Final Answer

[meg]

It was amazing how much could change in a little over 2 year’s time.

How much a sleepy little village just outside of one of France’s busiest cities could grow, evolve into so much more than it had been the last time he’d laid eyes on it. How much a person could grow, evolve to be strong enough to control himself, and realize how little that sleepy little village had meant now that he could look back on what it had been objectively.

Who the hell was he kidding? It was exactly the same; he was exactly the same, his power just as ridiculously out of control as a surge of warmth and excitement rushed through him as it had been when he left. The tiny town of San felt every bit as much like home as it had when he was 16 and he’d first laid eyes on it. And wasn’t that just a kick in the ass?

He still wasn’t quite sure how Blaize Jacobs had managed to talk him into this. It was a bad idea all around for him to come back, for the most part unannounced and most certainly unwelcome. But once that little seed had been planted, Aidan hadn’t been able to shake the urge to go back to the place that had once been home like no other had. And talking to Dodge online hadn’t exactly helped matters either. Even miles away in such an impersonal, distant kind of conversation she’d managed to touch him (though she still didn’t know it had been him...), and ultimately that had been the final straw. So he’d grabbed a ride with a friend of a friend that had been heading down to Marseille and had tried not to think too much about the scene he was going to cause later on.

It hadn’t taken them long to make the trip from Paris to Marseille, and he’d parted ways with his ride as the sun was just beginning to kiss the edge of the horizon. He probably could have found a ride, someone to take him the 5 miles to Sanglignée so he wouldn’t be walking the deserted road after dark in the middle of winter, but he hadn’t been very anxious to get where he was going. Now that the confrontation that awaited him was immediately before him, he wasn’t in such a huge hurry to face it. So he’d walked the 5 miles that separated civilization from the remote village of San alone, his long legs eating up the distance with relative speed as his lost himself in thoughts and memories from his last visit, 2 years prior.

If ‘visit’ was really the right word. In all actuality, his arrival in the small French town had felt more like a homecoming than anything else, despite the fact that he hadn’t known anyone and had had little more than 10 Euros to his name. He’d fixed both of those problems quickly enough, though, and had made himself quite comfortable in the little village. Until he’d ruined everything. 5 miles of walking was plenty of time to reflect; to wonder at the many twists and turns life had taken, only to lead him right back to the very place he most wanted to be. He wasn’t dumb enough to think, even for a minute, that he’d be welcomed back with opened arms as if he’d only been gone a couple of days, rather than years. But a boy could hope.

A feeling of deja vu came over him as he finally made his way into the heart of the town, blue eyes eager to see as much as he could devouring the sight of the familiar little cottages and buildings as a starved man might stare at a feast. It was just as he’d pictured it, exactly as he’d left it. Here, at last, was home. Though he’d sworn he’d never come back, he couldn’t quite keep the satisfied sigh from slipping out as he walked along the empty street. The town hall stood exactly as it had before, every bit as stoic and distinguished as his memories had painted it. And there, Cafe Beau hadn’t changed at all, with its quaint little patio chairs and tiny tables, empty for the night and gleaming in the moonlight. The Sticks, that ridiculous excuse for a pub still stood, sign-less, and Aidan couldn’t help but grin outright at the antics he had managed to convince the Jacobs’ oldest son Blaize to take part in.

The thought of Blaize had the grin slipping, however, as memories of his younger sister, Dodger, flooded to the forefront of his mind. She’d been the reason he had left, all those months ago. And, truth be told, the reason he had absolutely no business being back in Sanglignée at all, even now. She’d been his best friend back then, a fact that had been at once embarrassing and somehow unsettling to the older boy. Only 14, barely more than a child, and yet.... yes, if he was honest with himself, even then he’d been attracted to her. Still, he’d stifled those needs, misplaced as they were, and the pair of them had gotten along famously, wreaking havoc and mayhem as they pleased in between Dodger’s stints in school and his own work schedule, helping out around the inn. He was hard pressed to think of a time when he’d been happier than he was in those 6 blissful months he’d been in San over the summer of ’05. And then, at the end of the summer on a particularly cool night everything had collapsed.

He could remember that evening clearly as well. The way Dodger’s near-black eyes had sparkled mischievously as she convinced him to sneak out ‘after hours’, and the way his hands had itched to reach for hers as she lead him into the forest that surrounded the town, one of their favorite haunts for the privacy it afforded them. He’d managed to get a hold of his own wayward thoughts (or thought he had) before she came to a stop and turned to face him. Before she changed everything.

