Arc V
Chapter XLIX
The Seventh Day
"One never reaches home,' she said. 'But where paths that have an affinity for each other intersect, the whole world looks like home, for a time."
Hermann Hesse ― Demian
0.8 miles outside Milton, DE
.
When it all was said and done, Outworld appeared on the horizon as their only viable option.
As hard as it was for the mercenary to accept his mistake, Earthrealm had only exposed its most insufferable, bitter side, depriving them both of all hope of ever finding the paths they had lost so many years ago. He should have known better: names like his name and second chances can never be used in the same sentence; not even when faced by his own face, not even when summoned by the echoes of his name, inexplicably alive in another name… No. Second chances are never given to such despicable men. They don't deserve them. They wouldn't even know what to do with them, when to use them, if they should dare to use them…
The problem is: such despicable men can't seem to understand the concept of time. It is simply too long, then too short; then too much and then, too little. All at the same time. They exist and they don't, all at the same time.
His latest adventure with the doctor had been enough for the man to understand that even if evergreen, even if perennial, his own concept of time could be measured in failures. From one heartache to the next one and everything in between – the face, the name, the eyes. Earthrealm had been a collection of heartaches for both of them; a cruel repertoire or sad songs that could have easily been avoided if he had just listened to the woman when she said she didn't want to go back.
Even if his intentions were noble, it was simply too late for her.
Fate had fooled him once again and the bittersweet aftertaste contaminating his mouth was all too familiar for him: nothing stays the same; it is absolutely futile to try to find yesterday in the vertiginous continuity of the present.
He had learned that the hard way. People leave. People change. And people die.
One week in Earthrealm had been enough for him to understand that the doctor could never set foot on that place again. There was nothing left for her to hold on to; her place had been taken by some other woman and, in the stoppable motion of life, she had found herself completely unneeded by those she had left behind. There was no place for her now other than the place he had reserved just for her, with him, in the impassible mud that was Outworld.
It was meant to be hard.
It was meant to be dramatically hard now, for his already wounded pride, to understand that the only thing left for him to do was to take her back to the only place where he didn't want her to be.
The darkest gray, the lightest black. Outworld.
Outworld was not what she deserved yet it was the only place where they could be together, or as together as can be, far from the maddening echoes of Earthrealm.
There was much to talk about; so many things he would have to say to her (beginning with an apology) and then the request would find him, certain and ever selfish: I don't want you to go back to work if working means you'll have to… so many things had changed between them in the impossibly insignificant amount of time they had spent together in Earthrealm. Seven days, even God had felt the need to rest.
But he knew, he was certain. There would be no rest for them.
The thought of simply letting her go back to the life she had before, the miserable life she had found as one of Rosario's girls, seemed devastating for him now but who was he to ask her that? Who was he to tear her apart from the only semblance of a family she still had? He had been the one to cast her away in the first place, forcing her to revisit the ashes of her own past… He shook his head in silence, disheartened by his own thoughts. In a way, they were even: her carelessness had corrupted his memories and his misplaced good intentions had broken her present. Still, he couldn't bring himself to blame her, not anymore: the image was still too powerful, her weaknesses exposed and bare for his eyes to see, for his mind to understand that Earthrealm had broken her, just as much as it had broken him.
The evening in Milton was peaceful and even if he had let her sleep during most of their journey back to Delaware, her eyes were still describing an intrinsic sense of exhaustion that had nothing to do with geographical distances. The trees were still, idly resting in the windless hours before the night. They had left the car in silence, their feet approaching the abandoned military base sheltering the portal. Then he felt her hand as it landed gently on his nearest shoulder, asking him subtly to turn around and meet her gaze. Gray, her eyes – it would take more than words to breathe some color into them.
The doctor threw her arms around his neck and shoulders, prolonging the silence, and stretching her affection until he felt completely wrapped up in it. Then she too turned around, as if quietly saying her goodbyes to a world that had rejected her for the last and final time.
Gray.
