- B -

You Can't Fight the News I Don't Have

         "Tristian, I don't believe you . . ."
         The speaker, unseen behind the door, spoke with a lightness that belied the potentially harsher tone behind her words. The doorknob twisted and rattled, as if it was silently laughing at some poor joke, before finally yielding and springing open.
         "Oops . . ." the young woman said as she nearly plummeted into her own apartment. Regaining her footing after a few steps she nearly shouted, "Damn this door, I swear to God it has a mind of its own."
         "You'd be surprised how true that is sometimes, Jina," Tristian said as he smoothly entered the apartment, slipping past the door and closing it behind him in one quick motion.
         "Oh please don't tell me there's some planet full of nothing but living doors," the woman sighed, shrugging off her jacket and draping over the top of the couch. "That ranks up there with the world ruled by machines you were just telling me about."
         "Fine," Tristian shrugged, "don't believe me. But I was just there last week . . . in fact," he reached inside his coat pocket, "I figured you would be skeptical, so I brought a camera with me." He pulled out a small rubber banded bundle of photographs. As he did so, his jacket flapped open, revealing a small stubby object hanging from his belt.
         Tristian offered the bundle to Jina, giving her a small smile as he did so. "Care to take a look?"
         At first he was greeted with a raised eyebrow, but after a second her hand was reaching for the pictures. Taking them from him, she said, "Am I going to be able to tell which end is up, or are they so blurry it won't matter?"
         "Do I look like the Weekly World News . . ." Tristian remarked, taking a few steps to look over her shoulder. "I don't think they came out so bad, myself."
         Jina's eyes gradually widened as she first flipped through them casually and then spent more and more time on each picture. "Oh my God . . ." she breathed, looking closer at one. "Tristian, these are amazing." She studied a few more, stopping at another one to survey it more closely. "Wow. It looks so . . . big."
         "Oh come on, you couldn't even fit the sun in there," he deadpanned, jumping back a step to avoid Jina's elbow attempting to dig into his stomach. "Just kidding . . . but no, really, it's hard to tell from the picture but it's smaller than it you'd think." He pointed at the photograph, "See that gumdrop shaped thing toward the back, off to your left, close to that wall?"
         "Yeah?"
         "It's even smaller than you," he told her, failing to keep the grin out of his voice, even if he managed to keep it away from his face. He braced himself for another elbow, but this time it didn't come.
         "Really?" Jina said, letting the jibe go right over her head. "I guess the perspective is all screwed up, huh? And that's one of those living machines?"
         "Mm-hm . . . the whole place is full of them," Tristian replied. "All different sizes. If they weren't causing so much trouble, they'd be fascinating."
         Jina shook her head, trying to disbelieve it. "God, I can't even imagine . . . this being real. I mean, out there and real . . . wow."
         Letting her arm drop to her side, but still holding the photographs, she shook her head again and made her way over to the kitchen area. "You want anything, Tristian? Coffee or something?"
         "Sure, if you're having some," Tristian answered, stepping into the kitchen with her.
         After starting the coffee maker, Jina plopped herself down in one of the kitchen chairs, elbows on the table, sitting with one foot tucked under her and laying the pictures out before her. Tristian took up a position on the opposite side of the round table, but didn't take a seat. His eyes were darting around surreptitiously, like he was looking for something.
         "Damn, I thought you were playing with me, but . . . these really came out well. I'm impressed."
         "They better have, I used Will's camera."
         "What?"
         "Yeah, that new one he got for Christmas, I asked to borrow it for a bit. I figured it'd be the best chance for someone with my skill to take something decent." He took one and rotated it on the table until it faced him, making a satisfied face. "And I think I did a halfway decent job."
         "But . . . did he know where you were going with it?"
         Tristian gave a small smile. "Not quite. On the way back, I got myself dropped off for a bit in Florida . . ." he patted his other pocket. "These ones are for Will. For the moment."
         Jina laughed and clapped her hands. "Tristian, that's great. Oh that's funny." Giggling slightly, she brushed some hair from her face and leaned back on the table, saying, "Are you going to get these published anywhere? Because you should."
         He was glancing in the direction of the door when Jina spoke. Snapping his gaze back to her, he only shrugged and said, "I doubt it. Too many questions. Besides, someone with a computer can make stuff that looks three times as realistic."
