Coming Down

Her arm protectively around his, Folly leads Martin through the halls to her quarters. His larger quarters might be more appropriate, she knows, and perhaps later she'll get her things moved over there; but for now she doesn't relish the idea of being so close to where Random is about to have an uncomfortable conversation with Vialle. She mutters something to that effect to Martin -- quietly, for his ears alone -- as they navigate the halls.

He nods, once, but doesn't add anything, and lets her steer him where she will.

She makes sure the door to her quarters locks securely behind them before kicking off her boots and then directing Martin to the couch to help him off with his. Soon enough, she's curled up next to him on the couch, holding him, running her fingers soothingly through his hair.

Martin lets her remove his boots, and lies quietly in her arms, not moving, not speaking. Blank.

After a very long time, she asks quietly, "How're you feeling, love?"

He turns to look at her, still almost expressionless. "I'm not," he says. "If I were, I think I'd be worrying."

"About which of the many things that seem worry-worthy?" Folly asks.

"About the fact that I'm not worried," Martin says, and it's not a joke.

Folly strokes the side of his face with grim concern.

After a moment, he adds, "I don't want this wedding."

Folly nods. "The only part I really sort of want is the extraordinarily public declaration of my love for you, and what this love has joined let no man, or woman, or malevolent beastie, or multi-legged Chaos critter tear asunder. Y'know?"

She pauses, as if listening to her own words. "You're concerned it'll be a target for mischief?" It's not quite a question.

"Social mischief. Dad can't see the downside to go with his upside."

Folly chews at her lower lip as her mind races over the possible downsides. "The thing about inviting your grandmother -- that was just sort of a gut reaction, y'know? We don't have to, if you think it's a bad idea."

Martin frowns, but it's a thinking gesture rather than an emotional one. "I don't see how he can avoid it without a grave insult to my grandmother. It's one reason why the marriage should be presented as a fait accompli."

"Well, but it sort of is, though," Folly says, "even if we're having the big spectacle just for show. As your father pointed out, we're already married by Texorami common law."

Her cheek dimples in a thoughtful half-frown. "Still, it might be a thing to leave out the bit where we ask if anyone has any objections."

"Especially if Valeria attends," Martin points out. "I still haven't officially told her no. I should handle that as soon as I can, before the official announcement is made."

Folly tries not to make a face, but faint scowl-lines appear between her brows. "I don't suppose we could get away with not inviting her, could we?"

"Not if we invite my grandmother, and we have to invite her too."

Folly nods slowly. "You know, I'm certain at the core of my being that your father isn't actually trying to get back at us, but if he were, this wedding really is a pretty good way." She makes a face, more comical than annoyed.

She sighs and looks at Martin. "So. Worst-case scenario: Your grandmother waits 'til the middle of the ceremony to declare her disapproval of the match in as public a way as possible? Or worse yet, she graciously offers to foster the little one in Rebma, and I have to give my speech about how children are meant to be loved and nurtured, not used as pawns, as I try not to fling champagne at her? Or-- I know, she and my mum become best friends, and the results are so toxic we're forced to nuke the site from orbit...."

Martin should probably smirk at the idea of nuking the site from orbit, but he doesn't. "I was thinking the part where your mother objects to you marrying me because you used to f**k Dad. And questions our daughter's paternity."

Now Folly scowls in earnest. "She wouldn't d--- Well, okay, maybe she would. But not at the wedding. She'll be getting that out of her system well beforehand, or she won't be coming. Unless she can get herself here on her own." Her frown grows thoughtful and a little bit pouty. "Which, come to think of it, she might."

Martin nods, once. "She is Julian's granddaughter. What do you want to do to neutralize the problem? Grab her and let her get it out of her system well before the wedding?"

"Something like that." Folly meets Martin's eyes without a trace of irony. "I was thinking of breaking into her house."

Martin says, equally without irony, "We should probably wait until I give a shit to do that. Otherwise it could be bad."