God, he could still remember the way the moon light had glittered in her eyes as she looked up at him, the way she’d sent his heart racing as he read her intentions on her face. He should have stopped her before she could say what she was thinking. It hardly took a telepath to read what was written all over her face. But he was only human, and damn it, he’d wanted... no, needed to hear her say it, however wrong it might have been. She loved him, or so she’d said, and Aidan didn’t doubt even now that she had meant it. But while he’d known he wasn’t much good for her, above and beyond the age difference, and knew for certain that the only reason she felt the way she did was because of his bloody lack of control over his ability, Dodger hadn’t exactly seen things in the same light.

Lost in thought, Aidan rubbed his now slightly crooked nose absentmindedly as he continued to walk down the familiar street, making his way unerringly to the one place that had always been home. God, she’d been pissed. He’d known she would be, had been intentionally infuriating for that express purpose, but even then he hadn’t quite expected such a violent reaction from the girl. It was down right mortifying to know a tiny little 14 year old girl had broken your nose. Almost as mortifying as it was to know the same little girl had managed break his heart without even meaning to.

Still, all that was in the past. Over, done with, and he’d do well to remember that. He stopped in front of the familiar, worn wooden door and stared in amazement, not having realized for a moment where his traitorous feet had been taking him while he moped and brooded on the past. Rather than going straight to the address Blaize had given him earlier, where the older boy lived with several roommates who held nothing against him, he had come directly to the one place in town where he was most likely to receive a less than hospitable welcome. Ha, downright violent was more like it. But now that he was here.... well, he couldn’t quite make himself leave.

Opening the door quietly, Aidan peaked into the darkened room a bit more warily than was probably called for, letting out a silent sigh as he found the main floor seemingly empty. It had to be at least midnight, so it was hardly surprising that no one was around to greet the ‘prodigal son’ and welcome him home. It was just as well. He shouldn’t have even come, he should have gone straight to Blaize’s and...

Aidan’s thoughts trailed off as a faint sound and flickering light caught his attention from down the hallway. The common room. Walking delicately so as not to make a noise, he made his way towards the large room where most of the inn’s occupants tended to spend rainy afternoons and cozy evenings together. There was just something about the Jacobs’ place that made you feel at home. But this late at night, there was only ever one person that used to get up and watch cheesy reruns on the old and slightly worn out looking TV that graced the corner of the room.

Dodger.

Aidan set the guitar case that he’d been carrying down without a sound, slipping the bag he’d crossed over one shoulder off and setting it beside it as a fury of nerves overcame him. Her back was to him, only her tousled head of dark brown hair visible over the back of the couch, hardly more than a silhouette against the flicking light of the television but it was more than enough to have him weak in the knees. He should go... leave, before she realized someone else was there. Before she realized he was there. But once again his feet seemed to have a mind of their own, and he was leaning down to bring his lips close her ear before he could think twice about it.

“You always were a restless creature, cricket,” he murmured, enjoying the idea of her nearness even as he stupidly relished the suspense as she froze in place. If he’d been thinking rationally, he wouldn’t have stayed so close for so long, much less have snuck up on her at all. But a mind was a tricky thing... particularly when it was distracted the way his was.

“I missed you.”

[Nona Constantine]

At a young age Dodge Jacobs had learned that life didn’t have a cure. You had to deal with it as it was, ride it out, slug through the tough days and be grateful for the good times. She also learned that everything seemed better when you had a tub of cookie dough ice-cream. Ice-cream always fixed everything, at least for while it lasted.

Why this particular day was getting Dodge down was a mystery. Everything was fine. Better than fine even. That morning she had woken up in Jason Bettencourt’s bed to the sound of a guttural tune from the music room down the hall. It wasn’t the first time she had stolen her friend’s bed when he didn’t return home, and the amount of time she spent in their home it wasn’t a surprise that she felt as comfortable in any one of their beds (alone, of course…) as she did on their sofa. When she had finally risen, it was to find poor Jason sleeping in her usual spot on the living room sofa. Guilt didn’t show its face as she sat on him to wake him up for no other reason than he would do the same to her. She still had bruises from when he dropped a heavily booted Jessica onto her stomach. She had woken Aaron up with a cup of coffee and a smile, in contrast, because she then persuaded him to take her to school. It really was an unspoken agreement, that Dodge helped out more than a babysitter really should, and Aaron (and Riven and Jason to, sometimes) did what they could for her. It was how it was for the last ten months or so, and it was working out amazingly well.

School was fine too, with the classes being just as difficult as they had always been, and with what few friends she had in her class gushing and mooning yet again over the preciously pretty promise ring Brandon had gotten her a couple of weeks before. Granted, this was only the second day back to school after the holidays, but it was already growing tiresome; having all that attention because of something so personal. It was hers and hers alone, a gift from the one person that meant the world to her these days, and while she didn’t mind letting people know just what it meant to her, she hated the fact that they all thought they could feel it too. They couldn’t. And she was more than happy to tell one or two people to shove off too when they got too soft for her liking. It didn’t really help get people to ignore the ornate, white metal and diamond band that hugged her ring finger when all she found herself doing was twisting it and fiddling with it when she had nothing else to do.

