[AO3]

Summary: It takes a very good lie, to lie to yourself. Or a particularly attractive one. (it’s just a whole lot of Peter Nureyev-flavoured Final Resting Place angst)

It’s when Juno is describing the Mars that
had changed, in that hotel, that the first doubt springs up.
Well.
Not the first.
Juno is a divine, gorgeous, hardened, and
awe-striking lady who didn’t even need some Martian pill to carve a
space out in Peter’s mind and take up residence there. He’s like
nothing else. And Peter knows Juno, at least a little bit. (You learn
things about a person while you’re stuck in a tomb together for so
long.)
He knows that Juno loves this city. Loves it even when he
hates it.
And Peter knows… He knows that Peter Nureyev isn’t
quite enough to spirit him away from it.
So he asks if Juno is
sure. Is he certain?
And he knows then, watching his dear,
sentimental detective lie to him, that Juno couldn’t leave this place
for good.
So his voice breaks as he hides the hurt behind words,
“I am so happy to hear you say it, Juno.”
And Peter
dons masks and names seamlessly and with ease, but this… This isn’t
much of a mask at all. It’s just him lying to himself.
“You
know Juno, call me a fool if you like,” he yawns, “but I
think I may have fallen in love with you.”
That
is no lie. Painful, and true. Both that he is a fool, and that
he is in love with Juno Steel.
“I… If you’re a fool that
makes two of us.”
It takes a very good lie, to lie to
yourself. Or a particularly attractive one.
And nothing
bewitches Peter Nureyev more than the beautiful lie of Juno Steel
running away with him for a life of decadence and passion and
adventure.
It still hurts when he leaves.
He hadn’t fallen
asleep, not truly, too focused on memorizing the feel of the moment,
savouring how it feels to hold Juno Steel, (if he opens his eyes he
will have to acknowledge that this is temporary, fleeting.) but
dozing just enough. He feels Juno leave his arms, and tells himself
that he’s just leaving to go to the washroom. It’s not a good lie,
not at all, and it crumbles as he hears the door open, as Juno
leaves.
“Juno?” He murmurs, blinking through the dark
to see him haloed by the light from the hotel hallway.
Juno
pauses for a second, looking back at him.
Maybe he’ll change his
mind, Peter thinks. Maybe he’ll come back to bed. Maybe.
And
then he steps out into the hallway.
And out of Peter’s
life.

And Peter has a promise to keep.
He did
promise.
So Peter Nureyev gets out of bed, gets dressed, gathers
his things, and goes to the door. And, oh… Let’s see, Rue Galileo
sounds like a good name. Rue Galileo steps through the door, leaving
Peter Nureyev’s broken foolish heart in that dusty red city the
postcards always wax poetic about.
But Hyperion City is greedy,
Peter has learned. Full of so many people, so many people all looking
for something, maybe it’s their next hit, the next job, the next
paycheck, their next victim, or maybe just happiness, a life
fulfilled. So many people in such a beautiful, terrifying, greedy
city.
And Peter wants to say that the city has stolen his heart,
like a wistful traveller thinking of some one-time destination. But
it’s not the city. It’s just one person who lives in it. Just one
lady, who is scarred and gorgeous, full of righteous anger and
exhausted despair. A goddess.
He surprised Peter at every turn,
entranced him, bewitched him. And he stole the heart of a master
thief.

Rue Galileo has never known how scar-torn skin was
soft beneath his hands, how calloused hands can feel as they cup his
jaw. Rue Galileo has none of these memories to try desperately to
forget. And Peter Nureyev… Peter Nureyev exists on Mars. Where
those memories lay.
That’s what he tells himself at least.
If
he tells it enough, it will stop sounding like a lie.