Chapter 4: The Pickpocket

The Innocent woke up and couldn't remember where he was. Was there a reason why his bed felt so... odd and cold and hard? He opened his eyes woozily and sat up.

He was in the floor on the Kooza tower's second story, wrapped in one of the curtains. He couldn't remember wrapping himself in it - either Trickster or one of the clowns must have done it after he'd fallen asleep last night.

Trickster. He looked around, concerned, and saw that the man in red and yellow was watching him from the keyboard player's chair.

He looked much worse than last night. The markings on his face were completely color-negative, not just his eye markings but his lips and the flames along his jawline too, and the color change was creeping up his hat and down his collar. It was if monochromy was spreading through his entire body from his eyes outward.

There were dark smudges under his eyes in addition to the monochromatic eye markings, and he looked exhausted. But his eyes were still electric blue, and they crinkled slightly as he smiled at the Innocent. Innocent smiled back, and raised his eyebrows.

He remembered last night only through something like a sheer gray curtain of unreality. Nothing much had happened. The King and his fellow clowns had moved away after a while, taking their dog with them. The bird creatures hadn't come back. After a while, he must have fallen asleep from sheer stress backwash. He assumed that it must be the next morning, but really had no way of telling, as the lights seemed to be doing their own thing independent of the time of day.

He wondered if Trickster had slept at all. He wasn't actually sure if the man ever slept - he couldn't really imagine him doing it. He mimed sleeping, with the standard hand-pillow, and raised his eyebrows at the Trickster again: ?

Trickster shook his head, and sighed. He closed his eyes.

The Innocent swallowed hard. He was realizing consciously just now what he'd probably suspected unconsciously from the first time he'd seen Trickster lying on the floor of the tower: The Trickster was dying.

He swallowed again. There was a lump in his throat which was making it slightly hard for him to breathe. Trickster couldn't be dying. He was immortal... right? How could he be dying? How could he be like this? What could kill a Trickster? What was going on?

Too many questions pounded in his head, and he didn't know the answers to any of them. But he did know that he needed to keep Trickster alive. He needed Trickster to be alive.

He stood up off the floor, shedding his curtain sheet, went over to Trickster and pulled on his arm. Trickster's eyes slitted open, and the Innocent hurriedly mimed Stay awake. Trickster nodded irresolutely, and Innocent grabbed his arm harder. Stay awake!

The Trickster looked at his terrified expression and sighed, opening his eyes wider.

And the Innocent decided that he needed to find out what had happened to Trickster and to Kooza. He couldn't just stay in the tower with Trickster until all his color disappeared and he wouldn't wake up anymore. He didn't really want to leave the Trickster alone either, but he had to stop must be some way he could find out what had happened and fix it.

So he slung his kite over his back again, and, casting one last worried glance at Trickster, left the tower.

There was no one to be seen in the auditorium, neither bird creatures nor clowns, not even the dog from the previous day. He looked around, up at the roof, looking for something, anything, he didn't even know what...

...And almost jumped out of his skin as a voice by his ear said "Hello, my friend!"

He spun around to see a tall, skinny man with slicked-back hair and a purple suit standing by his elbow and smiling widely at him. "Do not be afraid, ple-ase! I am sorry if I startled you, did I startle you? No? Good, I am glad. My name is Christian*, and today is your lucky day, my friend! Would you like to play a little game?"

The Innocent stared at him and shook his head slowly. He couldn't figure out why the man was wearing a clown nose.

"No? You wouldn't? Are you sure, my friend?" The man - Christian? - paused. "What are you staring at?" He looked down the length of his nose. "Oh..." He peeled the red nose off his head - it was one of the kind with an elastic strap holding it on - and threw it away over his shoulder. "Sorry about that, Now, are you sure you don't want to play any games? How about doing some magic? I'm very good at it, you know! I'll amaze you!"

Innocent shook his head again. Christian slapped him on the shoulder. "Good choice, my friend! Magic is an art for people with no taste! Ah, and I see you have a kite... what a nice kite..." He moved around behind the Innocent to admire the kite. Innocent tried to watch him, and discovered that his neck wouldn't turn that far.

"Well," said the man eventually, his voice sounding somewhat disappointed for some reason as he moved back into view, "since you don't... want to do any magic either, then, could you tell me where the audience has gone, my friend?"

Innocent shrugged up-and-down, making a wry face. Christian looked at him quizzically, and his asymmetrical eyebrows went up.

"What is your name, my friend?"

"It's none of your business, Pickpocket! Leave him alone!" The two of them turned at the King's voice as the clown advanced on them down one of the aisles, trailed by his two sidekicks. Christian frowned. "He was the only person in the tent, my royal friend. I was just asking where the audience has gone."

"It's none of your business where the audience is, either!" the King snapped. Christian raised his eyebrows again. "Look, my friend, I was not bothering this boy! Ask him if I was bothering him! I was just being friendly, do you want me to not be friendly?"

"Yes! I mean no! I mean go away! He belongs to pointy-hat man, Pickpocket. Don't mess with him."

Christian blinked. "Oh, he is the Trickster's? I thought he looked like a little horizontally striped Tricksterlet... But I was not bothering him. Was I bothering you, my friend?" he asked the Innocent, who shook his head. He actually liked Christian. At least the man appeared to be able to think more rationally than the clowns, though he couldn't quite figure him out.

"Okay! Okay! Fine!" The King threw his hands up in the air, his voice getting higher with every word. "You'll see! But fine!" He stomped upstage to the spiraling staircase on the outside of the tower - which Innocent could have sworn hadn't been there before - and sat down on the third step. The rest of them followed him.