So really she had herself to blame for it… technically… and technically she had herself to blame for the fact that she had to walk home in the rain too, because she forgot to tell Blaize to take her home before he went to work. The best part was that Dodge actually liked the rain, and would walk in it every day if she could avoid the screaming of her mother when she turned up home half an hour late and drenched to the skin. The cold, hard rain washed away the troubles of the day, and when she walked through he front doors of the Inn at half past four with water dripping off her grinning face, nothing could bring her down.

Except the mountain of dishes that awaited her in the kitchen. But if there was one thing she was sincerely grateful for that day, it was her father. She had always been a ‘daddy’s girl’ and when he saw the defeat on his girl’s face, and soaked up the excuse that she had three essays to write in here different languages, he excused her from her chores, and she escaped to her room. There she stayed until long after the sun had set. She did her homework as promised to her father, the dutiful work broken for half an hour when Brandon came round, uninvited of course, letting himself in to her room as he usually did in his own unique way.

Soon enough Brandon left, the essays were almost finished, and she was deathly bored. There was nothing left to do for the house or the guests, and Aaron and Jessica didn’t need her that weekend at all. So when 10 pm rolled round she finally left her room and headed down to the ground floor where she hoped to find some form of activity. She found none. There was one guest that night, a [rather attractive] Leon Maguire in Room 4, and he has retired to his quarters long before Dodge showed her face. Nothing needed to be cleaned, her dad had gone out for an evening with one of his old drinking buddies to the Sticks, and her mum was hiding our in the facility room ironing, which the woman actually enjoyed.

Aimlessly, Dodge made her way through the empty downstairs, stopping briefly to steal a thick blanket from the hot press in her parent’s bedroom, and the ingeniously invented tub of cookie dough, with a spoon, from the kitchen. She took her hoard to the dark and quiet TV room and made herself a nest, curling up in the huge blanket, ice-cream in one hand and remote control in the other. It took her less than a minute to find something to watch, which ended up being a Firefly marathon on one of the local stations, dubbed in French with really unnecessary English subtitles. Still, she was enthralled, and five episodes later she had polished off the tub of ice-cream and buried her entire body in the thick folds of the blanket.

Her eyes were growing steadily heavy, the show becoming more amusing as she silently compared the American voices of the cast to the mismatched French voice-over’s. She had no idea she wasn’t alone. Her face was half buried in the soft material, head tilted as on eye kept watch on the TV screen and the other searched for slumber.

It was then that she felt it. A warm breeze, gentle against the chilled skin of her ear. Eyes flew open as the rest of her stayed stock still, at once petrified and curious as to what was tickling the hair behind her ear and turning her cheek warm. The breath lasted but a second before it formed words; words that had a deeply rooted frown creasing her brow. The familiarity hit her like a warm hand, turning her eyes jet black and her cheeks palest white as all the blood in her body rushed to her feet. Flee.

But she couldn’t move worth a bean, and barely managed to shrink away from the warmth that chased down her neck, just an inch so she could turn her face enough to let her eyes meet the face of the deliverer of the pounding in her heart. Her gaze met the warm, dark azure with a frightening shock, fear that forced some warmth into her hands too. Fight.

Yet even that couldn’t drive her to move. It was his whispered words that followed, thick in a rich, Irish drawl that she never thought she would hear. Not again. Her warm hand flew to her mouth to silence whatever sound she was sure to make as the other pushed hard against the cushions behind her, forcing her off the couch in an ungracious stumble. She couldn’t breath. It couldn’t be real. He couldn’t be real. Not after all this time, all these months, years, of dreaming and wishing and trying to forget. It wasn’t possible.

She had reached the far wall, albeit only a few feet away, before she stopped, deathly silent, and clamped her eyes shut. She listened for what seemed like hours but in reality was only seconds, waiting to hear nothing that would tell her she was dreaming. But there was a shuffle, and the hand that covered her mouth pressed a little bit harder as her breath tried for air. She turned, without realising just how swift her movement had been, and pressed her back against the wall. It was solid, cold and unmoving. It was real.

Onyx eyes flashed open, fear creasing her forehead as an invisible, gentle magnetic pull had them locking on his. His. She hadn’t noticed when her hands had started shaking, nor when the fear had turned to an emotion she couldn’t identify. Her free hand clutched the front of her white blouse, turning her fingers as white as the fabric as they shook. Finally, her other hand went to hold it, as if to wring out what it was that made them so unstable.

“You’re not here…” she whispered, the words turning the contents of her stomach into a writhing mass and her hands pressed, controlling, at her abdomen.