Folly nods. "And I'll need time to do the sketch, anyway. I know the beach path behind the house like I know the back of my hand, but I'll still want time to make sure I've done it right."

She snuggles a little closer to Martin, leans her head against his shoulder, and falls into a thoughtful silence. After several long moments, she says, "There's something else I wanna talk to you about that--- We don't have to make any decisions about it right this second, but I've been thinking about it, and---"

She sits up again, looks at Martin, and spits it out: "Violet. Last time we--- You said you were gonna get her a townhouse in Amber. Have you re-thought that plan since we found out about Xanadu?"

"She's a lever on me if I leave her in Amber. Right now, I'm capable of cutting her off ruthlessly, but I know intellectually that that won't pass muster when I'm feeling." Martin sounds like there ought to be another word in that sentence, but he cuts it off right there. "What do you want me to do with her? About her?"

"At the very least," Folly says, low and serious, "I'd like to ask that if you decide to set her up someplace out in shadow rather than bringing her here, that we make sure I know how to find her. If anything were to happen to you---" A dark look crosses her face. "I would make sure she's looked after, you know? If something were to happen--- I intend to honor your commitments, to the extent that I can.

"But I also have a proposal. We don't have to make any decisions now, but you can think about it and maybe we'll revisit it when you're... feeling again."

Folly pauses a moment to gather her thoughts, then begins ticking off points on her fingers. "You trust Violet -- at least enough to have been involved with her for this long. I know the sorts of standards Red Mill keeps for their girls -- so it's safe to say that she's intelligent, probably literate, and I think you've alluded yourself to the fact that she reads music. She's certainly loyal to you. And we still haven't settled the matter of a secretary for you, have we? So...." Folly clears her throat. "Setting aside for the moment the political ramifications of how scandalously progressive it would be, how would you f---... er, what would you think about bringing Violet into our household?"

Martin has to stop and think about the proposal before answering, which is a sign that he's seriously considering it. "I'd have to put the idea to her. You should probably meet her and decide whether you like her before we make any decisions, too. If you two hated each other on sight, obviously that wouldn't work. But I have no objections on principle. It would solve more than one of my problems neatly."

Folly gives him a little smile. "You should talk to her about it, and if she's amenable we'll set up a meeting and go from there. I can think of several ways in which the plan might turn out to be a really bad one, but most of those should reveal themselves in the interview if they're likely to be real problems."

Martin nods, once.

Her expression grows somber. "And on a mostly different subject -- why did you need to blow up the hospital?"

"It was necessary." That comes out so quickly it has to be ingrained habit, and it takes him a slow moment to think of additional words. "Operational security. The operation being you." He moves one arm so his hand brushes her belly.

"Why? What do you think they would've done? What could they have done, once I was gone from there?" She caresses the back of his hand.

"They had all your information." Martin looks at her. "I had to get rid of the records. If I hadn't been interrupted, I'd have taken out their data backups too."

Folly frowns. "There are hospitals in Texorami that have all of my information, too. Does that mean we should be planning a side-trip to take out their data when I go talk to my mother?" There is a faint edge of facetiousness in her voice.

"Yes. Although without the guns and the trumping and the rescue squad that needs rescuing, I should be able to manage the train of coincidences without another bombing," Martin explains. Folly expects he means to reassure her.

"Just disappearing my information, then?" Folly says. It's not quite a question. "If you think it's important, I won't object. But, please, don't compromise anyone else's records, if you can help it. It's not worth other people possibly getting sicker or dying over, just to keep someone from being reminded that, I dunno, I used to live downtown and have irregular periods and a weird blood type. Unless you think they're secretly gonna try to cl---"

She blinks and goes pale. "Oh."

She swallows, and looks at Martin. "Did they have your information, too?"

Martin nods, once. "Do any hospitals in Texorami have my father's?"

