[This takes place immediately after Session 82]
Sheema looks at Jillian and then at the rest of the crowd in Malcolm's suite. Malcolm's lounging comfortably, not looking like he's planning to go anywhere, and Bishop has wandered back in. Sheema turns her gaze back to Jillian. "Do you want to come to my room and catch up?"
Malcolm hides a smirk, unnoticed by either woman.
Jillian nods to Sheema. They have a lot of catching up to do, much of which she'd rather not run through in front of her shipmates.
They politely take their leave and head off to Sheema's room. It's pretty nice. Certainly not as ostentatious as Malcolm's suite, but it is a small suite itself, and it's set up like an apartment for medium- to long-term residence. A fair number of books lie about, here and there. Otherwise it's pretty tidy, like Sheema always was. All the clothing is away and the bed has been made, though obviously not by hotel staff. There's a desk with notebooks and papers on it.
There's also a small table with two chairs, and Jillian starts to head for it, but catches herself and looks back at Sheema, unsure of her footing here.
She notices Sheema swallow, hard. Jillian guesses that this reunion must be just as overwhelming for Sheema as it is for Jillian herself.
Jillian sits down; it's a little bit like falling into a chair. "I feel like I'm dreaming," she says.
"Seeing you in the lobby was like seeing a ghost," Sheema replies, taking the other seat. "This whole time I thought you were dead."
"I'm surprised you even recognised me," Jillian says, indicating her ravaged face with a flick of her hand.
"So am I," Sheema admits. "I guess it was just one of those things. The way you move, I guess."
"You look ... great," Jillian says, taking an uncertain breath.
Sheema blushes a bright red. Apparently she takes Jillian's opinion of her very seriously. "You look... different," she replies, deflecting Jillian's attention from the blush. "What happened to your hair?"
Jillian shrugs. "I had to cut it when I joined the Navy. And then, short hair's easier to manage in space. There's variable gravity, we don't always have access to a lot of water...." She cuts herself off, feeling like she's rambling. "Oh, right," she adds. "You didn't know I'd been in the Navy."
"The Black Rose, the navy, captain of your own ship, and an alien invasion. I bet you've got stories." Sheema doesn't seem to know where to begin. "Do you still have the tattoo?"
Jillian shudders slightly. "Obviously." Absently, she pats it through her shirt. "I was so proud when I got it, you know. Such a stupid kid. Only I knew I'd disappointed you."
She looks around. "Do you have anything to drink in here?"
Sheema strides over to the sideboard and makes a strong drink for both of them. "You grew up in the family. Who doesn't want to make their family proud?"
"I'm surprised you're being so understanding about it," Jillian says. "You were so emphatic, when we were kids, about how the Black Rose was evil. And now--" She stops herself before specifically referring to Sheema's mother. "Well, anyway, you were right," she says. "I always thought that if I ever saw you again, you'd hate me." Jillian drinks.
"I still think they're evil, but you've seen that now. You're not so blinded by him, by living in a mansion. You've grown up. Like you said, you were a stupid kid. It's left scars." Sheema has a good slug of her drink as well.
"I did go to art school," Jillian says, "by the way. Like we talked about. Didn't work out, though."
"Too avant garde?"
Jillian manages a little smile. "You could say that. When we met aliens, _they_ liked my work. I take that as a kind of vindication." She sips her drink. "And you..." she looks at Sheema. "Journalism? I remember you were going to study history."
"I decided that there were things that were more important than history. Than always looking back. I wanted to make a better future. After my mother died, fighting the sort of people who had her killed seemed like a good choice."
Jillian nods. This makes sense; this is the Sheema she remembers. "But you came here with one of them," she points out. "When you said you were with Azar ... fuck, for a second or two there I thought you were telling me _you'd_ joined the Black Rose."
Sheema's face is stone at Jillian's comment. "No, no, Azar had enough of the Black Rose too. And Rashid. She was a source for a story I was investigating and when I found out that she wasn't really part of the Black Rose anymore, not in her heart, we decided to see if we could, um, nip them in the bud here, where they weren't so strong."