It felt like an eternity before she would believe that something, him or not, was there, and she took a step from the wall. He didn’t vanish. She took another step, back towards the very place she had vacated. Her head was pounding. He didn’t run. The sofa still barricaded her from him; a defensive wall that she wasn’t sure she needed nor wanted, but was thankful for anyway. Without taking another breath she had reached the sofa, and climbed onto it, standing on the soft cushions that lifted her inches taller than him. Her eyes hadn’t left his, and as the height made her dizzy her gaze didn’t waver. There was a point, she was sure, but it didn’t come to mind as her foot abandoned the cushions and she stepped awkwardly over the back of the couch. He was there.

He wasn’t leaving.

Her feet, finally both resting on the floor now felt heavy, disconnected like they weren’t hers but merely an aid to keep her upright, keep her looking at him. Without thinking her hand was raised, the fist that it had been clenched in loosening automatically, held in mid air as her gaze lowered a fraction and drifted lazily over his face.

It was him.

He looked different. So very different. Older, more sure and confident with it too. She wanted to say something, anything, but her whole body had taken on a slight shiver - an echo of what has started in her hands. And her thoughts weren’t much more stable. Her hand moved again, and the very tip of her middle finger touched the bridge of his nose, so delicate as though he would burst like a bubble, like a dream. But he didn’t, and she left that finger and run slowly down over his nose; the nose that had, shamefully, been the last physical contact she had with him over two years ago. She started to shake again, but she refused to let go. She couldn’t. One finger became two, which became four as they left his nose and lifted to smooth out the crease in his forehead that she hadn’t noticed before. She hadn’t noticed her closing the distance between them either, nor the fact that he towered over her as much as Blaize did and she had to reach to have her shaking fingers touch his face.

And then it hit her, and a shiver shook her entire body. Her fingers flew to her lips again, not to hold a gasp or a scream, but a sob, as her eyes burned and glistened in the flickering light of the TV. Blisteringly hot tears trickled down her pale cheeks as watery eyes focused on his again; the eyes that had haunted her for longer than she wished to admit. The only sound to break the silence was her sob, which finally escaped as both her breath and her heaving sorrow warred for air.

In one loud, breaking heartbeat she threw herself forward, the foot of distance that had still been between them vanished as she jumped to wrap her arms tight around his neck, clinging to him with the fear that he was about to disappear again. He didn’t, and as that slowly sank into her foggy mind she let loose another sob, her tears shamelessly loud as she pressed her damp face into his shoulder. She shook from shock, and from her crying, and just barely, through the pathetically youthful crying, she managed to finally answer, within a flow of tears, “I hate you.”

[meg]

He froze as he sensed more than felt her flinch away from him, and time seemed to slow as he watched her turn to face him. He braced himself for the derision he was sure would be on her face, tried to harden his heart against the rejection and possible fury he knew to expect from her. But nothing could have prepared him for the stark shock that widened her eyes and paled her cheeks when she finally looked at him. Just as nothing could have prepared him for the way just the sight of her after so long slammed into him with the force of ten trains.

God, she was.... beautiful. She’d been adorable before, cute in an impish kind of way one expected from a teenager; awkward and just a little gawky as if she hadn’t quite grown into herself yet. But now... well, apparently 2 years could make all the difference. Instead of the endearingly charming face of a child, he was suddenly staring into the breathtakingly enchanting face of a girl he barely recognized. And one that still held the same unreasonably intense hold on him that she had when she was 14.

The rueful smile that had curved his lips as he bent down beside her faded a bit as she pushed off the couch and walked across the room, back stiff as she remained turned away from him. Aidan stood back up slowly, forcing his hands into the pockets of his well worn jeans before he managed to jump over the couch between them and turn her around himself. She had a right to turn away from him, he reminded himself sternly, though he couldn’t tear his smoldering blue eyes away from her form. Just as she had a right to hate him forever. Hadn’t that been what he had wanted, back when he left?

No, that wasn’t entirely true. He had thought it would be best if she did.... best for her all around if she went about her life as if he’d never come around. He’d felt too much for her back then. Certainly too much for a girl that was barely considered old enough to understand the concepts that he’d had swirling through his mind, much less participate. He’d had no business feeling the way he had about her, and definitely no business wanting what he did. So he’d left, hoping that maybe if nothing else, her anger would be enough to have her moving on. Yes, all that was true. But never, not once, had he actually wanted her to hate him. And the idea that she did, that she might turn around and confirm it, was almost enough to bring him to his knees.