Folly shakes her head slowly. "I don't recall that he ever went to a hospital while he was there. He was always pretty insistent on patching himself up, when he needed it. Our fingerprints and mugshots should be in the corrections system, though. Unless they've already been mysteriously misfiled. Which, come to think of it, they probably have."

She bites her lip and stares into her lap. "Martin.... When you were out looking for me, how badly did you get hurt?"

"Nothing that I'm not completely recovered from." It'd be a shade too flat normally, but it could be just the way Martin is responding now.

"Didn't even leave a mark, that I could see." Folly wipes at her nose with the back of her hand.

"I - I'm sorry, love," she says, and lifts her gaze again to look at him. "I'm sorry my thoughtlessness caused you to get hurt---" Whatever else she might've wanted to say, she cuts it off by wrapping her arms around him and holding him close.

"I know that you're not really... feeling... right now," she murmurs into his hair, "but I hope you still understand that I love you."

Martin slides his own arms around Folly. It's an awkward gesture, all intellect and reflex, and lacking the usual warmth of his embrace. "I understand. And I know I love you. I'm just ... really badly off right now."

His chest rises and falls in a long breath that might be a sigh.

"Do you have any of your instruments?"

"There's a guitar in the closet, if no one's moved it," Folly replies. She kisses Martin's hair tenderly. "Would you like me to play for you?"

"No." He shakes his head once, the movement muffled by their closeness. "I want to play. I want you to sing to me. Like you did for Gerard."

Folly lays a longer kiss on Martin's forehead. She draws back and looks deep into his eyes, knowing that what she seeks is hidden from view.

After a long moment she gives a solemn nod. She releases him, rises from the couch, disappears into the adjoining room. A few moments later she returns with a guitar case. She lays it on the floor and kneels before it; flips open each clasp one by one; opens the lid; and reverently lifts out the guitar and offers it to Martin. Her movements are slow, methodical, almost ritualistic, almost as if she were preparing herself for some sacred act.

He takes the instrument from her with an odd and uncharacteristic precision, fingers forming chords on the frets with mechanical perfection. Normally he wouldn't need or want to watch them as much as he's doing right now.

She settles herself back on the couch, giving Martin enough space to play. "To healing, and to feeling," she says, and gives him a small smile, though the expression in her eyes is quite serious. "And to love, which above all other things is the gift I have to offer you."

Martin nods. "I love you too, Folly."

He starts with something simple--a folk tune so common that there are shadows of it in Texorami. Syd used to mock the lyrics: " ... of my true love's BUTT ...". But Martin has always sung it with meaning in her hearing.

After a few bars of intro, Folly adds her voice to his song. She sings softly, but with intense feeling:

Blue is the color of my true love's eyes His gaze is the ocean under stormy skies His touch is gentle, though his hands are strong And it is to him that my heart belongs.

I love my love and well he knows In love shall I follow where'er he goes I wish for the day so soon to come When this path through the shadows shall bring us home.

I go to the river and I mourn and weep And cry out to my love lost in the deep I send him my song, these few short lines For him I'd suffer death ten thousand times.

And blue is the color of my true love's eyes His gaze is the ocean under stormy skies His touch is gentle, though his hands are strong And it is to him that my heart belongs.

By the final verse, tears are trickling down her face; but her voice remains strong and sure, a beacon to his heart.

As Martin plays and Folly sings, she can hear some of the ineffable quality that makes Martin's music his own in his hands on the strings. Midway through the song, he closes his eyes and bites his lower lip. By the end, she can see an errant tear leak out one corner. He's gasping for breath as if he's in pain.

When her final word echoses into silence, Martin plays out the measure--without his customary flourish--and his eyes snap open. He puts the guitar aside, none to carefully, and reaches out, drawing Folly to him roughly. His mouth on hers is warm and there's no tenderness in him, but that will come later. For now there's fire, and that was more than there was before.

