Hiya. Logan and assorted X-folks aren't mine. I make no money. Don't sue. Kai is mine. Don't use her without permission. I'll probably _give_ permission if you ask (and then proceed to give you a nice little list of do's, don'ts, and warnings), but if I see her used _without_ permission, I'm liable to get a tad annoyed. (Read: Psychotic.) So always remember to ask. ;-) This story's for 1) the romantics who've been buggin' me 'bout that darned "L-word" (Does he/she say it? Read and see!) and 2) the folks who've been asking to see a bit more of how Kai relates to others on the team. Oh, and 3) the ones who wanted to see more of her in action. See? Feedback gets response! Simple equation, innit? Comments to Kaylee1109@aol.com. C'mon...do your duty as a reader! Tell me whatcha think! Enjoy! Kai and Logan: Moments By Kaylee (Kaylee1109@aol.com) There are moments that stand out in your mind with such clear perception that even as they happen you know you'll see them with painful clarity for the rest of your days. They burn into your brain, impressing on your very nerves the picture you don't wanna see...but know somehow you'll never _stop_ seeing. It's a strange marriage of emotion and thought...a confused amalgam without division between logic and reaction. If you have any sense, these moments scare the shit outta you...not just because of what they show, but because of what your response to them _means_... But I get ahead of myself. Another pitched battle against a seemingly unstoppable foe. Never thought I'd be able to say that without smirking, but I find it almost laughably easy to do so these days. Hang out with the X-Men long enough, you learn to take these things in stride. At least that's what you tell yourself. That's how you justify throwing yourself into no-win situations without a thought of the consequences. But yes, another pitched battle, and a man that shrugged off all our best efforts without showing any more fatigue than I might show after swatting a mosquito. He wasn't much to look at, this guy. Natty brown hair a bit on the longish side. Eyes some muddy hazel color. Skin pasty and pale from too many days hidden indoors away from the sun. But looks aside, he was laughing at everything we tried. Invulnerable, or near enough so as to make no difference. Super-strong; no surprise there. Some sorta nasty force-bolts that slammed outwards from his hands to hammer home painfully that none of us could take him alone. So we didn't try. Teamwork happens to be something we know pretty well by now, as much as Scott and Ororo insist on group practice. We know each others' abilities. We _count on_ each others' abilities. It's not seamless, but it's close. An interweaving dance with an intricate sorta beauty I think it'd take a Zen master to truly appreciate. We were doing everything _right_...which is why the fact that we were getting our tails handed to us didn't go over so well. We _would_ have to let him stage this fight by a waterfront... The moment came not ten minutes into the fight. I'd just been sent sprawling ever-so-gracefully back on my butt after my attempted tackle had gone bad and he'd thrown me off with a casual backhand. I started up quick, of course. Ground zero is no place to take a breather. My feet gathered beneath me, and I was all set to dive right back into the melee when... A dumpster. The bastard picked up a fucking _dumpster_ as easily as I'd toss a can, and he flung it right at Logan, who was standing too near the edge of the pier... That wasn't the moment, no...that little thing? I've seen Logan shake off enough heavy damage to not worry overmuch about a little bit of scrap metal. The _moment_ came when I saw the angle of the hit...saw him knocked back by the huge bin with the happy green sign saying "Recycle" painted cheerily on the side...saw that not only was he gonna go over into the water, but that he was gonna be pinned beneath it if he didn't find a way to get clear before it went down...and saw that, after a too long moment of timeless waiting, _he didn't come up._ I was diving off the pier in an instant, part of me separate enough from the _moment_ to wonder if any of our teammates were free to help, but most of me caught up in this tight clenching around my stomach. Intertwining of thought and emotion, like I said...pretty uncomfortable for someone like me. The water was about fifteen, maybe twenty feet here. Shallow enough for light to reach down to the depths he'd been plummeted to. It was murky, though, and it took a moment for eyes to adjust enough to make out the situation. He _was_ pinned, legs and lower torso crushed down by the considerable weight. Any air he mighta had woulda been knocked outta him by the impact, so the first thing was to help him breathe. I kicked down to him, hardly able to see his form, and caught one tight shoulder in a hand to pull myself to him. I could just barely see the glint in his eyes as I pressed my lips over his and shared the breath I'd grabbed just as I dove in. When I'd given all I could, my hands followed his arms down to where they shoved futilely against the heavy weight. I braced against the litter-strewn sea floor and struggled to budge it. No dice. I may be stronger than just about any non-mutant human, but this thing was too much even for me. I could feel the tremor in the water as it shifted ever-so-slightly...but not enough, damnit. Not enough. More air. Hadda hold out 'til someone could get free from the battle to help. I caught his eye and nodded upwards. His lips were drawn back, face contorted with the pain of it all, but he managed a slight bob of the head in return. I shoved up hard and kicked as rapidly as I could towards the surface...broke through...sucked down a deep several breaths, then turned and swam down again. A little part of me spared the time to wonder how the fight was going, and an even smaller part felt a stab of guilt for leaving the scene without so much as a glance at the situation up top. Those parts were easily drowned out by the rest, though...by the part that lived in my hammering heart and that ached fiercely on seeing the desperation in his eyes. No. Don't think that. Don't allow the thought or the reality. I pressed my mouth over his again and breathed air into his lungs. Then I set my hands to the dumpster once more and strained for all I was worth to move the damned thing. I reminded myself furiously that I was _strong,_ I was _tough,_ I didn't _feel_ the muscles tearing as I pushed them past their endurance. His hands were pushing, too, and I actually started to feel it raise just a _little_... There was a muted splash as someone else was thrown into the water. Not ceasing my efforts, I tilted my head back to see the limp form sinking down towards us. I recognized Scott by his uniform and wondered briefly where the hell Jean was...how she'd let him fall. He wasn't moving voluntarily, the only motions being from the buffeting of the slight current. Unconscious...and doubtless sucking down great draughts of salt-water as lungs tried to breathe. I felt Logan's hand on my arm and looked down to him. He gave a sharp, imperative motion with his head towards Scott. My eyes were stinging with the salt, but I still saw it clearly. There wasn't time to debate, not for him or Scott. I let the dumpster settle again and gave the last bit of breath I had to spare to Logan, then pushed away from the sea floor and powered towards Scott, catching him by an arm and dragging him towards the surface. My lungs were straining by the time we reached it and there were dark spots dancing across my vision. I hauled Scott bodily towards the rocks to the side of the pier and pulled him up onto them with a lunge. Right away, I turned to go back to Logan, but... <_Goddamnit!