He felt time slow and still as she suddenly turned around, her eyes still clenched closed as she struggled for control. And he watched with bated breath as she finally froze an instant before those fathomless black eyes opened and found his. The breath he hadn’t even known he was holding rushed out with a whoosh at the contact. Even if she told him to leave, to never come back, at least he’d have this memory of her.... as a woman now, rather than the child he’d remembered. And then her hands came up to clutch the front of her shirt in a move so unconsciously vulnerable that he felt a fresh slash of pain rip across him.

“I’m here...” he said in response to her words, though the tightness in his throat all but choked his into silence. He waited as she walked slowly towards him, hands clenched into fists inside his pockets as he struggled against the urge to pull her closer. He felt his ability, long-since easily controlled, begin to well up inside of him and he forced the need to use it back down determinedly. She would come to him, or she would rage against him. But damn it, either way, she was going to do it on her own, not because of his stupid reaction to the nearness of her and his ridiculous inability to control himself around her.

Swallowing difficultly, he looked away as he tried to control his reaction, only to find himself eye to eye with her unreadable gaze as she stepped up onto the couch and faced him. They stood transfixed with one another for one heartbeat... then two, before she stepped recklessly over the back of the couch and Aidan’s arm shot out instinctively to catch her, though she hardly needed the help. Once again silence reigned as she looked up at him, and Aidan suddenly remembered the ability Blaize had mentioned his younger sister developing. Telepathy. God and he wished he knew what was going through her mind just then. But even as the thought formed she was reaching up, one finger tracing delicately down the length of his now slightly crooked nose and all hope for rational thought was lost.

His throat seemed to close with some unnamed emotion as he struggled against the need to crush her against him, his forehead creased in concentration as wary blue eyes looked back at her. She was trembling, shaking, and just as he thought he couldn’t stand it any more, her sob broke through the silence of the room and tore him to pieces.

“Dodger, I-“ he managed to get out before she launched herself into his arms, stealing his breath with the impact though he wasn’t sure if it was the force or just the feeling of having her so close. His arms wrapped around her securely, instinctively, and held her close as heart-wrenching sobs shook her body. A humorless, derisive laugh broke through his lips as her words reached his ear, and Aidan buried his face in her hair as he tried to comfort her every bit as much as he sought comfort of his own. “I know, cricket,” he said brokenly, pulling her even closer. “I kind of hate me too...”

He held her like that, effortlessly as she clung to him, running one hand down the shining fall of dark brown hair that flowed down her back and waiting for the sobs to end. Each one brought a new wave of despair, his own eyes burning as he realized how completely he’d managed to hurt the one person he’d been trying to protect. “Shhh....” he whispered into her hair, moving around the couch to the cushion she’d vacated moments before. He sat down carefully, pulling the legs she’d twined around his waist off with one free hand and holding them to the side as he tucked her head back in the nook of his neck and held her. As he finally held her. “It’s ok....it’s ok.”

Or he hoped it was. One small part of him was still terrified that after the grief ran dry, after she was done crying, she’d start yelling. And while he could handle her being angry at him, he wouldn’t be able to bare it if she wanted him to go. He’d do it, as he’d do anything for her.... but he wouldn’t be able to bare it. Trying to find a way to lighten the mood, and perhaps postpone her anger a little longer, Aidan leaned back ever so slightly, reaching down and putting a finger under her chin to bring her eyes up to meet his. He forced a teasing grin onto his lips as she looked up at him bewilderedly.

“So... I guess you’re never going to grow into those legs of yours.”

[Nona Constantine]

It hurt to be held by him. Being close to him made her heart thump and her head pound unmercilessly. Yet she never wanted to let go. Her mind wouldn’t let her believe he was here, even now, and maybe that was what had her clinging to him as her sorrow shook her body; she didn’t want to let go. She didn’t want to hear him speak either, because if he spoke then it made it real, and if it was real he couldn’t be there. He was never there and she had made herself believe that he never would be a long time ago. It wasn’t possible.

But the arms that had tightened around her waist held her close to the body that shouldn’t exist, and the tiredness induced scepticism slowly waned, and with it it dragged her sobs. She felt his hand move from her back and hook under her knee too peel her legs off him as he whispered soothingly by her ear. As pathetic as she felt admitting it, she needed calming voice right then, but she refused to open her eyes still.

“Shh,” she whispered back, not nearly as softly as he had done but getting the message across anyway. The less he said the better. He wasn’t… he…

She hadn’t noticed movement at all, but she felt the lurch as he sat down. Her head rested perfectly where he guided it, and she finally opened her eyes, afraid that the dream would dissolve from under her. The light from the TV still flickered in the silent room, casting everything she could see in a kaleidoscope of earthy colours. She waited for her tear stained eyes to focus on the dark denim of her jean-covered legs, and ended up staring blankly at the stone coloured zip of the hoodie that vanished under her thigh.

