Archive of Our Own ^beta

"But I thought you liked him!" her mama protested, looking up from the frying pan. The chicken in it smelled absolutely delectable.

Carmela shrugged and opened the fridge door, wishing that her mom would stop pestering her about this. What can I say? she wondered. That he was even more of a self-absorbed jerk than I thought? That his idea of magic was palm reading? That he hasn't read a book in a year and boasts about it? Carmela shut the fridge, milk in hand, and carried it to the table.

Carmela made a face, heaving a dramatic sigh. "He was so boring, Mama!"

~*~

"There's my favorite bug!" Carmela called by way of greeting the second she saw Sker'ret. "I was wondering whether you'd be on duty today—the last three times I've been to the Crossing, I haven't seen so much as an eyestalk of you!" She grabbed at the organ in question and waved it around playfully.

"Carmela!" Sker'ret exclaimed, those eyestalks his human friend hadn't grabbed waving a greeting of his own. "My sibs told me you'd stopped by. I'm sorry I missed you!"

Carmela sniffed, adopting a magnanimous expression. "As you should be!" Then the expression broke and she grinned at him. "Do you have a moment or two, or should I come back later?" Friend or not, Carmela was aware of how busy a Stationmaster's life could get, and just how quickly things became complicated in their absence.

"No, I've got time," Sker'ret said, already slithering out from behind the Stationmaster's console. "I was actually just going to eat lunch anyways. If you haven't eaten yet, you should join me!"

"Perfect." Carmela dug around in her purse for a few seconds, and withdrew a set of vouchers. "My treat. And no, you don't have any choice in the matter," she added before the protest she could see growing in his eyes was voiced. Carmela winked. "You're my guide, after all. How will I know where to go without you? I don't want to go someplace where I'm more likely to be on the menu than in the restaurant." Her lashes fluttered. "And we have to go somewhere delicious."

Sker'ret's look told Carmela he wasn't fooled even a little, but he didn't object as he led her through the Crossings towards the place he said that he'd eaten a lunch or two at before his Ancestor found out about it and put a stop to it. There was a touch of bitterness to his voice, but by mutual and silent agreement, they didn't delve too deep into the matter. Instead, they turned to lighter topics of conversation as they walked. While they made their way through the Crossing, however, Carmela found herself watching as Sker'ret happily greeted all those who called out to him and patiently answered any and all questions the staff came to him with.

The second the restaurant staff saw them they ushered the pair in immediately despite Sker'ret's reassurances that they were not in a hurry and whenever they had a table free would be fine. Carmela snickered as Sker'ret's natural diffidence and kindness only made the waiters all the more eager to please, which in turn made Sker'ret all the more anxious that they not put out the other patrons. Carmela knew she was being of no help, sitting back and grinning a little. Finally, she delicately mentioned her hunger, which was just enough impetus to make it so that Sker'ret was willing to accept the owner's offer.

When they were finally seated and enjoying their meals in relative peace and privacy, Sker'ret let out a huge sigh of relief. "Sorry about all of that," Sker'ret apologized, but Carmela waved it away, unconcerned. "They didn't used to act like that," he grumbled even as his mandibles worked on the food happily, the crunching sound issuing from his mouth not unlike glass being ground up. "Not that I don't like my work as Stationmaster, but..." he trailed off and gave a rolling shrug that shifted his entire body in a wave. "So what brings you to the Crossings?" he asked.

Carmela rolled her eyes. "Avoiding my parents, honestly. I don't see the big deal about an almost perfect score on the PSAT—it stands for preliminary scholastic aptitude test; it's a test used on Earth to qualify you for certain further education and stuff," she explained briefly when Sker'ret's eyes writhed in confusion. "I'm sick of hearing about how I'm not applying myself. I don't really like school. It hasn't taught me much that's been useful in the so-called 'real world'." She sighed, idly stabbing a piece of vegetable on her plate that looked like a potato but tasted nuttier, somehow. "And even if I did, why would I go to Harvard or Caltech or whatever? Can you really imagine me being an engineer?" she scoffed, then made a sound of derision. "No, thank you."

"Ah," Sker'ret answered sagely. "The age old question of how to deal with ancestral obligation." He nodded in the human way he'd picked up from Carmela and Dairine. "If you find the answer, let me know. My Ancestor seems to have taken my acceptance of the role of temporary Stationmaster as bending to his will, and is responding as such." Sker'ret's body went still, too still, and the repressed irritation belied his casual tone.

Carmela winced in sympathy. "Well, if the way things are running here is anything to go by, you've got plenty of people who like you and who'd do just about anything you'd asked, Stationmaster or not. And then there's me, of course." Her smile was wicked. "I'd be willing to have a chat with him, if need be."

Sker'ret released his ratchety laugh. "I think even my Esteemed Ancestor won't know what hit him," Sker'ret agreed cheerfully. The idiom was one that the Rirhait and humans had in common.

"I'd love to see him try," Carmela retorted. She smiled fondly at Sker'ret. "And for you, I'd only do it at half price." That earned her another ratchety laugh, but Carmela found herself sighing rather than joining in. "At any rate, maybe I could tell off nosy parents for a living. Seriously, if I get one more pamphlet on the wonders of Yale, I'm going to find myself pleading temporary insanity when they find my parents' bodies."Carmela cut off the rest of the words crowding to the top of her tongue.

How am I supposed to know what I want to do with my life when I don't even know what I'm doing tomorrow? What if I don't want to go to college at all? What if I'm not interested in what they have to offer, when the universe is so much greater than the people of Earth know? Carmela rubbed her face. "Sorry, Sker, just, uh, ignore me. It's been a long day, and I'm just complaining." She tried a smile on for size, but it slipped away.

Sker'ret's mandibles clicked rhythmically in an expression of sympathy, and he stopped eating completely, that dark gaze focused entirely on her. His too keen eyes watched her for a long second, then he said neutrally, "I understand, Carmela. I'm here whenever you need to talk." His mouth stretched in what should have been a fearsome parody of a human smile, but Carmela was used to it and smiled back in return. Then, more seriously, he added, "I'm your friend, Carmela, and a wizard. If I'm not around, tell my sibs you need me, and I'll come right away. One of them always knows where to find me." The kindness and worry that filled Sker'ret's voice made Carmela stare at him.

