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Before the Split [Private]

Before they split up to go their separate ways, Jenever drew Tobias aside for a moment.

"I wanted to thank you," she said, her eyes bright and intense on his, "for what you said, in Gramerye. And to... apologize... if I was - No, I was out of line. I don't know what's going to happen, and I don't want us to part on bad terms. I don't think I could bear it, if I die, not knowing we were... friends."

Tobias glanced at the others, making their way, then looked back at Jenever.

"Friends?" He took her hand. "I believe we are. But you won't die. I have faith in that. Whatever it is you feel the need to get done, will get done. I don't think much will stop you."

"Nothing will stop me," her voice remained low, but with a certain pitch of finality. "But what I have to do... it may be that death is a part of it... I've always known that the brightest fires burn for the shortest time, and I have no desire to grow dim, to be forgotten, or overshadowed, or... useless..."

"You're most useless when you're dead," he pointed out. "Death is not an option. You're needed, even in grey times." He half smiled, almost a dare. "We live a long time... Would you say I'm burned out?"

"You?" Jenever laughed. "There's no way to tell... but if you are, I wish I had seen you when you were younger."

Her face smoothed. "Tobias... I'm not like you, or Seth, or Deirdre or Benedict... That's the problem. You all will never be able to think of us in the same thought in which you think of your brothers and sisters and I'll never take orders well, or take kindly to being left in the dark. We're incompatible. I love you, but you saw it from the first."

"I'm not compatible with very much. I have too many demons to feed." He quirked an eyebrow. "This is my farewell before I face death and worse at my former locus of power? You are la belle dame sans merci..."

Jenever raised her eyebrows right back. "Why should I have pity on you? You're as strong as anyone I've met. Only the weak need my help, my pity. And besides, if I'm not going to die, you're certainly not going to. Not unless you want to."

There was a perceptible pause, ended only when Tobias's hand rose up to run through his hair.

"We've got a long way to go. Maybe by the end of the road I'll have you figured out."

"I hope not," Jenever said, smiling again. She reached out and covered the hand that was in Tobias' hair with her own, and then kissed him gently on the lips. "A woman's got to have a little mystery. Take care of yourself... please. I don't want to do without you."

"I know what I'm doing." He leaned in to brush his lips over hers, then stepped back. "I wouldn't have made it this far without at least that."

"I know." Jenever gave him one last, fragile smile and turned to leave.

He said nothing, watching as she came to the door.

"And if I don't?" he asked.

Jenever turned, brow furrowed. "If you don't what?"

"Come back." He gave her a half-smile. "You'll at least promise to cut off Seth's hands before he goes to demonize me or immortalize me in some poem?"

"Don't you think you're a little old for pointless high-minded gestures?" she said sharply. "I won't make any promises. If you leave me... I might pay him to write the most saccharine charm he can think of."

That got a true smile from him, or at least as close as it got. "One of the few advantages of being old is the privilege of being able to act selfishly, and bill it under something grandiose. And nothing I do is pointless. Trust me.

"I believe our roads await us?"

"Yes, I suppose they do." Jenever smiled at him again, raised her right hand in a curiously formal gesture, then turned and walked away.

And this time he let her, waiting until he was alone. He leaned against the wall, lit a cigarette, then studied the patterns it made in the air. Finally, he left as well, leaving only the faint scent of tobacco behind.

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