kiss, It was a kiss—get your head out of the gutter, you dirty-
Oh, like you're not down there yourself. Hey maybe you should head back to that store and buy some linge-
-you little-
Oh what? It wasn't like she was some blushing bride…did you feel that Kiss? Oh, I'm sorry, you're too busy wishing we were back in the 1900s so we could drool at the sight of ank-
SHUT UP! James' main brain told the hind and forebrain. Clint Eastwood, autographs, getting stuck in the past and now Cindy-
Fine. We are going to go to bed. We are not going to do anything, we will sleep. Both brains fell silent.
Okay. The Hind brain said, Of course, what do we do if Cindy comes out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a smile and wants to snuggle.
"Gak."
"James?" Cindy said looking up at him. "What's wrong?"
"No-nothing!" James got out.
"Good." She paused, "Gah, I've been walking all day, I'm going to be happy to get out of these shoes."
"Gak!"
Maybe We need a distraction. James thought. I mean, what if Cindy is just doing this because she's lonely, not because she really wants to.
What part, the kiss or walking out in nothing but a smile?
WILL YOU SHUT UP, SHE DIDN'T DO THAT.
Not yet….
Prefrontal lobotomy. James thought, That'll shut you both up.
But when they got to the apartment, Ms. Moscoso was standing out front, talking to two…
Oh Boy.
Two NYPD officers.
"They are good kids! They helped that girl from that crazy man, so what are you doing here—see, here they come!"
Thanks for the defense, Ms. Moscoso, but you didn't have to point us out….
"Well thank you, Ms. Moscoso…" One said, and walking up to Cindy and James looked at them. He was short, and not overly physically impressive, but he was still a cop.
"Hi. I'm officer Levitt, and I was wondering if you could come down to the precinct and answer just a few questions…"
We could get away, they have no idea we're not just a pair of kids… But James was his mother's son. Beyond anything else, these were police, doing their duty. He looked down to see Cindy look up at him, suddenly holding on to him, as he was her.
This was not the distraction I had in mind. He thought, and then, And I wasn't even certain if I wanted one! God, next time give me a multiple choice menu!
"Certainly officer." James said, "Can we put our things in the apartment?"
"You can bring them with you—we have room." The officer said, and James noted that they weren't as relaxed as they looked at first glance.
Of course. You took down someone on Angel Dust and remember how strong he was. And they know you did that.
"Are we under arrest?" Cindy asked.
"No, not at all…we just want to talk to you and maybe talk to your parents."
"Oh." James said, Boy don't we all wish we could talk to our parents.
As the squad car left, the two teens in the back, Moscoso muttered some inspired Spanish profanity at the police and went back in her home. She didn't notice the two figures across the street.
"Well, that worked—just like our information said it would…" The one nodded to the other, "Let's get into the apartment and get this search done. We need to make certain the site is clean."
"Right."
TBC.