Carmela was suddenly struck by how beautiful Sker'ret was. The gleaming carapace that picked up and reflected tones of any light present, the dark eyes filled with so much good humor. Sker'ret was clever with the mechanics of wizardry in a way that no one Carmela knew could match, and he never seemed to think much of even his most complicated works. She'd seen the way the staff and guests of the Crossing looked at him; he had earned their trust. Carmela couldn't imagine a life without his easygoing personality and curiosity about anything and everything any more than she could imagine Sker'ret with his ferocious appetite—for food and other, less tangible things.

Carmela wanted to—wanted to do something.

Hesitantly she asked, "Can I give you a kiss?" As with most other words in the Speech, the word kiss had slightly variable meanings and connotation in different contexts. Carmela had chosen a mostly neutral form of the noun, trying not to say too much. Or perhaps she wasn't saying enough.

Maybe it was both.

Sker'ret seemed as surprised by Carmela's request as Carmela was to have made it in the first place, and he slowly said, "Uh, sure. I guess." He sounded no more confident than Carmela felt.

She stood from the table on knees that almost refused to hold and stepped forward to be close to Sker'ret. He shifted anxiously, though he didn't flinch away, those many legs moving in tandem.

Quickly, before Carmela could screw this up, she pressed her lips to the top of Sker'ret's head segment. Sker'ret's skin was cool to the touch and faintly beaded, just a touch of roughness against her mouth that made her shiver. Sker'ret smelled foreign in a way she couldn't place, faintly acrimonious in a way that suggested that at some point today he'd been dealing with ozone but didn't quite match the scent. There was something smoky in there too, and she inhaled deeply.

Sker'ret shuddered in response, and Carmela pulled away, dropping to her knees so she could embrace Sker'ret in a fierce hug, her face hidden from the Rirhait's gaze. His carapace was rough against her cheek. Though Rirhaits weren't meant to hug the way bipedals were, Sker'ret did his best, shifting his weight into Carmela and bringing his front claws up around her, a sharp pressure at the center of her back. "Carmela?"

Carmela wiped all evidence of dampness from her face. "Come on, Sker'ret. We probably don't want our food to get cold."

~*~

Carmela looked up from the TV as her Popi came in. "Hi!"

Her father squinted at the screen. "Hey, 'Mela." He watched the aliens chattering on the screen for a moment and then shook his head. "I can't made heads or tails from their actions, let alone their words," he admitted. "How do you understand it all so quickly?"

A myriad of possible responses flew into Carmela's head—because of Ponch, possibly. Or so Tom and Carl think. Natural talent, maybe? Possibly just because I want to? Sometimes I think the Powers alone know. She looked up at her dad and winked. "Practice, Grasshopper," she advised.

Her dad just shook his head and laughed.

~*~

Carmela had always been closer to Kit than Helena; not only was Helena almost five years older, but Helena hadn't had the requisite patience to help Carmela when her younger sister wanted nothing more than to do what all the big kids were doing. Kit, on the other hand, hadn't even objected to Carmela's 'makeovers' until he was eight. In all, they were much closer, even if she practically made a living making fun of him. That closeness had only increased when Helena had reacted poorly to Kit's so-called deal with the devil.

So in all, Carmela could only think that at least it wasn't Helena that had found her kissing Lizzie Byron.

Lizzie saw him first and pulled away with a sound of absolute dismay. Her face, though wide-eyed, was frozen in a mask of calm. "'Mela," she whispered, going ashen, and Carmela felt herself moving in slow motion.

Kit just stared at her, one brow raised and mouth slightly pursed.

Lizzie's hand clenched so tight on her arm that Carmela was sure that she was probably suffering from blood loss. It didn't really matter, though, because Carmela had frozen straight through and couldn't really feel it. "Oh, God, shit, you've got to talk to him, oh God, sorry, I've got to go, sorry, sorry!" Lizzie's nails bit into Carmela's skin and left brilliant red crescents across Carmela's forearm and then Lizzie was off, head down. A blush had already started creeping across her ears and the back of her neck.

Carmela watched her go, carefully nonchalant, flipping her braid over her shoulder. She hadn't really liked Lizzie, not really; she'd just wanted to try kissing someone who wasn't a guy. Still Lizzie's faint heart and quick abandonment made Carmela flush hot and then very cold, chest squeezing slightly.

Kit came up to stand beside her, staring straight ahead until Lizzie disappeared around the corner. "Want a lift?" Kit asked mildly.

Carmela glanced at him, but Kit's face wasn't giving anything away. "Sure, el niño," she agreed. Kit hated that nickname, Carmela knew, and she was hoping that he'd react to it. Anything but this stony-faced visage would be acceptable.

Kit just made a, "Quiet!" noise and began reciting the beam-me-up-Scotty spell he had long since memorized, by now used to putting Carmela's name in with his own since they'd both started at the same high school. They appeared with a soft bang in the Rodriguez kitchen, and still Kit didn't speak. Carmela thought for a second that Kit's stubbornness would drive him to try and wait her out; in pure retaliation, Carmela raised her chin and refused to look anything less than composed.

Kit walked around the kitchen once, stalking past the table and counters without looking like he saw his surroundings. Carmela inhaled sharply, finding the silence unbearable despite her desire to appear unaffected, and Kit rounded on her, incredulous. "Did you think I'd care?" he demanded before she had the chance to so much as open her mouth. "I mean, really, you're my sister! It doesn't matter whether you're kissing boys or girls or both or neither!" Kit waved his arms, suddenly energetic. "Powers above!"

Carmela wanted to snap back with something, anything, but what came out was a rather bewildered sounding, "What?"

As quick as Kit had shouted, he calmed again, dropping his bag onto the kitchen table and heading to the fridge for a snack. Taking out a pear, he tossed it back and forth between his hands and looked at her again, opening and shutting his mouth again before making a noise of frustration. Carmela watched him, more nervous than she wanted to admit.