The mercenary held her hand in his, his eyes lost in the modern crown of buildings shaping the horizon beyond the river. Her goodbye was his own in a way; for they both knew it would be the last time they would be standing there, together, on the verge of a world that could never understand and, still, it was hard not to feel moved by the sight of a world so irrevocably alive.
It was hard not to feel moved by the visions of a world that had learned to survive without them. Now it was their time to remember how to do it, how to keep going without it, how to move on and never look back.
Every bird singing their tune, every tree and every star in the sky were now about to become obsolete treasures they could never fully recover.
Now, the hostility of Outworld would come to replace each one of those sights and visions in the darkest gray and in the lightest black. The birds would turn into monsters, the trees would become cold stone and the stars in the sky would be like simple memories, like ruthless darts aiming for their hearts, reminding them of the ones they were no more.
She let go of his hand; her fingers were warmer than before. Her eyes searched for his, then she knew, she felt it: it was time. When the man nodded wordlessly at her determination she felt her own soul exiting her mouth in the ethereal shape of a sigh. He caught it midway, eating it whole with his lips. Devoured, her soul became his food. Then he took her hand in his, satisfied. He would never starve again.
She was the first to cross. Then it was his turn.
As the white lights emanating from the portal slowly faded from their eyes, and their bodies welcomed the darkness of Shao Kahn's ruined library, the memory of Earthrealm began to die its long, painful death inside of them. They stepped away from the mystical gate until their backs met one of the many broken pillars surrounding them. She smiled shyly when he reached out for her, catching her before she could fall. It was a small gesture, they both knew, but it was enough, in a way, to make her see that she was no longer alone.
Removing the hair from her face he leaned in closer, resting his forehead on hers.
"What are we gonna do now?" She whispered against his mouth, including him for the very first time in the blurry prospect that was her future.
"I would like…"
Who was he to dictate the things she could or could not do?
Who was he to force her to leave the only place, the only family she still had?
He looked her in the eye as he took a step backward but when his hand caressed her cheeks, the unsaid message became crystal clear for the woman.
"No, it's not what you think," he spoke, as if ashamed of himself.
The woman brushed his shoulders as a minuscule gesture of understanding took over her pale face: she knew exactly what he wanted; there was no need for the man to say such words out loud. Still, it was conflicting for her to think about the rest of her days in that dreadful place with nothing to do. Even if she still was a doctor, medicine in Outworld differed greatly from the medicine she had studied and practiced years ago, back in Earthrealm. She had had her fair share of experimentation during her first years in the brothel, discovering the causes of the most peculiar sexual diseases she had ever seen, but her desperation back then had forced her to spill all of her secrets and even Black himself had discovered the truth: she had made such a remarkably good job back then that her services as a doctor were no longer required.
"We'll think of something," she mumbled, trying her best to sound reassuring even when the prospect of staying home all day, waiting for him to return wasn't appealing in the slightest.
Job discussion, checked. Now "home" was an entirely different concern. If he didn't want her to go back to the House of Pleasure, that only meant one thing: he wanted her to live with him. He wanted his house to be her house. And he wanted their house to become their home.
An insecure frown shaped her features as she remembered the battered room he lived in. With barely enough space to accommodate Black and a depressing aura of total defeat, what he had to offer was somehow far worse than her own room in the brothel. Still, she couldn't tell him that. She knew he had lost most everything after spending an entire decade in prison: his privileges as one of Kotal's closest enforcers, his wife, his job, his luxurious place in the Palace, his generous paychecks and above all that, his pride. She shook herself out of the thought: the man had been through more than enough, her judgmental elucubrations were the last thing he needed now, especially considering the fact that he was the only one left for her to hold on to.
The lightest Black.
When the image of Rosario appeared in her mind, she understood that even if life in the brothel had become a complication for her now that the members of El Club had openly stated that they wanted El-A to become Rosario's successor, she could still count on the old, Peruvian manager to make her feel better and she had left her all alone, subtly giving up in the war against El-A and the syndicate.
Now it seemed much too late for the doctor to reclaim her place.
They had spent a week in Earthrealm – El-A's rumors must have spread like a mad fire, consuming everything in its violent wake. Now her clothes were different, her hair had returned to the original auburn she had purposefully chosen to leave behind back then and Black had also disappeared during the same period of time: it wouldn't take a scientist to understand that they had run away together, confirming El-A's every suspicion.