         "I guess . . ." Jina admitted. "That's a shame." Shuffling them back together into a neat pile, she glanced up at Tristian. "Can I keep these for a bit? Lena will want to see them, I'm sure."
         "Oh, no problem, go right ahead, I can even make copies or . . . or whatever," he replied quickly as Jina got up to check on the coffee. He glanced around again, somewhat awkwardly, rocking back on his heels. After a long second he said to Jina's back, "Ah, Lena's not around, I take it?"
         "No, no, her sister is down to visit, so Lena's out with her," Jina said as she poured the steaming coffee into a cup. "God only knows where they are . . . probably going to a bunch of places that Lena would never go to normally . . . like she's trying to impress her sister that she's this big city girl. Or something." She shrugged. "I don't know, psychology's not my strong point. How much do you want?" she asked, already pouring rapidly into the other cup, like she was going to just give Tristian whatever was left regardless of how much he really wanted. Tristian really wouldn't put it past her.
         "Ah, that's more than enough . . . thanks . . ." Tristian replied, reaching over to snatch the cup off the counter almost before Jina finished pouring. Going back to the table, he pulled a chair out but only braced one leg on it, cradling the cup in his hands. He took a quick sip to test the temperature, then went back to simply holding it.
         "You were hoping she'd be here, weren't you?" Jina asked slyly, looking at him over the misting steam. It made her face seem wavery, like it was dissolving.
         Tristian somehow managed to keep his face utterly neutral. "Well, it would have been nice to show her the pictures too, I mean she can always see them later but . . ." he trailed off, not trusting himself to say anything more. Probably had said too much already.
         Jina stared at him for a second and then ducked her head, nearly dipping her hair in the coffee. A stifled snort of laughter came out. "God, Tristian, you're so obvious, you know that? It's a good thing you're not a spy."
         "Apparently," Tristian replied under his breath, looking down and tapping one of his pictures.
         A moment later, Jina tapped his arm. "Hey, I was just teasing, don't pay any attention to me."
         Tristian looked up at her and gave a slim smile. "I know. This whole thing is just a tad weird for me . . . I'm still getting used to the idea, you know."
         Jina grinned and sat back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Weird? I think it's kind of cute, actually."
         Rolling his eyes, Tristian said, "That'll do wonders for my reputation, savior of the Universe deemed cute by friends." Chuckling a little, his hand absentmindedly tapping the device at his belt, he shook his head, slowly, marveling at his awkward emotions. Some things never change.
         Then his face turned serious and he asked, "How is she, Jina? Really? I mean, she seems fine, but . . . you know her better than I do . . ."
         "No, she's good," Jina replied, frowning a little. "She's okay. Right after, you know, the party, she was a little brittle, I mean, it was understandable, but . . . she's gotten better over the last month or so. I think . . . I think some days it bothers her more than others but overall . . ." she paused, as if reanalyzing, then nodded quickly, continuing, "No, she's bouncing back. I'm glad."
         "So am I," Tristian added, softly. His eyes wandered toward the door, as if expecting her to walk in any minute. Jina's eyes followed his, and then realizing what he was doing, she tried to hide a grin behind her hand.
         "So when are you going to, you know, do it?" she asked suddenly, causing Tristian's attention to snap back to her.
         "Do what?" he asked, caution ringing the edges of his words.
         Giving him an impish smile, she told him, "You know, ask her out."
         Tristian only blinked, one corner of his lip twitching slightly. "So I've traded pictures for my privacy now? Is that it?" His tone was joking but his eyes didn't meet Jina's. Her question was reflected there, ricocheting around his brain. No answer came out to meet it.
         "Oh stop that . . . I'm just wondering. I think you two would be good for each other, that's all." Jina tried to keep her voice innocent, somehow managing to shore it up under Tristian's unrelenting gaze. Leaning forward almost conspiratorially, she added quietly, "She really likes you, you know."
         "She's said that?" Tristian asked, trying not to sound too eager, and probably failing. Oh well.
         Hiding a smile of small triumph, Jina answered, "Well . . . not in so many words, but I can tell." She tapped her head. "It's a girl thing. Trust me."
         Tristian gave her a skeptical glance, but said, "Believe me, I'd like to, I mean . . . I mean I figured, that she, you know from the night of the party but . . ." he trailed off, shrugging again.