He stared at the fruit in his hands, a bit of a flush creeping up his neck. He shook his head, then stared at her fiercely. "I mean, Tom and Carl are basically part of the family these days. And you know that Mama and Popi don't care at all about that—and I certainly don't care who you're with. Maybe if you're with someone you'll stop sticking your nose into my business." Kit rolled his eyes. "Anything to keep you from trying to tag along next time I'm going to Mars."

Carmela stuck her nose in the air. "As if. You just wish I let you use my closet more often because it'll cost you less energy." She frowned at how easily Kit had distracted her and redirected the conversation. "If your claim you don't care so much, why are you making such a big deal out of it? I'm pretty sure that if Mama and Popi didn't know, they know now, with how loud you were yelling." Carmela put her hands on her hips, standing her ground.

Kit scowled at her, but she had long become immune to the expression, considering how often she inspired it. "Of course I'm upset!" he said with rather more vigor than Carmela thought was wholly necessary. He settled a little then, looking at her a touch ruefully. "Well, how do you think you'd feel if I didn't trust you enough to tell you Nita and I were dating? Or if I hadn't told you I was a wizard and you found out about it accidentally? It's not like a bad thing, or anything, it's just...Carmela, this is important." Carmela winced a little at that, and Kit's shoulders relaxed. "And I might have overreacted a little," Kit grudgingly admitted, "But come on! You're acting like it's some big secret when it doesn't have to be. I know it's not easy for something like this, but I wish you'd trusted me."

Carmela looked unimpressed. "Kit, we've been waiting for announcement like that since we first met her. You're the one that was slow on the uptake when it came to noticing how hot she is. It's almost disgusting, how cute the pair of you are." She studiously ignored the rest of what he'd said, unable to find of a coherent response to it just yet.

Kit blushed furiously, protest rising to his lips. He cut if off and upgraded his scowl to an outright glare. With a certain petulance, he demanded, "Seriously, why didn't you tell us you were gay, or bi, or whatever term it is you want to use? It's not like it'll really change anything. You're still Carmela." He said it simply, as though it was obvious, brows knit in confusion, looking wonderfully helpless.

Carmela's mouth worked a moment, but she didn't know what she was supposed to say. None of the words seemed right and she thought of the terms Kit had used so easily, without flinching, and couldn't use them. She couldn't quite slide into her safe skin of understanding like she usually could with words. Her gift—S'reee had referred to it as a steganographic gift, hadn't she?—usually gave her at least some comprehension of whatever point the author was trying to make simply by virtue of giving things context, even if whatever she'd translated didn't always make sense in and of itself.

"I don't know," Carmela admitted because that seemed like all she could say. "Just...don't tell anyone yet, okay?"

Kit glanced at her, surprised. "Of course." he said. "I wouldn't have told anyone anyways, not unless you wanted me to."

Carmela looked at him, a little shocked, and he softened, giving a little shrug. For all she made fun of him, Kit was often the first to have her back, as often as she had his. She'd take on the Lone Power a thousand times over to keep him safe, remote-controlled world gate and curling iron at the ready. Kit, too, was always at the ready, trying so hard to protect her, to keep her safe. It made her want to ask who was the elder sibling, here, and then kiss his cheek until he blushed and batted her away. She loved her little brother, the always-troublesome el niño who went out into the universe at large and tried to keep as many people safe as he could. Her breath caught a little, the afternoon striking her all at once.

Kit, seeing her expression, gave her a sly grin. "Ronan is going to be sorry he missed the show, though."

The moment broken, Carmela let out a wordless shriek and Kit bolted, laughing almost too hard to avoid her attempts to kill him.

~*~

"Carmela, you're not going to be in high school forever! You're going to have to graduate and apply for college soon. You can't be unprepared. Now sit down and at least look at some of this information!" Her mom was positively indignant, and Carmela was reminded just why she tried not to cross her mama.

Carmela groaned, looking for the words that would get her out of this. Telling her mama that Carmela wasn't so sure that college was the place for her would just add fuel to the flames. So would saying that the only thing she wanted to do after school right now was travel.

So instead, in a moment of sheer childishness, Carmela just looked at the pamphlets and stuck out her tongue. "I'm not going there!" she bit out, and escaped upstairs before her mama could call her back.

Suddenly, why Kit spent so much of his time on other planets was making a lot more sense.

~*~

Like Kit, Carmela had long since reached the point where she was treated as a member of the Callahan family. As a result, when she stuck her head in the back door and shouted, "Dairine?" at the top of her lungs, Harry Callahan's only response was to look up over his coffee as Carmela came inside the kitchen.

"Oh, hey, Mr. Callahan," Carmela said, coming to lean against the table.

"Hey, Carmela. Dairine should be back from Wellakh momentarily. At least, that's what she told me this morning." Despite his misgivings, he'd eventually relented, trusting Dairine enough to have Nita remove all but the basics of the spell she'd laid on Spot. However, he'd informed her in no uncertain terms that if she started gallivanting off again without a word of warning, the spell would be back in a heartbeat, and Dairine would have no hope of it being removed until she was thirty-five. Unwilling to risk her newfound freedom, especially not when Tom or Carl would be more than willing to sanction such a long term invasive spell, Dairine had, albeit grudgingly, kept her dad as well-informed as possible.

"Have a seat," Dairine's dad added after a brief moment of silence. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, Dairine and I are supposed to meet Sker'ret, and Filif is going to try and stop by too and join us," Carmella admitted, though she did slide into one of the kitchen chairs while Mr. Callahan stood and refilled his coffee mug.

"Then we can bet Dairine will be on time," he responded dryly. "I forgot you girls were going to the Crossings today. Give my best to them both, alright? Everything Sker'ret looked at while he was here is still running as good as new. Too bad I've got to go into the shop, or I'd like to say hi to him." He cast an eye on Carmela as he returned to his seat. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure, what?" Carmela inquired.

In a muted voice, he asked, "When you're at the Crossing can you...can you keep an eye on her?"

There could only be one 'her'. Nita was not one to vex her father, especially not after her mom died, whereas Dairine and her dad had been butting heads off and on since she'd first learned to dig in her heels. Still, the request was odd enough that it made Carmela blinked, then hastened to reassure him, "Of course, Mr. Callahan. I don't think anything will happen, though. Not after what Sker'ret, Nita and I did to the taewolf. And since Sker'ret and the Crossings personnel completely revamped the security over there, I doubt anything can get through. Knock on wood, and all that." She suited words to action.

