"My name is Kieran," he said quietly, and Cameron was
suddenly back on the street, staring at the boy who looked so like Christian
Redfern, but couldn't be. Couldn't be because that had been Kian, and because
the one who spoke was Kian as well.
This was far too surreal.
She shook her head, gestured resolutely for Remy to shut up, and
marched toward the door. "This isn't happening," she said in response
to Remy's furious protest. "None of this is happening. In fact, tonight
simply does not exist. I am going to go home, crawl into bed, and when I wake
up in the morning, I'll laugh myself silly over this ridiculous dream."
She paused briefly at the entrance. "Good night."
"Cameron?"
Her back stiffened. "And as for you... you can switch yourself
back into the right body before tomorrow morning. Then we'll talk."
Jessa and Remy exchanged an exasperated stare. They nodded, then
Remy sprang for the door, drawing Cameron further into the room and preventing
any chance of escape.
"She hit her head," Jessa explained to Kian --or was it
Kieran? -- and kept her voice low enough that Cameron couldn't hear.
"Short-term memory loss, some disorientation. She'll be fine."
"I'll be just peachy," Cameron grumbled, hearing her
despite her attempt to avoid this, and allowed Remy to lead her to a chair,
where she sat. "I'm not the one having an identity crisis."
Kian raised an eyebrow. "Who's having an identity
crisis?"
"You are," all three voices answered at once.
The look on his face was utterly comical. He paused, then he
blinked, and finally perplexity stretched taut across his face. "Who am I
supposed to be?"
"You're Kian," Cameron snapped, a dull flush rising on
her cheeks and anger suffusing her voice, "and if you're not, you should
be in *that* body." Her arm whipped out, jerking tensely to point at the
body sprawled next to him on the floor.
He followed the invisible line between her fingers and the carpet
and raised an eyebrow. "She hit her head?" he said calmly to Jessa.
And then even Jessa was speechless, because Kieran's body was no
longer there.
"But--"
"Mon Dieu," Remy added, while managing to look shocked.
Kieran's body had simply disappeared, stake and all. One minute it
had been there; the next it was gone. Not even an imprint had been left on the
plush carpet.
His perplexion deepened.
"Cameron, I don't understand. How did I get up in this--"
he paused, words eluding him, "this room." A brief pause hung, peppered
by hesitation, then he asked, "And who staked Giacinta?"
She stared at him suspiciously. "Who are you and what have you
done to my soulmate?"
"I *am* your soulmate," he answered through gritted
teeth. "Exactly how hard did you hit your head?"
"Obviously not as hard as you hit yours," she muttered.
She shifted on the ornate wooden seat, agitated, eyes sweeping over the tousled
hair and sullen curve of his mouth.
What did he have to be angry about? He was sitting in the middle of the
floor, intact, and playing some sort of hideous joke on her. A *joke,* of all
things.
Her mouth tightened so hard she bit into her lower lip before she'd
realized. And even then, the physical pain was incidental next to the hurt she
felt at his cruelty. How could he do this to her? The question reverberated in
her head like the echo of an avalanche in an empty canyon. She would expect
this spitefulness from Kieran, maybe, but never from Kian.
The revelation spun through her and shook her to the core.
Maybe he wasn't being spiteful.
He watched her cautiously from where he sat on the carpeted floor,
one hand propped carefully behind him, the other rubbing absently over his
heart, as if to soothe an absent pain. His mouth twisted wryly. She couldn't
help but notice the misery drenching his eyes, or the way he didn't seem to
notice it was there.
Oh. Goddess.
Dropping her head into her hands, she tried not to berate herself
for jumping to conclusions. But then, hindsight is always clearest and the most
embarassing. She took a deep breath.
"You're Kieran."
It was a statement, not a question, and from the way he rolled his
eyes and from his disgusted sigh, she had a feeling he found this truth to be
rather obvious.
"Who else would I be, Cameron?" he asked, exasperation
and just a touch of anger curling through his voice.
Her own eyes narrowed. "Well, since you've somehow managed to
be resurrected in your twin's body--"
"I don't have a twin!" he shouted. He pushed himself off
the floor indignantly. "What is wrong with you? For the last week, all
you've done is throw conflicting statements!"
