Arc IV

Chapter XL

Neither Here nor There

"I have need of angels. Enough hell has swallowed me for too many years. But finally understand this-I have burned up one hundred thousand human lives already, from the strength of my pain."

Antonin Artaud ― Letters to Génica Athanasiou

It wasn't easy for the barrister's languid cadence to successfully dodge the debris scattered along the way. A testimony about his longevity; his tired knees and his trembling legs meandered through the stones and the dust across the godforsaken ruins of what used to be Shao Kahn's library, searching for a clear destination. Not much had changed since his last visit to the original building – his memory was trustworthy, recreating the scene before his eyes as a perfect match for the one still displayed vividly in his mind. The pleas of a corrupted era still echoed all around him; the symbols of a tyrant that had destroyed everything in its wake, while answering only to the treacherous calls of war and ambition.

Bad choices and poor infrastructure were mere decoys that could never suffice to explain the true extent of Shao Kahn's actions as the emperor of Outworld. A time so dark, an époque so asphyxiating but still, as the barrister made his way through the old library, he couldn't help but grace his face with a bitter grin, remembering the fall of his beloved Queen Sindel, Edenia's most precious jewel, torn from her land and turned into a washed-up, pathetic tool.

Lost inside a woman that she couldn't even recognize in the mirror anymore, Sindel had finally been turned into yet another silent victim.

Outworld loved them, the realm simply loved creating them: silent victims, transversal to the entire social structure, present throughout the years no matter the ruler, no matter the circumstances.

Kotal Kahn's rule, even if not as conflictive and merciless as Shao Kahn's, had crafted some silent victims of its own as well. The man standing petrified in front of the portal was one of them; still struggling to belong in a world that wasn't even his to begin with, devoured by the same system that had once positioned him between privileges and luxuries, swallowed whole by the same justice he himself had dispensed and ultimately spat right back into the dirt and the mud that was Outworld.

There he stood, alone, as if hypnotized by the white lights dancing before him. Mesmerized by the vacuum and the solitude of a broken scene that was no more: the woman was gone, there was no trace of her, no shadow, no souvenir left to testify that she had, indeed, existed. The cowboy's coffee-colored eyes were fixed on the portal. Maybe he was reminiscing her, or the exact shape of her body, or her every expression, every minuscule movement of her face; perhaps her mannerisms or maybe he was trying hard to imprint her figure inside his corneas, trying to make sure he wouldn't forget her in the lonely years to come.

The barrister stopped only inches away from that petrified body. His left hand reached for Black's shoulder, tentatively, as if his mere touch could shatter the frozen man into a million different pieces.

"It's been two hours, boy," the barrister whispered yet the cowboy didn't move; he didn't flinch, nor he looked over his shoulder to address Yvo's worrying presence. The shorter man sighed helplessly then, his knees giving up. He walked before Black and sat on the base of a broken column.

"Erron?"

Yet the mercenary couldn't even blink, still too absorbed by the images emanating from the portal or maybe, by the complete lack of them.

"I told you to leave," Black said after a while. The sound of his own baritone voice had breathed life into his bones yet the nearly bicentennial man couldn't help but feel as if those lights had turned him into a statue.

"You were taking too long," the barrister mumbled apologetically. "I needed to make sure everything was alright down here. And trust me, my aching bones are not happy about this expedition either."

Black huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Don't get mad at me, boy, please understand… in my mind, the possibilities seemed endless. Maybe the farewell was getting harder than what you had imagined, or maybe you were having second thoughts about sending this woman through a portal, or maybe you two were having a more… intimate type of farewell and if that was the case, I'm afraid this is a public building, boy, and you know it."

The brokenhearted cowboy tried hard to laugh at Yvo's mistaken assumptions but he couldn't bring his lips to move. He simply cocked an eyebrow and shook his head disapprovingly.

"You know, for a barrister… you really have a way with words."