Mr. Callahan sighed. "That's not what I mean—I know Dairine can take care of herself. It's just that the last time she saw Sker'ret and Filif together..." he trailed off, and Carmela mentally filled in, they'd stopped by for some last good-byes, and had been all too aware of the fact that someone very important was missing. "I just don't want her to think that it somehow reflects on her, what happened." He smiled ruefully, and not very humorously. "Then again, I think that wish might be too little, too late."

Carmela was quiet for a moment. "They wouldn't say anything, but they're also worried about what happened to Roshaun—and about Dairine." She shook her head. "And if Dairine needed their help with anything, they'd be there in a heartbeat. I think they know, though, that this is something she needs to work through herself."

"I know that. I do. I can't help but worry about her, though. All this work she's doing on Wellakh, and some of the dangers that she's told me about, and then the ones she hasn't..." he sighed heavily. "Then there's what Nita told me about it, that there's dead, and then there's dead, and it's really two completely different stages of being in the Speech. I'm afraid—" he cut himself off, smiling ruefully. "Borrowing trouble isn't worth it, though. We just have to hope that somehow, Roshaun will find his way back."

"If Roshaun can be found, Dairine will do it, and drag him back kicking and screaming, if she has to," Carmela said truthfully. "She's not going to stop looking for him. I don't think she can."

"I know. That's one of the things that worries me about this whole situation." Mr. Callahan frowned into his mug. "I don't know if I like it, really. It feels like she should be far too young for all this, no matter how smart she is or what kind of power she has. I don't want her to get hurt." He sighed. "Even though I know it's a ridiculous thing to want."

"If it helps," Carmela said, "It's not like that, yet. They're more like Nita and Kit were, only, more, you know. Antagonistic." She thought for a second, then winced at the bad example. Nita and Kit had been many things, but "just friends" wasn't really one of them. Carmela could still remember how she'd caught her mama and popi talking about it once, trying to recall ever being quite that intimate with a member of the opposite sex at so young an age. Kit had blushed furiously back then, denying it hotly, but it was obvious to anyone that knew them that something would probably come of it sooner or later.

"Exactly," Mr. Callahan said in a surprisingly dry voice. "And never mind the fact that they're technically two completely different species, with lives that don't even begin to coincide, no matter how much like a human Roshaun looks." He rubbed his face. "Relationships aren't supposed to be quite this complicated, not as far as I recall."

"Yes, but I don't think Dairine would be all that interested if it wasn't at least a little complicated. She'd get bored with anything else," Carmela pointed out swiftly.

This startled a laugh out of Dairine's father. "You're right about that. Even when she was younger, Betty—" his voice broke, and he cleared it a little before continuing, "Betty always said that Dairine was precocious." His eyes went a little distant as he thought of his wife. "Betty just had that way about her. She was so good at making Dairine see reason, or at least accept compromise with a modicum of grace." He sighed, and looked older than Carmela had seen him since they'd attended Betty's funeral.

Kit had been the most affected in the Rodriguez family, since Carmela and Dairine hadn't really become good friends until around the time her mom had started getting sick and the Rodriguez household was always popping in and out of the Callahan's home, as were Tom and Carl, in support. Carmela couldn't even really conceive what she would have done if one of her parents, or her siblings, or even one of her numerous aunts and uncles had gotten ill the way Dairine's mom had.

She opened her mouth, wanting to say the right thing, the thing that might make this all better. Not that she thought she could heal Dairine's dad or anything, but she wanted to find the words to reassure him that he, with or without Betty and Dairine, with or without Roshaun, would be alright someday. Furthermore, until they were, Carmela wasn't going to stop trying to help.

There was a bang from upstairs. Carmela and Mr. Callahan were too used to the sound of air displacing with a wizard's arrival to be startled, but they both did look in the direction of Dairine's bedroom.

"Sorry, I'm coming, I'll be down in just a second!" Dairine shouted, and the banging of various drawers ensued.

Carmela shut her mouth, struggling to deal with the indefinable sense of loss that came with Dairine's arrival. Discreetly, Mr. Callahan wiped at his eyes. Carmela studiously ignored him until all but the faintest traces were gone.

Dairine, never quiet, positively clattered down the stairs and into the kitchen. She was dressed now in a pair of comfortable jeans and a shirt emblazoned with a ring carrying various symbols along the outer edge; Carmela vaguely recognized it as belonging to one of the many sci-fi shows Dairine continued to favor, despite knowing what was really out there. "Sorry," she gasped, "the simulation ran overtime by accident, and I couldn't check the time until I was out, at least not without potentially losing something vital to my continued existence. I promise, you can check with Nelaid and everything."

Her dad watched her with some amusement. "Breathe, Dair. I'm not upset. I was just talking to Carmela."

Dairine blinked, but looked otherwise unperturbed, unwilling to contest this good fortune. "Hey, 'Mela." There was another small implosion, and Spot appeared on the table. Dairine stared at him for a second or two, and Carmela knew they were probably communicating in that speed-of-machine way they favored. "Okay, ready when you are," she told Carmela. "Closet or the old-fashioned way?" she asked with a grin.

"What am I, chopped liver?" her father inquired, raising a brow. "Not even a proper hello for me?"

Dairine shook her head, then came over to give him a hug. "Hi," she greeted rather absently. "You'll be happy to know that next week I'll be mostly around. Apparently, there's some huge Wellakhit festival going on then. Nelaid invited me, and the rest of us, to attend one of the nights, if you want. It's a private thing that night, I think, so you don't have to worry too much about manners and stuff. I can send the précis over later, if you want, and you can talk to Nelaid."

"Sounds good, sweetie," Mr. Callahan answered, kissing Dairine's cheek.

It wasn't anything close to a private moment, wasn't even all that intimate, just Dairine unloading information in her usual high-speed way while her dad did his best to keep up and support her.

Nevertheless, Carmel found herself looking away at the expression on Dairine's dad's face. Carmela swallowed, feeling faintly absurd at the knowledge that she was about to burst into tears. They were family to her, more so even after the events of recent months, of the last year and then some. Carmela loved them both, knew that no matter what, she'd be there for them. Carmela blinked rapidly, feeling a little foolish at her realization. Not that she hadn't known before, but in this kitchen, here and now, Carmela was overwhelmed with it.