"And for the last two hundred centuries, all you've done is
kill me!"
"That emotional rollercoaster crashed a long time ago, my dear
soulmate, and you were obviously the front car passenger." His voice was
cold, but he kept running his hands through his hair as if it would somehow
calm him. From the way he was pacing, Jessa and Remy didn't see that happening.
"Of course, I killed you. We established that quite some time ago."
"Why?"
"Why not?" he countered softly. He paused, then shook his
head. "You're human. /Vermin./ You deserved to die."
Her mouth dropped open in shock. "You don't really believe
that."
A long, measuring glance, then he sighed. "I don't," he
admitted, "but if you don't start sounding a little more sane, I might
change my opinion."
"I am not the one with a sanity problem," she snapped.
She swiveled to face the spot where Kieran's body should be, where instead
there was only dust. "You're trying to tell me you didn't even have a
twin! That is either a blatant lie, or a severe gap missing in your
memory."
He strode over, stopping in front of her and leaning close until
his face was only inches from hers. "In the nearly two thousand years I've
been alive, I have *never* had a twin. Occasionally, my name has been shortened
to 'Kian,' when whoever was talking to me was too lazy to pronounce all those
letters, but you are the last person I expect to call me that right now. *What*
is going on?"
"You did have a twin," Remy inserted. He didn't flinch at
the dark look Kieran sent him. He only seemed amused.
"I believe him, actually," Jessa said, shoving Remy out
of the way. She walked to Kieran, tipping his chin up so she could stare into
his eyes. He bared his teeth at her.
"Stop that," Cameron commanded from where she still sat
with her head buried in her hands. "You're not scaring anyone."
Sulkily, he let the expression drop from his face. Something about
this whole thing struck her as odd...
The real Kieran would have snarled and probably done some serious
damage, or at least threatened a little. That reaction -- backing down instead
of fighting -- fit Kian's personality more than Kieran's. The discrepancy ate
at her, gnawing at the pit of her stomach as if she'd swallowed a glassful of
bubbling acid. The solution to this equation was almost too terrifying to think
about.
Kieran would never back down from a fight.
Kian would never get into one in the first place.
But --
"Maybe I don't."
Jessa dropped her hand from his chin. Her eyes met Cameron's briefly,
something flashing sharply in their dark depths, then she grinned. "He's
acting out of character, isn't he?"
What a wonderful time for Jessa to be amused, Cameron thought
scathingly. She didn't find anything funny in his single-personality disorder.
In fact, it was rather disconcerting. Never had a twin? Hysteria simmered in
her blood. Oh, he had a twin -- a twin who went by the nickname he claimed to
have -- who had fought with him, laughed with him, and died for him.
A twin who had hated him, but only with the deepest kind of love.
They were night to day; dark to light. As trite as that seemed, it
was true. Each twin had been an extreme in his own way, and each had held his
weaknesses, as well as his strengths. A shame that each had found a weakness in
her, yet touched some deep part she was sure would never be found again. How
could it? He was gone, wasn't he?
Now if only she could figure out exactly which "he" that
was.
Only one way to find out. She levered herself carefully off the
chair, so scared at what she would find that her knees were shaking. *Shaking.*
Talk about acting out of character. Her body was doing a wonderful job. Slowly,
she slipped to where he stood, shivering slightly, though she knew he wasn't
cold. Seeing it made her angry.
He must have felt her anger, because he drew away, or as far away
as he could manage without actually moving. He wasn't scared of her, but...
looking in his eyes, she knew that he was scared for her. Her thoughts were
drawn abruptly back to the moment she had realized he cared for her, back to
that dingy hallway where her back pressed against the railing, and unheeding of
any threats, she had chipped through his defenses. In that memory, he had cried
for her.
Now, no tears slid from those shattered eyes, but the vulnerability
was there just the same.
How easy it would be to grind those splintered fragments into
pieces so small they could never be smoothed back together. His lips quivered
slightly under her gaze. While he didn't remember what he had lost, somehow he
knew he missed it. Cameron would stake her life on it.
