Yes, it's another story about my Muse. Disclaimers and notes are at the end, but let me just say that this story attempts to explain the Captain's new look. ;) Enjoy -- feedback would be much appreciated.

Warning: This story contains hints of f/f and m/f in varying degrees. Nothing above PG-13, but if the idea squicks you then don't read it. There's also a bit of swearing.

Continuity note: Takes place a few days before The Other Holiday Party (aka the Muses' Christmas party) RR.

cut this picture into you and me
burn it backwards kill this history
make it over make it stay away
or hate'll sing the ending that love started to say
-- Elliott Smith, Sweet Adeline

The doorway shimmered before her, like a heat mirage suspended in mid-air. Its quiet simplicity surprised her -- its creator's tastes, the last time they met, were firmly of the ostentatious variety.

Smoothing down her well-cut leather jacket, the Captain firmly squashed the mental voice yelling at her to beat a retreat. A War Muse, albeit one with "ex" tacked to the title, does not run away. No. Definitely not.

She took a step forward and paused, hating herself for doing so.  When she received the invitation, she should have insisted that they meet on neutral ground. Somewhere she was comfortable, if not exactly her stomping ground. Instead she had let herself be the goddess' guest in a territory which made her uneasy.

Good going, Captain, she thought to herself. Falcon would probably laugh like hell when he hears about this.

The Captain eyed the doorway again. Mentally throwing up her hands, she stepped through the portal--

--and into another world.

Marble dominated the room, from the gleaming floor to the balustrade on the verandah. Fire burned in copper braziers at every corner, lending a warm illumination to the chamber. The verandah doors were open, giving a beautiful view of the lush garden outside. Gauzy curtains billowed in the night breeze, its gold embroidery matching the designs on the tapestries hanging from the walls. The room was quite large, yet cosy enough to give an impression of intimacy.

A polished wooden table sat in the centre of the richly-appointed room, decorated with a small flower arrangement. Red roses, she noted. Exquisite, just like the lady sitting at the table...

It was years since the Captain last saw her, but she recognized the person immediately: flawless walnut-brown skin, long black hair and dark eyes veiled with sensuality, disguising the hunter within. The trademark bow and quiver of arrows were missing, but there was no mistaking the identity of the woman.

"Hello, Anouke," she greeted, calmly holding out a hand to her former lover.

The war goddess remained seated, looking up at the appendage as if it was an alien creature. "Why the formality, my red rose? I would think that old lovers are entitled to more than just a handshake," she rebuked, smiling lazily.

"If you must call me anything other than "Captain", I prefer Iphianassa."

"I see." Anouke's eyes narrowed. "Do sit down," she invited, indicating the chair opposite her. "I have to admit, I was not expecting hostility so early in the evening."

"You may have forgotten the reason for our estrangement, but I haven't," the Captain stated coldly. "If it wasn't for the fact that my Writer was afflicted with the Christmas spirit and ordered me to take the night off, I wouldn't even be here."

Anouke leaned forward. "Are you very sure there was no other reason?"

"Kindly back the hell off."

The raven-haired woman shrugged. "Hostility aside, you are here. That is what matters." She raised an elegant hand, summoning a servant. "I took the liberty of setting the menu myself -- I do hope you won't mind. By the by, do you still like gravlax?"

You know damn well... "Not as much as I used to."

"Ah, so you do remember how to speak in a civil manner." Two young boys walked gracefully to the table, carrying finger bowls. Anouke dipped her fingers into the perfumed water, absently drying them on the boy's reddish-blond hair. The gesture harked back to the Romans of ancient days, a "party favour" among the rich and extravagant.

The Captain gritted her teeth, refusing to follow her ex-lover's example. Silence fell as another servant brought in the appetiser, a concoction which included several vegetables she wasn't sure she recognized.

Finally, tired of the unvoiced tension, the Muse set down her fork and looked at her former lover straight in the eye. "What's this all about, Anouke? You made it quite clear years ago that you never wanted to see me again."

"Your memory is faulty. As I recall, it was you who never wanted to see me again." Anouke rolled her eyes. "I merely wanted to know you are doing. By Osiris, must you be so paranoid? Have you grown so bitter through the years that you can no longer see the truth without searching for the snake?"

"There speaks a hypocrite. You have no idea what I went through, even when you were the cause of it," the Captain growled, stabbing a finger at the woman sitting opposite her. "When I refused to be a lover at your beck and call, you wouldn't talk to me for decades. And just when I thought I could salvage a friendship out of our mistake--"

"I would have been there for you, if it wasn't for that cursed samurai," Anouke snarled.