Dairine pulled away, coming to grab Carmela's arm. "We should go, we're already late."

"Of course," Carmela agreed, distracted, "I—"

Her words were cut off as they vanished.

~*~

"Carmela, who are you talking to?" her popi asked, sounding rather alarmed at what he was seeing when he looked over Carmela's shoulder at the computer screen.

Carmela couldn't help rolling her eyes. "Relax, Popi. One of Sker'ret's sibs has a friend who thinks that zhe might have something that will work better than hairspray to keep my hair curled, and won't kill the ozone in the process."

"Zhe?" her dad questioned.

"Mmmhmm." Carmela hummed. "Popi, don't make that face. Even on Earth, there are species that don't adhere to gender binaries."

He sighed. "I know," he said ruefully. "Just give me some time to digest it. Sometimes it's hard to believe just how big this universe is."

But isn't it so much more exciting this way? Carmela wanted to demand. When, wherever you look, things only become more strange and wild and beautiful, not less? It's the one thing I used to envy Kit—to go anywhere, everywhere, and talk to aliens and eat their food and learn their culture. Why would you want to stay on Earth?

"Just think of it this way: at least it's not a methane-breathing centipede prince with a battle fleet asking for my hand in marriage."

~*~

It began, really, with Sker'ret messaging her with the warning that she was not to go off world via her closet gating nexus until he'd had the chance to install the new updates on the technology. "It won't be for more than a day or two, your time, and I'll tell you when things are back online," he informed her. "Don't try to go off world before then, since I'd hate for you to come out the other end of the jump with a couple of extra limbs. Or missing something vital. You can still use it as a local transport, but any jumps larger than that, and you'll have some major problems."

"I think I can find a way to occupy myself without my wonderful magic closet," Carmela said loftily.

Sker'ret laughed. "I don't think your world is prepared for that," he advised.

"I know. That's what'll make it so easy."

Still, that had been a full five days ago, and she'd still not heard a word about it. Sker'ret had told her that the changes would be minor, just a streamlining of the system that would hopefully prevent her from feeling as many physical effects of the transport. Still, he'd specified off world only, and if she wanted to travel locally, she could do so as she pleased. Though she'd taken advantage of that a few times by now, she was starting to wonder whether she should try to message Sker'ret about what was going on. Carmela hadn't realized how much time she spent off world until she was no longer able to.

So it seemed perfect timing that she found Kit just before he made his escape to Mars to check on things along with Nita, Darryl and S'reee. "Take me with you!" she implored, desperate for something interesting to do. If nothing else, she could spend her time testing how quickly she could make Kit, Nita or both blush.

"No!" Kit snapped. "I'm going to be gone for half an hour, 'Mela. I'm not going to inflict you on everyone."

"Inflict me?" Carmela gasped, throwing a hand over her heart as though she had been fatally wounded. "How cruel!"

Kit looked a little abashed, but only a little. "Not this time, 'Mela. I need some peace and quiet." Then a thought struck him. "Why don't you visit Filif or Sker'ret or something if you're so bored. Or even Dairine, though she might be on Wellakh."

Carmela made a face. "Sker'ret had to do some work on my world gate, and he said not to go off world using it until he gave me the all clear."

Kit frowned at her. "So go somewhere on this world and occupy yourself, before you drive the entire house nuts. You've been claiming to be languishing of boredom for three days now."

"But where?" Carmela moaned, throwing herself onto the couch, resting the back of her hand on her brow as though to really suggest she was languishing.

Kit looked at her incredulously. "How many languages do you speak? And it's not as though you won't be able to make yourself understood—the Speech alone would let you do that."

"But it'll still be boring, 'cause I'll be all alone. Come on, Kit!" Carmela complained.

"Powers above!" Kit cried, throwing up his hands. "What do you want me to do about it?" It's not like—" he stopped himself, thinking. "Well, there's something you can do, if you're interested."

Carmela sat up eagerly. "What?"

Kit glanced at her, appraising, then turned on his heel and headed into the kitchen. Just outside the kitchen door, propped on their porch, was an enormous box of tomatoes. He lugged it inside, arms already straining under the weight. "Hah!" he exclaimed as he set them on the table. "I'll have to put a lightening spell on it before you go, I think. It's heavier than I was expecting."

"Go where?" his sister demanded.

Kit grinned at her. "La Tomatina!" he announced with relish. When Carmela stared at him in incomprehension, he explained. "La Tomatina is a festival held this time every year in Buñol, a town in Valencia, Spain. It's a festival celebrating tomatoes, basically. In the morning, around ten, the festival starts when people try to climb a greasy pole to get to the ham on top. Once someone is successful in snatching it, the signal is given for the tomato fight to start. They spend the next hour throwing crushed tomatoes at one another. Then they clean up both themselves and the streets. They do other things after that, but the tomato throwing is what they're famous for." Kit checked his watch, and feigned disappointment. "The fight's probably long done by now, since it's a little after four their time."

"So?" she questioned. "What does that have to do with the price of peas in Persepolis?"

"It's also one of the few days Mamvish takes off, and joins in on the celebration." Suddenly, the basket of tomatoes made much more sense. "Since Mamvish refuses to do any work that day, she's usually respected and left alone. However, we've got a bunch of tomatoes anyways, and since it's not a big deal if we don't talk shop, we asked if it was okay to bring them over, since she'd be in the area. She messaged Irina and the rest of us who have been working with Mars to stop by and join in the celebration if we liked. Nita and I were going to stop by with these tomatoes after we were done, but if you take them now, we'll be able to do a direct transit over and save ourselves the energy of coming back to pick the tomatoes up first, since I don't think it'll be a good idea to take them with me to Mars." Kit tapped the tomatoes. "Interested? Mamvish mentioned you, too, since you were instrumental in that translation, but I sort of forgot." He smiled sheepishly.

Carmela tilted her head thoughtfully, willing to forgo the fact that he'd forgotten to pass along the invitation in lieu of the fact that he was finally presenting her with something interesting to do. "Why not? As long as you put the lightening spell on the tomatoes, and tell me where to meet up with Mamvish. She'll be a lot more fun than you."