_ Not fucking breathing!> Urgency hammered at me from every angle, but there wasn't time to think about that, either. I flipped him to his back and set to work trying to make him live, counting seconds down in my brain. I shouted in my mind. Nothing. She'd always told me my mind was harder to touch than most, but she still shoulda been able to hear me when I focused thoughts _at_ her. Unless she was knocked out, which wasn't at all unlikely. Or worse... But where the hell was everyone else? Too long...it was taking too long... It seemed an eternity, but my internal clock hadn't quite counted thirty seconds by the time he gave a choked gasp and rolled over, water gushing from his mouth as his lungs started working. Soon as he moved, I turned away from him and pushed off back into the water, taking as deep a breath as I could and diving under again. I was feeling a little light-headed by now, but ignored that. Logan was feeling infinitely worse. If he was feeling at all... He was motionless when I reached him, but his eyes fixed on me. Conserving what little air he had left, then. Smart move. I shared a breath, pretending I _didn't_ see the fear in his eyes. Drowning...not a good death. Not a good death at all. I threw myself at the unmoving dumpster again, scrambling against sand and debris for a solid foothold. The spots started blanking out pieces of my vision again. Something was trying very hard to give in my shoulder. His hand again, closing on my arm. I didn't spare him a look. It'd budged. Just a little. It _had_... The hand tugged at me. I turned my head just a slight bit to meet his eyes. They were fierce. Determined. A way I'd only seen them a few hundred times before. _Get outta here,_ they said, plain as words. _Save yourself._ I thought at him, turning back to the matter at hand. He gave another imperative tug, but I ignored it. I have a gift for doing that sorta thing. I told myself again. And...it was moving! Lifted one slow, agonizing inch, but just a little more... Something slammed into me, piercing my side and smashing a rib as it lanced through. Air was expelled in a rush of bubbles as the harpoon from nowhere impaled me. I lurched forward, losing my grip on the dumpster and dragging in a lungful of salt water in shock. I felt Logan's hands grab for me, but whatever the harpoon was attached to was drawing me back towards the source too strongly for him to hold on. I caught a glimpse of his face as it faded from sight...eyes wild and teeth bared in a rictus of helpless fury... Sight was flickering, and I was struggling to keep from drawing in a breath, lungs constricting and the water I'd already inhaled sloshing. I grabbed for the protruding point of the harpoon, gripping as tightly as I could...for what good it did me. My head turned. The vague form of the shooter loomed out of the darkness. I saw a dark wet-suit, flippers...and scuba gear. Ouch, no! Damnit, hurry and pull you weak little bastard...goddamnit this _hurt!_ I stayed limp so that he wouldn't stop the motion, letting him think me unconscious or worse. I had no air left, really...but I wasn't out yet. And I wouldn't be. Not if the dagger I was freeing from the thigh sheath even as he drew me nearer had anything to say about it. And it did. A few feet from him I twisted and grabbed the rope attached to the harpoon, giving a sharp pull that jerked us towards each other even as it eased the drag on my impaled side. Through the mask I saw eyes of some indistinguishable color go wide. A frenzy of bubbles escaped with a muted shout. But I did now. He was trying to bring the gun he'd fired the harpoon from up to block him, but he wasn't fast enough, and I had somewhere I really needed to be. The knife graced his throat with a scratch...then plunged up beneath his jaw and into his brain. He gave a lurch, and then a huge shudder. I paid no mind, being too busy freeing the blade and slicing through the straps on the scuba gear. How long? A minute since he'd had any sort of breath? And before that only air laden with carbon dioxide from my own lungs in the longer-stretching minutes he'd been trapped down here... I freed the tank and pushed away from the now still body, diving back down once more even as I brought the mouthpiece to my face and took a much-needed drag of air. The forgotten gun trailed behind me, pulled by the rope attached to the nasty bit of metal that still impaled me. I felt the occasional little tug as current tossed it this way or that, but in the numb haze of it all I could almost pretend it didn't exist. Logan was straining again as I drew near, head pushed back and tendons cording out the flesh of his neck as he made what looked like a last- ditch effort to free himself. There was a frenzy to his motions that struck a cold chord inside. Rationality had fled him, leaving only a trapped and injured wild thing that fought against imprisonment with strength born of fear and rage born of helplessness. But he was alive, and it didn't look as if he was breathing water yet. No...even as I drew closer I saw a painfully thin stream of air bleed out from between clenched teeth. Lungs weren't water-logged yet. He would be all right. I let the tank pull me down to the misting ground beside him, yanking the mouthpiece from my lips and pressing it to his. One of his hands jerked free of the weight he was pushing against and moved as if to ward off the aid. His eyes were wide, savage, unreasoning. He didn't see _me._ I don't know what he _did_ see, but it couldn't have been good if he was willing to die to fight it off. But I wasn't willing to let him. I shoved my shoulder into the grasping arm and again moved the air to his mouth. Something reached him...ingrained habit pounded into agents, into soldiers who learned underwater warfare. Survival...the thing that motivates him more than anything. I woulda breathed a sigh of relief had I been able when I saw him draw in a deep, lung-filling breath. I watched glistening spheres of air rise in a cloud and felt the grip on my shoulder ease as he sagged back and just _breathed._ His chest rose and fell rapidly, but with slowing breaths as he regulated his intake with firm discipline. Eyes closed for a moment, that borderline madness shielded. I clenched my teeth and leaned as heavily as an underwater person can against the dumpster, telling my lungs they could just _wait._ And then his eyes opened again, rationality edging back into place, and he brought the other hand to pull the mouthpiece from his lips and reach it towards me. I took it for a few welcome moments of inhalation that hadda be better than any drug any person could dream up. Complaining lungs stopped shrieking. Now if only I could do something about the harpoon... It could wait. Recharged, I handed the mouthpiece to him once more and braced against the stubborn dumpster. He set hands. I set hands. Together we put every ounce of strength into freeing him... And...it...was...working! Something _did_ tear in my back, sending a sharp line of white-hot fire into my brain, but the damn thing _moved!