Only one way to find out. Her heart ricocheted in her chest, a
thousand hands beating desperately against cruel iron bars, a thousand lives
lost at the whim of one. Taking a deep breath, she reached for him, ignoring
the small intake of breath as he prepared to lose everything at her touch.
She drew his head down to hers, lips a bare breath from each other,
until she could see the tiny flecks of turquoise streaming through the violet
and the desperate, whirling navy. And she'd wondered why sometimes his eyes
could look so dark. The briefest hestitaion, then she sealed his mouth with
hers.
Finally she had her answer.
He was neither Kian nor Kieran.
He was both.
Kieran's mind had been darkness and jagged edges; Kian's soft
colors and sloping planes. This was neither. It reminded her of a storm cloud
soaked in sunlight, that bizarre precipice where sun clashed with rain and the
line was almost tangible, yet somehow blurred. Mellow shades twining with
deeper shadows to create a striking jumble of hues. Some peaks glittered
sharply as though lightning had been frozen into blazing icicles, while others
sparkled dully with only chips of that sultry frost embedded inside.
They melded around each other, shifting like mercury until they
were not two separate minds, but only one.
Gasping, she wrenched her mouth away. "Kia -- Kieran,"
she said, pausing for a moment to get her breathing under control, "do you
remember the last time you killed me?"
He raised unfocused eyes to meet hers, the pupils nearly swallowing
the iris, and dropped the hand he suddenly realized was tangled in her hair.
"Why?"
"Because it's *important.* Do you remember what
happened?"
"Vaguely."
Getting answers out of him was almost as easy as uprooting a
cactus. But his response was no more than she expected. An incidental memory
washed out by hazy fragments of conversation and events that merged into a
blissful pool of reminiscence. Maybe like a painting you recalled years after
seeing it, so that the shapes were indistinct and the colors muted. Maybe like
a dream that faded once you woke, the details smudged into whispering remnants
of awkward wakefulness.
"Do you remember what you said to me?" she asked finally,
while he eyed her guardedly.
"No," he frowned, the corners of that full mouth tilting
down. Then some spark of memory lit his eyes like fireworks and pulsed brightly
through his pupil. "I accused you of lying to me."
She smiled grimly in acknowledgement. "And then?"
He drew away, seeming to shrink into himself. "I killed
you."
"How?"
Light streaming from those violet orbs now, as lethargic as sap
dripping its way down rough bark. "I bit you," he snapped
defensively, "just like every other time."
"Hmm. And what did you say to me just before you bit?"
"What is this? Twenty questions?" His mouth curled
obstinately, and he moved back like he wanted to bolt, which was silly, of
course. Kieran wasn't the type to run away.
But from the way he was acting, she was more convinced Kian was
standing in front of her. All she needed was his answer to prove it.
"Answer the question, my dear vampire, or face the
consequences." Too much glee filled Remy's wicked voice and he sounded all
too ready to carry out some unknown threat. Cameron would cheerfully hurt him
herself if he followed up on it. She just hoped he knew that.
Kieran glanced warily at her, then said, "I apologized,
because I was truly sorry that was going to kill you, but I *don't* break my
promises." Once again the hand rubbed over his heart, as if he didn't
realize the pain was there. "Are you happy now?"
She stepped forward, brushing one finger over the sharp plane of
his cheek, trailing down to where his pulse beat strongly in his neck. The
wariness swelled around him like a protective blanket.
"No," she answered, "but I will be."
***
Dawn streamed headily through the gauzy curtains and skimmed over
tired faces, illuminating bruised skin beneath drooping eyes. Cameron yawned,
her muscles jerking so suddenly that she nearly dropped her freshly brewed cup
of coffee. Jessa sneered delicately at the sludge-like liquid.
"I don't know how you can stomach that stuff."
That statement was nearly an institution now, said every time the
scent of coffee wafted through the house. Cameron smiled, relieved that even in
the midst of life-shattering events, some things never changed.
"Given the choice between coffee and what *you* drink to stay
alive, I'll take the coffee." She raised the mug to her lips, gulping down
the scalding fluid.
"I hope you burned your throat," Jessa sulked, when
Cameron winced.
