?My thoughts?? The way he said it sounded as though he had not been asked about his thoughts in a long time, long enough that it made the unusual nature of the question catch his attention. The question wasn?t outstanding, it wasn?t punctuated at the end of her statement like there was a question mark and yet the sound of it was still there. ?I think so, too.? She had known the answer already and he didn?t mind that she drew the admission out of him like someone waiting for a match to start a candle.

Her company was familiar to him, the way old wounds were familiar. Walking with her at that moment, he felt the same emotional stab that used to bring him a sense of pride. Only a few years ago there might have been the feeling that he was lucky, that some unique magic was the reason a creature as bright and independent as her chose to walk with him. Tag had admired people who were free spirited, it was easy to fall in love with someone who embodied freedom and the beauty that could be captured in a moment. Hundreds of people could be out in the city, but it was only the ones standing in the right time and place that saw the rainbow.

The problem with shrugging off all obligation, all chains, was that it was inherently selfish. It paid no consideration to the future, or to any heart but its own. He found the idea of a free-spirit was growing ugly to him, or had always been ugly, and he was seeing that truth for the first time.

Years ago, he would have been proud that a woman of fire walked with a shadow, but all he could feel was that he would be burned up and left for ash. There was already the ash of the men that came before him on her fingertips and the warmth of her hand in the crook of his arm was a dull, dim reminder that he could still be burned. Too bad, Dark Man. Too bad.

Tag was half-right; her statement had been intended as a question despite its phrasing. She was not, however, looking to make him confess anything about wanting to be seen with her. Her intention had been two-fold, to tell him that she was interested in his thoughts in general, and to gently remind him that whatever her relationship to the rest of the world might be, her priority and her focus, for the time being, was on him alone.

?Thank you for that,? she replied, accepting his compliment with grace all the same. ?I am more interested in the rest of your thoughts, however.? She?d seen the ripple of surprise that only just barely disturbed the surface of his expression, putting a subtle ripple in its edges, she heard what she took to be a hint of novelty in his tone. Her smile was intended to be encouraging, interested but not in that anxious way that said she was eager to judge. The eyes were warm, hopeful as she lifted them to his face. ?Tell me something of you??

?The question is too big,? he confessed it softly, the corners of his lips barely suggesting a smile. Tag didn?t know where to begin saying anything about himself because he could never read the temperature of a question. Sometimes people were searching for a connection, to know about something painful or something that hurt so that they could know if their hurt was the same as his. At other times they wanted something fun and promising, like what his favorite food was or if he liked how it felt, walking through the grass when it rained. Jezebel could have been asking for anything, her smile told him to say anything but he found he did not know what chapter to open and begin reading aloud.

He wondered, briefly, if she would reflect his answer. If he would have it confirmed that their pain was like looking through a mirror darkly, or if the heat of her footprints was soothed by a chilled, morning dew when she walked.

The question was a big one. He?d caught her there, the guilty, almost sheepish tilt of her smile agreed. She would have accepted any piece of it, any chapter, any page. The story of his origin, how he?d come to be in Rhydin, what circumstances beyond simple coincidence had put him here, beside her, on their way to a nightclub in the name of doing something new.

Perhaps there was some intuition to it when she said, ?I was going to let you choose what you wanted to share.? Her voice had the light musical sound of a joke, not too serious, but there was something deeper there in its subtle undertones. She?d seen a reflection there already, in how genuinely surprised he?d seemed to be that someone actually asked for his opinion; she thought she saw a connection in that each of them was more accustomed to being talked to, or at, than talking.

?I want a big answer, eventually,? she went on in that same light tone a moment later. ?I know almost nothing of you. Is there something in particular you want me to know??

?I used to garden,? his eyes were on her face and then on the path ahead, as if he needed to let his gaze move ahead so that he could find the rest of what he wanted to say. His tongue touched his lower lip, wetting it before he continued, ?I learned when I was a boy, at home. They would have us grow plants and trim the bonsai. It was how we learned? to be with who we were.?

Their steps carried them closer to the sound of a party. To a building that practically vibrated with bass and bodies. His steps slowed, but they didn?t stop. His head turned to look at her and dark eyes implored her with the sort of interest that threatened to absorb, ?And you? What would you want me to know??

Me too. It was the perfect fragment, the piece he?d chosen to share, a tantalizing morsel that inspired more questions as surely as it soothed some wild part of her with the certain comfort of having something in common, a link that wasn?t as formidable as a bond but still wasn?t nothing. The low pulse of the bass line was beginning to make itself known, and in the space between acknowledging that they were nearing their destination and posing the next question, Tag had slipped in one of his own.

Her lips, parted to form her next inquiry, broke into a little smile. ?I have a deep respect for gardeners,? she answered him instead, rephrasing. ?I am part of the soil and the soil is part of me, and? I know intimately the patience and ...perseverance it takes to make it swell with life.?

?Then you know.? It wasn?t a redundant volley, but a low and respectful bow for the meaning of what she said. Something about the way she worded it made him wish that he could write it down, to remember how she had said it. Tag knew it wasn?t poetry, but it felt like poetry. Maybe it was a song that hadn?t been hummed into birth, yet, and she had merely laid out the bones.

I am part of the soil. The world of trees, of plants and gravel and moons grew further away as the sounds of the club grew louder and louder. As they stood at the front doors, finally, to gain entry, he realized that he could no longer hear the crickets and all the other heartbeats of the woods tick along. The soil is part of me.

His eyes looked down to her hand, hooked in the crook of his arm. Tag then studied her face, his expression not severe, but disarmed. I know intimately the patience and perseverance it takes?

?After you,? his left hand motioned, encouraging the fire come before the dark.

?I do.? said Jezebel simply, and the weight of his regard told her that her words had found their mark, that he?d heard. A soft smile settled on her lips, a sudden levity buoyant in her chest. It came sometimes in those fleeting moments when she knew she?d been understood. She gave him that quiet moment to study her face and then lifted candle flame eyes to find his. ?The fire in me is always identifiable,? her words were soft spoken, dulcet in tone but rich in feeling. ?So very few ever see past it.?

There was a line at the entrance, people waiting to get in, to show their identification or otherwise bribe the bouncer. Many of the club goers wore bright colors, all shades of pink. There were bows and ribbons, top hats and lacy frills. Two girls stood out in their mostly black attire, a stark contrast to what otherwise looked like a rainbow made of candy. Jezebel met eyes with the bouncer, who unhooked one of the velvet barrier ropes and motioned she and Tag forward. ?Over here, gorgeous.?

She smiled for the security guard and nodded, bypassing the line to meet him. Glancing up at Tag as they approached it, her hand slipped from his arm at last, leaving the tingling impression of her heat in its wake. Stepping through the immediate access channel that had been opened exclusively for the two of them, she lingered just on the other side, waiting for him.

He was certain that he shouldn?t have been there. The noise of the club and the way people were dressed made him feel as though he had traveled to a new country and hadn?t studied its customs. Dark eyes watched her, trying to decode the crossword of what was going on, of how he felt about it. One day he would ask her a question, but a different one was taking priority. The way he thought about the wind, about the soft sound of Ame?s breath when he was asleep and held him and how Penny?s sneakers drummed along the floorboards when she walked, had changed. Finally, the world was becoming something different and he wanted to ask it, if it could hear him what happens next?

Instead, he saw that Jezebel was standing there, impeccably posed for being a flame. The ash of her touch in the crook of his arm whispered like a premonition. She was waiting, her eyes smiling like an expectant simmer. He bowed his head to agree and the Dark Man stepped up, joining her in the club.