Rebel tears trickled their last and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. Then, without really meaning to, she reached for the soft material that cushioned her against him. The feeling forced her to draw air into the lungs she didn’t notice had stopped working. It was real. “Shit,” she muttered, barely audible over the rasping her breath as logic started to prevail over her dazed mind and she realised much too late how traitorously juvenile her mind was being. Of course he was freaking real… her imagination never gave her that much vividness before.

It felt like a lifetime before either of them moved, the touch of his finger under her chin that would move her head from its comfortable rest. She turned her dark eyes on him almost too willingly, her still watery gaze filled with wariness and wonder as the warmest blue eyes she had ever seen stared back at her, and then lit with a smile that she had long forgotten. She smiled back, timid at first until the full infection of his smirk made her grin. His words didn’t help either, turning her smiling eyes to a pathetic attempt at wounded.

“My legs are perfectly fine as they are, Connolly,” she teased back, finally pushing herself from him with an awkward elbow and sitting up straight. She felt light headed and dizzy, like she had just been taken off sleeping gas and given a double espresso. Turning slightly, but keeping her steady perch on the edge of his lap, her dark eyes searched for his, but they were cast downward for the first time since he walked through the door. She smiled, tilted her head and stared, waiting for him to look at her. When he didn’t her smile faltered. Of course. He wasn’t looking her in the eyes, not now that she could actually see him. No eye contact meant that she couldn’t try to read him, and he was doing it deliberately.

“You know, don’t you?”

[meg]

The smirk he’d put on his face screwed up into a wince as she pushed herself up off his chest with a particularly bony elbow. Rubbing one hand melodramatically over his chest, Aidan couldn’t help but grin at her response from his tease. She’d been overly sensitive about herself before... and granted, he hadn’t exactly helped matters there with the teasing he and Blaize had been want to inflict upon the poor girl. Even then he’d been attracted, and the best thing to do, it seemed, to keep her from guessing had been to act as if she was simply unattractive. This really just guaranteed a heated argument from the opinionated girl, which in return only stirred his interest that much more. But despite the fact that, at least to him, she looked like a vision of a goddess, he should have known that much wouldn’t have changed in a matter of a couple of years. And, just as he’d done years before, he couldn’t help rubbing it in just a little more... strictly for her reaction, of course.

“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with your legs, Dodge,” he said, tongue in cheek as he glanced exaggeratedly at the long, thin legs currently laying on the cushion beside him before looking back up to meet her gaze. “It’s the rest of you I was talking about.”

The thought that there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with any of her flickered across his mind just as he looked back at her, and instantly the impact of her gaze had him freezing once again as a familiar current of electricity sent chills up and down his spine. Abruptly, he remembered the rather important bit of information Blaize had imparted during their online conversation days before. ’Telepath,’ he reminded himself, quickly shifting his gaze to the shining strands of her dark hair to avoid her eyes. Considering the thoughts that were running through his head with her perched so snugly on his lap, he didn’t much relish the idea of her taking a peak inside his brain.

He didn’t know much about how it worked, and really his instinctive move to look away was exactly that; instinct. But it had felt like the girl saw straight to his soul back before she had this new ‘talent’, and with the knowledge that now she could do exactly that, he wasn’t going to take any chances.. He’d have to ask her how, exactly, it worked... once he ‘found out’ about her gift, of course. Was it actual thoughts, or more emotions that she sensed? Maybe if he thought in some other language, one she didn’t understand, maybe then he’d have a bit of privacy when it came to his thoughts...

He felt those same eyes burning holes into his head as he stringently avoided them, and wasn’t at all surprised to hear her words as she broke the silence once again. Still, she didn’t know he’d talked to Blaize... and for everyone involved, he thought it best to keep that information from her for as long as he could. Suddenly he was beginning to understand what Blaize had meant when he said such a task was hardly easy.

“Know? Know what?” he muttered, eyes moving to the TV she’d left on before rolling dramatically as he took in the sci-fi marathon she’d been enjoying. Grabbing the remote, he quickly switched it over to a late night comedy show he favored as he tried to act as normal as possible while he did his best to empty his mind of every coherent thought he could imagine. Knowing his luck, she’d be able to read him like a book from across the room... might as well cover his bases. He let the silence fill the room for one beat, then two before speaking again, his voice unnaturally loud in his effort to change the subject and get her talking about something else.

“So.... are you going to fill me in on all the gossip around here, or what? How’s school? How’re you parents?” he rambled on, looking up to meet her eyes again for a fraction of a second before he reached out and rumpled her hair so that it feel across her face, obscuring her vision as best as he could manage. “Who’s gone off and shagged who... and, speaking of shagging random people, is your brother still living at home?”