"Even here, though, it must be so dangerous, trying to expose them." Jillian gives Sheema a worried look. "Have you been published? I don't really read the news."
"It's dangerous if you aren't careful, but I've been all right so far," Sheema assures her. "I've been doing some pieces for the McNeely Times as 'Leila Edalet'." Jillian recognizes the name as a Zartoshti one.
"I'm really surprised that Azar's in this with you," Jillian comments. "She never really seemed like the make-the-world-a-better-place type."
Sheema gives a little shrug. "She's in this for revenge; kind of making the world a better place overall by making it worse for people who deserve it."
Jillian snorts a little laugh at that last comment. "Okay, that makes more sense." Then she sobers, remembering something Sheema had said earlier. "You said Rashid hurt her?"
"Cut her face up. She acts like it wasn't a big deal, like him being high was an excuse." Sheema shudders.
"So he's still ... like that," Jillian says quietly.
"Some people never change." Sheema shakes her head. "When you disappeared... I wondered what had happened to you. Azar thought he might have killed you. I wondered."
Jillian nods. "He never hurt me when we were together. But I know he had that potential." She sips at her drink. "Technically, he nearly killed me back last March, but that was more indirect."
"He almost killed you in March?! And what do you mean, 'indirect'?"
"Well, it was more that I almost died as a result of something he'd done earlier," Jillian clarifies. "It happened in Labrys City. My engineer and I had gone to the research facility to take a look at a weird little black slime that they'd found in the domes. Turned out it was, well, actually a D'vor biological weapon as far as we can tell. V and I got sealed inside the research facility along with some of the staff. We managed to destroy the stuff, but not before it made us all half crazy and nearly ate me. Anyway, later I found out Rashid was behind releasing the stuff near the city." Jillian stares down at her drink for a moment, lost in the memory of that painful adventure. Then she shakes it off and looks up at Sheema again. "I think you'll like V," she adds. "She's off overseeing our repairs and upgrades right now."
"If you vouch for her she pretty much has to be good people" agrees Sheema. Then, with a frown, "Do you think he's working with the D'vor? You said that they take people over, that you saw that happening in Vishnu."
"Well, I don't really know anything," Jillian admits. "But our best guess right now is that the Black Rose found some D'vor tech and were experimenting with it, hoping to find a way to turn it to their advantage. We don't really know _what_ happened in Vishnu; we don't know if it was mind control or collaborators or what."
"I kind of hope that he isn't controlled," Sheema says. "I want him to be himself when he goes down. You know?"
Jillian shakes her head. "How the hell do you think you're going to bring Rashid down?"
"Won't you have a super ship once V is done? Besides, this is more long-term planning. Or maybe it's wishful thinking. Either way, I just don't want him getting off easy, one way or another." Sheema's fists are clenched tight.
Jillian sips at her drink, gazing at Sheema, and thinks about what Rashid did to Sheema's mother. "I'll do whatever I can to help," she promises. "But I don't know what that will be. Last time I went up against the Black Rose, it didn't turn out very well."
"When? What happened then?"
Jillian grimaces. "I lost an eye and ended up working for them." She takes a drink. "It's a long story. Not technically over yet."
"Working for them?" Sheema boggles. "WORKING FOR THEM?"
So Jillian launches into the whole long story of the attempt to find out what happened to the Deccan Driller, and the Hummingbird's subsequent capture, the trip to Crapworld, and finding Choi -- ending with Choi going off with the Hoax splinter cell just days ago. Bits and pieces of this story had already been covered in the earlier conversation with Malcolm, but Jillian goes through all the details now. Notably, though, she doesn't mention _why_ the Deccan Driller had gone off to the Telushkin in the first place; she doesn't mention Flint Cardesco at all.
"So," Jillian finishes eventually, "now they know I'm here, they know my name and my ship, _and_ they're going to be pissed off at me for not coming back with Choi. Um, having second thoughts about coming to Vishnu with us?" She says that last bit lightly, and drinks to cover up her very real fear that Sheema's just going to bail at this point.