_ My feet started to slip, but a sharp twist of the angle anchored them once more. An inch...two inches...just a _little_ more... His legs were in bad shape, but he dug arms into silt and shoved himself back and free. Soon as his feet were clear, I let go of the dumpster and let it collapse in a cloud of sand. I wanted little more than to sag against it, but we had to get both of us to the surface _pronto._ He turned somehow, despite the ruined legs, and forced the breathing tube to my mouth again. I sucked in one, two, three breaths, then gritted my teeth and let it go, taking hold of one of his arms and kicking us both towards the warm sun and _air_ that waited just above the surface for us. The gun started to drag again on the harpoon, but his free hand went to grasp the rope and ease the pressure a little. We broke the surface, and the brush of wind against my skin was the most wonderful sensation I'd ever felt. Like crippled birds carving a lurching flight across a sky of water, we struggled for the rocks. Scott was gone, presumably back up to the battle...if it wasn't already over. I started to drag him up, but the jutting point of the harpoon scraped across a stone and halted the motion with a jolt and a barely suppressed scream. He pulled himself up by his arms, then turned, gasping, to draw me up with him. My head reeled, pain finally catching up to me and anxious to make up for lost time. I could barely think past He hauled me to him and I heard the "shlukk" as claws were extended. The claws cut the rope tying me to the gun, then his hand went immediately to my head, pulling me against his heaving chest and pressing my face hard against him. I clenched teeth and clutched him, knowing what was about to come. His arm cradled my head while his other hand closed over the part of the harpoon that jutted through the front of my abdomen...and then he tore it free with a sickening wet sound and a surge of agony that almost made me retch. I gave a strained cry, thankfully muffled against his chest, and an unconscious lurch...then sagged against him, gasping. It felt like forever - but probably wasn't more than a few minutes - before breathing eased a bit and the pain lessened marginally. The broken rib would take a while to heal, but soft tissue was nearly closed already. Still tender, though. I was shaking with reaction, though it wasn't really from the pain. _Pain_ isn't that big a deal. When you heal as fast as I do, you get used to it. No...this was something else... "You...all right?" he asked after a bit. "I..." "Yeah. Yeah, I'm...I'm fine." He squeezed me tighter to him, burying his face in my soaked hair. "Damnit, Kai...you coulda been killed..." I tried to come up with a flippant answer...maybe something nice and sarcastic about how _he_ was the one in danger...but nothing came to mind. The _moment_ kept replaying itself over and over...that stab directly at my heart that I'd felt only once before... Sensei. The only person I really loved, gone so senselessly from my life, gone with a telephone call one late night. Gone with words sobbed into a receiver as I listened, before dropping the phone from numb and nerveless fingers and falling down limply to my knees... Nothing. Nothing before or since had ever _hurt_ so bad. Not even the conditioning process, because that erased...or at least buried...all the things that woulda allowed me to feel. And feeling this now for Logan... I was terrified. He was still talking, like somehow it made it easier to let the words pour out. I listened with the part of my attention that wasn't caught up in my pounding heart. "Don't...don't risk yourself for me...I'd never forgive myself if you...you..." "What's a little...harpoon...to the gut, huh? For me, I mean." "But ooph! Don't squeeze so tight...that rib's gonna be sore for a bit..." He murmured something very low, fervent, quiet...too quiet for me to hear. Or that's what I told myself. And I told myself the same thing when he said it again a little louder. And then he started to say it once more...loud enough that I _couldn't_ pretend... Someone _else_ went flying off the pier. My head jerked around and my eyes marked Remy's distinctive uniform as he sailed through the air to limply splash down into water...and sink. "What the fuck...?" Logan breathed. my mind shouted. I pulled back away from him and gave him a brief little smile. "Stay. You're in no shape for this. Back in a sec." And then I was diving back into the water, not hearing - _really_ not hearing - whatever else he had to say. The rib gave me painful jabs to remind me that it still wasn't too happy with the situation, but I almost welcomed the distraction right now. A pause before the arguing part of my mind had an answer, and then it wasn't a very good one. Well, maybe it was a better answer than I thought... I took a breath and went under, reaching for Remy and only now wondering if perhaps my pal with the harpoon had more buddies waiting just beneath the surface. There's something creepy about oceans...about what can hide in the darkness where things move _faster_ than you. Realizing that those things can come at you from _all_ angles, and they can probably circle you and come back quicker than you can turn... But I snagged Remy's collar without getting attacked by anything more menacing than a bundle of slick seaweed, and I hauled him back up towards air without even overloud complaining from the rib. He was actually moving a little, dazed but not unconscious, and had managed to hold his breath under the water and keep from inhaling fluid. I heard his deep gasp as we broke the surface, and I swam us both back towards the rocks without more than two or three curses. Logan's legs were healing with that amazing efficiency of his healing factor. Mine keeps up perfectly well when it comes to soft tissue - is even a little faster in warmer climes - but my bones always take a bit longer than his, damnit. It's annoying. But Logan's legs were healing, and he'd shifted around to make room and then helped me pull the weakly moving Remy from the water. I started to draw myself up afterward... And _another_ body went sailing off the pier. Hank this time, and he looked pretty out of it. I took stock of weary muscles as I turned once more to swim out after him. I was more tired than I'd been in a long while, but adrenaline was working on making me forget that. I ducked down and kicked after Hank, tangling a hand in the blue fur that waved lazily in the current as I turned back for air. He wasn't moving at all. What? What the hell was I gonna do to a guy that was knocking the whole damned _team_ for a loop? Right, Kai. Keep telling yourself that. Remy was conscious - barely - when I reached the rocks once more. He and Logan each took a blue-furred arm and hauled the considerable weight up. I leaned against one of the boulders for a minute while I tried to catch my breath enough to drag myself up after. Hank wasn't breathing, but Logan evidently found a pulse because he started mouth-to-mouth, not CPR. I was actually a bit proud of him for not making an issue outta doing this for a man. I've known a guy or two that'd let someone die before that. I thought wearily. Splash! I closed my eyes tightly, then opened them and glanced over my shoulder to see Ororo's white hair swirl as the weight of her body pulled her down into the depths. I thought as I pushed aching limbs into moving. I retrieved her and started the short swim back that now felt like miles. She was only dazed, thankfully. Currents tugged at my feet, trying to hinder our forward progress. I grumbled mentally, noting with a relieved corner of my mind that the _moment_ was fading to the background. Sure as hell didn't need _that_ distraction right now! I could see it now...Mer-Kai! Halfway back, with salt-water blurring my eyes, I saw another form soar overhead and heard the smacking splash as it hit the water. Logan - obviously still in pain, but getting better - slipped into the water and came to catch hold of 'Ro. "Hank's okay," he told me. "I got her...go!" I twisted around and pushed aching arms into a breaststroke. Who the fuck was it this time? Who was _left?