He asked the question innocently, hoping it sounded genuine despite the fact that he knew perfectly well that Blaize was no longer residing in the homey little inn. He was supposed to crash over at the older boy’s place for the night... technically, he was supposed to have gone straight there once he got back to San. Though his plans were apparently going to have to change, now that he’d taken this somewhat unexpected detour.

Taking a chance, Aidan glanced back over at her face as she pulled the hair out from in front of her eyes. And immediately wished he hadn’t. Every bone in his body softened at the exasperated expression on her face, and he couldn’t help but reach out and tug gently on the end of a strand of hair. “I really did miss you, cricket. Even though you hate me.”

[Nona Constantine]

“Nothing.”

The reply was out of her mouth before she had tome to consider it and her own gaze was averted. ‘Know what?’ Those two words struck an ounce of panic in the young girl’s heart. He didn’t know. He hadn’t got a clue that she was a telepath… not a very good one, but it still counted. And if he didn’t know she didn’t want him to find out right then. She scolded herself for being so reckless with her thoughts. How ridiculous was it to think that just because someone avoided your gaze it meant that they knew. How juvenile. How could he have known anyway? Unless that handy ability of his let him know who was tainted and who wasn’t. Unless someone had told him in the village. It was all too ridiculous.

She was thankful he carried on rambling and changed the topic of conversation for her. She even ignored the rough ruffle of her already tangled hair, leaving his handiwork without fixing it for the simple reason that it showed it didn’t bother her (he did have an older brother after all). It wasn’t until he asked who was shagging who that her brilliantly black eyes flicked back to his face. Oh god. How was she meant to answer that? ‘I’ve shacked up a few times with my ‘its-always-the-quiet-ones boyfriend’’? No, he couldn’t mean her. He wouldn’t want to know. She took a deep breath and folded her arms loosely across her stomach, hiding the silver ring that clung so perfectly to her left hand. He didn’t need to know. Not yet anyway.

She pulled the hair from in front of her eyes more by instinct than anything else, and the movement must have caught his attention because he swung those azure orbs back round on her without a second’s warning. How fair was that? Clearing her throat of the breath that stuck in it, she dropped her gaze to his hand and followed it as it tugged on a strand of her dark hair. But it was his following words that had her eyes closing lightly. Some moments passed before she opened them again, avoiding looking at him for fear that he would put her off.

“I don’t hate you. How could I hate you…” she trailed off. What could she say? That he ripped out her heart and danced on it when he told her all that time ago that he didn’t love her, that she was a child and didn’t know what she was saying? That for months she wouldn’t say ‘yes’ to the boy that wanted her because some part of her had hoped and prayed that Aidan would come back to her? And how for the first couple of weeks after she said ‘yes’ all she could manage to do was compare Brandon’s traits to Aidan’s… all of which ended with the fact that Brandon wasn’t going to hurt her.

“I missed you too,” she added, losing interest in the fingers that played with her hair for long enough to wrap her arms around his neck and hug him close again, all without looking him in the eyes. Just hugging him like that felt weird, surreal, because it was as familiar as it was new to her and she didn’t know which way she was more comfortable with, but she still held on for probably too long. When she finally pulled away she did it properly and slid onto the cushion next to him. She grabbed the blanket too, the one that had been wrapped so tightly around her before he came in, and she now pulled it over her legs to defend them from some imaginary cold. If truth be told she was feeling a little warm more than anything, but the blanket gave her comfort. Pulling her knees up to her chest she wrapped her arms around her legs and leaned into the cushions. It didn’t take her long to divert the conversation from the impending awkward silence again, as she answered his first ramble of questions in a slightly timid voice.

“Mum and dad are fine… great actually. Business is pretty decent and they’ve been saving money so that they can go on that cruise they always wanted. School is… crap? I mean, I’m going brilliantly in the classes that I always have done, but the rest just keep getting more and more difficult. The only reason I haven’t dropped out is because too many people would kick my ass. Blaize… though I don’t know how many random people he’s shagged, nor do I want to know… is fine. Remember the house he was staying a couple of nights a week in before you left? He’s properly moved in there now. He comes here for dinner maybe twice a week and stays over maybe once a month, but that’s it. I stay with him more often than he stays here.

“What about the amazing Mr Connolly? Whats been keeping you busy all this time?”

[meg]

well... better late than never? and sorry it's crap. but that's the best i can do right now. lol. maybe they'll be better from now on.

---

Oh, if only she knew what exactly he’d meant when he asked who was hooked up with who. Well, it was probably better that she didn’t. It wouldn’t exactly help matters if she knew the countless nights he’d spent lying awake in whatever bed he’d happened to find, wondering about who she was with and what she was doing. He shouldn’t care... he knew, deep down, it wasn’t any of his business who she may or may not be with. And what that relationship might entail. But he couldn’t quite seem to keep his mind from wandering down the very path he knew it shouldn’t.