         "Yeah, whatever you said to her out there . . . it really changed her opinion of you . . ." Jina mused, staring briefly into the distance, like she was scouring the city for Lena. "She still won't tell me what went on out there you know . . . you're good, Tristian."
         "Flattery won't get it out of me, either," Tristian shot back, taking a sip of his coffee and staring at her over the rim. "Sorry."
         "Did I ask?" Jina complained, looking around as if addressing an invisible audience. "Did you hear me even begin to ask?"
         "Just heading off the inevitable," Tristian responded. "I know you."
         "Oh you do, do you?" Jina inquired sarcastically, crossing her arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow. "Well let me tell you something, Mister Jacart-"
         Like an alarm, the shattering ringing of the phone threw itself on top of Jina's forthcoming words.
         Mid-rant, Jina paused, seemingly trying to decide whether to let a good head of steam dissipate and answer the phone or carry on anyway.
         Trilling, it rang again.
         Tristian lifted an eyebrow. "I don't think that's for me."
         Sighing, Jina pushed herself from the chair and pivoted on one foot to reach the phone, snatching it and tucking the receiver into her shoulder in what was obviously a well practiced motion.
         "Hello . . . oh hey, Brian, I was going to call you, you beat me to it . . . yes, this is probably the first time, sometimes I don't think you know how a phone works . . ."
         Sipping his coffee some more, Tristian used the action to hide a small smile. Jina never changed. That was a good thing as far as he was concerned.
         ". . . hey, you sound kind of quiet . . . is everything okay . . . yeah . . . yeah, I saw it . . . why . . ."
         Some change in her tone caused him to look up sharply. Her face was slowly changing into something mask-like, like she was trying to squeeze all emotion out of it.
         ". . . what do you . . . oh my God . . ."
         With a clatter Tristian nearly slammed down the cup on the table, slipping around the table to reach Jina. Her eyes had gone wide and just as he moved closer to her, Tristian heard her expel a short, sharp hissing breath.
         He stopped just short of her, his eyes open and questioning. She didn't meet his gaze, didn't seem to be seeing anything at all. He might not even have been there at that moment as far as she was concerned.
         ". . . oh my God, Brian, are you sure . . . no, no I know you wouldn't tell me unless you were sure but Brian . . . when did this happen . . . I mean, how . . . I know, I know, I saw it too but . . . God, I don't . . . no . . . yeah, I'm okay, it's just . . . it's just a shock, I'm just . . . shocked, I don't believe . . . no, Tristian's here right now . . ."
         Finally she glanced over at him and he tried to take the opportunity to ask her. Jina only gave him a look made of liquid and made a motion that said she would tell him in a second. He noticed that her other hand was braced against the wall and quivering ever so slightly.
         Tristian began to get a sick feeling in his chest. Something was very wrong. Lena. No. Not again. Dear God, not again. He tried to push the thought out of his head but it kept boomeranging back, whistling as it went. Please. Not her again.
         ". . . yeah, I mean you can stop over if you want but . . . I'm okay, really . . ." that's not what her face screamed, "yeah, I'll . . . I'll try to see if I can get a hold of anyone else, okay . . . okay, yeah, let me know if you hear anything . . . you too . . . bye . . ." she finished, murmuring it as she hung the phone up, biting her lip and pushing her hair back from her face.
         "What happened?" Tristian asked, trying not to sound too urgent, but alarm bells were going off in his head nonstop. Every other second he had to check and make sure his hand wasn't going for the sword. Dammit, there was no danger here but there was something here.
         She didn't answer, brushing past him as she went back to the table, curling up into the chair, looking very small indeed.
         "Jina. What. Happened?" he insisted, crossing over and nearly laying himself parallel to the table to get into her line of vision. "Is something wrong?"
         Her hand was covering her face and she looked very tired suddenly. "I . . . it's Don . . . he's dead, he . . . God, I don't believe this . . ." She was in too much shock to start crying, as much as the news had upset her, Tristian could tell that much.
         The news was still hitting him. Right now it was cotton blows, but he knew the punches would come harder soon enough, when it sunk in. They always did. A fist right to the gut. Right where it hurts the most.
         "Wait a minute, you mean, Don, you mean . . . Donald Wintersfield . . ." the name was familiar to Tristian, but the face wasn't coming back. At least it wasn't Lena, the thought spat out before he could stop it. But the relief failed to drown the guilt.