Setting the mug gently on the table, Cameron cradled it between her
hands and let its warmth seep through her bones. "You'll get over it
eventually."
Jessa sniffed, but didn't say anything else. She watched her friend
-- her charge -- silently, wondering at the secrets that whirled through her
head like shooting stars, and burned just as bright. Their journey home had
been silent, characterized only by the soft fall of footsteps against cold
pavement and the slight rustle of fabric as they walked. Remy and Jessa had
avoided staring at Cameron and Kieran's clasped hands, twined in a bond stronger
than life itself.
And, Cameron had stated quietly, in a bond stronger than death.
Remy and Kieran now slept upstairs -- although not together, much
to Remy's dismay -- and dreamed away the tragedy that only one remembered. They
had both wandered away moments after entering the apartment, each stumbling to
their respective rooms. Or in Kieran's case, into Cameron's.
Cameron, unable to sleep, had wandered into the kitchen. Jessa had
followed. They sat opposite each other, Cameron drinking her coffee and Jessa
nursing a glassful of what looked like water, although Cameron would guess
otherwise.
Abruptly, she shoved the coffee away. "I suppose you figured
out what happened."
Jessa tossed her long, blond hair over her shoulder, tucking a
stray strand behind her ear, and played dumb. "What do you mean?"
The wry look Cameron bestowed on her said she knew what Jessa was
doing. "What happened with the twins. You know... why Kieran was
resurrected in Kian's body."
"I have an idea," she answered after a moment.
"Nothing certain, of course, but definitely some theories."
Cameron looked down briefly, the corners of her mouth curving in a
smile. Then her face sobered. "Kieran wasn't lying when he said he never
had a twin. They were never meant to be two separate people, but something
happened..." She shrugged. "I don't know how to explain it, but
something went wrong when they were born. The soul split and entered two bodies
instead of one. So when they died--"
She let her voice trail off and the sentence hang in the air.
"When Kieran died," Jessa corrected. She took a large
gulp of the clear liquid in her glass and then propped her chin against her
hand.
"Right. When Kieran died, he didn't really die, because,
well... I guess, because only half of his soul had been injured. Or whatever
happens to a person's soul when they get staked. So they fused back together in
the body that *hadn't* been maimed."
Jessa nodded, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip. "So how
do you explain the part where he calls himself Kieran?"
"Kieran's was the dominant personality?" Cameron
suggested, shrugging. "It would make sense, wouldn't it? While Kian played
the victim rather well, Kieran was always more industrious. Finding me, killing
me... let's face it. He orchestrated this whole thing nearly from the
beginning."
"True," she acknowledged. "For two thousand years he
managed to murder you repeatedly and make his brother's life hell. Don't you
feel safe knowing that *this* half of their personalities survived?"
Cameron laughed. "It's different now, Jessa. Kieran's
personality might be more dominant, but Kian is still a part of him. They never
really were two different people. Kieran doesn't even remember Kian."
Jessa sat back, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And how does
*that* work? It's not like they were never in the same room or having a
conversation. I'm curious, but I'm not about to ask him. He'd likely knock off
my head."
"He wouldn't know anyway." Cameron reached for her
coffee, swirling it in the cup, and took a long swallow before she answered.
"I'm not even really sure. That's why I asked him what happened last time
he killed me. The answer was something only Kian would have known and I wanted
to -- to be sure of what I'd seen. He remembers everything, but I'm not sure
how his mind has organized the time to accomodate for dual lives."
Jessa yawned, stretching lazily in her chair. "I'm not sure it
matters," she murmured, then yawned a second time.
Cameron fought back a yawn of her own. "Probably not. The
important part is that this is finally over. Finally."
Some indistinct sound escaped from deep in Jessa's throat, her eyes
trained where shadows fell just beyond the doorway. A faint smile traced her
lips. "I think your presence is being requested, Cam. Perhaps you should
take yourself off to bed."
Jerking around to face the doorway, Cameron saw Kieran's
distinctive features framed in those same shadows. He hesitated there, and she
had to remind herself that this was the big, bad, evil twin who had made her short
lives filled with fear and hell. Now he only seemed uncertain and wary.