There's a concerned look on Sheema's face, but then she remembers something. "The Deccan Driller... that's familiar. Wait, wasn't that private detective looking for them? The one that got killed?"
Jillian looks startled. "What private detective?"
"Um... Allen? Madelyn Allen?"
Jillian blanches. "She was _killed_? When? How?"
"A while ago. Hit and run; she was trying to find out what happened to that Deccan Driller ship. My guess? The Black Rose got pissed with her." Sheema says the last bit with a forced flippant tone. "Did you know her?"
Jillian shakes her head. "Not really. She was, um, looking into a thing at one point. For us and the Deccan Driller." The conversation is treading uncomfortably close to the subject of Flint Cardesco. Jillian sips at her drink to cover up her discomfiture.
Sheema eyes her. "I could always tell when you were lying, remember? You've gotten better at it, but I can still tell. What's up?"
Jillian shakes her head. "Another long story. I'd rather not go into it right now. It's not one of my best moments, and .... God, Sheema. Here we are, after all this time. Maybe we could talk about something happier, for a while?"
"Um... ok." Sheema knows there's something Jillian's not telling her, but she lets it go. "It doesn't seem like it's been too happy a time for you, though. Until I saw you earlier today my life felt like it was the same as in Zartosht with a different view out the window. Still working on trying to stop the Black Rose, not making too much headway."
"Remember the orphan children we were going to adopt?" Jillian forces a smile, trying to push the sound of Flint Cardesco's brains splattering against the cabin wall out of her head. "And the goats?"
Sheema can't help but smile. "The goats! I haven't thought about them in a while. Does this cluster even have goats anywhere? Or anything goat-like?"
"Oh, sure. It really is the frontier, you know."
"I can tell. Wonshu is nice, though. So is Hastings-on-Tweed. Do you go there a lot? Or do you mostly hang out in the rougher parts, looking for goats to adopt?" Sheema frowns. "No, that came out wrong. I was just wondering what you do when you're not saving lives."
Jillian has to drink, to cope with the dissonance between Sheema's image of her and the bloody, tainted truth. "We spend a lot more time in space than in port," she says then. "Or at least, we used to. Now ... it feels more like lurching from crisis to crisis. We do have some friends on McNeely, though," she adds. "V and I spent our first night back here with them, catching up. That's why I don't have a room of my own here at the QE."
"I'd like to meet them. And V. And see your ship. Have you painted it? I always thought you'd paint your ship if you had one."
Jillian perks up. "Of course I paint it! Everyone tells me the Hummingbird is one of the most memorable ships around. Actually she's looking pretty mangy right now, though; I haven't had a chance to repaint her properly since she got all shot up and repaired."
Sheema looks thoughtful. "If you need a break from lurching from crisis to crisis, how about doing something fun? You'll be on the station for a bit. Maybe the Museum of Fine Art? Or... or dancing?"
Jillian starts to eagerly agree, and then her shoulders droop. "No, I don't think I should go out. It's too dangerous. I know the Black Rose are on this station."
"Maybe a disguise?"
Jillian looks hopeful again. She really does like the idea of going out with Sheema. "Like what?"
"I don't know... I'm better at the meeting people in the shadows sort of thing than actual disguises. But I'm sure we could work something out!"
"I've been wearing sunglasses when I go out," Jillian mentions, "but it's awkward, because then I'm pretty much blind. I end up just hanging on V's arm and hoping I don't trip over a curb."
Sheema's face drops at the mention of V. "Oh."
Jillian realizes, to her chagrin, that Sheema's feeling a bit jealous of V. "V won't mind you taking her place, though!" she reassures her, a bit jokingly, trying to lightheartedly let Sheema know that V hasn't totally usurped her place as Jillian's friend. "And she'll totally love you, I'm sure of it. I can't wait for you to meet."
"Um, sure," Sheema says, failing to sound enthusiastic. "When do I get to meet her?"
