Bridges

     He was a streamer. The whole thing started as a parlor trick; though he never performed for free. He was fairly sure that his discreet glances at her weren't noticed their fellow party goers, or by her. It was something of a joke, and she was supposed to bear the brunt of it. He had seen it in her, the lifetime of bearing up. She hadn't been born to the this position, but raised into it and left abandoned so that the others could have a bit of entertainment with an outsider. He could see in her that any life was better than death and the potential for changing her mind about that idea. And so for those reasons, he agreed to be the party's entertainment, collected his fee, and turned his attention to her in full.
     She was someone different. She had never been important enough to meet a streamer though she saw them across the room at all the parties. She had never really desired a meeting; streamers walked a path so different from everyone else. She suspected that these others should be afraid of the streamers and their strange power but knew they were too convinced of their own standings to feel threatened. She submitted to the stream because she knew that her participation had been requested and her position didn't allow refusal. Having seen things unthinkable she entered every situation cautious, carefully controlling her fear.
     He spoke to her gently. She had no expectations and found no relief; sometimes the most gentle beginning came a violent end. Her iron control kept her body still as he began his work.
He had hoped to reassure her, that she would understand his agreement was born of his own desire to see her and not at all a desire to entertain. As he began, he admired the iron strength within her. He began to build.
     Every streamer has a different, unique gateway. They are quite varied. The best paid streamers required a gateway that suggested perversion; nude full body contact was too often used to hide a much more innocent gateway just to increase the fee. He wasn't one of the best paid, which is why the party goers assumed he would preform for them. He knew he would never rise above his current rank but he didn't care, the work sustained him.  Streaming was his gift and his drug; without it he would waste away.
     He knew that his gateway wasn't all that impressive and he ignored the impatient whispers of his clients. She didn't know anything about him or even much about gateways and so maintained her air of indifference.
     And still he was building.
     The burst color pattern of her shirt was a perfect complement to her hair and skin. He didn't need to touch her physically but make a connection and so he began to assemble objects along the pattern. Small stones and beads in a wide variety of color; the party host had obviously been prepared for this event in advance of the participants. He didn't care where the objects had come from, it was a thought he had learned to ignore. He focused on the pattern of her, bringing everything together, loosely held, as he prepared the both of them for his work.
     Her iron control presented a problem that was offset by her complete submission. It made him work more carefully that usual, seeing the delicate nature of her being.
     She was mesmerizing.
     He knew the risks. He wasn't in the first line of streamers in part because he refused to do everything that was asked of him. He and his mentor alone knew how hypnotized he could become, seeing the fractures. He knew he should have refused this stream; he could see her beauty from across the party and feel it calling to him. The circumstances were less than ideal all the way around and a part of him, the quiet detached part, reminded him this was why he needed a keeper. All of this quickly faded under the strength of his build. The gateway was ready.
     She felt heavy and tired. Her control slipped and she yearned to give in and close her eyes. Instead she looked at him. What kind of man walks in the soul of another human being? How much was it going to hurt? She knew of women like her, elevated but not equal, who had been damaged. A streamer could do more damage than anyone else - he was viewing the only thing she had for herself. Her body was just a broken  housing for her soul. At this moment, she knew she would rather die than have him expose her this way. She tried to get up from the couch, take a mad run for the balcony before the stream came together. But she had waited too long and he had gathered too much of her to him, they were tied now.
     Her life became a dream. She couldn't say what she dreamed, exactly. She began to know the beauty of appreciation,  understanding, value. All knowledge of the present escaped her as she was moved through her past. But tied to him she saw things from outside without reliving the torments or cruelties of her life.
He knew how to hold her and keep his audience. Through him, his clients could see into this woman's soul. Her beauty was breathtaking. He had to fight to keep himself in both worlds as he tenderly traced her soul's fractures. His gentleness brought a healing. He didn't wish for it, knowing that she wouldn't be served by it when she was released from him, but he couldn't stop himself. She was so much more than he ever expected. He found himself becoming lost in this woman's soul.
     As he continued the stream, the audience became bored. They were accustomed to far more shocking revelations. While he tried to anchor his soul where it belonged the clients drifted away. They were disappointed but not outraged, they knew his reputation as a second rate streamer and assumed he had failed. They saw more promise in the musicians' ability to entertain them.
     He fought with himself.
     She felt free. Knowing another human being could understand her brought a comfort she had never experienced. She knew that luxury could be lost and so she didn't covet it but just relaxed into it. Let the cost come later. He moved so tenderly through her it brought tears to her eyes and beauty to her heart.
     Finally, calling on every bit of his training, he gathered himself where he belonged and began to let go of her.
     She felt his loss keenly.
     As he separated himself from her they both realized how thoroughly they were entwined.
     He left part of the gateway.
     With his eyes and his soul he told her what it was. He told her how to find him. He asked her to endure, just a little bit longer, to give him time to take her from this place.
     She asked him to stay.
     When he left her side, giving an elegant shrug to his party host and beginning to make excuses to leave, he left a part of himself tied to her. Like a life saving blanket in winter, or rain in the midst of a drought, but simply hope in the darkness.