Editing Rain

'''Arrival + 5 days''' <br>
'''Christian’s House'''<br>
'''Lucifer’s Landing, Angel''' <br>
'''0700hrs, local time''' <br>


Unlike the previous mornings, sunlight on my face didn't wake me. The sound of rain did and for a moment I was on Salisbury again. The splash of rain off the eaves outside my window made me think of the courtyard pump and Mike washing up in it. Blinking in the grey light suffusing my room, I sat up and planted my arms on my knees and stared unseeing out the window, letting the sound take me back to that late August afternoon when I'd made my decision and put myself in his hands.

''One of the hazards of dirtside living'', I thought as I came back to the present. Rain always made me think of him, think of that first day, and all the days with him afterward. And always it made me miss him. The sheets to either side of me were cold and I tried not to think of a similar room in a similar house, of a similar bed with him in it. It would only make me miss him more.  I threw back the covers and put my feet on the floorboards and dressed. It was 0700 by my watch and I'd overslept enough.

The stair treads creaked as I took them down to the first floor and I winced. The house was quiet, the menfolk sleeping, and I didn't want their company just yet. Perhaps it was the weather or maybe it was the memories, but I wanted solitude. ''Tea. Some tea and a chair on the back porch. That's what I want.'' I grimaced at the prospect of making it from scratch, but since the samovar was on the ''Gift'' and not in Christian's kitchen, I would have to heat the water up from dead cold. I crept about in my bare feet getting the things ready and took the kettle off before it could shriek.

Taking the kettle off the stove had made me remember making tea for Joshua the night before… and what happened afterward.  And that reminded me of the dreams that woke me.  I thought of Mike standing there at my window and how he was the first thing I thought of upon waking.  I thought of Joshua and how intense he’d been in bed, how vivid my dream later on was.  I thought of how the dreams had come paired, how they’d woken me in quick succession, had fooled me in believing they’d been real.

''Something’s not right'', my head had said to me during both.  ''Look again''.

I wasn’t much for interpreting dreams.  Interpretations were too vague, too flexible, too able to support any wild-assed speculation one could make.  Instead I bypassed the content and counted on the general feel for the underlying cause.  Taken as a pair, the message was clear—I was getting in too deep.  The spheres the two men occupied were starting to overlap and my boundaries with both were beginning to merge.

I closed my eyes and planted both hands on the counter and tried not to be aware of Joshua sleeping upstairs.  I tried not to believe what I suspected was possible. I thought of the geometry text I’d read to Lem the night before and recalled the definition of parallel lines… and wondered if the epiphany I’d had on Muir had been a false vision, nothing more than self-deception prompted by weakness.  I’d been wounded for weeks by then and running on my last reserves.  In such a state, I might have been convinced what I’d felt was the truth and not a lie.  Beside me the kettle ticked as its metal body cooled, bringing me back to the present.

Back to the problem at hand—what to do about being caught between two men that I loved and how I had willingly put myself in that position.

Once the water was on the leaves I took the tray out with me to the porch and claimed one of the chairs as I waited for the tea to steep. Mint wafted from the spout and it wasn't long before I had my feet on the rail and my chair tipped back, my mug in my hands and the tea warming its way down my gullet. The soft hiss of the rain on the grass and garden was soothing and I sat with my tea and my troubled thoughts, and breathed.



'''***'''


The menfolk are, indeed, asleep. Or, at least, Joshua and Lem are. Christian on the other hand? The front door opens and he walks in, his hair tousled, dressed in a pair of harem pants, makeup, and little else. Just another night on the job. "That," he says as he inhales the scent of tea in the air, "smells lovely."


'''***'''


I heard the soft thump of the front door and caught the appreciative tone in Christian's voice, if not the words, and glanced at my watch. ''0732. Hm. I'd've given him at least another hour.'' I remained where I was. Truth to tell, I dreaded Christian taking one look and me and knowing everything.  And knowing everything, lecture me on it.  But though the world outside was big, Christian’s house was small, and if he were of a mind, he’d have no trouble finding me. So I sat and sipped my tea, knowing it was futile to hide, and waited for Christian to join me.


'''***''' 


"Good morning," Christian says as he passes through the door, into the room. He smiles, the sight of his friend sitting down to morning tea so familiar, even if it was in another kitchen and another life.


'''***'''


"Morning, you." I took my eyes off the view beyond the porch screens and swept Christian head to toe. ''Didn't he leave last night with a shirt on?'' I blew on my tea and took a sip. "Good night, I hope?" I asked into my mug, hoping I’d given nothing away.


'''***'''


"You don't want the details." Christian chuckles as he settles down into one of the porch's loungers. "Thanks for watching Lem. Usually, one of the girls do. I'm sure they appreciated the night off."


'''***'''


"You're right. I don't." I flicked an amused glance at him, despite myself. "As for Lem? Not a problem." 

''As for Joshua, the less mentioned, the better. Christian’s looking right at you.  Mind off Joshua.  Think of something else.'' 