         "Yeah, yeah, that's who it was," Jina muttered. "It's him. He's dead." Her voice was numbed, trying to press the belief into a resistant membrane, fearing the moment when it would break through.
         Gradually the face was surfacing in his memories, some puzzle pieces of the personality, fragments of a voice, flickers of a mannerism that he could barely remember. High school. It seemed like forever no matter how long it had been since you left. Donald Wintersfield. Dead. He was trying to associate the two words and it wasn't working. Tristian wasn't sure how to react. Donald. Don. He remembered him, but he was never good friends with the guy. Ran more with Jina's crowd, that circle he was accepted by but never exactly part of. But they knew him.
         And now he was dead apparently.
         "How did it happen?" he asked softly, trying to get her to focus, give her something to talk about. Sadly, this was something he was far more used to than she was, but it was still enough to unsettle him. Death. Dear God. This was too early. For any of them. Far, far too early. "Was it an accident?"
         "I . . . Brian didn't know, he . . ." she took in a shuddering breath, bracing herself for a sentence that she would have to choke out sideways, "he stepped in front of a train. That's what he said. Him and someone else. A girl, they said. And it hit them and now they're both dead." Her words were coming in waves, speeding up and slowing down in cycles, like she was trying to conserve her strength and get it all out at the same time.
         "That doesn't sound like an accident," Tristian said slowly, hating himself for speaking the words they both knew.
         "I know, I know," Jina said, sounding like she was talking to someone else. Complaining to the Maker, perhaps. But he never listens. Right? Else we'd never have reason to complain. Right? Are you listening? "But we don't know, Tristian, we don't know if . . ." she stopped herself, ducking her head and tucking her hair back behind her ears, swallowing and taking a deep breath, composing herself just in time to flake off into pieces again. "I should tell people . . ." she stated firmly, not looking at Tristian. "If they don't already know, I have to tell . . . oh . . ."
         Her head snapped up, staring right at Tristian. He felt like he was towering over her, catching her right in the eclipse of his shadow. But it wasn't about him this time. There was nothing he could to affect any of this. The powerlessness was only vaguely comforting.
         "Joe . . ." she whispered. Immediately he knew what she wanted. And he knew what he had to do. And he knew it was the right thing to do. "Oh God, he . . . can you . . ."
         "I can," he answered with a calm he failed to radiate. "I'll do it. I'll tell him."
         "Good," Jina said, nodding slowly. "Because he should know. He has to know." Stopping, she bit her lip, glanced down and then back at him again. "Thank you."
         "Don't even mention it," Tristian responded, dismissing it before it could ever reach him.
         Nobody said anything for a few seconds. Jina just sat there staring at the table, her breathing coming in slow waves. Tristian stood near her, wanting to comfort her somehow, tell her everything was going to be okay. But he wasn't so sure. And he didn't know what else to say.
         In the end, straightforwardness won out. Hesitantly, he said, "I'm going to have to go, if I'm going to tell him . . ."
         "Go, then," Jina said, waving a hand.
         "Are you going to be-"
         "Yeah. Yeah, I'll be fine. I'll be all right. Lena, or . . . or Brian or someone will be here. Don't worry about me." She managed a small smile. "Okay, Tristian?"
         He stared at her for a long time, his expression unreadable, but finally nodding, apparently unsatisfied but finding no other excuses to hold himself here. "Yeah, all right. I'll call you later, then, when I get in touch with him." He headed for the door, stopping at the entrance to say, "Talk to you later, then?"
         "Yeah, later . . ." Jina said, swiveling in her chair to face him.
         And then he opened the door and was gone, with only the barest murmur of a click to signal his exit.
         For a long time, Jina gazed at the empty space. Closing her eyes, she leaned her face into her hand, resting her elbow on the back of the chair, just trying to breathe calmly.
         Then, suddenly, she nearly leapt out of the chair, forcing herself into motion, reaching for the phone. Taking it and leaning against the wall, she rested the receiver on her collar as she thought of the first number. Another moment later she was dialing, trying not to think about what she was going to say, trying not to think about any of it. Just say the words. Just get it out. Don't feel any of it. You don't have any choice.
         "Hello . . . oh hi, this is Jina . . . what, oh, no, well actually . . . actually I'm calling for a reason, yeah . . .
         ". . . ah, I've got some bad news, I'm afraid . . ."