"You'll meet her in a couple of weeks when the repairs are done. But hey, let's go out," Jillian says to Sheema, realizing that she needs to reassure her that Sheema's friendship is still of primary importance to Jillian. "Right now. Do you have anything I could wear that would work to make me look different?"
"We could start with something that's not black!" Sheema flashes an honest smile and opens the closet door.
Jillian leafs through the clothes in the closet, and settles on an elegant pants-suit. She pulls it out and then hesitates. Normally she's extremely reticent about taking her clothes off in front of anyone, but, well, that's always been mostly about hiding her tattoo. And this is _Sheema_.
Jillian decides that this shouldn't be weird (even though it kinda is, for reasons she really can't put her finger on...), so she drapes the suit over the back of the chair and pulls her customary black shirt off. She can't help but be extremely conscious of the latticework of thin white scars covering her whole body, and even more so of the Black Rose tattoo on her arm.
She decides to get over this moment as quickly as possible. Fumbling because of her nervousness at being revealed like this, she kicks off her boots and strips off her pants as well, leaving her in her (non-sexy) underwear. Half-automatically, she keeps the side with the tattoo turned away from Sheema -- but, catching herself at this, she tells herself that that's stupid, that Sheema knows anyway, so finally she turns to put her folded clothes on the table without trying to hide the tattoo. The whole time, she avoids looking at Sheema, afraid to encounter disgust or pity in her eyes.
Sheema maintains a taut silence as Jillian quickly puts on the borrowed suit. Finally decently clothed again, Jillian looks up to finally meet Sheema's gaze.
Sheema's eyes lock with Jillian's for a second. She looks like she's been caught doing something she shouldn't; she turns her head away and blushes furiously.
Jillian realizes, with a shock, that Sheema was _checking her out_.
Jillian freezes for a moment, processing that. She is immediately confused, because first of all she'd never had any idea Sheema was attracted to women, and second of all, she knows that her body is horribly scarred. And there's that hated tattoo, which must surely prompt such dark associations for Sheema.
"Um," Jillian says, covering up her confusion, "Do you have a hat I could wear?"
"Um, sure." Sheema awkwardly brushes past Jillian and gets a hat out of the closet. It's big and surprisingly concealing. "This is the closest I come to really having a disguise. Oh! I have a few wigs, too!" She's sounding forced.
"I don't think I could pull off a wig," Jillian says, taking the hat.
"But your hair's so short! And it really changes the shape of my face. It would do the same for you."
"...Okay," Jillian agrees reluctantly. She doesn't really like the idea of wearing an itchy, sweaty wig -- but with a Black Rose lurking around every corner it's probably a good idea. "How do _you_ wear it?" she asks. "You have so much hair. It's really nice," she adds, a little awkwardly. She's still reeling from her realization that Sheema finds her attractive.
But it's true. Sheema's hair is very pretty.
"Practice," Sheema says in answer to Jillian's question, ignoring the rest. "Here, let me get it on you right." Sheema leans in to adjust the wig... and then jerks back a bit.
"What's wrong?" Jillian asks.
"Um, nothing." Sheema's not fooling Jillian. She's nervous, very much so. "Let me get that wig on right and we can head out. Sound good?"
Jillian's own heart seems to be beating unusually loudly. She hasn't yet figured out how to react to this strange revelation of Sheema's attraction to her. She tugs at the wig, trying to straighten it. "Is it okay now?"
"Um... yeah." Sheema's chewing on her lower lip. She puts on a happy face. "Want to go?"
Jillian decides not to say anything about what she's realized about Sheema's feelings for her -- mostly because she's still not even sure of her own reaction yet. "You mentioned the art gallery," she says. "I haven't been there for a while."
Sheema, for her part, doesn't seem to notice that Jillian's figured out her attraction. "Do you need to tell your crew that you're going?" she asks. "Or can you play hooky?"
"I'll let Malcolm know, just in case anything comes up," Jillian says. "But right now, with the Hummingbird off for repairs, there's nothing I really need to be doing."
With Malcolm informed of their intentions, the two women leave the hotel.
