Nightside 01 - Something From the Nightside

And remember, Time doesn't pass out there, while we're in here.
    "You're holding up really well after all you've been through, Joanna. I'm impressed. Really. But even the sharpest edge will go blunt if you beat it against a brick wall often enough. So I want you to sit here, enjoy your Coke and the surroundings, until we're both ready to take on the Nightside again. You only think you've seen the bad places. You mess up in Blaiston Street and they'll eat you alive. Possibly literally. And I think... there are things we need to talk about, you and I, before we go anywhere else."
    "Things?" said Joanna, raising a perfect eyebrow.
    "There are things about Cathy, and her situation, that need ... clarifying," I said carefully. "There's more to this than meets the eye. More to this whole situation. I can feel it."
    "There are a lot of unanswered questions," said Joanna. "I know that. Who called Cathy here, and why? Why choose her? She's no-one important, except to me. I'm a successful businesswoman, but I don't earn the kind of money that would make kidnap or blackmail attractive. And this is the Nightside. People like me don't matter here. So why pick on Cathy? Just another teenage runaway? If I knew the answers to questions like those, I wouldn't have needed to hire someone like you, would I?"
    I nodded slowly, acknowledging the point. Joanna pressed on.
    "I don't think we're in here because I need a rest, John. I think this is your rest stop. You've been through a lot too. You killed Razor Eddie. He was your friend, and you killed him."
    "I killed him because he was my friend. Because he'd suffered so much. Because it was the only thing left I could do for him. And because I've always been able to do the hard, necessary things."
    "Then why are your hands shaking?"
    I looked down, and they were. I honestly hadn't noticed. Joanna put one of her hands on top of mine, and the shaking slowly stopped.
    'Tell me about Eddie," she said. "Not the Street of the Gods stuff. Tell me about you, and Eddie."
    "We worked a lot of cases together," I said, after a while. "Eddie's ... powerful, but he's not the most subtle of people. There are some problems you can't
    solve with power, without destroying what you're trying to save. That's when Eddie would turn up at Strangefellows, asking for my help. Not openly, of course. But we'd talk, and eventually the conversation would come around to what was troubling him, and then he and I would go out into the night, and find a way to put things right that didn't involve hitting the problem with a sledgehammer. Or a straight razor.
    "And sometimes . . . he'd just appear out of nowhere, to back me up. When I got in over my head."
    "This sounds more like partners than friends," said Joanna.
    "He's a killer," I said. "Razor Eddie. Punk God of the Straight Razor. These days he kills with good rather than bad intentions, but in the end all he is, is killing. And he wouldn't have it any other way. Hard to get close to a man like that. Someone who's gone much further into the dark than I ever have. But... he turned his life around, Joanna. Whatever epiphany he found on the Street of the Gods, he threw aside everything that had ever had power over him, in order to earn redemption. How can you not admire courage like that? If someone like him can change, there's hope for all of us.
    "I've tried to be a good friend to him. Tried to steer him towards a different kind of life, where he doesn't have to define who he is by killing. And
    he... listens, when I have bad times, and need someone I can talk to who won't repeat it. He warns people away from me, if he thinks they're a threat. He hurts people, if he thinks they're planning to hurt me. He thinks I don't know that.
    "I killed him in the Timeship to put an end to his suffering. I've always been able to bite the bullet, and do what has to be done. I never said it was easy."
    "John..."
    "No. Don't try and bond me with me, Joanna. There's no room in my life for people who can't protect themselves."
    "Is that why your only friends are damaged souls like Razor Eddie and Suzie Shooter? Or do you deliberately only befriend people already so preoccupied with their own inner demons that they won't put pressure on you to confront your own? You're afraid, John. Afraid to really open up to anyone, because that would make you vulnerable. This is no way to live, John. Living vicariously through the problems of your clients."
    "You don't know me," I said. "Don't you