Jove counted the money again. Twenty-seven dollars, a small amount even by the standards of a world where cash still held value. He carefully slid the bills back into the dead man's wallet, and, going through the same ritual he'd performed so many times in the days following the encounter, pulled out the photo.
It'd been tucked away in that seemingly pointless little pocket behind the tiered slots for credit cards. A small picture, two by three inches, maybe, of a six or seven-year-old child with dirty blond hair, flashing a wide, goofy-toothed smile. A school photo.
He's got your eyes. I'll let you visit if you promise not to tell him.
Jove ran his fingertip over the words again, feeling so many emotions at once, none with labels, but all gouging into his heart. The mystery child, the man who cared enough to carry his photo but didn't visit. The man Jove had killed, and the lives now left behind.
He wasn't naïve. There was no good and evil, not in a literal sense. He hadn't done the right thing; he'd simply done a thing. The bombs and the warring AI hadn't ushered in an era of moral ambiguity. These sorts of questions had always existed. Jove was simply now in need of an answer.
He put the photo away, feeling the tension building in his jaw, under his chest, behind his eyes. He didn't let himself imagine the child or whoever had written the words on the back. Not again, at least, after already having run through dozens of scenarios.
A soft knock came at his door, but that was expected. He hadn't left his room much in the two days following the attack on Termina Station.
"Yes?" he said.
The door slid open far enough for his mother, Kira, to slip through. She'd taken to wearing a kimono that matched Aster's except in pink instead of blue as her nightwear. He realized, for the first time, that the one Aster wore had likely been leant to her by his mother.
"Hey," she said, softly. "How are you doing?"
Her deep red hair was tousled and messy from sleep, but it still framed her delicate features in an intensely attractive way. There was always something unguarded about seeing her early in the morning, but her blue eyes shone with an intensity that never seemed to fade.
"I'm fine," he said. He'd already hidden the wallet under his blanket but slid it further under his pillow to move it completely out of view. "Just a little tired."
"You're allowed to be. I know how much you're working through right now."
She smiled and walked into his room, coming to sit next to him on his bed. The kimono was not a large one, and even crossing her legs chastely showed off an eye-catching amount of thigh.
"I said I'm fine," he repeated. "I'm just tired. Stayed up too late playing Vertimon."
His mother looked at him, as though he'd written his lies on a window between them rather than spoken them aloud. He could see faint wrinkles on her face, less than might be expected of a forty-four-year-old woman, certainly not enough to rein in her beauty, but a marker of the years between them.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.
"Is breakfast ready?" he asked. "I'm starving."
He stood up and started for the door. Kira rose alongside him and pulled him back by the arm.
"Jove," she said. "I'm here for you. You know that, right?"
He forced a smile. "I know, Mom."
His fingers touched hers, and he slowly pulled her closer by the arm, eventually wrapping her in a hug. The sensation of the kimono's fabric brought memories of Aster to the fore, the way her nude body had looked like a partially unwrapped present with the robe dangling open. He squeezed her a little tighter, feeling her body coming into full and interesting contact with his.
He and his mother had a secret, the same kind that someone might allude to on the back of an old photo. Their hugs had started to go on for a little longer. They kissed each other more, on the cheek mostly, but occasionally on the lips. Her touches lingered when she set a hand on his chest, or his shoulder, sometimes even his stomach.
It was a secret, but were they both in on it? Jove wondered about that as he let his hand run down her back, stopping only as his fingers began to graze the curve of her butt.
She probably just thought she was being affectionate with her son in a time when he needed it most. She didn't have the context he did, the knowledge that the line between, say, a nephew and his aunt could be stepped over as easily as a knee-high fence.
"You smell nice," he whispered. He inhaled her scent with his mouth close to her neck and felt her tense slightly.
"Thanks." Her kimono was sliding open from the contact of their bodies, but she didn't seem to notice even as he took in her full, pale cleavage. "Oh, Jovian."
She touched his cheek, eyes flicking down to his lips, but hesitated. He kissed her while she was busy making up her mind, and despite the dryness of both their lips, the world seemed to heat up and tilt at an angle. Just a quick peck. No big deal.
Kira cleared her throat and tried to fix her robe with one hand while still threading her fingers through his with the other. "Breakfast. You should get some while it's still hot."
He tried to pull her back into him, unsure of why or where it might lead.
His mother made an amused noise but feigned annoyance. "Jovian. Come. You'll feel better once you eat."
"I already said I'm fine," he muttered.
She nodded slowly but seemed unconvinced. The door one down from Jove's opened, and Aster stepped out into the hallway, also clad in her kimono. She smiled when she saw him, but her expression stiffened as she noticed her sister.
It was hard to take the friction between his mother and aunt all that seriously when they wore what amounted to matching outfits. But there was friction there, enough to be concerning when they only had each other to rely on in the middle of a frozen continent.
"Kira," said Aster, in a neutral tone. "Jovian. Good morning."
She opened her arms, expecting a hug and getting one. Jove wrapped her in a tight embrace, feeling the way the leg on the side hidden from his mother's view slid up along his as though she wanted him to pick her up and pin her against one of the walls of the hallway.
"Aunt Aster," he said.
He let himself press into her for a solid second, his cock starting to harden against her soft body, but then pulled back. The hug was, if anything, slightly more chaste than the one he'd given his mother. It had to be, given how far into the illicit depths he and Aster had already delved.
"It's good to see you out and about, darling," said Aster. "Feeling any better?"
"I'm fine!" he snapped. "Why is everyone suddenly obsessed with my mental state?"
Aster flinched back a fraction of a step, and he got his answer as much from that as from any words. He'd killed two men — out of necessity, of course — but he'd done it. The guilt and self-recrimination and brooding which he'd been saddled with was probably even more worrying from the outside looking in.
"We're just concerned," said Kira. "That's all."
"He has a point," said Aster. "He's not a sick animal at the zoo."
"Did I say he was?" asked Kira, tone icy.
"I wouldn't exactly put it past you," muttered Aster.
Tension hung in the air between the two sisters like a storm cloud. Jove didn't have it in him to try to mediate on a serious level.
"I'm starving," he said.
"Then let's go eat," said Kira.
She walked by him, kimono pulling up to reveal her bare legs in fascinating ways. Aster squeezed his hand for a quick second and risked leaning in to whisper distance.
Her breath was hot against his neck. "Come find me after."