COMPOSURE - It's okay. Everything is okay. You asked; Jean answered; the world didn't end.
HALF LIGHT - *Yet*.
ENDURANCE - You're a survivor, a survivor shaking with adrenaline.
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - You need to burn that off, son, with some physical activity.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Relax, this feels good. You know what it's almost, *almost* as good as?
YOU - You're going to say speed, aren't you?
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - You know me. *And* now you know why Vic's been acting like a jilted ex. Two for the price of one!
YOU - But I don't know how to respond to just 'yes' and then nothing. He's just standing there looking cool.
ESPRIT DE CORPS - He thinks that you are *just standing there*.
RHETORIC - What did you expect, Can-Opener? You asked a closed question; he answered it. Answer *his* open question - it's the only way forward.
SUGGESTION - It depends on what you want from him now - for both of you.
ESPRIT DE CORPS - You are still blue-souled brothers.
INLAND EMPIRE - With blue hearts.
ESPRIT DE CORPS - But maybe it's time for a new brother? You've blurred the thin blue line with this one.
YOU - No, sorry. I'm already taken.
LOGIC - You told him to *fuck off*.
YOU - Do you have a point to make?
LOGIC - You either planned to end both your personal and professional relationship, and had a sound reason, *or* you were experiencing a moment of contradiction, or logical incoherence.
YOU - Well, which is it?
VOLITION - Your behaviour at the time? Contradiction and incoherence. Obviously.
EMPATHY - Don't forget, Jean returned soon after dressed up as Guillaume Bevy *because* he thought it would be amusing for *both of you*. And because he was worried.
YOU - "Okay."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "*Okay?*" He stares at you for a few more heartbeats, then suddenly crosses the room to extinguish his cigarette aggressively in the glass ashtray on the table.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Is now a good time to point out that you have a hard-on, as evidenced by the obvious bulge in your pants?
YOU - What? No!
ENDURANCE - The body remembers what you've forgotten. That's all.
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - It's manly.
YOU - Study the pale shadows on the ceiling, and try to casually adjust your pants, then pretend to examine the pair of lucky Sirens in your pocket.
PERCEPTION (HEARING) - The bloodstone and lapis lazuli dice click quietly against each other.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Brushes a strand of hair out of his eye, coughs, and peers at your reflection in the mirror on the wall in front of him.
THE MIRROR - Reveals a couple of sad Revachol Citizens' Militia officers, about ten years apart in age, though one looks the worse for wear and in need of a shave. Both are holding their ground tensely against the waves of appetence breaking on them. The younger man's breath fogs the looking glass as he feigns cool, though the pulse in his neck discloses how quickly his heart is beating. The older man by the window has a shell-shocked air lingering about him. Appearance is everything. Appearances can be so deceiving.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Something up, Harry?"
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Everything is in perfect working order here. I mean just feel that bloodflow, man.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Sure you don't need a hand?"
EMPATHY - He says it with *nostalgia*.
YOU - "Maybe later."
RHETORIC - Nice and suggestive.
LOGIC - Perhaps the undone shirt, the doing up of the pants upon exiting the bathroom, were all deliberate moves on your partner's part? Testing the waters, so to speak.
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Your face is flushing. What are you, a juvie? And is that a smirk or a nervous tick?
YOU - "We should talk. We should *really* talk."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "You don't say." He turns his back on the dark glass of the mirror so that you're face to face, and steps closer, wagging a finger at you. "How about we talk about your *flashback*. What do you say to that?"
LOGIC - Note how he's buttoning up his shirt now?
VOLITION - Enough. Sometimes a shirt is just a shirt.
YOU - Look around at the wallpapered walls.
PERCEPTION (SIGHT) - The geometric patterns are really in your face, morphing dizzyingly into one another under the dim glow of the ceiling lamp.
YOU - "Okay, Vic." Everything is the same, yet irreversibly changed. You close your eyes and collect your thoughts in the black. "It's dawn, and it's snowing outside on Perdition. You're leaving - crossing the pavement and the street. I'm standing inside, in the dark, watching you through the window."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Oh."
RHETORIC - *Oh*, what?
YOU - Open your eyes to find your partner coming to a stop in front of you, close enough to reach out and touch. He seems taken aback.
YOU - "Oh, what?" You roll your shoulders a little out of habit.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Oh, nothing."
YOU - "Tell me."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "No."
YOU - "Look, I don't even know if what I'm describing actually happened, or if -"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "It happened, Harry - you know how much I fucking love snow. Oh, wait - you don't." He blinks quickly a few times. "Go on. I want to hear your version of events first."
YOU - "Your shoulders are hunched. You look stiff, angry ... Streetlight reflects off the hologram on your back in the gloaming." You force the next sentence out through your tightening throat: "Why are you leaving?"
PAIN THRESHOLD - Now I know what giving birth to words feels like.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Frowns. "Is this one of your philosophical questions?"
YOU - "Why are you leaving *me*? What did I do *wrong*? Because -"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "What?!" The disbelief in his voice knocks the breath out of your lungs.
