paradisalost | They sound like a million colors

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They sound like a million colors

Who: Lorne and Jilly
What: Lorne glimpses something real as Jilly's loss ends
Where: Caritas
When: During karaoke, Thursday night.
Rating: PG or less?

The costumes were gone.

She was neater, still, than her usual, paint-speckled chaos, but it was a more subdued girl who perched on the stool on stage, the microphone adjusted to the right level. The past few weeks had slowly been filtering back into her thoughts. They were still distant, like something seen through a fog or remembered from a dream, but they were present now. Later, she wouldn't know how she knew this particular song. It wasn't one she had ever heard before, back home. But it fit as she curled her fingers under the edge of the seat and let her borrowed voice soar.

"♫ If a black man is racist, is it okay
if it's a white man's racism that made him that way?
'Cause the bully's the victim they say.
By some se-ense, they're all the same.

'Cause the line between
wrong and right
is the width of a thread
from a spider's web.

The piano keys
are black and white
but they sound like a million colors
in your mi-iii-ind. ♫"

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Lorne often finds great joy in hearing the residents of Paradisa sing. Sure, they almost always have a sad tale, entwined in the notes they let loose, but it's still a pleasure, seeing a little window into their lives.

Jilly...well, in the first line, he knew this was a loss, but by the time the second and third lines came about, he realised it was a lot worse than that. Heart and soul were laid out in front of him, and it was troubling.

"...Oh Jillybean."

"♫ Should we act on our bla-ame
or should we chase the moments awa-a-ay? ♫"

There was still a light about her. With Lorne's ability, he might not have been able to see it, but he could hear it now beneath the surface of her words. But the tangled web she'd stumbled into with Legato had left her clouded. Dampened.

"♫ Should we live?
Should we gi-ive?
Remember forever
the guns and the feathers
in ti-ii-ime...

'Cause the line between
wrong and right
is the width of a thread
from a spider's web.

The piano keys
are black and white
but they sound like a million colors
in your mind. ♫"

Her hope was ever present, but it was strained in a way that it hadn't been since she'd arrived in this strange place, with its wishes and losses and collision of worlds.

"♫ But they sound like a million colors
in your mi-iii-ind. ♫"

Her smile was genuine as she finished, but as quiet as the rest of her had become. Bowing her head so that a curtain of curls temporarily hid her face, she slipped off the stool and, without much more ado, stepped down from the stage to go get a glass of water from the bar.

This was the part Lorne hated, when they appeared near his stage. Maybe he could make something up, and bring up what he saw when she got off her loss?

"Hey there, Jilly Bean. Gorgeous as always."

Jilly wasn't looking for guidance, however much she might have needed it. Instead, Lorne just got a smile as she slid onto one of the bar stools.

"All the times I've spent down here, I don't know why I haven't done that more often." Coming out of the haze as she was, she knew now that the only other time she'd dared was with Captain Hammer, months and months ago.

"You sure were born to do it, Jillybeans," Lorne offers her a smile. "Can I get you anything?"

"Just a glass of water. My throat's a little sore." She smiled, easy even if it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm not used to losing my voice, but I keep coming so close. It's like I'm not used to using it at all"

"One glass of water, coming right up," the demon vanishes for a moment, before coming back with her order. "Yeaaaaah. Imagine that. Weird, huh?"

She drank gratefully, taking several long sips before glancing back towards to bar. She couldn't help remembering how, only a week ago, they'd been using it as a refuge once more.

"At least things have quieted down a bit. I like when this place gets used the way it's supposed to be."

"So do I, Pumpkin. Not that I'd ever turn anyone away if they needed the shelter. That's what the upstairs rooms are for, after all."

"It just feels like it's been needed a lot more than usual"

The demon smiles, looking around his place.

"I guess Paradisa is having one of its regular 'let's mess everyone up' parties. Nothing we can't handle."

"Right. We'll handle it. We always do." She shouldn't have felt guilty with that 'we'. She had been working with people again. But it didn't stop that lingering, unpleasant blame from lurking behind her loss.

"We sure will."

He paused, not wanting to really bring it up. Not while she was under this loss.

"Everything okay in Jilly-bean land?"

Loss or not, Jilly was always good at hiding behind a smile and she does it now, her blue eyes meeting his as she looked at him over her water.

"Of course. I'm always okay."

Lorne settles for giving her a very pointed look.

"You know who you're talking to about emotions, right?"

Her smile flickered for just a moment as she glanced unwillingly towards the stage.

She'd never sung for him. She'd never asked him to look into her destiny because she honestly had no desire to know. But now that he'd mentioned it, the fact of his ability came into very clear focus.

"I am." It was a little less certain than before, but she needed it to be true. "I can handle... everything." She honestly had no idea how specific his ability was. Best not to say more than she needed to.

"You know, there's no shame in asking someone else to help you with your burdens, Honeybee. You don't have to do anything alone."

His tone was gentle, and full of concern. She wasn't handling it. He knew that much only too well.

"I know."

She sighed, gaze fixing on her water glass. It was suddenly more interesting than she'd ever expected.

"I should have asked. But...it's out in the open now, so it's done."

A different burden. The same problem. Karen's revelation had put the Legato issue out in the open, but it hadn't done anything for the guilt of playing a pawn.

"It is, but it doesn't make you feel any better, does it?"

He sighs, looking at the ceiling. It wasn't always easy, putting people on the right path.

"You have to forgive yourself, Pumkpin."

She fidgets with the glass a minute, turning it in her hands, before making herself look up to meet his gaze.

"How...how much do you know, then?" It's a grudging question. One she doesn't really want to know the answer to. But if they're going to have this conversation, she needs to know how much needs to be explained.

"The whole kit and caboodle," a sigh. "That's how it works, sometimes. Trust me, sometimes it really does suck having the ability to see everyone's dirty laundry."

"I didn't mean for you to. I wasn't even... I didn't think about it."

"People don't always do," he offers her a smile. "But I'm here, you know, for your advice and support. It's what I'm here for."

"That's a pretty big burden to carry."

"Compared to the heroes I walk with?" Lorne waves a hand. "It's nothing."

"There's no comparing. You're as much a hero as they are." She nods to the bar. It was easier, shifting the focus of the conversation. "Giving people a refuge. And listening. That takes more than fighting, sometimes."

Lorne turns to look at the people mingling in Caritas, where at one time or another there were cots and blankets kept instead of tables and chairs. It was definitely needed, in a place such as Paradisa.

"Maybe you're right Jillybeans."

She smiled at him, and that smile was as much her as the guilt. Whatever silliness this loss was, it didn't get in the way of that. "Of course I'm right."

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They sound like a million colors

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