Out on the street, wearing her big floppy hat and movie star sunglasses, Jillian turns to Sheema, a little embarrassed, and says "I'm really going to need to hold your arm. I can't see the curb."
"Oh!" Sheema says. "Um, sure. Is your vision really that bad right now? How long until it's get better?"
"It's pretty bad. It's already gotten better, though. Bishop thinks the right eye should heal up completely, but it might take another month or two. Nothing's going to help my left eye, though." Jillian takes Sheema's arm. Touching her sort of feels like a little electric shock. Unfamiliar feelings stir inside Jillian....
Sheema stiffens a bit when Jillian touches her, then relaxes more than before. "Subway or taxi? I was thinking about getting a car but it's so expensive here. And the traffic..."
"Let's taxi," Jillian says. "I'm not hurting for money."
"Have you seen a real doctor about your eye?" Sheema asks. "Bishop... seems to like slugs and gross stuff a lot from how he was talking. I have some money put away," she adds, hailing a cab.
Inside the cab, Jillian says, "Bishop uses perfectly valid Ubuntan traditional medicine. I know, it takes some getting used to, but it really does work. You have a point, though -- now while I'm on McNeely, it couldn't hurt to see a real doctor. There just wasn't ever a chance before, what with--" she eyes the taxi driver and decides not to mention the Black Rose or Crapworld "--one thing and another."
"So it seems! But you have some time now -- oh!" The taxi swerves to avoid a car that's just spotted the rare wild parking spot, throwing Jillian half into Sheema's lap.
Jillian fumbles. "Oh, uh, sorry..." Trying to push herself back into place, she just makes it worse, and finds herself nose-to-nose with Sheema.
And then she kisses her.
She hadn't decided to do that; her actions have run a little ahead of her thoughts. But a fraction of a second _after_ the kiss, Jillian realizes that she is in love with Sheema. That she has always been in love with Sheema. And this revelation is followed half a second later by soul-crushing terror.
Jillian pulls back suddenly, flattens herself against the seat. "Sorry," she gasps.
Sheema's frozen for a second. Jillian notices a world whirling by in Sheema's eyes. "No problem," she whispers, and leans into Jillian, kissing her back.
Jillian closes her eyes and opens her lips. She lets herself drink in Sheema's scent -- faint hints of coffee and vanilla -- and the softness of her skin. But in the darkness behind her own closed eyes, Jillian is haunted by Cardesco's corpse, and Montoya's. She knows this can only last until Sheema finds out what a terrible person she really is.
The rest of the taxi ride is a bit of a blur. Before Jillian knows it, they're pulling up in front of the museum and paying the stoic driver.
As they walk into the museum, Jillian comments, "I submitted a piece once for one of their emerging artists exhibitions here. Didn't get in, though."
"Then they're idiots." Sheema's tightly holding on to Jillian's hand.
"To be honest," Jillian says, "I think my art is sort of a specialized taste. So, um, which exhibit would you like to check out? I remember they have a good Panyan collection here, and of course the John Smith room is worth a visit."
"I've seen enough Panyan stuff," Sheema says. "Remember the "Panyan Dreams" exhibit at the... oh, you were gone by then. I also had to spend almost a year in the Panyan cluster waiting to get the next jump ship to Aiscapo. Who's John Smith?"
"He's a local sculptor. Well, local-ish -- he lives on Beck. He's a recluse, actually. Works in scrap metal. He makes these huge, intensely chaotic installations -- it's like nothing you've ever seen." In her enthusiasm describing her artistic idol, Jillian starts to sound more confident -- her nervous energy is turning into something more ebullient.
"I had hopes I might meet him someday, actually! I met this guy who knows him -- but, well, with everything else that's happening, I guess that's not in the cards."
Sheema shrugs. "We have two weeks before V gets the ship up and running, right? Do you have to do anything in particular here on the station? Beck's not that far away... maybe this guy who knows him might introduce the two of you!"
"That's tempting, actually!" Jillian admits. "But what you said earlier -- about seeing a real doctor about my eyes -- actually I think that's a really good idea, and I should probably make that my priority. I don't suppose you know any doctors here?"