"As for the girls,” I said instead, taking up the topic of our regular babysitters. “I haven't had a chance to thank them for taking care of Lem when you have to go out.  Remind me to do something nice before we dust off. If we dust off," I added, thinking of our girl's repair list stacked against the scarcity of parts. The Feds had done a major number on her when they impounded her and Nika had pulled off a minor miracle getting her this far. When we left Angel, I wanted the ''Gift'' more spaceworthy than she was now. If I read the signs right, the ''go se'' was about to hit the proverbial fan and the Verse was about to get a lot more dangerous. Best we met it with a ship capable of withstanding it. Which led me to think of the shiny Blue Sun ASREV currently parked beside our girl. I put my thoughts on it aside, however.  I was certain Christian didn't join me on the porch to watch me trance out over spacecraft. 

"Dinner maybe?” I offered, hoping the topic would keep him from reading me. “Or a picnic? I'm sure if you and Joshua put your heads together, you could come up with quite a spread."


'''***'''


"I thought YOU wanted to thank them?" Christian chuckles, "If Joshua and I make the food, it'll be us thanking them." He stares out into the distance, "I can sell that other ship, you know. It should cover the costs of repairing the Gift."


'''***'''


“''Touché''.”  I breathed a laugh and saluted him with my mug, keeping my tone light.  “I’ll think of something that doesn’t involve cooking then.  I want to thank them, not poison them.  As for the ASREV,” I said, sobering.  “Are you serious? You’re actually going to sell her?”  ''No.  Not yet.  Please not yet. I haven’t seen everything she’s got.''  The thought we’d sell the ship hurt more than I thought possible and I admit it distracted me from my current quandary of the heart.  I gaped at Christian, wondering if it was initially his idea or Nika’s, as my carefully crafted plans for the ASREV evaporated.  “Please tell me you’re joking.”

''Please.''


'''***'''


"Not my decision." Christian shrugs. He leans back and closes his eyes, "Don't think the irony has escaped me, though. You're as bad with ships as you are with lovers. You long for familiar and stable but can't help wiggling up against new and sexy."


'''***'''


Cut by Christian's remark I drew breath to let him have it and then paused. He had the knack of finding your weaknesses and then needling you with them to provoke a reaction, one geared to circumvent prevarication. ''He's angling for something.  Either that or he already knows.''  Which thought cooled my anger down to ashes in an instant. ''You don't have to answer that. If he wants to pry, make him work for it.''

So I said nothing and simply sipped my tea and listened to the rain.


'''***'''


Work? What work? Christian lays back in his chair and just relaxes, enjoying the warmth of the sun's rays on his mostly undressed body. 


'''***'''


I eyed Christian soaking up the watery light, recalling how easily he tended to burn. There was barely enough coming through the clouds to cast a shadow and I reckoned he'd be safe. I didn't have a good sense of Angel's weather patterns but if I had to make an educated guess, I'd say chances to lay out in these conditions were slim.

"Would you like some tea?" I asked when the silence between us grew long.  After all, no matter what, Christian was a dear friend and at one point, an intimate one, and didn’t deserve a snubbing.


'''***'''


"Yes, please." Christian doesn't open his eyes. He doesn't move. He's content to lay there, for now, relaxing, as Angel's weather plays moody instead of domineering for a change.


'''***'''


It didn't take long to get what I needed from the kitchen. I poured him a cup and set it on the table at his elbow.

"Careful," I said. "It's still hot."


'''***'''


Christian sits up and accepts the cup. He doesn't take a sip right away, letting it cool, first, "Do you want your first child, with Mike, to be a boy or a girl?"


'''***'''


I choked on my tea.

"Dammit, Christian!" I sputtered when I could breathe again. "Warn a gal, willya?"

I pulled my handkerchief out and repaired the damage and sighed.  After so explosive a reaction, there was no point in being close-mouthed about it.  If he was fishing, I'd bite.  The sooner we got to the bottom of it, the sooner I could get to dealing with it.  

''‘With Mike’, he said.''  So went that voice inside my head.  ''Did he specify Mike to insinuate it could just as well have been Joshua instead? Look lively.  He’s waiting …''

When in doubt, tell the truth.  Just don’t tell all of it.  Sometimes only a portion sufficed.

"I confess I hadn't given it that much thought.  Nothing beyond making sure there was a fully equipped hospital with a competent doc on hand, first.  Why?"


'''***'''


"I'm curious." Christian replies. He finally takes a sip of his tea, swallowing a small mouthful of the bitter and warming liquid, "You've had a lot of time to think about your future. I'd like to know where it leads."


'''***'''


''So would I.  Skating close to the edge, here.  Careful …''

"You know that saying about counting chickens. If Mike and I are having kids, doesn't it require us to be together first? Last I checked, he's not here." I shook my head. "But for the sake of the argument, say that he is and we're expecting. If so, the gender doesn't matter to me."