RHETORIC - It raises doubts.
COMPOSURE - I'm doing everything I can to relax your throat, but it's not cooperating.
HALF LIGHT - This is scary. Oh, God, Harry. You're not about to cry, are you?
COMPOSURE - He won't. I've got his back. They're sliding down his throat instead.
PAIN THRESHOLD - Convulsively.
PERCEPTION (TASTE) - Saltily.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "So, earlier today -?"
YOU - "Answer the question."
AUTHORITY - Good.
YOU - "What did I do *wrong*? Was it the drinking? It was - it was the drinking, wasn't it. It's why you keep going on and on about -"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Harry, get a grip." He lifts a hand in a halting gesture.
AUTHORITY - He is trying to *handle* you.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "I remember, but it doesn't add up." He gazes outside at the blinking bridge, then pulls on the facial hair of his goatee reluctantly. "We had a good night. My point is, I wasn't *leaving you*." A long sigh, his hand drops back to his side. "I was just going home - people do that sometimes."
YOU - "But ..."
PAIN THRESHOLD - It *guts* you.
DRAMA - He speaks the truth, sire.
YOU – Nothing is making any sense. Try to remember more.
INTERFACING - Let's do this. How did it *feel* ...?
EMPATHY - No. There's been too much pain.
YOU - What do you mean *no*!?
EMPATHY - I won't take part in this torture.
VOLITION - I warned you: your skill-set is compromised.
INTERFACING [Medium: Success] - It's warm and cozy under the covers. Your back is shielded by another's body. It's been *so long*, and it feels *so right*. But wait - what's this? The arm draped over your side slides carefully away as the body detaches itself from yours - Savoir Faire engaged. The covers stir, and wintry air rushes in between you to fill the gap. The bedsprings squeak as someone gets out, and you hear a short breath that sounds like "fuck".
INLAND EMPIRE - Clothing whispers against skin in the dark, gossiping about you literally behind your back. A belt buckle dares to jingle, and the sound is abruptly cut off as the whole world freezes and holds its breath for a moment. You do not hear the front door open, but the deadlock snapping into place gives away that it's being closed, and the sound moves through you like a sword.
YOU - Look at Jean, amazed that he doesn't see the sword still stuck through you. "From my perspective, what I witnessed was a walk of shame. You were sneaking out like -"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Like someone trying not to *wake you up*, maybe? How *fucking insensitive* of me. I'll be sure to make *a lot* of noise next time." He looks away, exhaling with slow deliberation to calm his breathing.
PERCEPTION - You watch his chest rise and fall in carefully controlled breaths under the thin white shirt. The Half Light is strong in this one.
ESPRIT DE CORPS - Judit reminds him to calm down - you've seen her handling him a hundred times.
YOU - "Calm down, Vic."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Fuck you."
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Okay, sure, let's fuck and make up -
PAIN THRESHOLD - Hold your fucking horses.
INLAND EMPIRE - Will there be a next time?
YOU - Can't I imagine it?
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Paranoid, crazy ..." He shakes his head. "But at least this explains the dramatic behaviour change."
YOU - "I thought it was the job. There's always so much stress and strain, and the last couple of cases were *hard*."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Looks at you and snaps, "They were hard because you're an emotionally manipulative, abusive asshole."
YOU - "Hold on. You're claiming you had no involvement in ... So I did this to *myself*?"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Technically, you did it to all of us; but don't let that little plural worry you, Harry."
YOU - "Don't twist shit. I didn't mean it like that."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "*Apropos of nothing*, you started talking shit about the waifish welkin again. What's-her-name - the extremely fuckable one. How she *left* you, how she *fucked* you over. It became unbearable - you were crying uncontrollably. The last thing you said to me is 'I don't want to get better; I want to get worse'."
INLAND EMPIRE - What's-her-name? *Hell* is what the Insulindian Phasmid called her. You promised you would forget *Hell*.
YOU - "And you *left me alone* after I said that?! I'd never give up on ..."
PERCEPTION (SIGHT) - He avoids your gaze as the grey of his eyes glistens and silvers under the dim electric light.
PAIN THRESHOLD - Look away. Look away *now*.
PERCEPTION - I can hear you breathing hard and fast in the silence. The window chatters like teeth, protecting you from a draught. Outside, a cold insect crawls across the pane. You swallow salt.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "You will *not* completely unravel *my life*."
EMPATHY - As mentioned, once or twice, you're not the only *hurt* party here.
VOLITION - Look who has decided to grace us with his insights again.
EMPATHY - You were *displacing* the bad feelings that you associated with Jean onto your ex. It made it easier to keep working with him after that morning - after your fear of abandonment took over you.
HALF LIGHT - It was terrifying, the thought that he'd leave you too, that he didn't really give a shit. Your amygdala fucked your hippocampus good.
VOLITION - Paranoia induced by alcohol and amphetamines - mostly. I'm guessing that Pale exposure also contributed. But you're much better now. Let's try again. Let's fix things. You can do this.
