“I figured I’d find you here,” Arawn said. “Do you come up here every day?”

Cain glared at him. The wind, pesky thing, blew his hair in front of his face and ruined the effect.

Arawn ambled up beside Cain and turned to look out over Glass Washington, his hands in his pockets. The mosaic had sunk into geometric abstractions for the evening; far below, the other lights went about their business, ignoring the two figures standing on the Arch. Neither of them spoke for a long time.

Finally, Cain spoke. “I wonder what would happen if I jumped.”

Arawn turned towards him slightly, his eyes glinting green. He said nothing.

“Can we die here? I don’t think anyone’s managed it yet, but I don’t know everything.”

“You still haven’t found yourself yet, have you.” It wasn’t a question.

“It is so obvious?”

“It is, especially when you retain a name you hate.”

“I hate all my names.”

Arawn turned to face the smaller man. Cain’s black eyes remained fixed on the city below.

“You’ve never been able to see yourself as anything other than a born traitor, have you?”

That wasn’t a question, either. Cain refused to answer it. A gloved hand gripped his chin and forced him to look at the other man.

“You’re forgetting the simplest of choices, my friend. This or not this. You don’t want to be a traitor? Choose not to be. You can work on the rest later.”

Cain was doing his damndest to avoid Arawn’s eyes. The Fool raised his other hand and gently brushed back Cain’s red hair.

“You weren’t always a traitor,” Arawn said softly. “In fact, I can remember one life in which you most certainly weren’t.”

Cain straightened, then met Arawn’s now-rose eyes. Hesitation came and went, and then they kissed.

Kaela backed away from Arawn and smiled softly. “I still need to think about things.”

Arawn gave an answering smile that said, I know, and the former Dr. Cain turned away from the man who was once her husband and came down from the Arch.

The Fool watched her light up as she went.