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.