_ Scott, Jean, Bobby, and Rogue. I didn't finish the thought, turning concentration instead towards drawing a deep breath and diving under. I could see a vague dark form ahead of me. Whoever it was thrashed wildly - stuttered, uncoordinated motions that a person who doesn't know how to swim might give. The pale face turned towards me, muddy eyes wide. Yes it was...and apparently he'd neglected to learn basic water survival before setting the scene for this delightful slug-fest. His mouth was open as if he was trying to scream, and I didn't doubt he was choking on the rush of sea-water into lungs. Limbs flailed madly. He was completely terrified. Most of me said to leave him. Hell, most of me said to _watch_ as he drowned. I've never denied having a mean streak...never tried to say I've got much in the way of morals or honor. And not only had this bastard done his level best to kill us all (and Logan trapped beneath a fucking _dumpster_ and the fear in his eyes and the raging rate of my heart and the pain of the harpoon lancing flesh and breaking bone) but he'd also stuck one of those damned _moments_ in my head. But... (Scott's voice - "X-Men don't kill." My answer - "But I've killed." Scott's words - "That's in the past." My words - "Um. Sure.") I considered for the space of a few seconds, idly noting that he looked so damned _young_ right at this moment. Early twenties maybe, and confused and scared as he faced the possibility of not being around to reach the big three-oh. Whatever made this guy fight us didn't make him inhuman. And Logan was _alive._ I twisted my body, gave two kicks downwards, and stretched a hand for his. He reached for me with frantic desperation, his fingers closing over mine with crushing pressure. I ground teeth and turned to haul him up towards the sunlight breaking through the plane of water. My head cleared...his head cleared... And then, like any drowning person with reason taking a back seat to terror, he panicked. He clambered onto me as if it'd somehow keep him outta the water...as if I was an island that wouldn't be shoved deeper by his weight. I choked as an arm that had tossed cars around gripped my throat like a handle. "Ack!" He was gasping, choking, trying to scream. I was just trying to breathe and stay afloat. I caught a flash of muddy eyes wide with fear. No way was I gonna give up my life for this little bastard...forget the hero crap! In between having my head dunked soundly beneath the surface, I heard shouts from the rocks and the pier above. I shouted mentally, hoping Jean was awake to hear. Another rib snapped as he scrambled to secure his position by wrapping legs around my torso. And then a flash of green and yellow...a stir of wind across my face...and Rogue had neatly plucked him off me and carried him into the air. <'Bout...damn...time!> I didn't even try to swim back right away. Only closed my eyes and let my body stretch to float as I gasped in breaths and waited for the symbiont to ease some of the damage. As if one being smashed wasn't enough. I spent a short moment evaluating my thoughts to make sure I was actually bitching and not sinking into self-pity. Yep. Distinctive bitching, for sure. Well then. I could happily let myself fume without qualms. Faint splashing as Logan and Remy swam out to me. I hissed at them both when they moved to grab my arms to pull me back in. "Back off! Gimme a sec...I'll be peachy." "Fight's over," Remy informed me. "Dat was Rogue sent de guy flyin'. Look like she got a better punch dan him, neh?" "Took her long enough to use it," I muttered. Opened my eyes and blinked at Logan. "You okay?" "Yeah. You?" A drawn out sigh as I let my feet drop down and started back for the rocks once more. "Peachy." *** We had a debriefing hours later after we'd gotten back to the mansion and taken the time to clean up. The mutant we'd been fighting - turned out his name was Billy Jenkins...a nice, normal sounding _sane_ name - was locked up safely in a containment cell. Jean and Scott had questioned him, though from what they were saying now it hadn't done a whole lotta good. Billy's mind was resistant to telepathy to a startling degree, and there didn't seem to be a whole lotta other ways to make the guy talk. "So that's the situation. So far as we know right now, Jenkins was acting alone without reason. Possibly trying to set himself up as a 'super-villain' and make a name for himself." I sat up a little straighter at that, jerking out of the near-doze I'd been drifting into. "Alone? What about his pal in the ocean?" Scott fixed visored eyes on me. "What are you talking about?" Oh. So Logan hadn't told them... I glanced sidelong at him, noting the faint tightness of his jaw. I could guess _why_ he'd kept that private without much difficulty. 'X-Men don't kill.' He was leaving it up to me to decide how much to tell about that, and I gotta say I appreciated it. But it might prove important. "There was a guy in the water in scuba gear. Had a gun that shot a harpoon." In _me._ "I assumed he had something to do with the other guy." Scott frowned faintly. "We found no traces of another person. Damn...he must have gotten away." Well, that was one way to put it. I didn't change my expression by so much as a blink. "It doesn't make much sense, though. Unless the diver was there in case Jenkins got tossed into the water, since it was pretty obvious he couldn't swim..." Ororo gave a thoughtful nod. She looked pretty tired. No surprise there. Hank had told her she had a slight concussion, and she was _supposed_ to be in bed. "We will question him further and see if the knowledge of his companion changes his story at all." A slight frown. "Or his _lack_ of a story, that is. You should all stay around the mansion in case this turns out to be something other than an isolated incident." "And get some rest, team," Scott added. "It's been a long day, and there might be more just like it at any time." "Goes hand in hand with puttin' an 'X' on your uniform," Rogue put in wryly. "Ah'd think we'd all be used to it by now." *** I had some thinking to do, and I wasn't quite sure just where to go to do it. Logan had headed off into the woods without much in the way of explanation. I supposed he had some stuff to chew over, too. I wasn't sure I wanted to talk to anybody, either, so...where did that leave? It didn't take much doing. I went outside, climbed a handy tree, and made an easy jump right onto the roof. Not even a twinge from the ribs. Pleasing that they'd already healed completely inside the space of hours. I stood up and started to search for a likely spot to plop my butt down and let my mind wander... And then I caught his scent. "'Mind me t' show y' de easy way up here," Remy said from the edge of the roof, not bothering to turn to look at me. I scowled a little. "Sorry, Remy. Didn't realize this spot