Yvo shrugged his shoulders innocently – it wasn't the first time someone suggested his tongue was a rather troublesome muscle. "But even if you and that woman did get intimate…" he began, as if unable to hold back his words, "it's been two hours, boy, and you're older than time…"

Nearly aggravated by the implications hidden inside the barrister's seemingly careless words yet somehow amused by Yvo's apparent reasoning, the cowboy finally smiled, before inquiring: "What are you suggesting?"

"She looked young," Yvo blushed as he hid his hands behind his back.

"Yvo…"

"Two hours, Erron," the barrister emphasized. "And she's one of Rosario's girls… That sort of energy…"

Black raised one finger; his eyes were cold as ice.

"Watch your mouth."

Taking the not-so-subtle hint, the barrister massaged the sides of his own knees and looked down. His voice was softer now; his eyes were striving to establish a bridge between him and the troubled gunslinger staring back at him now.

"Two hours should not represent a thing for men like us and still, after being around for so long, everything tends to get… long, as if dragged – don't you agree, boy?" he asked. "Time has now become a thick, inescapable substance that has trapped us all in its intangible claws; it enjoys watching us struggle to find ways to trick the hourglass of our imprisonment and still, we are forced to witness the unstoppable machinery that it's made of every single time."

"I beg to differ," said the cowboy, approaching the older man and taking a knee beside him. "Even for men like us, everything seems fleeting somehow. I look back and even my time in prison does not really seem to represent a decent fraction of my existence. Surely it was a nightmare back then, having to come to terms with my lack of freedom, but now… now all that time I spent behind bars seems vague and remote. Just like everything. Just like everyone."

"But even so, you must admit that a part of you agrees with my perception: if everything and everyone seems vague and distant, then time has indeed trapped you, boy." Black nodded pensively in complete silence and then turned his back on the barrister; his eyes were busy again, contemplating the white lights of that portal just as if the flickering luminescence was a magnet, calling him on and on.

"She must mean a lot to you."

The words penetrated his skin like darts aimed for the most recondite places of his nomadic soul. The cowboy turned around instinctively, his eyes becoming beacons of light in the night, about to speak the eloquent truths of his anger and his frustration. He motioned towards the old barrister like a shaken, wounded animal ready to strike but his commotion quickly dissipated the second his burning gaze connected with the old man's eyes – it wasn't his fault that he had chosen to let her go; it wasn't his fault that she was gone. Something about his feelings for that woman must have been translucent to their eyes, the gunslinger reckoned bitterly as he contemplated the barrister's quiet expression. Just like Rosario had realized not so long ago, now it was Yvo's turn to state the obvious: the doctor surely meant something to him; the essence that woman had imprinted all over him still refused to let him go.

"Is it so obvious?" Black asked somberly, almost defeated by his own sad elucubrations. "You said it yourself, she was one of Rosario's girls, you know what that means…" he mumbled, trying to cover the evident truth yet his own voice trailed off the second he understood the frivolity of what he had just said: he had credited her impact on his life and now he was trying to lessen the effects of her existence.

The barrister nodded, yet the simple gesture was not enough to prevent Black's dark tribulations from resurfacing: her absence had trained his emotions, it had profusely altered his nomadic nature. The Erron Black before her could have successfully fooled them into thinking that their bond was adorned by simple superficiality. Yet the man after her was the shadow of that previous man; he was a permeable conduit of emotions traveling at the speed of light, corrupting the memories of a time long gone with the ashes of a new time - a time he himself had chosen to erase by sending her away.

"You are still here," Yvo began, "you could never bring yourself to love your wife in over three decades, why should I believe in furtive love now?"

Speechless, the mercenary stepped away from the portal.

"Why should I believe you fell for a complete stranger?"

"Why not?" The cowboy asked, defensively.

"Because you're not that kind of man," the barrister clicked his tongue, his tone still serene and reflexive.