When the mercenary took her by the hand and led her towards the stairs, the woman stood still in her place.
"We need to be careful," she whispered. "We might have given El-A exactly what she was looking for."
He breathed out, soft yet resolute.
"If only El-A was the real problem…" Black said. "Maybe she lives for gossip, but we both know that there are others that hide behind her stories." He was right. Their sudden departure had opened up the gates for the syndicate to rise and proclaim El-A as Rosario's true and only successor and a part of Black was having a hard time trying to hide his evident satisfaction with the situation: if the doctor had indeed lost her place as Rosario's successor, it wouldn't be necessary for the woman to go back to the brothel at all. Plus, taking out the syndicate was priority number one in his plan to climb the ladder that would lead him straight back to the Palace – if she wasn't involved, there would be no restrictions for him. If she wasn't there, there would be no need for him to wonder and worry. He would simply erase the syndicate. His actions would catapult him back to the rightful place he should have never lost: he would be the one that stands right next to the emperor again, wielding power and fortune.
And she would be there too.
Far from the dangers of the syndicate, forever distanced from the whore that her own history had forced her to be. His and only his.
With a simple movement of his hand, the man indicated the doctor it was time to face the long way up in order to go back into the world. But when they found themselves reaching for the secondary foyer, they had to hide behind the large marble desk. It was unusual for the office to be so crowded during the night, Black considered as he heard many steps coming from all directions.
But nobody said it would be easy, he thought.
As soon as the sounds dissipated, Black placed both his hands on the desk, craned his neck and took a good look around: there were about half a dozen barristers, all carrying papers and books. They were headed upstairs and that notion gave the couple a small window of opportunity to get on their feet and run towards the balcony but before they could reach their destination, a soft hand grabbed Black by the wrist, forcing his hurried steps to come to an unexpected halt.
"It's so good to have you back, boy," Yvo said softly, even when the expression on his face was far from happy. "And, at the same time, it is oh, so terrible," he added as his eyes found the doctor standing only a few inches away from the mercenary. "And you, my dear…" he tried to reach out for her but Black blocked the way, stretching one of his arms and preventing the barrister from touching her.
"What's going on?" The cowboy demanded quickly.
"Not here."
Careful, the old barrister guided them upstairs but instead of joining the younger barristers, he instructed the couple to enter a secluded, small room past the benches on the great hall. Quick, short steps led the way. After closing the door and lighting up one of the torches resting idly by the wall, Yvo sat on the ground, a clear gesture of pain taking over his face.
His knees, Black remembered…
"The situation has changed," the barrister began, a sad languor was laced around his voice. Neither Black nor the doctor dared to speak. As the gunman crossed his arms over his chest, a tremulous fear invaded him – the portal, perhaps they had tracked the crossing.
As if reading his mind, the barrister moved his hands in the air, rapidly dismissing Black's thoughts.
"Your absence didn't go unnoticed but no, nobody checked that portal," Yvo shook his head, taking a deep breath. "Please don't leave this room until we find a believable excuse to justify the days you spent in Earthrealm – a lot has changed, I'm afraid, and a lot more is about to change in the following hours. It is vital for you two now to create and consolidate a good alibi for yourselves; otherwise, you'll be targeted as prime suspects. I know you weren't here, I know, it's just that the timing… the timing for your return seems a little off…"
When the barrister paused, something had already changed in him; his voice was darker, more concerned than before. His eyes found Black's, staring back at him.
"Rosario is dead."
Author's notes: Oof, that concludes the arc, I hope you enjoyed the finale =) and I'm not sorry for the cliffhanger hahaha… I'm not sorry at all.
I want to take a moment to thank everyone who's still out there reading, reviewing and the lot. After so many chapters, it sure means a lot to me. As usual, we'll have an interlude (I'm working on it right now, and I'm having a blast!) and then arc six will begin, if everything goes according to plan two more arcs and I'll be done with this story.
Hope you're doing okay, see you next time!