was claimed." "I don' mind. Could use de comp'ny, if y' ain' got somewhere t' be." "Well, I don't." I walked over and took a seat a few feet from him, looking out over the darkening grounds. "Come here often?" He gave a little grin; only a shadow of the normal charming one I usually see from him. "Sometimes. Got a nice view, neh?" "Yeah." We sat for a bit in silence. I've always liked Remy's company...he's undemanding, and usually loads of fun. I find myself trusting him, too, which is a bit disconcerting, but welcome. Some time back, he helped me out when I was going through some crap after what happened with Victor Creed when I tangled with him last. Kept his mouth shut about it, too. That sorta thing goes a long way in earning my appreciation. Ever since then we've had an unspoken agreement: Need help, come to me. I'll keep it quiet and do all I can. Nice to have something like that to count on. After a few minutes he shifted around and drew a battered pack of cigarettes out of a back pocket. He offered one to me, and I accepted with a thanks. Neat trick, the way he lights 'em. Wish I could carry a lighter in my fingertip. "Y're a woman," he said suddenly out of nowhere. Then went silent as if waiting for my response. "Uh...yeah..." I gestured towards my chest. "That's what these mean, last time I checked." He didn't even smile this time. "So what goes t'rough a woman's head when she in love?" I took a long drag off the cigarette, steeling the nerves that had taken a little jump at that. "Whadda you mean?" He gestured at nothing in particular, smoke trailing out from the burning ember. "Don' a man have a right t' know where he stand wit' a woman?" My mouth twisted into a familiar scowl. "Why? What gives him that right? Women have to figure out what goes on in _your_ thick heads all the time." "But we ain' so hard t' figure out." "Oh really?" "Yeah. Least not once we _know_ we gone an' fallin' f' someone." I traced an absent little 'Z' with the cigarette over and over again. "But how do you _know?_ What tells you that's happened?" "Why don' y' tell me?" I turned a glare on him. Not one of my better ones, though. "Y'know, between you and 'Ro I'm getting really sick of having people tell me they know how I'm feeling before _I_ do." Red on black eyes looked at me from the thin veil of smoke. "Try dis, den. Tell me why Rogue so scared a lettin' me know what she feels." "Why should I do that? I don't know her that well." "Jus' try it." I looked away from him, turning my gaze back to the shadowy woods. "You said it yourself. She's scared." "Why?" "'Cause..." A slow drag on the cigarette. "Well, for one thing you aren't exactly open and honest with her." "I don' tell her everyt'ing. Dat don' mean I lie t' her." "But you hide things. Undermines trust." "Y' trust me." "That's different." "Why?" I shrugged. "I'm not looking to have you carry my heart, Remy. I'm not faced with living with your 'shady past' or memories of other women." "But y' got dat wit' Logan." Not looking at him, I jabbed a finger in the air to emphasize my point. "Comparing you and Rogue with me and Logan's silly." "What so silly 'bout it? Rogue scared a lovin' me. Y' scared a lovin' him." The glare I gave him now had crawled up the scale a few notches towards my better ones. "I am _not_ letting someone who sits on a roof to brood analyze my relationship issues." He just looked at me, saying nothing and yet managing to silently remind me that _I_ was sitting on a roof and, yes, brooding. I glowered and took a moody pull from the cigarette, jetting smoke out on a sharp breath of annoyance. "Well...I don't make a _habit_ of it." He waited a moment, presumably to let me settle down before bringing up touchy issues again. Then - "So is dat what it is, den? Y' can' deal wit' Logan's past?" A bitter, humorless laugh. "That's a good one. I'd be more worried about _him_ dealing with _mine._" Wise man didn't address that. Talking about 'pasts' fell into the 'don't ask don't tell' aspect of our friendship. "So if dat ain' de problem, what is?" "Who says there's a problem?" This time he gave me a real grin. "Den let's talk 'bout Rogue." I tossed the cigarette forcefully away, watching the glowing ember spiral down to the ground. "Fine. You wanna know what I think's up with Rogue? You scare her shitless. Not just because of her powers. Not just because of your past. She's terrified of trusting you with her heart because it's _easy_ to be tough when you've got nothing to lose, but a helluva lot harder when there's so much on the line. _Love_ means _pain_ no matter what. Even if everyone says it's worth it. Even if the good's supposed to outweigh the bad. It _hurts._ End of lecture." His turn to voice a derisive laugh. "Y' t'ink I don' know dat? Y' t'ink it so much easier f' me? Let me tell y', chere...dere's a real small number a people I trust. Funny t'ing is, I don' even know if Rogue's one a dem. But dat don' change what I feel." He took a final drag off the cigarette and tossed it, eyes fixed on it as it fell. "Dat's de t'ing 'bout love. It don' always make sense. An' it ain' never easy." I chewed a cheek in thought. "Then why risk it?" "Y' tryin' t' tell me y' ain' _never_ loved someone, Kai? Not family or friends?" "Well..." My eyes lifted to catch the stars that crept out across the blackening sky. "I _care_ about a lotta people..." "Non. Not what I'm sayin'. I'm talkin' 'bout _love,_ chere. Sum'ting so strong y' jus' can' fight it." Orion winked down at me from the sky. I smiled just a little at him, tracing the line of stars that made up his belt. "One person." "Only one?" "Only one." "_Ever?_" "You heard me." He was silent again, waiting for me to go on. I sighed faintly. "My sensei. He found me at a real rough spot in my life, and he showed me what made it all worthwhile. If it wasn't for him...well, I mighta become something real bad. _Real_ bad." I saw his nod from the corner of my eye. "So y' loved him." "Yeah." "What happened t' him?" There was a slight pause in his voice...a silent admission that this might touch on ground too personal and that I wasn't obligated to answer if I didn't want to. And I _didn't_ want to...but some part of me did. "He got drunk one night and wrapped his car around a tree at sixty miles per hour," I told him flatly. Silence for a moment. "Chere...I'm sorry." I gave a forced shrug. The anger was still in my voice, though. "Damned stupid wholly _preventable_ accident. No one to blame but himself." "I ain' sorry f' _him._" "I'm not looking for _pity,_ Remy." "It ain' pity t' feel bad f' someone." True. "Well, there you go. Kai's tragic story. The closest thing I ever had to family killed himself by getting drunk and hopping behind a wheel without me ever having told him what he meant to me." Whoa, internal check showed _definite_ signs of self-pity there! "Can we drop this?" "'Course." A minute passed, the quiet between us a little edgy this time. Then he cleared his throat as he drew out another cigarette and handed one to me. "Didn' t'ank y' f' savin' my life t'day." I let out a silent sigh of relief at the subject change. "You don't have to. That's what being on a team's about, isn't it?" "Oui. Don' make me any less glad y' did it." "You're welcome." I nudged him with a toe. "Buy me a beer sometime and we'll call it even." "Dat's a promise, chere." He shifted to stretch his legs out and laid his head back, staring up at the stars as I did. I wondered absently if he was another person who found something comforting in the carefully ordered chaos of the sky. "Dat man t'day...de one y' said was in de water..." "What about him?" "He didn' get away, did he?" "You looking for dirt on me, Remy?" Casual tone. Less than casual intent. "Non." He inhaled smoke...exhaled a cloud slowly. "Jus' wan' know if I caught what I t'ink I did 'bout dat." "And what's that?" "Dat it strange Logan didn' mention de guy in de water b'fore y' brought it up." My eyes dropped from the stars to the trees. Logan was somewhere in those woods right now, maybe thinking about me and wondering why I ignored his murmured words from earlier. Perhaps taking a little time to reevaluate life after his brush with its absence. Or maybe just wanting to be alone. "I don't kill for kicks, Remy." "Didn' t'ink y' did." "I don't kill unless I don't have another choice." "Oui." His voice was level; nonjudgmental. "Funny dat y' an' me join up wit' dis group, neh? We ain' 'xactly de hero types." I slid him a glance and a smile. "I dunno, Cajun...I seem to remember you doing a bit of hero-ing now and then." "T'day don' make up f' yest'day. An' dere a lot more yest'days dan t'days or tomorrows." Don't I just know it? "But it's _today_ that matters." I'd learned _that_ the hard way. "The choices we make _now._" "So y' t'ink de past c'n be let go?" The smile faded a little, though I still felt it lingering at the corners of my mouth. "Maybe not. But we're sure as hell not gonna find out by living in it." He didn't answer that one, but his pensive silence was thoughtful rather than dismissive. And that silence forced me to think about my own words as much as his. *** Scott caught sight of me as I was coming in the front door. "Kai, do you have a minute?" "For what?" "It's about Jenkins. Come with me down to the containment unit. I'll explain on the way." We walked. He talked. I grimaced. "You want _me_ to question him?" He half-smiled. "Why does that surprise you so much?" I followed him into the observation room, glancing through the one-way window at the young man seated miserably on the bunk inside the unit. "The only interrogation skills I ever learned weren't exactly the pleasant kind, Scott." A nod. He didn't look too surprised to hear that. "I thought as much. But I only want you to talk to him, Kai. You were the one who reached him first when he was drowning. He might be inclined to trust you." In the room, Jenkins dropped his face into his hands. It looked as if he was crying. "What aren't you telling me?" He didn't even hesitate. "Jean suspects that he might have a mental disorder. He appears to be mildly retarded, and that's likely part of the reason she's having so much trouble reaching his mind. We're at a wall here. I'm willing to try anything to get him to talk." The kid looked even younger now that he was cleaned up and under the almost-harsh light in the room. "You got something in place there to stop him if he goes nuts on me?" His brow wrinkled in surprise. "You're planning to actually go _in_ there?" "So long as doing so doesn't get me killed, yeah." A pause, then he nodded again. "There's an emergency stasis field I can activate from in here. It should be able to hold even him." "All right." As if this day wasn't long enough already. "I'll give it a shot." *** Billy looked up sharply when I stepped through the entrance of his cell. (The others almost never refer to it as such, but I find it hard to think of it as anything else.) "Hiya, Billy. Thought I'd come see how you were doing before I turned in for the night. Remember me?" He blinked slowly, frowning. "You...you're the one who saved me, aren't you?" "That's right. My name's Kai." Dunno what I expected. Maybe belligerence. Maybe an attack. Maybe a hesitant, tentative exchange of words. I sure as shit didn't think he'd spring up, cross the floor in two long strides, and wrap arms around me in a bear hug. "Thank you!" he exclaimed. I felt the dampness of actual _tears_ on my shoulder...smelled the faint salty tang. "I was so scared...Derek was supposed to be there if I fell in the water, but I couldn't find him, and it was so hard to breathe, and I thought I was going to _die_ down there, and...and..." "Um." I patted his back awkwardly. "It's okay, Billy. You're just fine now. Safe and sound and dry, see?" The sniffling didn't ease off at all. "And then _you_ were there reaching out for me...I thought you must be an angel...Momma always said there were real angels, even if Derek said she was lying..." Since apparently he wasn't gonna let go any time soon, I decided to go ahead with this farce of an interrogation as we were. "So...Derek was gonna wait for you in the water, huh? Is he a friend of yours, then?" "He's my brother." He seemed almost pathetically eager to talk. "He's smarter than me, and he's always coming up with these great ideas. Especially since Momma died. He's been taking care of me since then." Well, there went feeling good about myself for a while. "Was it Derek's idea to rob that bank, Billy?" His head bobbed against my shoulder in a nod. Considering he was nearly six feet and I'm not much over five, it was an odd motion. "He said we'd be just like those guys in the movies. Everybody would love us, and we'd have cars and, and girls and everything..." "Do you know if Derek had any friends he talked to about this stuff? Anyone other than you?" He sniffled a little. "Derek doesn't have any friends except me. We're each others' only friends." Only friends. Damn. "Did Derek ever ask you to hurt anybody, Billy? Or did he ever hurt anyone?" The dark head came back just a little, hazel eyes damp. "He...he won't get in trouble for this, will he?" "No, Billy." "He won't get in any trouble at all." The eyes searched my face as if looking for deception. I'm good at hiding that, though. He nodded hesitantly, and with a little more encouragement proceeded to tell me all the different things his 'wonderful' brother Derek had asked him to do, made him do, done himself. The list wasn't as long as some I've heard or as ugly, but it was more than enough to see that Billy here never saw the light of a free day again. And, trusting and innocent as only a mental child can be, he confessed it all without any realization of the consequences. *** I met Scott back in the observation room after Billy talked. He didn't turn away from the window to Billy's cell as I came in. "That was good work, Kai." "Yeah," I said bitterly. "Playing off an innocent's trust to manipulate him into signing his freedom away forever." Now he turned, eyes as unreadable as ever behind the visor. I wondered distantly why he'd donned a fresh uniform instead of civvies when we'd gotten back earlier. "I've already talked to Moira. She's going to do all she can for him." "I know she will." I sat heavily. "Poor damned kid." A slight nod. "It's a shame. The real criminal here is his brother." The line of mouth hardened a bit. "I plan to do everything I can to find Derek Jenkins and see that he gets what's coming to him." I said nothing. My thoughts had been twisting uncomfortably around that issue, logic pointing out a few things I'd rather ignore. Chances were that Derek's body would be found at some point. When that happened it'd likely not get much more mention than a tiny article in a back page of the newspaper...but Scott would see it. 