She held a hand out to him and invited him to come closer. After a
few seconds of indecision, he moved forward and closed his fingers around hers.
She pulled him closer and let her arms sprawl over his spine, resting her head
against the hard planes of his stomach.
"I--"
"I know," she interrupted, "and I can't explain. You
probably wouldn't believe me anyway."
Amusement reeled through his eyes and he leaned back, his lips curving.
"What exactly did you think I was going to say?"
"You don't want to know," Jessa answered for her.
"Just thinking about what she was thinking about makes my head hurt."
She rose unsteadily from the table, weaving from fatigue. "I think bed
would be a great idea. Everyone coming?"
Both Jessa and Cameron burst into laughter at the stunned look
crossing Kieran's face.
He grinned suddenly, realizing his mistake. "It's been a long
night and I've already had to fend Remy off twice. I have every right to jump
to conclusions."
"We only tag-team with stakes," Jessa assured him,
laughing. She and Cameron exchanged amused glances.
His head tilted slightly as he considered the image that brought to
mind. "That sounds almost dangerous," he said thoughtfully. "I
didn't think you were the type to go for that sort of thing."
They were silent a moment, then Jessa cleared her throat.
"Right. So about sleeping... I think I'm going to do that. I would suggest
you do the same." A pause, while she watched them watching each other.
"Or whatever you plan on doing there."
"Mind your own, Jessa," Cameron scolded, mock severity
dancing through her voice.
Her roommate grinned, chocolate eyes melting iniquitously.
"Night."
"Morning," Kieran countered, a beautiful smile lighting
his chiseled face.
They both watched her glide down the hall to her bedroom. A light
clicked on, briefly glistening on the carpeted floor before the door slammed
shut behind her. They were -- finally -- alone.
His hand stroked over the silken strands of her hair. "I
couldn't sleep," he admitted, frowning, while his fingers absently slid to
massage the soft skin at the base of her neck. "Every time I heard a
noise, I thought Remy was coming for me."
"Oh, you poor thing," she teased and sagged into his
touch, letting his body support her weight. "I do love you, you
know."
Those fingers stilled, just a small exhalation of time whispering
through the air, and then he dropped his hand. He was quiet.
She didn't know what she had been hoping for. A profession of his
undying love? That he wasn't trying to kill her now had to mean *something,*
didn't it?
But still, that silence hurt.
A soft sound escaped him, somewhere between a sigh and a groan,
then he knelt beside her. "I need you," he said simply.
And that said it all, she realized. His hands slipped from her neck
to tangle in the heavy fall of her hair, drawing her against him until her head
rested in the cradle of his shoulder. His pulse beat erratically against her
cheek, the pressure strong and reassuring to her tired mind. His fingers
tightened briefly.
For a moment, it felt strange to be here like this, his arms curled
around her, without the massive blood loss to accompany it. No fighting. No
pain. Nothing but that curious sense of security drilling itself into her
heart. All her sorrow seeping slowly through the hole it created, disappearing
quietly.
Funny how losing something that was so much a part of her was so
painless. The anguish gone, replaced with this dream-like contentment.
Centuries of bloodshed washed away by one slender, jagged splinter of wood. And
perhaps she needed to think back on those lives that had been cut short to
truly appreciate what she had been given, and what had been taken away.
Maybe it had been necessary for her heart to bleed -- whatever the
cause might have been -- in order for her to gain this boy pressed so tightly
against her. He was hers now, completely and irrevocably, and she would never,
ever let him go. Those bonds forged in blood were always the hardest to break,
especially when shrouded in love.
Joined together in heartache and thoughts Kieran didn't and
couldn't understand. He would never hurt her, physically or emotionally, and
any outside pain wasn't pain at all. Merely something insignificant and
surreal. All that mattered was what she had found in the death of one, and the
birth of another.
Together at last, their souls twined so tightly that it was hard to
determine where one began and the other interposed. Not two halves of a whole,
but One. One person, bound by memories that shouldn't have been and separation
that had lasted too long.
But she didn't care and it didn't matter. Nothing did, because her
heart would never bleed again.
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