"Leave Takasuke out of this." The Captain's voice was filled with menace, her eyes darkening into cobalt as her temper flared. "For Zeus' sakes, you don't own me! It's not even as if you've never met my other lovers before him."

"He was not right for you!"

"And who was? You?" the red-haired Muse interrupted hotly. "Despite the fact that you were a goddess, you are not omniscient and you sure as hell didn't have any business passing judgements on my affairs."

"Hah!" Anouke frowned, disgust twisting her beautiful lips. "I never did find out what you saw in that... mortal."

"You may be my first lover, Anouke, but if you don't stop insulting him I won't regret killing you."

Silence crashed down on them again, but this time it was Anouke who pushed it aside.

"Once, you would never have made that threat. I don't know you any more," she said slowly, staring at the Captain accusingly. "Your new name... I should have known. The young Muse I loved has changed -- you're harder now, Iphianassa. Ruthless. Cold."

The Captain glared at her. "Stop being so bloody melodramatic. I changed a long time ago. It was you who never noticed, who thought I was still innocent and naive enough to want you at any price."

"I doubt it."

A bitter laugh worked its way through the Muse's lips. "That has always been your problem, Anouke -- the only perspective you see is your own. That's why you never understood why I left you and what I felt for Takasuke."

Anouke spread her hands in a conciliatory manner. "So explain it to me. I have been waiting for more than a century... I think I can afford to listen now."

"Do you really want to hear this?"

"Yes."

"Very well -- but I'm not having a heart-to-heart talk in this place." She stood up abruptly, much to Anouke's consternation. "Let's go."

"Where?"

The Captain risked a small smile and took her hand. "Subreality's a big place. I'm sure we'll find something."

"To think that I could be having lamb rolls with smoked salmon right now. I must be mad! Why, nothing compares to eating chicken rice on a windy rooftop."

"Easy on the sarcasm, Anouke. It might escape and kill innocent passers-by."

They sat on the top of the House of Unfinished Ideas, watching a typical Subreality night. That is to say, parts of it were still dawdling at sunset while others hurried on to dawn. In the distance, something which looked vaguely like a giant mouse in a cape was flying, backlit by one of the moons.

"This..." Anouke paused, trying to think of a suitably inoffensive adjective. "Subreality is a very strange place."

"Not at all," her former lover disagreed. "As a matter of fact, it's very similar to where the gods live. Right down to the occasional power-hungry 'creators'."

"Yes, but we tend to leave out the parts that say, 'Here be flying rodents.'"

"That's because you replaced them with the parts that say, 'Here be tentacled demons that would sooner bugger themselves than show mercy on the living.'"

"Very funny." Anouke dug into her roasted chicken with a plastic spoon, trying to avoid spraying rice in all directions. Much to her annoyance, the Captain seemed to have no such difficulty, tucking into her food with every sign of enjoyment. "So, this epiphany I am supposed to be having..."

"Can wait until after dinner." The Captain tapped her spoon against the rice container. "That reminds me -- I'll have to get a few bottles of liquor from the Cafe."

"Why not use your magic?" Anouke asked, exasperated, as she manoeuvred a piece of chicken skin aside. "Don't tell me you are going to make me drink beer..."

The Muse's answer was delivered in an uncharacteristically quiet tone. "I don't use much magic any more."

Anouke shot her an inquiring glance, but made no comment. She merely raised a hand, saying something under her breath. Immediately, half a dozen bottles appeared beside them, looking slightly dusty.

"I have some of the finest wines in the Egyptian pantheon," she declared proudly. "Frankly, I am shocked you would even consider the lesser vintages."

"I don't usually drink wine, but thank you," the Captain said dryly, obviously suppressing a less polite comment. "How's your chicken rice?"

"Too salty for my tongue, but quite delicious." They lapsed back into silence, but this time the quiet moment was more comfortable than tense. Anouke for one was glad of it, though she would never admit the feeling to anyone. Especially a certain redhead.

She surreptitiously studied the Captain, cataloguing the details that had transformed her former lover. The luxurious mane of fiery hair was gone, replaced by a no-nonsense cut. Anouke felt a pang of regret -- she used to love running her fingers through that silky hair. There were calluses on the Captain's hands now, her face having lost the freshness and easy humour it had when they first met. Vulnerability, romanticism, unthinking passion... they were sacrificed to a purifying fire.

Come to think of it, she hadn't seen those qualities in Iphianassa since the Muse War ended. It was getting harder to think of the Muse as "Iphianassa" and not "the Captain". The girl she knew did not have the aggressiveness and razor- sharp wit of the woman before her. Anouke had not noticed the changes the last time they met, but then again the Muse was a woman in love...

Anouke dropped her eyes. If biting her lip was not so undignified, she would be gnawing a hole through her bottom lip. The Captain was still attracted to her, she knew, but for the first time she began to wonder if there was truly any hope of re- establishing their relationship.

No. I won't accept it. Viciously, she hacked at a stubborn piece of chicken. There must be something I can do.

The darkness swirled around them, held at bay with the fireball Anouke conjured up. An odd look flashed through the Captain's eyes at this, but when she finally spoke it was only of inconsequential things. They talked about the people they knew, exchanging news and anecdotes -- occasionally punctuated with laughter. They talked about the old days, of gardens and foolish gods. They did not talk about wars. The physical gap between them was slowly bridged... until they found themselves sitting side by side on the edge of the House of Unfinished Ideas, staring at the vista of creativity made manifest.

The night wore on, until there was only a single star.

"What the hell did you make this wine out of? Bacchus' blood?" the Captain slurred, upending the bottle over her glass.

"You guessed it." Anouke giggled, nearly spilling wine on her formerly pristine dress. "Can't you tell? I'm trying to get you drunk so I can ravish you."

"I may be drunker than Frank in a whisky brewery, but I can still kick your sorry arse." Finding only a bare inch of wine still remaining, she tossed the empty bottle aside. "Damn. Only two more left."

Weaving slightly, Anouke raised an arm. "I can summon more if you want. Let's see... what was the spell?"

The Captain grabbed her arm, pulling it down. "Nah. You might teleport Anubis without his clothes again, then he'll really be pissed."

"Are you underesh-- are you saying I'm weak?" Anouke protested drunkenly, outraged. "I can so do it."

"Fine. But I'm getting out my sword."

"Oh ye of little faith. Watch this." The warrior goddess mumbled something, throwing up a hand dramatically. There was a loud pop, followed by a burst of green light. Something clattered against the floor -- a lacquered tray in which two small porcelain cups were neatly placed, flanking...

...a bottle of sake.

Even in her less-than-sober state, Anouke was immediately aware she just made a Very Big Mistake (in cosmic terms, equivalent to blowing up an inhabited solar system). "I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"

The Captain reached out for the bottle, studying its glazed patterns. "I haven't had sake since Taka died," she murmured with deadly calm. Her face froze into an expressionless mask. "Still, shame to waste it."

She poured the sake into the two cups, handing one to Anouke. Quietly, deliberately, she set down the bottle. Her movements still careful and precise, she raised her cup as if in a toast -- and hurled it over the edge of the House. The liquid made a glittering arc in the air, joining the cup in its descent.

"That was not very productive," Anouke mumbled.

The Captain, slumped against a wall, did not deign to reply.

"And you say I am the childish one."

That got a reaction. "Shut up, Anouke," the Muse growled.

"Why should I?" The sake burned her throat, but it definitely helped to counter the dreaded feeling of sobriety. "You promised me an explanation. It is nearly morning, Iphianassa. You can either go to bed with me, or you can tell me why you won't."

"Arrogant bitch."

"No, I believe that is Calliope."

The Captain raised an eyebrow. "You want an explanation? Then promise me you will listen to what I have to say. I want you to understand, Anouke, but that's impossible unless you are willing."

Anouke placed a hand on her shoulder. "I promise."

The Muse leaned back against the wall, collecting her thoughts. For a long time her blue eyes searched the sky, for something only she could see. Finally she turned her gaze to Anouke and said, fiercely, "I loved Takasuke."

The honesty and raw emotion behind the statement took even Anouke by surprise. Some of what she felt must have shown on her face, for the Captain nodded and continued, "That's what you never accepted, Anouke -- that's part of the problem between us. You had me when I was young and passionate. I flattered you, and you couldn't let go of that image of me even after I outgrew it."

"But--"

"Please, Anouke. Don't interrupt." The Captain took a deep breath. "Maybe it's because you're a true immortal, unlike me. As a goddess you may change with time, but peel back the layers and there's still you inside. I'm not like that. I don't have, at the core of my being, the girl you fell in love with. I still have some things in common with her, but for all intents and purposes she is dead.

"Whatever the reason, her ghost must be laid to rest tonight."

Anouke nodded slightly, eyes wide.