Any child I had would be loved for itself. That went without saying. And boy or girl, it would not grow up unprepared for life in the Black or dirtside.  Mike and I had a wealth of experience in both and would pass it on accordingly.


'''***'''


"He isn't here. You aren't ready to be where he is." Christian agrees, "You'll figure out when the right time is, eventually. If the right time comes."


'''***'''


''If?''

Mike had led me to understand that when he was settled on Miranda and ready to leave the Business for good, he'd call me and I'd go. With the Cortex down and looking unlikely to resurrect itself, how could he call me? How would I know?

Was that the underlying reason I fell for Joshua?  That subconsciously I knew that call might never reach me and rather than face a life alone, I took the opportunity to fill it with someone else?  Could I live a life without Mike in it?

''“You’re not the same person you were a year ago,”'' Christian’s voice said from memory, from Meridian of last year. ''“You’ll hurt, yes, and deeply, yes, but you’ll move on. You’re already moving. You’ve taken a lover, if briefly, and that’s a major component of building another life without him.”''

''“But I already have a life without him.”'' I’d said to him then. ''“I don’t need another one.”''

''“Yes, you do. You need the one that has him never coming back.”'

A year ago, the prospect of a life without Mike coming back frightened me.  It still frightened me even now, but for vastly different reasons.  I shook off the memory and dragged my attention back to our present conversation.

"Isn't that how everyone does it?" I hedged, not entirely sure where he was going with this or that I wanted to know.


'''***'''


"No." Christian finishes his tea and stands up, "Some people rush into things. Others pick different paths." He smiles, perhaps a bit sadly, and walks towards the doorway. To head back into the house proper, bathe, and sleep. "You're a grown woman, Rina. Time to make your own decision."


'''***'''
 

“I’ve already made my decision.  Mike’s going to be the father of any children I have. Children of my body, anyway.  But that doesn’t mean I love Lem less, now or in the future.” No matter what happened between me and Joshua, or me and Mike, that much I knew was true and would never change.  I rose and followed Christian inside.  I hated it when he was being vague, especially when I felt he was keeping his own council on matters not his goddamned business.  Maybe it was his version of making me work for it but for something as important as this, I preferred straight talk to pussyfooting around.  “Where are you going with this? If you have something you want to say to me, Christian, ''just say it.''”


'''***'''


"I told you," Christian says before passing through the door and onto the shower, "You have to make your own decisions about life now. Your own mistakes and your own triumphs, too. I know you can do it. Good night, Rina."


'''***'''


“''And since when did I stop?''” I snarled at the bathroom door, but water was already spraying into the clawfoot tub and I knew Christian couldn’t hear me.  Or he could simply deny hearing me.  I didn’t much care. I slammed back out to the porch to take up my abandoned chair and tea.  And took up my thoughts.  I was stuck. What was I going to do?  My teacup held no answers when I drained it.  Neither did the rain or the garden and the sage flats beyond.

There’s a saying: ''The truth hurts''.  And it hurts because it’s true.  The truth of the matter was I didn’t know what I was going to do with myself where it concerned Joshua or Mike.  I’d been dirtside for less than a week and already life was catching up with me in ways I hadn’t anticipated.  We’d be at least two months on the dirt before moving on, that much we’d planned as a crew, and looking at the time stretching before me I briefly wondered where I’d be at the end of it.  With Joshua?  Or without?  Committed to Mike? Or not?

Round and round my thoughts went, as my tea cooled and the day warmed.  And still I sat, emotionally and ethically trapped, until Christian went upstairs to dress.  Lem and Joshua came down in turn to find me and for both their sake, I put my dilemma aside, bid them good morning, and rose to make them breakfast.  




Go back to '''''[[Mutineers_Timeline,_Season_Three | Timeline, Season Three ]]'''''<br>
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−	“''Touché''.” I breathed a laugh and saluted him with my mug, keeping my tone light. “I’ll think of something that doesn’t involve cooking then. I want to ''thank them'', not poison them. As for the ASREV,” I said, sobering. “Are you serious? You’re actually going to sell her?” ''No. Not yet. Please not yet. I haven’t seen everything she’s got.'' The thought we’d sell the ship hurt more than I thought possible and I admit it distracted me from my current quandary of the heart. I gaped at Christian, wondering if it was initially his idea or Nika’s, as my carefully crafted plans for the ASREV evaporated. “Please tell me you’re joking.”	+	“''Touché''.” I breathed a laugh and saluted him with my mug, keeping my tone light. “I’ll think of something that doesn’t involve cooking then. I want to thank them, not poison them. As for the ASREV,” I said, sobering. “Are you serious? You’re actually going to sell her?” ''No. Not yet. Please not yet. I haven’t seen everything she’s got.'' The thought we’d sell the ship hurt more than I thought possible and I admit it distracted me from my current quandary of the heart. I gaped at Christian, wondering if it was initially his idea or Nika’s, as my carefully crafted plans for the ASREV evaporated. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

	''Please.''		''Please.''