Folly seals her reply in violet wax and hands it to the waiting page. "This goes back to my kinsman Edan---" Her eye falls on the beribboned bundle of correspondence waiting for her on her desk. "---and I suppose I've got quite a bit more reading to keep me entertained this evening, yes?" She dismisses him with a smile.

She unbinds the bundle of letters and shuffles through it absently until one, folded but unsealed and unlabeled, catches her attention. She flips it open and reads it. Reads it again.

Letter in hand, she returns to the bedroom, where Martin lies curled under the sheets in imitation of slumber. She slips out of her robe and climbs back into bed, adjusting her pillows so that she can sit propped against them. For a long moment she contemplates the letter in silence; then contemplates her husband, lying still beside her.

"Martin?" she says softly, and runs her fingers gently through his hair.

He moves under her hand at once in a way that tells her he wasn't asleep when she got into bed. "Folly?" he replies, rolling over to look at her.

"Hey, love." She holds up the letter. She gives him a small smile, but she looks troubled. "Note from Celina. I don't know how long ago she left it -- sometime since the funeral." She frowns and scans the letter again, asking as she does so, "Do you know someone called... 'Khela'?"

Martin stiffens under her touch at that last word. "What about her?"

"Celina's P.S." Folly reads aloud: "'Tell Martin: Khela is under my protection now. His reaction should be priceless.'" She looks at Martin; her fingers soothe his neck and shoulders. "What does that mean?"

Martin frowns. "Trouble."

"Why?" Folly asks, concerned. "Who is Khela?"

He sits up. "Llewella's daughter. Sorceress. Commander of tridents." He pauses for a moment before adding, "Committed Libertist. And Celina's teacher, and lover."

Folly takes a moment to let all that -- and its implications -- sink in, muttering as she does so, "I didn't even know Llewella had a daughter." She blinks and focuses on Martin again. "Merlin is with her. She implied that I could reach her through him, if I needed to." She offers the letter to Martin.

"Do you think we should call them?"

"I think I need to talk to Llewella first, if she'll take my call. I wonder what the hell prompted Celina to do that? She's all but committed herself in the civil war now."

Martin sounds petulantly irritated, but that's more emotion than he was showing earlier in the day.

Folly blinks. "Civil war?" she asks. "Has something happened in Rebma while I was away?"

"It's been going on for a long time. I think it's about to blow up now." Martin looks very tired all of a sudden. "I may have to go back to Rebma to deal with it. To make things safe for our daughter."

"I think I prefer the option where we just keep our daughter far, far away from Rebma, and you don't have to go back there." Folly frowns, concerned. She sets the letter aside and slides under the covers, closer to Martin. "What are the sides in this civil war, anyway? These... 'Libertists'... versus... the other guys?"

Martin draws her nearer as if shielding her with his body. "It used to be Libertists versus royalists, but now it's all personal. My grandmother versus Khela versus Rilsa versus me versus Valeria and Loreena versus Celina. Or something like that."

Folly considers that list. "So... Valeria and Loreena generally on the royalist side, then, and Celina... not. What liberties are these Libertists agitating for?"

"Freedom for the Tritons," Martin replies. "There aren't any Libertists per se any more, though. My grandmother purged us."

Folly's heart pounds in her chest. "If they rose up again, would you still stand with them?" she asks, her voice soft but intense.

"I'll do what needs to be done." His hand moves to her head, stroking her hair soothingly. "But I won't let anyone use me. I'll fight for justice, but not revenge. Not even my own."

Folly leans in and kisses him.

When she draws back again, she says, "If you want to talk to Llewella before I try to contact Celina -- are you up for trying tonight? I'm anxious to find out what our cousin is up to -- if she'll tell me...."

"Yeah, let's do that."

[...knowing full well that trying Merlin right now won't work due to time-flow :) ]

[Yeah, his attempts will all fail, too. I think we're EOT, unless you have more. There's way more she could tease out, but you may want to save it for later.]