Black hissed then glued his back to the column still standing behind him. "I thought I said no questions asked, Yvo," the gunslinger said yet the barrister smiled tenderly and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm not asking you anything," the old barrister remarked. "I'm merely stating the obvious: she's been gone for over two hours and you're still here. You're either waiting for the woman to return, or completely unable to let go – even when you have already let her go."

"She's not coming back," Erron sentenced.

Moving farther into the shadows, the mercenary sank down on a pile of rocks scattered carelessly on the floor. From this comfortable distance, the lights from the portal seemed fatuous and vacant in the tenebrous sight that was the old, ruined library. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed Yvo still sitting a few feet away from him; his eyes still searching for a story, his patience still trying to convince him that it was time for them to climb back up that ladder and leave that dreadful place – and the doctor – behind. With a heavy heart, Black closed his eyes and exhaled loudly, feeling the hurricane of unsaid words approaching him.

He felt the urgency, the desperate need to let go from the tale that had narrated the last ten years of his life.

Yvo was there, ever friendly, always comprehensive, but the cowboy couldn't find the strength to talk and reveal everything about him and that woman: if he came clean about who the doctor really was, Yvo was surely going to deduce that he had lied to his own wife about Aalem. He shook his head, the migraine finally taking over him. His calloused hands massaged his own temples: what was the point, after all? Both Aalem and Zarrabayeusse were dead and the doctor was not coming back. Perhaps he had anticipated, somewhere deep inside his soul, that now he and the doctor were finally beginning to see eye to eye, it was time for him to let go. Maybe that had been the reason why he had chosen to open up and share their story with Rosario: there was no need to protect her anymore; the time for the woman to suffer and endure the consequences of his own arrogance and selfishness was finally through.

Like a river flowing out of control, the words began to leave his mouth. The story of his days with and without the doctor galloped through his memory with such unparalleled tenacity it left him breathless, even when he had purposefully chosen to avoid the darker aspects of their bond. Like a wild stallion striving for release, the simplified tale of boy-meets-girl seemed far from what had actually happened between them yet the stoic expression written all over Yvo's face was clearly indicating the cowboy that he had indeed painted almost every hue, shade and shadow in the palette of colors shared by him and the Earthrealm doctor with unprecedented precision.

"What you did was noble, boy…" Yvo said after a while, patting Black's shoulder. Even when there was no real bond between the cowboy and the barrister other than the memory of the friendship Yvo and Zar had shared a long time ago, Black could have sworn that the voice reaching out for him was the closest approximation to a sound he hadn't heard in a very long time – the tender, manly voice of Good Ol' Jacob, finding him after entire seasons of his life, eager to provide him with the fatherly advice he had lacked for so long. The same delicacy that had once been shown by the bartender of The Wise Bird was laced around Yvo's voice now, even when the words Black was willing to hear were far from the ones escaping the barrister's mouth.

"What you did was noble," the old man repeated, "but it was too late, boy, and it was… remarkably cruel."

Black tilted his head back and covered his eyes with his sweaty hands.

"Casting her away like that, to be devoured by a world that she surely won't recognize anymore and forced to search for faces that maybe don't belong to her now – even you have to admit it was a very cruel thing to do and a very selfish way for you to escape from all those memories stirring inside but above all things, it was an act of pure cowardice," the barrister shook his head as a pensive expression took over his features.

"Now you may be many things, but we all know you are not a coward, Erron."

The headache was killing him. Yvo's words were knives aimed for his sanity.

"Letting her go was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do," Black retorted, his voice a weak whisper, "but now you tell me I was a coward for doing so."

"No, no, boy, don't get me wrong," Yvo grinned, his hands mid-air, apologizing. "I didn't mean it like that. It's not that she was some sort of package for you to get rid of, it's just that you've been through so much for this woman and this woman's been through so much because of you that now that you both were finally beginning to trust your emotions I can't help but wonder if maybe you felt so overwhelmed by her affection that you chose to shy away from it, sending her back to Earthrealm as a way to avoid facing that love."

Black opened his mouth to protest but no sound came out. Like a cornered child he lowered his head and simply listened as the barrister went on.

"You idolized the feeling for far too long," Yvo said. "You ignited it, you desperately searched for it. Now that it is finally yours for the taking, you hide away like a frightened little boy… That sure sounds like cowardice to me."

In the shape of that tiny man, in the memories awakened by the barrister's presence, the paradox that had once existed in his life in the shape of Zarrabayeusse presented itself before his eyes. He wasn't a free man when he crossed paths with the doctor; Alex's apparition in his life had been nothing but a late, desynchronized joke meant to summon the ashes of his turbulent past. Even so, their time together had been mercilessly mutilated by his own impotence. The lost years of his imprisonment had been wasted on him, but her aging had not stopped, her aging had not waited for him. Zar had had to die for Black to become a free man, but an entire decade had to wash over him for the mercenary to achieve another sort of liberty. His physical freedom, just like the doctor, had arrived too late.

His freedom had killed her youth.

"Little remains of the woman I remembered," Black finally spoke. "Many times, I entertained the idea of just turning around and leaving her all over again… but I returned every time, as if she was a magnet, keeping me close. And I obliged because I always remembered what she said to me the day I found her in the brothel: if you wanted to show me that my life without you could get a million times worse than my life with you… congratulations. I could have said those exact same words to her, you know?" He smiled bitterly to himself as his voice trailed off. "How could I ever bring myself to watch her wither and die? How? When I know I won't age a single day myself? Don't you think it's unfair? Don't you think it's a remarkably cruel thing for me to do?"

Yvo stood up and joined him in the dark. The old barrister's hands landed heavily on Black's shoulders.

"If she had stayed, we would have been on borrowed time," the cowboy said, trying to justify his decision. "The years she still has ahead of her… I'd rather know she spent them surrounded by those who truly loved her," he explained. "Maybe, in the end, that'll help her remember who she really is, the woman she was supposed to be. Perhaps that'll help her erase the marks this awful place has written all over her." He lifted his chin, his gaze finding Yvo's. "Do you still think what I did was cruel?"

Another pat on the shoulder, another gesture of genuine friendship.

"Are you going to be alright on your own?"

Black soon found himself chuckling at Yvo's question, even if only involuntarily.

"Yeah, I'll be just fine. I've been here before, I've already learned how to adjust to the eternal doubt and keep goin' no matter what," Black's voice, throaty and darker than before, was reason enough for Yvo to believe it would take more than time for Black to be alright again.

"What is this eternal doubt are you talking about, boy?" The barrister asked, somewhere in between curious and worried.

"It's not the first time I let her go," Black began, his diction impregnated by a renewed sense of honesty, making his words simple yet meaningful. "There was a woman in my life, my one true love, her name was Amanda. We were just kids back then, but that was love; never had a doubt 'bout it. But a man so young, so in love, is bound to make mistakes. My mistake was to let her go – I gave her up without a fight. I tried, but I could have done so much more than what I did back then," he admitted. "Then the doctor appeared, and she looked just like Amanda. For a moment, I even thought she was some sort of a second chance for a man like me, even when most people would think men like me don't deserve second chances." He paused for a moment, the collection of images cruising rapidly through the highways of his memory was making it hard for the man to keep up with the words leaving his mouth. "I let Alex go just like I let Amanda go only to wind up reminiscing them. In a way, I think that original mistake, back then, when I chose not to fight for Amanda, marked the rest of my life and now I'm bound to repeat the same mistake over and over again. That's why I told you that it's not the first time I have let her go: this is a theory I came up with during my days in prison. Maybe there is no Alex, maybe there was never an Amanda. Maybe it's just a mutating "she", you know? A being made for me but that cannot be mine, forced to accompany me through the years even if only in my memories," he had finally said it – the theoretical mechanism of his heart was now completely exposed. "I've never been the philosophical kind, never been spiritual… but I'm inclined to believe that this is the price I have to pay after that original mistake. Now I'm forced to let her go over and over again, knowing I'll find her again someday, only to let her go once more." He closed his eyes, feeling exhausted but somehow relieved now that he had said those words out loud. The burden was gone, the oppression in his chest finally leaving him. "The original doubt is the punishment I have to endure. I came back for Amanda, but she was long gone; I never knew what happened to her. If she lived a long and happy life, if she had any children, or traveled the world… the same doubt will haunt me now and it's gonna stay with me for a long, long time. I just let her go but I don't know what the future holds for her. I won't know if she'll be able to recover all those years I've stolen from her life or if she'll find a way to be herself again... Until I find her again, only to let her go again."