The Captain's stance softened a little. "I'm sorry. If I had been more mature, more disposed towards talking to you instead of shouting my anger... perhaps we would not have wasted so much time apart." Her sapphire gaze hardened. "However, it does not excuse your behaviour towards Takasuke."

She tossed back the rest of her wine, as if trying to fortify herself. Her eyes glimmered, and for a moment Anouke was afraid she was going to cry. The Captain, however, retained enough control to prove the goddess wrong.

"They called him Seigi no Kaze -- 'Wind of Justice'. His daimyo's word was law, and his was the swift hand that executed it. You should have seen him in battle... he was just like his namesake," the Muse recalled wistfully, grief shadowing her features for a fleeting moment. "Did you know the Japanese have a word for the sound of wind? It also means 'beautiful poetry'. That's what he wrote, Anouke. Beautiful poetry about the people he met."

She smiled gently. "Taka wasn't the best poet I've ever Mused for, nor was he my favourite... but I fell in love with him. Utterly. Maybe it was his imagination -- his creative mindscape manifested in a grove of ancient pine trees. I was expecting a battlefield, or a library like my current Writer." The Muse blinked rapidly. "I can still smell the resin."

"He..." Anouke's throat closed, but she forced herself to say the words. "He sounds like a nice man."

"I remember the first time I appeared to him," the Captain continued speaking, as if the goddess' words did not reach her ears. "He just seemed so lonely... I was the Muse for a couple of writers in Japan back during the 1600s, but I never had to take on physical form before. So there I was, trying to shapeshift into something more suitable for his culture. I got everything right too, except the hair."

She winced. "Thank Zeus he didn't think I was a demon."

Anouke laughed, unable to help herself. "Quite the opposite, if our first encounter was any indication."

"Yes, well... finding me sitting on his lap and trying to pick pine needles out of my hair tends to give that impression," the Muse smiled wryly, an expression soon wiped out by a frown. "It was very rude of you to invade his mindscape, Anouke, even if I did stand you up."

"So you told me, many times. What can I say? I was extremely impatient." The Egyptian deity shrugged. "He did not seem frightened of me, in any case."

"The Bushido code is centered around the philosophy of freedom from fear. A samurai must transcend the fear of death, so as to serve his master well. Taka used to tell me that courage was the conquest of fear, not the absence of it."

Her lips trembled slightly. "If there was one thing we had in common, it was duty. We both understood what it was like to be married to duty, body and soul. Even so... no one ever gave the wind any choice but to race until it disappeared into the sky. I never dared to dream beyond the moment with him, though I knew through his poetry what he longed for."

"Not the conquest of fear, I take it?" Anouke asked faintly, mentally slapping herself as soon as the words registered in her mind.

"Oh, he conquered his fear all right, and his prize was death." The Captain's voice cracked. "You kept me from him, damn you! All my vaunted magic couldn't save Taka by the time I found him -- the only thing I could do to draw his mind into the grove, where he wouldn't feel any pain..."

"I... I... but Iphianassa, Muses are forbidden from interfering!"

"At that moment, Anouke, the Collegium could burn and I won't give a damn. Did you know what his last words to me were, lover?" Her eyes burned with blue fire. "'Kono hito wa watashi o shiawase o ubatta hito'," she quoted. "'Soshite mou hitotsu no shiawase o kureta hito'."

The other woman opened her mouth, but the Captain forestalled the obvious question with an angry glare.

"It's an old Japanese saying about love and lovers: 'This person is the one who took away my happiness. And then, he is the one who gave another happiness'," she explained harshly. "It was never that way with us, Anouke. I don't know if it's even possible."

A tear escaped its confines, tracing a wet line down the Captain's cheek. Quietly, Anouke put her arms around the Muse, apologising with her warmth and comfort in a way words never could.

Fog crept through the streets of Subreality, courtesy of an enthusiastic Horror Night over at the Subreality Cafe. Through the cold veil, two figures emerged -- one a Muse, the other an almost- forgotten goddess. They had expunged the alcohol from their bodies only a few minutes ago, consequently finding themselves too sober to do anything but wander aimlessly until one of them worked up the nerve to talk to the other.

Wounds had healed that night, but the new skin was still too tender to risk words that could cause new pain. The Captain glanced at Anouke, then down at their clasped hands. Silence was safer, creating an illusion of accord and understanding. Words were blunt and sharp at the same time, destroying the fragile peace.

Bollocks to silence, she thought. It did more to hurt us than anything we ever said.