The corners of his lips quirked up in an irrepressible smile despite his darker thoughts as she finally broke down and moved the hair from her eyes, silently amused at the fact that at least one thing hadn’t changed. She’d always hated it when he’d done that, mussed the dark brown hair that always seemed so artlessly styled... and so, of course, he’d done so at every possible opportunity. She’d tried everything to make him stop. Begging, yelling... Aidan could even recall a smack or two that he’d earned from the tiny girl in retaliation for intentionally irritating her. But even when she did her best to ignore it, he’d always known it was a sure-fire way of getting under her skin. And under her skin was exactly where Aidan liked to be.

Dodge was a spitfire in every sense of the word. Hot tempered and impulsive when her ire was roused, one never knew exactly what to expect from her. And Aidan had to admit, the flush that came to her cheeks and the glint that sparked in her nearly black eyes whenever she was mad only made her that much more beautiful. So you could hardly blame him for doing whatever little thing he could think of to make her mad. If she came at him with fists, after all, it had only meant he had a reason to touch her. And Aidan was hard pressed to think of a single thing in the world that wouldn’t be worth that.

Still, she couldn’t stay mad at him. Or, more accurately, she hadn’t been able to before. Now, however, she had more than enough reason to loathe him until the end of time. So when Dodge replied, her tone almost exasperated as she pondered how she could hate him, Aidan had to bite back the urge to numerate all the reasons she had to do exactly that. She was supposed to hate him. That was why he had left in the first place, thinking the best thing he could possibly do for her was give her the space to realize what she felt wasn’t real, and to get mad enough at his departure that she’d forget about him completely. Not that he was overly regretful that she didn’t, but it would definitely have made being back in San a little easier. Certainly not less bearable, but easier.

Lost in his thoughts, his mind more than a little numb at the strange turn the night had taken, Aidan could only blink as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself close. He hesitated, just the barest fraction of a second, though it was enough to miss the opportunity to return the gesture as she pulled away all too soon and settled on the cushion beside him. The leg she’d been sitting on suddenly felt vacant and cold, and while he could still feel the ghost of her pressed tight against him, the feeling only made him miss the sensation more.

“Oh, this and that,” he said dismissively, his tone unerringly casual as he tried to infuse a bit of lightness into his tone. “Trying to stay out of trouble.” At this, he shot a quick grin in her direction. Turning to look over at her from an easier angle as she settled against the cushions, a glint of silver on her hand caught his eye in the flickering light from the TV as she pulled a blanket over her long, lean legs. Instantly, before he could think twice about the reaction, Aidan reached out and grabbed her left wrist before she could tuck it back under the blanket, blue eyes blazing with a tad too much intensity as he looked down at the beautifully adorned ring finger. His grip tightened almost imperceptibly on her wrist before he forced himself to let go, turning a bit to face her directly as his eyes cooled and he leveled a nearly frigid stare on her face.

“And what is this?”

His tone was more accusing than he meant for it to be and, clearing his throat, Aidan tried to cover it up and force the bitter emotion flooding through him down where she wouldn’t see it. He only half succeeded, his face an outward mask of calm despite the fury of emotion he was feeling, though the bitterness still leaked into his voice when he spoke again.

“Apparently I’m not the only one that’s been busy. Shall I say ‘I told you so’ now, or save it for later?”

The second the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. The shock that washed across his face mirrored hers as he bit his tongue and wondered how in the word he could have stepped in it quite so badly, silently waiting for the fallout he knew was on its way.

'Way to go, you idiot,' he chastised himself brutally. '10 minutes in and she's likely never going to speak to you again. And this time, you really deserve it.'

[Nona Constantine]

She could feel her rambling words slowly getting lost on Aidan, so it was with relief of sorts that she stopped and let him answer the very same question. She was braced for some longwinded story of what he had been up to, where he’d been, who he had been with, what he had done… but all she was graced with was that easy smile of his as he brushed it all aside. It was amazing how easily he did that, and how willingly she let him do it too. Anyone else and she’d be hounding them for answers, poking and prodding until she had some sort of gossip to live off. With Aidan though it was different, and part of her didn’t really want to know what he got up to when she wasn’t around.

She smiled back at him, the light of the TV adding a glitter to her eyes that was naturally absent in the current situation. She pulled her knees up to her chest and tugged the blanked closer around her, its comfort proving valuable now as she battled with thoughts of what his ‘this and that’ could entail. She was saved the darker ideas though as she went to tuck her hands back under the warmth of the blanket and she felt a sudden tightness around her wrist. Why he grabber her arm she had no idea, but he was being exceptionally rough and his grip was far too tight for comfort. A spark of fear shot through her; an instinctive reaction to being trapped without a warning, and whined a very quiet ