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43. EXT. ELYSIUM TOWERS – TERRACE OF UNIT 78 – A VERY SHORT TIME LATER

Lilith waits, anxious, excited, wondering to herself if she is brave enough to look now, into the mirror in the bathroom (draped with a white cloth, as are all the other mirrors in the condo).

No, she thinks. `Wag muna. I’m not that brave yet, but I’m getting there, remembering that day in the dressing room after Luis first fainted in her presence, left there, alone, by Ruben, and staring, staring at the mirror, at the endless repetition of it, the horror of that blankness, the horrible multiplication, off into infinity, reflective surfaces facing one another, both surfaces hungry, feeding one another nothing, and she had been so hungry right then, but for what, at that point, she had not yet known.

And then, speaking with Ms. Joanna, meeting her, nervous, and the awful truth laid before her, and as horrifying as the epiphany was, it made sense.

Now she knew what she was: siren, succubus, vampire. None of them exactly precise, but there was one term, all-encompassing, beastial umbrella for all who are different, all who are other: monster.

But Luis was there, kind, steady, loving, and he did not look at her as if she were a monster (of course, he hadn’t known at the time, had he?).

And when he had caught her in the act of a feeding, he had still not turned on her, waved a flaming torch in her face, instead held out his hand. Here. It’s all right. I know you’re different, but you aren’t evil. Here. Let me help you.

And she had, speaking the truth that day: I would rather die, if I could, than do that, gesturing towards sleeping Georgina, to someone I love.

But if Luis’ plan worked (of course it will! It has to!) then she will need to adjust, adjust again, but that was the way things went, wasn’t it? Change. Transformation. Adaptation. Evolution.

She had to be strong for Luis, just as he was being strong for her, that was also another way of things.

Lilith paces to the terrace’s railing, reveling in the feeling building, of raw anticipation, when all she knew in isolation before, was a vast emptiness, the cruel infinity of mirrors, and, there!

She sees him, her Prince, her Knight, her Hero, and he comes, flying (flying!), lessening his speed (and it looks so strange seeing him without the harness on, and moving far more gracefully than on the TV screen), till he lands, gently, and yet with so much evident power, on the terrace beside her.

Amazed, still not quite believing this is happening (that she saw him fly!), she reaches out, hand shaking, fingertips lightly brushing Luis’ chest, the icon there.

Then, as if scalded, burned by the ember of memory, she flinches back, pulling her hand away, but Luis is suddenly holding her, gently, by her forearms (and when did he move? I didn’t even see him move!), then, slowly, leans in.

“Don’t,” she whispers.

Then his lips are on hers, and she feels the rush, filling her, and recalls her words, I would rather die, and sees her Knight’s skull, death’s head grin, leering at her, sees her Habagat, floating in the cold vastnesses of space, never to awaken again, and Lilith struggles, wants desperately to pull away, but his grip is so strong now, and she cannot resist.

Luis, for his part, is amazed he didn’t dawdle and actually ended up kissing her immediately (nothing planned, that, merely instinct, faith, and B.I. kasi si Jake).

He is also amazed (and infinitely pleased) that though he does feel a certain weakness, it’s very minor, on the level of getting shaky knees while kissing a girl you love, which, he realizes happily, is precisely what he’s doing.

Finally, they both come up for air.

Lilith looks into Luis’ eyes worriedly. “How do you feel? Okey ka lang ba?”

Luis nods eagerly. “More than okay! Great! Fantastic! Super!!!

“It really worked. I could actually feel myself changing, my body, my self. Even my voice! This is my natural voice now! The Habagat voice.

“Even the costume changed, I think. It’s not made of the same material anymore. I haven’t tested, but I’m sure it’s tougher now. Like I am,” with that guileless kid’s smile.

It slams into Luis as a ton of bricks would on Habagat: with just enough force to make him notice without actually hurting him: Pucha, superhero ako!

He chuckles, and Lilith looks at him curiously.

Luis’ grin widens. “Ang weird nito. First artista-slash-superhero ako.”

“Well,” she smiles, “puwede naman si Luis Conrado yung secret identity mo, diba, tapos create ka ng bagong superhero, na naka-maskara. So people will still think that you’re the same Luis Conrado who’s an actor.”

