Chapter 27: Borrowed Hours
Kairo carefully nudged and then pulled Rebecca, the girl-bat, toward him, surprised at how effortlessly she yielded, not that she had much energy or fight in her, she was so light that moving her felt almost like lifting a feather. He chuckled to himself, thinking, 'I should get her a proper meal; this girl practically weighs nothing at all, and I'm not sure if that worries me or not.'
Rebecca was asleep, her pulse slow and animal-soft against Kairo's shoulder. She nuzzled into him, her hair a tangle of sweat and wildness, her skin burning with the aftershock of what she'd become. And he could still feel that hot, wild power deep in her core.
But still, Kairo held her, feeling the strange drain as her nerves stole warmth and energy from his bones, but he didn't mind. He figured that was what friends did, even if the logistics were new. Besides, he had bigger things to worry about.
Ace was dying. That was a fact so loud in his head he could barely hear anything else.
He could feel her life like a clock in a quiet room, each tick louder, slower, until eventually, there'd be nothing left to count. Her skin was so pale it seemed to drink the color from the air around her. Even the Mad Hatter, for all his oddness, could see it. Jervis just held her, rocking her gently, his face gone slack and lost, all the madness wrung out of him for a few brief minutes of simple, aching regret.
Kairo watched them. He knew this wasn't the best time, but still his mind wandered as it often did.
He measured the weight of the moment, the way the garden felt like a half-drawn breath. He'd never spoken to Jervis Tetch before, not really, but now, with the world between disasters, it felt important. He cleared his throat, voice small and rough.
"Are you…trustworthy?" Kairo asked, the words tumbling out before he could second-guess himself.
Jervis looked up, surprise flickering across his sharp features. He seemed to search Kairo's face for a trick, then glanced down at Ace, then back up again. "Trustworthy," he echoed, as if tasting the word. "That's a big question, little prince. I've been trusted by very good people and done very bad things. Sometimes the other way around. I suppose it depends on how much of me you're talking to. Right now…right now, I'd like to think I am."
Jervis had a private and short-lived smile on his face, knowing that a very long time ago, good people, good men, one being Kairo's grandfather, had asked him that same question, and he failed in answering it, in so many ways that, it kinda hurt to think about, the memory still so very sour in his mouth and mind.
But Kairo took, his words in . . . .
There was something gentle in the way he said it, something that made Kairo believe him, even if only for this moment. Maybe that was all trust was . . . . .one moment at a time.
Kairo nodded, then, because he didn't know what else to do, he reached out. "Can you bring her here? Please?"
Jervis, moving with an awkward grace, gathered Ace in his arms like she was made of spun glass. He walked across the ruined grass, his shoes crunching on broken party favors and glass, and set Ace down beside Kairo with a care that made Kairo's throat ache. Kairo saw a man who could be so gentle if he wanted, if the world wanted him to be. But, the world was often cruel to man, and man, seeing that cruelty, was cruel to others.
"Thank you," Kairo said, and he meant it.
He reached out, fingers trembling, and pressed his hand to Ace's forehead. He didn't know what he was doing, only that he had to do something, that this, right here, was the only thing that felt real. The world faded to black and white, sound dropping away, every other person frozen in place like mannequins in a window display.
Kairo didn't notice. He was too busy reaching. Somehow, it felt right as his hand slid into Ace's head like a ghost through a wall, and there it was: her clock.
Ace's clock wasn't like anything else. It was color in a world gone grey, gleaming gold and violet, shaped like a little wind-up toy from a forgotten nursery. The hands spun in odd, beautiful patterns, sometimes forward, sometimes back, sometimes skipping altogether. The face was cracked at the edge, a hairline fracture running from the twelve to the center, but it still ticked, stubborn and bright.
He knew what he had to do. Kairo reached into his own chest, feeling for something that wasn't quite skin, wasn't quite bone, a shape, a pull, a thread. He tugged, and a red string came loose, warm in his palm, pulsing with his own life. He pressed it to Ace's clock.
The pain flared intensely, sharp and hot, almost electric in its sharpness, radiating through the affected area that was very much his body and soul with a powerful and searing force.
The clock's face split open, and the red string was sucked inside, drawn in like spaghetti. Again and again, the string fed into the gears, the hands spinning faster, the crack at the center sealing itself bit by bit. Kairo gritted his teeth, letting it happen, letting Ace take what she needed. When the pain faded, he slumped forward, dizzy but alive, and finally noticed they weren't alone.
A woman was kneeling beside him, elbows on her knees, chin balanced in her palms. She was eating a taco . . . . . . . . . . .
yes, A Taco . . . .
Like, actually eating it, like this was the most ordinary Tuesday in the world. She looked young, maybe twenty, but her eyes were older than the zoo, older than Gotham, older than anything. Her skin was pale, almost moonlit, and her black hair was a mess of wind and sleep, falling in soft tangles around her face. She wore all black, a black tank top, a black pair of jeans, thick, shiny black boots, and a big, chunky silver ankh hung from her neck, swinging as she chewed.
"That's both cute and new," she said, voice warm and lazy, friendly in a way that made Kairo want to trust her even though he didn't have the energy to be suspicious. "I honestly don't think I've ever seen that before." She finished her taco, licking a bit of salsa from her thumb, and grinned. "You've got nerve, kid. Most people don't try to barter with their own time before, at least not like that, but then again, you are a 'special' kid. ''
Kairo gaped at her, mouth open, words stuck somewhere between his heart and his tongue. The woman just smiled, eyes gentle, and when she spoke again, it was the kind of voice that could make you want to fall asleep or confess your life story, or maybe both.
"Don't worry, little timekeeper," Death said, brushing crumbs from her lap. "You did good. Borrowed hours are still hours." She stood up, dusted off her knees, and winked. "But don't make a habit of it, yeah? Your string's lovely, but you're not the only one who needs it."
And with that, she stood pulling out a large black umbrella, her deep eyes never leaving his face, "But, we need to talk, I have a few rules for you, and then we can make a deal, Cool?" she asked, a bigger smile growing on her face. Her umbrella shaded them both from sunlight that didn't exist in this place, but just another shadow in the sun; all the darkness felt connected to her, leaving Kairo blinking and breathless, Ace's clock ticking steadily in his hands, and the world slowly, gently, spinning back into color.