"Good for her," Kit retorted dryly. "Let me pass along the message, and then I'll do the spell. And then I really do have to go meet up with everyone; I'm already running late, okay?" When Carmela nodded her acquiescence, Kit sighed a little in relief. It was the work of mere moments to iron out the details, and Carmela was more than happy to let him head to Mars while she made her way upstairs with the comparatively easy to handle box of tomatoes.

She did stop just long enough to change; even though Kit had said the tomato throwing only lasted an hour in the morning and would be long done, she didn't want to risk some of her better clothing. Instead, she changed into a comfortable pair of jean shorts and a tank top, smearing sunscreen over her exposed skin just in case. Then, armed with her purse, her remote and her curling iron in her holster, she gathered up the tomatoes and stepped through.

She didn't even have a real chance to orient herself before she was accosted, but the fact made her grin; a warm body practically barreled into her with the force of their excitement. "Oh, friend," Mamvish exclaimed rapturously. "Thank you!" Hands grabbed the box, and a tomato was instantly plucked out of it and crammed into a comparatively small and very human mouth.

Carmela stared; she couldn't help it. Though it had been Mamvish's voice, she had shape-changed to the form of a plump young woman with cherubic cheeks and auburn hair that had been pulled back in a mostly ordered ponytail. Her clothing was still stained here and there with traces of tomatoes, presumably from the earlier fight, but most of it had been washed away, though no trace of moisture remained in the heat of the day. Dark eyes glanced up at Carmela, even as she swallowed and started in on another one and her mouth, painted red from the tomato juice, spread in an enormous smile.

If Carmela focused, she could see the faint suggestion of Mamvish's true form hovering around her, but it was only barely palpable. "Uh, no problem," she said, blinking. The second tomato finished, Mamvish was starting in on the third without the slightest suggestion of slowing. "Any time." She knew that she was staring, but she couldn't help it. There was an unreserved sense of power and sheer Mamvish exuding from the girl, and Carmela couldn't look at her too long without getting an itch in the back of her mind that declared at top volume that something was not quite right. It wasn't bad, exactly, but disconcerting and unnerving in a way that made Carmela want to put plenty of distance between herself and the transformed Mamvish until she returned to her natural form.

As Mamvish picked up a fourth tomato, however, she paused for a moment, seeming unaware of Carmela's vague discomfort. "Oh, forgive me! I'm so rude. It's the tomatoes, you know," she apologized. She bit into this tomato a touch more decorously, devouring it in neat bites instead of nearly whole. Her fingers reached out for a fifth them, and then she paused, lingering. "This body probably can't handle much more," she said with real regret.

Carmela, who couldn't help but be a little dazed by this display of enjoyment of the tomatoes despite the fact that she, even now, held the box of them in her arms, could only said, "Uh, I guess?" in a very confused voice.

Mamvish looked abashed, smearing tomato juice all over her clothing when she wiped her hands on them. "Thank you for bringing them," she murmured a touch contritely, laying a not-quite-correctly-textured humanoid palm against her skin. "It was very kind of you."

Carmela flushed a little. "Oh, it's no big deal. Do you mind if I set them down, now?"

Mamvish held up a hand. "A moment, if you please." The world bent around them as they were abruptly transported to the far edges of the town, all but out of sight. Carmela swayed uncertainly for a second, having forgotten Mamvish's habit of quick transport without warning, and nearly dropped the tomatoes. It was only Mamvish's quick movement that kept them from splattering over the ground. It was accompanied by an agonized, "But not the tomatoes!" that made Carmela snicker despite herself.

The minute the tomatoes were safely on the ground, and despite professing fullness mere moments ago, Mamvish began to delicately nibble on yet another tomato. Carmela wondered how she could possible want more of them, though she didn't voice the thought aloud. Instead, she inquired, "Why did we have to leave?"

Mamvish swallowed and explained, "With the festivities proper over, I'll probably be seeing a few friends, and I wish to do so in my own form. It's uncomfortable, compressing all of myself into a shape that I am unused to. It makes me want to scratch ferociously." She twisted her body, stretching, and before Carmela's eyes, she began to shift. The color of her skin changed as extra limbs sprouted and her face elongated. Within seconds, the Mamvish that Carmela had expected upon arriving had returned.

Carmela couldn't help letting out a quick sigh of relief. Mamvish shook herself prodigiously, as though getting out all of the kinks, and muttered in a voice of great relaxation, "Oh, much better! As much as I enjoy La Tomatina, I'm glad to be back in my own form. And now I can eat these tomatoes properly."

However, rather than diving straight in as she had in the past, Mamvish continued to eat them relatively daintily; rather than scarfing down three or four, she continued to eat one at a time, savoring the texture and flavor. It seemed that whatever else, she'd been able to eat quite a few tomatoes before Carmela had arrived.

Carmela tilted her face up, enjoying the sun. Heat had never particularly bothered her, especially if it was a dry heat, as it was today. Summers in New York could get incredibly humid and sticky, but even the middle of the afternoon in Valencia was comparatively dry, a breeze stirring the few lose hairs that had managed to escape her braid.

Mamvish settled down ponderously, though half the basket still remained. "A suitable snack for later," she declared, and the color of her hide shifted slightly as she joined Carmela in basking in the sun. "Thank you for bringing those out for me, but Kit told me that he was planning on picking them up before he came over from Mars," Mamvish said leadingly.

Carmela shrugged, then stretched out completely in the grass, arms out-flung and already darkening beneath the hot August sky. "It wasn't a problem, you know. I wasn't doing anything important, and it saved Kit the trip anyways." Carmela looked up at Mamvish, who smiled down at her, the hard lines of her body softened by the glow of the sun.

It made something in Carmela's stomach squirm deliciously. "It's really no trouble."

"Have you been to La Tomatina before?" Mamvish asked curiously.

"No. I actually hadn't even heard of it before today," Carmela admitted.

Mamvish shook her head sadly and said in a mournful tone, "You should attend next year with me!" Then, earnestly, as if it mattered, she added, "They don't use the proper good tomatoes for the fight. And they crush them before they throw them, so it doesn't really hurt."