YOU - "Jean, look at me." You gesture at yourself like a motor-carriage salesman debuting the latest Coupris: *voila*. "I've had a hard reset. I'm trying hard. I can be better. And I'm still *me*."
JEAN VICQUEMARE – Squints at you. "I didn't believe you - not even for one moment - a month ago."
YOU - "And now?"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "It's really, really hard -" He cuts himself off, then shrugs. "Fuck it. You know what? Maybe I was an asshole ... Maybe I did panic a little and bolt that morning."
RHETORIC - Without whispering sweet nothings into your ear first, he means.
DRAMA - My liege, is this a confession I see before me?
YOU - But why?
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "And you've stayed clean for what? Five weeks?" He sighs. "That's not bad - *for you*. If you can make it to ten months, I'll be convinced."
SUGGESTION - He's talking himself into it. Say nothing - he's doing all the work for you now.
ESPRIT DE CORPS - No, it's more than that. He just *can't* give up on you. One final time, he thinks ...
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Just put me in front of a firing squad, why don't you.
VOLITION - Hush.
YOU - Really? This is my last chance?
HALF LIGHT - Your pulse just shot up.
SUGGESTION - Take his hand.
HALF LIGHT - *Sure* - and give yourself a heart attack.
YOU - "Vic ..." Taking a step into his personal space, you slip your fingers under the cuff of his shirt sleeve, and lightly circle his wrist.
PERCEPTION - Warm skin, the underside so soft over hard thin tendons. A current of unease alternates between you.
CONCEPTUALIZATION - The pupils of his eyes are blown - like a Pyrholidon addict's. His black stare photographs your soul, and paperclips it to a page of his notebook. Just let your hand *be* your feelings.
INTERFACING - You've done this before - lots of times.
INLAND EMPIRE - In dreams, too.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Squeezing his wrist like a handcuff, the skin slick with sweat, as he moves inside you. Why don't you just *forget* the foreplay and cut to the action already?
VOLITION - Shut. Up.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Glances down at your lips, wetting his own. Finally, his fingers close over your wrist, press into the underside, then ease the pressure - as if checking your pulse.
INTERFACING - Because they are.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "I still have this effect on you?"
YOU - Slide your fingers down into his hand, rub your thumb back and forth over his knuckles. It's soothing, like one of those fidget toy things. "All the fucking time."
PERCEPTION - The familiarity feels like sinking into a warm bath after a hard day's work.
INLAND EMPIRE - Like *relief*.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Closes his eyes, releases a sigh of surrender.
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Congratulations. You're holding hands.
YOU - Speak softly: "I don't really remember anything about the welkin, and I don't even care."
INLAND EMPIRE - The Ledger of Oblivion, with its empty permeables compartment, eavesdrops from the table.
AUTHORITY - Threw that shit away.
SUGGESTION - A mentally healthy power-move.
THE LEDGER - Just official paperwork here - that you should get back to, you know, soon-ish.
YOU - "Maybe I dragged up ancient history again as a form of emotional displacement - so that I could keep working with you after ..."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "After you went insane." He pauses to think, then nods. "Displacement - I can go for that. But even a pathologically *glass-half-full* kind of guy like me knows that's not how personal relationships work, Harry."
SUGGESTION - Do not mention the Pale exposure. Not yet at least. You need to take responsibility for your actions first, regain his trust fully.
AUTHORITY - Yes. Own your shit. Anything else would be dishonourable.
YOU - "Understood." You underline the word with a quick squeeze on his hand. "There's this other memory - a good one, I think. Maybe two, actually ..."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Flicks up an eyebrow, then turns his head away quickly. "A *good* one, you think. Maybe *two*."
REACTION SPEED - Wait, what was that?
PERCEPTION (SIGHT) - Was that ...? It was! The hint - the merest *hint* - of a *genuine* half-smile on his face. Gone now. What a shame.
YOU - How did it look? Memorize it.
INLAND EMPIRE - Like the horizon a second before sunrise. The two of you standing on the cold beach, sharing hot coffee in a paper cup.
SUGGESTION - Perhaps if you re-enact the memory together, it'll help you to remember more?
YOU - "Maybe if we re-enact what I do remember, I'll remember the rest?"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Huh, like, role-play ourselves? *Cool*."
RHETORIC - Meaning no.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Frowns at the window suddenly, then pulls his hand out of yours to cup his ear. "You hear that ...?"
YOU - Listen.
PERCEPTION (HEARING) - It sounds similar to the music you discovered in the drug-lab tent pitched on the ice ...
YOU - "I think it's called *anodic* music."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Gives you *a look*.
PERCEPTION - The anodic beats increase in volume like a hiccupping siren approaching. There's a flash of white headlights against Jean's face. On the road below, like a string of glowing pearls, several motor-carriages with bottom and underbelly lights speed past towards the bridge and The Burnt Out Quarter.
VISUAL CALCULUS - They're breaking the speed limit!
YOU - "Skulls."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Yeah. With really good taste in - what did you call it, *annoying* music?"