They reached Kirby Park, and sat down on a bench to watch the sunrise. Gold and red streaked the indigo sky, as a light breeze carried the first whispers of warmth to their upturned faces. Leaves, wet with morning dew, drifted down to settle against the damp grass.

"I should be getting back to my Writer now," the Captain ventured. She brushed her lips against the back of Anouke's hand. "I can't say I enjoyed the night, but... I'm glad for it."

"As am I." Anouke released her hand from the redhead's grasp, placing it against the Muse's cheek. "Will you give me a kiss, Iphianassa?"

The Captain gently pushed away her hand. "I don't think that would be a good idea, Anouke. I'm sorry."

"No matter. It was a mere nostalgic gesture." The goddess snapped her fingers, and a portal appeared a few metres away. "Allow me the honour of sending you home, at least."

So much still left unsaid.

"Of course. Thank you." Awkwardly, the Muse stepped away and gave her former lover a wave of farewell. For a moment it seemed as if Anouke had grown smaller, but she dismissed the thought.

"Good-bye!" she called out, walking through the doorway--

--and out into Yasmin's room.

Relief did not flood through her, as she imagined it would. Instead she ached with bone-deep weariness, heart and body. Suppressing a groan, the Captain teleported into Yasmin's Library of Ideas, slumping into a chair with little of her usual grace.

She hadn't told Anouke everything. Some secrets were simply too painful to reveal -- not even Falcon, her former mentor, knew the whole story. She had a sneaking suspicion, however, that he made quite a few educated guesses.

The Captain never told anyone of her attempts to comfort her dying lover, of the helplessness she felt when she realised how inadequate she was for the task. She was an accomplished warrior, an expert fighter in the battlefield. She had killed, and killed well -- but she could not even ease the passing of the man she loved.

The understanding in Takasuke's eyes only increased her guilt and rage. I'm just not cut out for matters of the heart, she thought. I should never have acknowledged how we felt for each other. I should have just bloody well left it alone and let him find someone else.

The Captain did not believe in eternal love. In time, even the love she felt for Taka faded into a dull buzz at a corner of her thoughts. Anger, on the other hand, was something that always stayed with her. She'd spent a long time being angry after he died. Maybe, she admitted to herself, she never stopped being angry.

She changed into her usual flightsuit, her equilibrium re-establishing itself. Yasmin was already half-awake -- time to get to work. She smiled mischievously. If her Writer thought there was going to be any respite after her night out, she was sadly mistaken.

The Muse appeared beside Yasmin's bed, taking a seat in front of the dresser. She found a large star sticker stuck to the mirror, and raised an eyebrow in surprise. At least it isn't aliens this time...

Unexpectedly, she felt a prickle of pain. Taka had called her his ryuusei, a falling star come from the heavens. Poetry had been like that for him, trying to catch a meteor before it burned itself out... capturing moments from life that struck his sense of beauty before they vanished forever.

She gazed at her reflection in the mirror, as if trying to find answers from a voiceless oracle. The woman she saw looked cool and unruffled, her eyes hinting at a fiery temper. No-nonsense. Professional. Invincible. And ultimately, untouchable.

A long time ago she opted to become a distant star in the night, instead of a shooting star that burns bright but quickly dies in its own flames. Taka was a reminder that she could still walk down the other path -- but he was dead and she was still alive.

No, I have chosen my path and I have no regrets.

The Captain's lips turned upwards in a slight smile. But maybe, sometimes, it wouldn't hurt to let out the falling star.

END

Thank god. This story really got away from me -- I never expected it to be this long. Much thanks to Farli and Rossi for their beta-reading help.

Disclaimer: The concept of Subreality was created by Kielle. The House of Unfinished Ideas and Kirby Park were discovered by Skyrocket. Frank belongs to Rossi and quite a lot of whisky. The Collegium was created by Farli. Calliope is public domain, but was recreated by a bunch of Muse-loving Writers. ;)

The Captain/Iphianassa, Falcon/Tristram and Takasuke are mine. Anouke is technically public domain, but this version was largely created by my imagination. The Library of Ideas is mine, too. Anybody found stepping foot in there will be immediately executed.

Japanese glossary:

Samurai -- Member of the warrior class
Bushido -- The Way of the Warrior
Daimyo -- Feudal landowner
Ryuusei -- Falling star/meteor

Seigi no Kaze -- Wind of Justice

Old Japanese saying on love and lovers:

Kono hito wa watashi o shiawase o ubatta hito.
Soshite mou hitotsu no shiawase o kureta hito.

This person is the one who took away my happiness.
And then, he is the one who gave another happiness.