Carmela laughed a little. "I'll take it under consideration," she said lightly.

"Wonderful! So few people want to come and not be able to talk shop. At least, so few wizards—I can usually get Spain and South Italy to come at the very least—"

"Excuse me?" Carmela interrupted, incredulous. "Like...the nations themselves?"

"Of course! Who else? Spain in particular is fond of the festival and hasn't missed one in the last hundred years at least," Mamvish explained effusively, gesturing a little. "He has some of the best aim I've ever seen."

"Well," Carmela said for lack of anything better to say, "He must have had a lot of time to practice." Mamvish chuckled, a warm sound that made the ground vibrate beneath Carmela. "Have you known him for long?"

"Antonio owes me a favor," Mamvish said vaguely.

She turned the conversation from there, leading Carmela through a variety of different topics, transitioning smoothly from topic to topic without Carmela ever feeling like Mamvish was dominating the conversation. Carmela found herself telling stories she hadn't even thought about in years, delighted every time she managed to make the alien chuckle. Mamvish was powerful, yes, and was responsible for an incredibly important role as the Archivist, but she was also a female not all that much older than Carmela herself, if they looked at relative terms. Mamvish's people were long-lived, incredibly so, and it was easy to forget that as adult as Mamvish behaved, she still wasn't.

It made Carmela sympathetic to the clear joy that Mamvish exuded while they spoke to one another; even Kit and Nita and Dairine didn't want to talk shop all the time, let alone Tom and Carl. Wizardry was important, but Carmela hadn't yet met someone for whom it was the only thing in their lives. With Mamvish's power and duties, however, it must sometimes feel like that.

Carmela looked up at her, looked at the beautiful, softly glowing skin, the pleased smile. Mamvish seemed more alive than ever like this, vibrant in a way that Carmela couldn't begin to describe. Her entire body was focused on Carmela, and even the remaining tomatoes hadn't been touched as they spoke.

Carmela couldn't help but think that it was an honor few were shown.

Mamvish shook her head. "I don't think about it much," she corrected ruefully. Carmela blinked in confusion, having lost track of the conversation despite herself. As fascinating as Mamvish was, she didn't want it to end here.

She opened her mouth, uncaring of how random it would seem to invite Mamvish to do dinner with her sometimes. That fluttery feeling was in full force, after all, and it seemed like a brilliant idea, to get more of Mamvish's intense focus and intelligence centered on her.

The sound of the air exploding outwards as Kit, Nita and the rest of the people who'd gone to Mars arrived sounded like a canon going off, far deeper than usual as a result of the much larger amount of air being displaced.

Mamvish and Carmela fell silent as the humans made their way towards the pair of them, exclaiming their greetings and looking pleased with themselves.

"Back to the grindstone," Carmela commented lightly, and went to say hello to her brother.

~*~

Carmela joked, "What is this, an intervention?" the minute she came into the family room and saw her parents together on the couch, faces serious. When they didn't so much as crack a smile, Carmela's brows shot up. "You've got to be kidding me!" she shouted, throwing her hands in the air. "What on Earth do I need an intervention for?"

"Will you sit down?" her mama said severely, "And it's not an intervention. We just need to discuss some things with you." She frowned until Carmela made a very put-upon face and sat on the nearby armchair. "Thank you."

"What do you want?" Carmela demanded impatiently. "I'm supposed to meet up with S'reee in twenty minutes to go over some stuff she found on the sea floor that she can't understand, even with the Sea's aid. I can't be late."

Her popi sighed. "That's what we're talking about, Carmela. You're not a wizard, you're not armed like they are. We don't know if we want you to be traipsing around the planet, or universe, or whatever, like this."

Carmela jerked back as if slapped. "I don't know if you recall," she murmured with icy clarity, "but I was the one who saved Nita and Sker'ret's butts in the Crossing, and I took on the Lone Power on Rashah, all without a drop of magic. Don't try to tell me I'm defenseless out there! What are you really concerned about?"

Her mama was on the attack next. "We know that, we do, but we're starting to wonder if it's what's best for you." Her tone was placating. "Between your school grades, and your future—"

"This again?" Carmela muttered with disgust.

"Don't take that tone with us!" her mother snapped. "you need to be aware that whatever else, you have to live on this world, and you need to start acting like it! You need to be able to support yourself! You constantly tell me all the boys you've gone out with are boring, you watch nothing but alien television these days, you're ignoring that college applications are around the corner, you spend all your time talking to people you've hardly met online—"

Carmela leapt to her feet, fury blazing in her face. "What if I don't want those 'normal' things?" she bit out, each word tasting sharp in her mouth. "I don't...I don't care about that!" She gestured wildly, as though that would make her tangled knot of emotions make sense, as though it would order her panicked thoughts. "I want a different life than that!"

The words burst out of her, without rhyme or reason. She didn't know what kind of different life she wanted to lead, but she couldn't imagine staying here, going to college and getting married and having a job with two-point-five kids. The only picket fence she wanted to see was one that acted as a gateway to something far more exciting than such a barrier would suggest. Carmela loathed even the notion, feeling trapped and insecure.

She took a step back, then another, the tears catching her almost by surprise and slipping down her cheeks before she even knew she was going to cry. Hot anger bubbled up, the incomprehension she'd seen on her parents' faces twisting her up on the inside.

Carmela ran for her closet, where the whole universe was waiting for her.

~*~

Quiet times, relaxing times—wizard or not, they tended to be few and far between. So often Carmela found herself a part of the only-vaguely controlled chaos that was rapidly becoming standard in her life these days.

Even so, Carmela had to admit that sometimes, taking a step back to breathe was necessary to keep her from making entropy run that much quicker. She stared up at the slowly turning Earth, letting the sight of it, the sheer marvel that she was lucky enough to see like this for herself, wash over her.

Beside her, for once still and silent, Dairine lay as well, a spot of warmth against Carmela's skin. Even wizardry wasn't perfect, and there was a slight chill in the air they'd brought with them when they'd come out here hours ago. The blanket they were laying on to keep themselves from being covered in moon dust was of little help, lying as it was between them and the ground and while it might ward off the worst of the moon's chill, it provided no aid against anything else.