'Ro would see it. They're both cautious that way...they pay attention to the details. And it wouldn't take much of a jump for either one of them to put two and two together after that. "Kai?" He'd said my name twice now, and I hadn't answered. "What is it?" I wasn't ashamed of the killing. There hadn't been any choice; any time for thought. But when it came out, it would look as if I'd purposely hidden the knowledge. "Kai, are you all right?" These people were friends...in some ways almost family. We'd all traded lives between us more than a few times in battle. Sure, I didn't _like_ all of 'em...but that wasn't what was important here. His hand on my shoulder, warm and supportive. "What's the matter?" Openness. Honesty. Things I've never been especially good at. "It was kill or be killed, Scott." My voice sounded a little hoarse. "It was kill or let _Logan_ be killed." Silence. The hand didn't move from my shoulder, but I could feel the tension in his body through the light touch. My eyes raised to meet his hidden ones, waiting. His hand slid off my shoulder. What I could see of his face was carefully still, carefully expressionless. "Why didn't you say anything earlier?" "Does that matter?" I kept my voice steady with a little effort. "I'm telling you now." The rate of his heart had picked up a little, with anger or surprise or both. I heard it clearly, though his face still gave no sign whatsoever. "There was absolutely no way for you to leave him alive?" "None that I saw at the time." I was hating this. _Hating_ this. I don't hold myself accountable to many people. Scott isn't usually one of them. "I don't feel bad for the choice I made, Scott. If it was him or me...or him or Logan...well, there just wasn't much of a decision to make." "I see." He took a step back and...just _looked_ at me. Evaluating. Assessing. Heavy. I could feel the weight of his thoughts in that gaze. I could imagine the hidden eyes reflecting emotions no one would ever see, except maybe Jean. Something...changed...in the way he saw me at that moment. Perhaps changed forever. Scott's a man who's learned painfully the value of life...who's lost those he cared for again and again. Who's fought tooth and nail to keep others from knowing that same emptiness when someone's taken out of this world. I had admitted to killing without a second thought, and I'd pretty much told him that I'd make the same decision without hesitation if a similar situation ever arose. I could try asking him what he'd do if Jean was ever in a position like the one Logan was in...but that would be seeking to justify it, and I didn't need to do that. Not for me, because I didn't think I was wrong. Not for him, because I don't justify my actions to others. Either they understand or they don't. That's all there is to it. "You were right to tell me," he said eventually. I think he didn't know _what_ to feel, to say. I'd just slammed him in the gut with the hard realization that he didn't _know_ me, and that maybe a lot of what he'd thought about me wasn't really based on who I _was_ at all. What was he supposed to think about that? "We'll...discuss this more later. I have some work to do." That was a clear dismissal, and for once I didn't bristle at being treated as if I _could_ be dismissed. I stood without another word to leave. My eyes trailed once more to Billy. He'd curled up on the bed and was drifting off to sleep, face almost blissfully content. It was hard to see him as the man who'd been so brutal in battle so recently. He looked like nothing more than an overgrown kid who'd just been assured by a person he trusted that everything would be 'all right.' I left without a backward glance. *** Nearly midnight, and Logan still hadn't come back. My mind churned over too many things to let me focus on one as I hit the woods and found his trail. It was a twisty thing: He evidently hadn't wanted company. I had to call on more than keen senses to follow him, and even then I lost the trail three times as I searched. I'd been at it for a little under an hour, frustration growing with every passing minute, when he decided to find me. "Ya coulda just given a yell, Kai. I ain't hidin'." I gave a little jump, then turned and scowled up at where he crouched easily on a thick branch. "Next time you sneak up on me would you mind doing it a bit _louder?_" Only a half-smile answered the words. Yep, he was in a mood, and he'd been doing some thinking. Dangerous combination. "Whatcha want?" "I have to have a _reason_ to wanna spend time with you?" Hardly a perceptible muscle shift, and then he was dropping smoothly down from the branch, flexing knees to take the impact throughout his body. He straightened and moved to lean against the tree trunk, crossing his arms loosely. "What's the sitch? Cyke get the kid t' talk?" "He talked. Full confession. He's being sent to Muir Island in the morning." "Anythin' we're gonna hafta worry about with this one?" I shook my head faintly. "No. It looks like it was just him and his brother, the diver. No one else." An acknowledging grunt. His eyes flicked across mine, reminding me that Logan frequently sees more than I want him to. "You okay 'bout what happened down there?" Edging up against a convenient tree, I let myself sink down until I was sitting at its base. "Yeah. The diver was supposedly there in case Billy fell in, but I've been thinking about that... The way the kid panicked today when I pulled him up, no way his brother coulda kept 'em both afloat. Not dealing with someone with Billy's strength. They both woulda drowned...or maybe the guy didn't plan to save him at all. I mean, what the hell reason would he have a _harpoon_ for if he was just playing support?" "Ya think there's somethin' else we don't know?" "Probably. But we're not gonna find out now." "No." He looked at me. I looked at him. "Enough shop- talk," he said suddenly. "What's on your mind?" ("Don' a man have a right t' know where he stand wit' a woman?") "Lots of stuff," I answered honestly. "What's on yours?" "Lots o' stuff." He wasn't sounding confrontational; only weary, unsettled, and unhappy. "Do you trust me, Kai?" "What the hell kinda question is that? Of course I trust you." A short nod, as if he hadn't expected any other answer. And then his voice didn't change at all as he said, "Do you love me?" If I hadn't heard the way his heartbeat picked up at the question I mighta thought it of little consequence, the way he said it. 'Course, that was no comparison to what was going on in _my_ chest: My heart just _stopped._ "Why...why are you asking me this? Why now?" "'Cause I got a need to know." I cleared my throat. "Didn't think that's what we're about." "Then what _are_ we about?" "I don't...I've never tried to put it in words before." I wanted to look away...but of course I wouldn't let myself. "Is this...important? Right now?" "What the fuck ya think I've been chewin' over out here all night?" Oh, damn...he was _serious._ Eyes tried to drop again. Still fought to keep 'em up. "What..." Had to clear my throat again. "What do _you_ think?" "I think you're dodgin' the question." What the hell did he expect me to say? I couldn't tell him 'no.' That wasn't true. I couldn't say 'yes.' I mean, I just didn't _know_ about any of this, and it was...it was damn _frightening_ was what it was. ("Don' a man have a right t' know where he stand wit' a woman?") ("Non.") All right, Kai. At least be honest with yourself. _Why_ can't you say it? Scared of pain, now? _You?