“No,” Luis replies with certainty, “di na-defeat yung purpose ng ginawa ko. Alam ko nakakatulong ako noon. Alam ko ngayon, mas-makakatulong pa ako. But I have to do that as Habagat.

“So many people look up to him already. It was their belief in him that gave me all this power, that turned me into Habagat.

“So I owe them. Habagat has to be the one who helps them.”

“You mean `you.’”

“Ha?”

“You’ll be the one to help them,” Lilith says, laying her cheek tenderly against Luis’ chest, and strangely, the metal of the icon is not cold at all, but warm. “You’re Habagat now. For real.

“Luis Conrado is Habagat. That’s no longer some tagline on a promo poster anymore. Starting tonight, that’s the truth.

“And you know what? I think that was always the case, but you never really acknowledged it somewhere in your heart. That you already were Habagat, the second you put on this costume.

“And I don’t think it’s about flying, kasi, or juggling meteors; it’s about helping, however you can, whether it’s by playing a superhero on TV to give people hope and someone to believe in, or actually being that hero.

“In the end, it’s just degrees of help, but it’s still help, diba? It’s still doing the right thing.”

Lilith feels a kiss, on the top of her head, and smiles, hugging Luis’ waist tighter.

“Sabi ko nga deep thinker ka,” he says, a different tone in his words now, of fondness, and deep affection.

And just for that instant, Lilith does not want to let go, ever, wants to just stay here, static, in this comfort, this embrace, Luis’ arms around her, shelter, from the storm, from the endless night, but Lilith knows, sadly, that this is not the way of things.

“So,” she asks, “when are you telling Ms. Joanna?”

“Now. Right after I tell Ma, if you don’t mind. Alam ko babago yung game plan niya sa career ko, ngayon na superhero na yung alaga niya. And Ma… I can see her face na…” he shakes his head, smiling.

Luis steps back, as Lilith lets him go. He lifts her chin up with a fingertip. “Okey lang ba `yon?”

Lilith nods, smiling. “But bilisan mo. Alam ko hindi pa nag-ka-ayusan kayo ni Ms. Joanna, pero I’d like to share this night with you, if that’s all right.”

“Sure,” he replies, beaming smile, that smile that now makes Lilith feel warm, and alive, and safe. And loved.

And he kisses her once more, then rises, slowly, into the air.

And Lilith watches the flutter of his cape, his powerful form receding into the distance, knowing, for the very first time in her thus-far brief life, the pang of loneliness, and in that feeling, knows she has turned a corner somewhere.

She breathes deeply, reveling in her humanity.

It occurs to her that, also for the first time, she does not feel empty, that something fills her now, informs her (and it isn’t as simple as the vast amount of sustenance she’s just received—it feels like she won’t have to feed for two months, maybe even three!), and it is a wondrous feeling.

She wonders what she should do while she waits, then decides: Mirror.

She will look into it now, unflinching, and she knows that not only will there be something else there tonight, but simply, that there will be some thing, not the hollow, horrible emptiness that used to be there, in the not-too-distant past.

And as she walks to the open sliding doors, readying herself for the minutes and hours and days of her life to come, eager now, for all the joy and the sorrow, the life that awaits her, she looks fondly up at the sky, and whispers, “O, ano? Ang ganda ng eksena, no?”

FADE TO BLACK.

FIN.

"The hero carries our aspirations, our ideals, our beliefs. In the deepest sense the hero is created by us; he or she is born collectively as our own myth. This is what makes heroism so important: it reflects our own sense of identity, and from this our own heroism is molded."

-- Rollo May

The Cry For Myth

"That the Great Man should be able to appear and dwell among you again, again, and again, that is the sense of all your efforts here on earth. That there should ever and again be men among you able to elevate you to your heights: that is the prize for which you strive. For it is only through the occasional coming to light of such human beings that your own existence can be justified…. And if you are not yourself a great exception, well then be a small one at least! and so you will foster on earth that holy fire from which genius may arise."

-- Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

Werke Vol. 6

"What you are is God’s gift to you; what you do with yourself is your gift to God."

-- Danish proverb

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