"Wellakh used to have a moon," Dairine mused suddenly without shifting from her spot. "It burnt up when their sun flared. Surprisingly, the time it took the molten plasma to turn the moon to slag gave them a little extra time. Not a lot, you know—an extra half hour before it hit the upper atmosphere. Of course, then they were dealing with the slag and excess moon debris that resulted, but you can't have everything." Dairine's voice was wry and slightly bitter. "I took him here. When we went to intervene with the sun, I mean." Dairine's voice, usually so strident, was a bare murmur when she finished speaking.

Carmela's hand reached out, resting against the soft skin of Dairine's wrist, her fingers feeling the low pulse of the other girl's heartbeat. "You'll find him, Dairine," Carmela whispered back. "He's out there, somewhere." It seemed a paltry support, a barely-expressed sentiment, but it was all she had to offer.

"Yeah," Dairine agreed in a choked voice. She had to clear her throat twice before she could say, "I'll drag him back by his ridiculously long hair, if I have to."

Carmela laughed for a moment, and then said casually, "I expect no less."

Dairine let out a noise that was part frustration, part pain, part loss, and pressed in close. Carmela didn't turn her face away from the blue and green of the Earth, still slowly dancing in the sky. Whether Dairine was crying or not, she wouldn't appreciate the audience. Carmela would do her more good like this, a silent friend who listened for everything Dairine did not say.

Dairine hugged her briefly when her breathing finally evened out; Carmela made sure to hug back twice as hard. Dairine finally scooted away, though she was still a long line of warmth against the side of Carmela's body. She sighed lightly, waiting until she was sure that her friend was as composed as she ever managed before she turned to look at her and asked, "Do you...if Roshaun...you know..."

Carmela was thwarted now as ever, trapped in a mind and a series of emotions that hadn't been trained for this. Even now, what she needed to say was too big, too important—not so much to bind herself with the label, but to understand it, understand herself—

Dairine was silent for a long time.

Carmela knew as well as anyone that Dairine wasn't a little girl anymore. Her body was finally catching up to her mind, and while the grey eyes were sharper than ever, the face they sat in was less rounded. Sometimes, unexpectedly, Carmela saw the hint of a curved breast even in the over-sized t-shirts Dairine so favored. Wizardry made people grow up fast in a lot of ways—Carmela knew that as well as anyone, knew how stupid empty-minded pleasures seemed sometimes.

Since becoming a wizard, Dairine had grown up a lot.

Her eyes were clear and intelligent when they met Carmela's own. She was the question in Carmela's face more clearly than Carmela herself was capable of giving voice to. On the moon, the faint edges of their shield glimmering blue around the edges, they studied each other.

"I've done some reading, on Spot," Dairine began awkwardly. "In the Speech, there are words for types of sexualities we humans can barely comprehend. Our brains just aren't meant to handle the idea of reproducing unconsciously in other planes of being even while their bodies remain wholly in this universe."

In that, at least, Dairine was right. Carmela tried to figure out how that might be feasible, but it involved too many extra realities, dimensions, and dimensional realities for it to make any real sense to her. Dairine's mouth twitched when she glanced at Carmela's furrowed brow.

"I thought it was interesting—as many words as we have these days to describe even one 'non-standard' sexuality, the Speech easily has a dozen more with various cultural and personal implications." She paused for a moment before saying a little more carefully, "And there are still other words to describe those who, by the implications and definitions of a word, technically could be considered by others to fall in one given sexuality but view themselves as something else entirely." Dairine put an unconscious emphasis on the words, catching Carmela's eye.

Carmela thought about it for a minute. Roshaun was humanoid, almost eerily so, and from Dairine descriptions, so were his mother and father, but they were still ultimately aliens. Carmela didn't ask, not yet, not when there technically wasn't a 'Them' yet, but she could see how a relationship might be...complex, at the least.. If Dairine wanted to talk, however, Carmela was empathetic enough to her situation that she'd be willing to lend an ear whenever she needed someone to listen.

"There's also a word in the Speech," Dairine murmured hesitantly. "Avala sath."

Even Carmela's still rudimentary Speech could make sense of that, steganographic gift or not.

"All sex."

"It has a couple of names on Earth—omnisexuality, polisexuality, but the most common is pansexuality. It doesn't...they don't care about race or gender or appearances, not in the same way we traditionally think about them. It's not about how people label themselves, but about people themselves." Dairine grinned crookedly. "You just happen to know more kinds of people than most."

Carmela turned back to Earth, which grew blurry in her vision and then practically invisible from behind that hot sting. The thought of it—to not consider alien life as something inherently different, to be able to fall in love with whomever she pleased, to see the beauty and sheer life in everyone she came across—

She, in turn, hid her face in the curve of Dairine's shoulder and let her body shake, let the answer—or at least, an answer—sink in and take root. Dairine's small, nail-bitten hand came up to hesitantly rub her back, all the more lovely for its insecurity.

For all their age difference, Dairine often had more sense than the girls and boys Carmela's own age. She was brilliant in her own right, too, and her own hardships had softened her. She had become like another sister, vexing and irritating and loyal and kind by turns. Were it not for the way Dairine looked and spoke of Roshaun and the fact that Dairine was far too young, Carmela might have kissed her.

Instead, she just continued to breathe softly, letting Dairine's shy touch warm her inside and out.

Later, when Carmela was done, they talked in low voices occasionally interspersed with laughter. Carmela felt lighter than she had in months, if not longer, and her cheeks ached with the force of her grin.

Much later, the moon showed hardly any sign of their passing.

But, thought Carmela much, much later, that's alright. After all, that which is essential is invisible to the eye.

~*~

Carmela didn't feel all that different, not really, even as her new understanding began to blossom. She still thought most of the boys she'd met thus far on Earth were boring and still preferred alien cable to Earth's own. She still had no intention whatsoever of attending the college, either, at least not on Earth if she could help it and there was still no way she was going to stop talking to the very interesting people she'd met online. Even so—

This was her life, all of these moments, big and little.

This was her life, all of those words, to be used to help everyone understand.

This was her life, all of this love, for the people around her.

"Mama? Popi? I have to talk to you."