_ So now you're a coward. He was still looking at me, face still and eyes not. There was tension in his body, through his shoulders, in his spine. The _moment_ replayed itself again...the way I'd felt when he _didn't come up._ "I have to tell you about Sensei," I said abruptly. "I have to tell you how he died. How it made me feel." He blinked a few times in surprise. In all the time we'd been together, we'd never talked about that. He'd never asked and I'd never told, and I'd been content with it that way. But this wasn't about contentment. "All right," he said cautiously. "Tell me." In a low, almost steady voice I told him. I told him about coming back to my ratty little apartment after doing a short stint as a bodyguard for an acquaintance of Sensei's. I told him about the phone ringing. I told him about the tearful, hitching voice on the other end that painted the picture of his death. How I dropped the phone and collapsed to my knees, eyes blind and senseless, knowing somewhere deep inside that the world would never be the same again. How, when I was finally able to make my limbs obey, I numbly packed the few possessions that meant anything to me and then left, never to set foot in that place again. How I watched the funeral from afar. How I left a piece of myself at the grave site, and how I never went back. I told him everything. And then, quietly, I said, "I just told you the most personal, important thing that I have words for." Took a breath, steeling nerves. "Either that's enough or it's not. It's all I can give you either way." He regarded me silently. For some reason the weight of his stare felt even heavier than Scott's when I'd admitted to a killing. But that wasn't too surprising, on reflection. _This_ was far harder for me than _that_ had been. And what did that say about me? "It's enough," he said finally, resignation in his tone, the unsettled expression lingering in his eyes. Then he added more quietly, "For now." I didn't know how to answer that, so I just said nothing. His jaw clenched briefly. His next words held a trace of uncharacteristic hesitance. "Got ya somethin'." A hand dug into a pocket, coming out with a small jewelry box. "Necklace. I know ya don't really wear jewelry..." He trailed off, looking at me with that same still face and the same uneasy eyes. Then he tossed the box towards me with what looked like forced nonchalance. "Been carryin' it around for a while. Since...we went huntin' up in Canada." He pushed off the tree and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Well, you don't hafta wear it if ya don't wanna. I'll...be back in the room. See ya in a bit." I watched him turn and leave. He moved rapidly, as if tense nerves needed a release. He was out of sight quickly, but I still didn't open the box. It felt heavy in my hands; far heavier than the little thing had any right to be. Sometimes I really hate my mind. With the mocking thought still scorching, I dropped my eyes to the soft black velvet of the box. Fingers moved of their own accord to slowly pry back the lid. The heart-shaped silver locket winked with the light dash of starlight. some corner of my thoughts noted, ignoring the way my heart was jumping. I lifted it from its bed. The thin silver chain whispered quietly. The thing was so well constructed that I didn't even hear a click as I opened it. In the body was a tiny picture of him...nothing fancy. Just a close-up of that familiar half-grin in the lined face I knew so well, now. In the lid was a matching picture of me...semi-profile shot, my eyes looking off somewhere to the left and my hair - loose for once - tossed back by some phantom, trapped-forever wind. I let the thoughts mill over tiny details, trying to ignore the large portion of my brain that was battling over what to feel, what to think, what to do. ("Don' a man have a right t' know where he stand wit' a woman?") Shut up, Remy. ("Rogue scared a lovin' me. Y' scared a lovin' him.") Shut up, Remy. I could almost feel the grin he'd give me at those words. ("Non.") For a long time, I sat and stared at that simple little heart, at the pictures it held, and wavered back and forth between clasping the delicate silver around my neck (<...like a collar,> my mind whispered, ) or replacing it in the box and shutting the lid on the sight. The _moment_ came forcibly back again, overlaying my vision and warping the grin on his face into a grimace of pain, of fear, of fury. And the picture of me......it seemed to shift as well, showing me the turmoil I knew had to have been on my face when the moment struck. The chain whispered again as I lifted it, closing the locket with two fingers and holding it up to catch the spill of faint luminescence from the stars I've always been awed by. My eyes shifted slightly to follow the slow pendulum-spin as it swung and twisted with little glistening flashes. Since we'd gone hunting, he'd said. Since I'd given him the only gift I really knew how to give...acceptance. And what did I have in me to give him now? *** I opened the door quietly in case he'd gone to sleep. Of course he hadn't. Knew it as soon as I stepped through and heard the breathing that wasn't quite steady or deep enough. I closed the door before turning to look at him. He was sitting up against the headboard, arms crossed over his bare, dark-haired chest and eyes on me. "Thought you'd be asleep by now," I said quietly. "Been a long day." "Wasn't tired," he lied. Those dark eyes wanted to stray to my neck, but he kept them fixed on my face. He started to say something else. Stopped himself. Waited. I crossed the floor, not bothering with the lights, and tugged off clothes for bed. Tossed the clothing in an untidy pile over by the wall with my usual regard for neatness. And then I took a deep breath as I turned to face him wearing nothing...but the little silver locket. I've said it before. I'll say it again. I'm no good with words...with expressing feelings with language. So I didn't even try to muddle through anything, but instead slipped onto the bed and reached for him, startlingly aware of the slight weight bumping gently against my breastbone. My arms slid over his shoulders and around his neck, but I moved no closer, waiting instead for...for _something._ A callused thumb touched my collarbone. Traced that line until it met the tiny silver links, then followed the chain down to the locket. He looked at it. Just looked at it. And when his eyes came up again that almost wary uneasiness from earlier was nowhere to be seen. "Looks good," he said simply. "Real good." Thoughts struggled to assign themselves with language in my head, but I didn't have the patience to wait. Instead I fell back on the thing between us I could always count on, and I slid my arms farther around his neck and met his lips with mine, letting action speak in the manner we both understood...physical speech that lacked the clarity of vocal, yet at least was something we both spoke fluently...the way we communicated things we couldn't find language for. His lips curved against mine in a smile I couldn't help but feel. Arms wrapped tightly around me and drew me even closer, the locket pressing into his chest as well as mine ("Don' a man have a right t' know-") I pushed away milling thoughts. Shoved back the numb guilt deep inside that I'd never admit I felt over the life I'd taken today. Nerves still jumping with the weight of my decision, I finally just gave myself over to the moment. And this _moment_ was a hell of a lot nicer than the other. --end- --part0_901404949_boundary--