"Not really. I have a doctor, but just a regular one. Thankfully, no one's really tried to hurt me. Not yet."
The two of them have wandered some distance into the museum already, while talking. Jillian looks around with a sudden flash of paranoid anxiety -- could they have wandered by ill chance into an Alexei Rusanov exhibit? But no -- she remembers that he _did_ have a temporary exhibit here about a year ago, and he's not nearly established enough to warrant a permanent exhibit here, or even another temporary one so soon after the last She relaxes again -- relatively speaking -- and manages to get her bearings.
As they wander into the 'Beck, exploration period' room, Jillian says, "Sheema, I haven't been with anyone since Rashid."
Sheema goggles. "Really? Why not? I mean... you know..." She strokes Jillian's face with concern.
"Well, after I ran away from the Black Rose, I really couldn't afford to let anyone get close," Jillian says. She feels a little panicky; her train wreck of a personal life is not something she's comfortable talking about. "Um, how about you? Was there anyone? Er, _is_ there anyone?"
"That sounds so lonely. Me, um, yes, there have been people in my life, but none of them worked out. And now? No, no."
Jillian starts to deny being lonely, the way she normally would, but instead she stops herself and says, honestly, "Yes. It's been lonely."
"Is it just because you were being careful or is it because of Rashid?"
Jillian stops next to a bench. "Could we sit?" she says. "I don't think I can talk about this and walk at the same time."
"Sure, of course."
Seated, Jillian keeps hold of Sheema's hand. "It was both," she says. "I didn't dare let anyone get close enough to find out about my past. But also, after being with Rashid, I didn't really want to jump back into an intimate relationship. And..." She stops and gathers her resolve. "I also had a bad experience in art school. A guy who I thought I was a friend ... " Jillian swallows, and for courage remembers the sight of V dragging a bloody Alexei down a hallway. "He raped me."
Sheema's face darkens. "Men."
Jillian starts to say something about how _most_ men are okay, but then she thinks about Xao's stupid pretend pirate patch, and Malcolm's dark streak, and Bishop's hotness obsession. Neet's okay as far as she knows, but then he was raised by lesbians. "Yeah," she says. "I guess so." Then she looks at Sheema. "Wait," she says. "Do you mean -- are you actually a lesbian, Sheema?"
"Yes, I am. And you... at this point, after your experiences?"
"Um," Jillian hesitates. "You know, I'm not even sure. After Alexei, that part of me has just been numb, you know? And I was so young when I married Rashid. I idol-worshipped him. I was attracted to him, for sure, but maybe that was just the power and the danger he represented."
Jillian realizes suddenly that this conversation is verging on a serious talk about the state of her relationship with Sheema. Unprepared to deal with such a conversation, she stands up abruptly and says "Let's go find the John Smith room!"
Sheema hesitates for a moment, then stands up. "Let's! If you like him his stuff must be great!"
Jillian's got her defences up against herself, too. She really doesn't want her "true self" to come out and ruin everything.
They find their way to the John Smith room. It consists of one massive, jagged, rusty hunk of welded-together scrap metal, set in the centre of the room. The walls are lined with large photographs of Smith's other pieces 'in situ' in the desert. A plaque describes the reclusive artist.
Sheema studiously reads all the text in the room.
Jillian lets go of Sheema's hand and walks slowly around the sculpture (squinting).
Sheema hangs back, giving Jillian all the time she wants.
John Smith's art sends Jillian into a meditative state. Thoughts float gently past as she contemplates the jagged, deadly edges and contrasts them with the sleek sterility of the gallery setting. By the time she's circled the sculpture twice, she has realized that life is fleeting, love even more so, and with the D'vor on the way the only thing that makes sense is to seize this opportunity for love, which is probably the last one she'll ever have. She may not deserve someone as wonderful as Sheema -- but if Sheema chooses her, doesn't that make it all right?
"Let's go back to the hotel," Jillian says.
Sheema grins and ducks her head for a moment, blushing, before looking Jillian in the eyes. "Let's."