"That sounds like a terrible life, boy."

Black offered him a half-smile and stood up; his arms crossed over his chest.

"Stop calling me boy, I'm not fifteen anymore. I may look younger than you but we both know which one of us is the oldest one in this room."

"I am," the barrister confessed. "I am Edenian, Erron. If I already look this old, you don't want to know for how long I've been around."

"I didn't know…" Black whispered.

"Nobody knows… because nobody asks," Yvo shrugged his shoulders. "Right after Edenia was lost, Queen Sindel brought me here. I was a barrister there, so she offered me the same position over here although I should have said no," he remembered bitterly. "I saw with my own eyes the atrocities of that era: the war, the pain, I saw what they had to endure – my Queen and my Princess… I saw the hands of that man subjugating them mercilessly. Sindel brought me here, just like she brought about a dozen barristers in hopes to balance the scales in our favor. Poor woman, little did she know back then that we were going to be completely powerless in front of that man, his sorcerer, and his invention," he paused all of a sudden and stared intently at Erron, remembering who had given the man the ability to stand the test of time.

"Does Kotal know about you?" Black asked.

The barrister nodded.

"Sometimes I think about them, you know? My Queen and my Princess and I wonder – will they ever get used to the life they're forced to live now?"

Black sighed and considered what Yvo had just said: those words stung like a poisonous needle going through his skin. He sure knew what it was like to get used to the relentless march of time; what it felt like to try to keep up with a fate slowly taking over him, detaching him from the man he should have been. His hands were drenched in centuries of blood; his memory stained by the echoes of malice and death. Perhaps his path wasn't as tenebrous as the one Sindel and Kitana had been forced to travel yet it was a somber path anyway – a path too far away from the original path he should have walked. A deviation from the life he should have lived.

"But enough about me, let's not change the subject so brusquely, boy," Yvo said, leaving the spotlight.

"What do you want me to say? There's not much to it, I'm afraid. I just need to wait it out," The mercenary said matter-of-factly. "I'll be fine, you'll see."

"Why would you repeat the same mistake?"

Black turned his back on the barrister, his eyes once again captivated by the white lights dancing carelessly before him.

"Now you have the ending, just like you had back then… But what about real closure, boy? What about getting rid of that eternal doubt?" Yvo insisted.

"Don't know what you're talkin' 'bout," the gunslinger replied sharply without even looking at the older man.

"Of course you do," Yvo stood up and motioned towards the ladder; the way back was surely going to be painful and nearly insufferable for his tired, old bones but he knew there was no other way and there wouldn't be any other way in the foreseeable future either, considering the fact that the old library had been shut down a long time ago. No visitors were allowed, only memories and the old ghosts of a turbulent, shady past still hovering over the citizens.

"Why are you helping me?" Black asked. "Why do you care so much about me?"

The barrister smiled, but he didn't stop.

"Zar," he whispered on his way out. "That woman saw something in you, her intelligence proved it real. Whatever she saw in you, boy, it was not a simple mirage." As Yvo's tiny figure became just another shadow in the darkness pooling around the only entrance of the library, the one leading straight to the precarious ladder, Black observed the mesmerizing ballet of lights coming from the portal.