"Okay, Pickpocket. The audience's disappeared because the boss is sick. Happy?"

Christian blinked again, tilting his head to one side. "The Trickster is sick? What do you mean, my friend?"

"He's gone all weird," Sergei squeaked.

"He's always weird," possibly-Pete hissed. Sergei kicked him. "Shut up. And everyone else's gone too!" he told Christian.

Christian turned to look at the Innocent. "You seem to be the sanest one here, my young friend, could you possibly tell me what they're talking about?"

"He doesn't talk, Pickpocket," the King informed him. "He can but he doesn't."

I can mime, though, the Innocent mimed. The King blinked. "Yeah. He mimes." He stared at the Innocent some more. "You want me to... look over your shoulder... talk... talk to Pickpocket... about what's over your shoulder... sleeping... talk to him about sleeping? About you? Tower? Pointy-hat man?"

"Tell me about what happened yesterday?" Christian put in helpfully. The Innocent gave him a relieved look and nodded emphatically. The man known as the Pickpocket - Innocent couldn't figure out why, he hadn't seen him pick any pockets - winked at him and twirled his finger around by his head, mouthing Cra-aazy. Innocent nodded again.

"Oh, yeah! The lady with the candy!" Sergei grinned, and his tongue started hanging out.

"Will you shut up about the lady with the candy! Forget about the lady with the candy!"

Sergei blinked. "What lady with the candy?"

...

The King managed to get the story across eventually, more or less. The Innocent was finding himself confused, and he already knew what had happened the day before.

Christian seemed to get at least most of it, though. He nodded. "This is worrying, no?"

The King shrugged. "I d'know, it means the we've got the place to ourselves. And we can... hey..." He groped around in his pocket. "Where's my remote go-"

A hole opened in the stage and swallowed him and the two court jesters.

Christian turned to the Innocent and grinned from his seat on the steps, holding up something which looked suspiciously like a retro alien's idea of a remote control. "They call me the Pickpocket for a reason, my friend."

The Innocent smiled. He couldn't help it. He was impressed.

Christian slid down from the steps, tossing the remote from hand to hand before sticking it in his pocket. "They should be more worried, though. If this place disappears, where do they go? Me, I don't care that much. But it does work out well here. I make the audience laugh, and if I do not give the man's watch back, it does say on the tickets that the show is not responsible for losses, yes?"** He laughed, and then sobered up as he took a look at the Innocent. "But you look very worried, my friend."

Innocent nodded. He was worried sick, though he was trying not to let it show too much.

Christian put an arm around his shoulders. "All right, here is what I am thinking, my friend. I am thinking that yesterday, when there was no show, yes, there was a woman who came in when the tent should have been closed. I thought, okay, she is a stagehand. But stagehands do not usually sneak around trying not to be seen, am I right?" He paused. Innocent nodded.

"Right. And I thought that I had seen her before somewhere, also. But I don't know. I see stagehands too sometimes. Anyway, the clowns saw her. And she gave them... candy... Only this kind of candy was the kind that makes you roll around on the floor watching the pretty fireworks, you know what I mean? Don't accept candy from strangers, my friend. So the woman went into the tower, and then later she left."

Innocent stared over at him.

"I was not going to stop her, I mean, anyone who gives crack to the clowns, good job to them. But now the Trickster is in trouble, yes?"

He's dying, Innocent mimed. The Pickpocket's brow furrowed. "What was that, my friend?"

He's dying. Innocent pointed toward the tower. Go see for yourself.

Christian shook his head. "I can't get into the tower unless the Trickster gives me permission, my friend. He is not currently." He saw the Innocent's miserable expression and patted him on the shoulder. "But I believe you, my friend! I am not stupid, believe me." He sat down on the edge of the stage, his legs dangling over the auditorium's floor, and motioned for the Innocent to come sit next to him. Innocent did. "Okay, so we need a plan, yes?" Innocent brightened up considerably, and nodded.

"Okay, so here is our plan. We leave Kooza, look around the city a bit, go to the library and look this lady up. Then we'll see what we find, yes? I have a feeling on this one, my friend. Trust me."

The Innocent nodded. It was better than nothing.

Then he realized, and his shoulders sagged. He looked toward the nearest tent flap doubtfully. He had more or less always been aware of the fact that Kooza was in a tent, dimly, but now he could really get a good look at it, and he wasn't at all sure how this was going to work. Maybe this was just a tent to Christian, but to Innocent it was another universe, and he wasn't at all sure if he was actually going to be able to step outside it.

"Unless you have something better to be doing with your morning?" Innocent shook his head without really listening.

"Good." Christian grabbed the Innocent's wrist - the man's hand was surprisingly strong - and towed Innocent behind him up the aisle and the steps to the nearest tent flap. He pushed it open with his shoulder, not letting go of Innocent's wrist, grabbed the surprised boy by the shoulders, and stepped through the tent flap with him.

The bright sunlight outside was blinding after the semidarkness of Kooza. Innocent yanked his hands free and stuck them over his eyes, blinking furiously as his vision adjusted.

"That worked well, didn't it," Christian said, beside him. "Welcome, my friend, to the outside world."

A/N:

*Sorry, Michael fans. Sorry, Lee fans (apparently they do exist - I was noted by one at one point, and she informed me of her existence). Christian's getting this one. The Pickpocket does introduce himself, after all... and the Innocent, not having a name himself, is rather name-fixated. (Whether or not this is actually the Pickpocket's real name is another discussion. Which we shall not be having right now.)

**Seriously. It does. That's probably not exactly what they meant, but... The night I saw Kooza, I'm not actually sure if the guy from the audience ever did get his watch back.