He shook his head, trying hard to focus on the last words the barrister had told him only minutes ago. It still ashamed him to remember how things had ended between him and Zar and all the lies about Aalem, the cruel way in which she had had to find out the truth – her cold eyes the last time he ever saw her and the uncontained fury, the wound corrupting the very essence of her being. No one ever knew about those final moments; no one knew about how helpless he felt when they told him she had been killed. Nobody knew what that moment actually felt like: they had taken away his every chance for redemption, even when he doubted she would have ever forgiven him.

He shook his head again; the memory was too painful. There was not a single redoubt in his mind that seemed welcoming anymore. Darkness at his back and the tremulous white lights of an uncertain future before him, Yvo's words reverberated all around him: What about real closure?

He rubbed his hands together, mustering his courage.

One last effort was commanding the impulses running wildly through the avenues of his nerves. One huge leap into the thin air would be enough… One leg, then the other, torso and head followed the motion to create one harmonic jump. Memories and expectations became the same elemental thing then, confused and blended inside the same chaotic tourbillion that was his existence. That was it: the oneiric state in which a body cannot discern dream from reality; life from death. That was it, the Nomad thought for the last time as the dancing white lights gave way to the darkness that now embraced him completely, wrapping him up in the onyx that defines everything that is unknown.

The Nomad levitated gracefully as his form became blurry. He closed his eyes and hoped for the best until his body, washed in white, finally disappeared.

Author's notes: Well, that was the end of arc IV, hope you enjoyed it. The ending I chose for this arc is not the original ending I had planned long ago, but I just couldn't resist the idea of Erron revisiting Earthrealm, seeking closure and trying hard not to fall for the same mistakes from his past. This unplanned incursion is definitely going to alter the course of arc five, because I want to explore this reunion with his own realm, even if he won't be visiting his hometown this time. (This could be his first time in modern California, don't know, haven't decided that yet.)

So, as per usual, we'll have an interlude right after this chapter and then arc five will begin – expect quotes from A Tale of Two Cities, I know I won't be able to help myself… Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! Till next time!

Looksforthelight: You know, when I first planned that chapter, I was definitely going for a very sad, very emotive goodbye. But when I actually wrote it, and then read it, it didn't seem to me that I had properly established the tone for the last scenes. I posted it anyways, I didn't want to overdo things and have the chapter getting all soppy and pinkish. Glad to know you enjoyed it! With Alex gone, a lot of things are going to change over at The House of Pleasure, but I don't think we'll be getting back to the brothel until arc VI. Thank you for reading!

ErronFan: I don't know if it was the right thing for him to do now, he has this tendency (I made him have this tendency, that is) to simply run away from things the second he senses his feelings could get potentially compromised – that's why he abandoned her by the mountainside, and I think that's also the reason why he sent her away. Pretty much what Yvo said, he had fought for so long to get her to warm up that now that things were finally beginning to work, he chickens out. Thanks!

The guest reader: I wanted to surprise you, guys. Bet you didn't see that one coming!

Da Hybrid Queen: You words reminded me of Fringe (God, I loved that show!) – because the viewer was expecting answers for the bazillion questions established by the plot, but at the end of the day, we were only met by yet more questions. Of course this fanfic isn't as interesting as Fringe was, but in arc five we'll be moving back to Earthrealm so maybe we can have a parallelism with the red and blue universes from the show, haha.

The questions regarding the future of The House of Pleasure will be answered in arc VI. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!

Westcoast Witchdoctor: He has his moments, right? I really liked that scene, too – it was one of my favorites. But we'll see if he actually learns from letting go or not, right now he's gone searching for closure, and I really do believe that after all this time, he actually deserves it.

Kotal is certainly not gonna like the idea of someone using a portal without his permission – especially when he finds out it was Erron the one who went through it; last time they saw each other they weren't in the best of terms, so… Thank you so much!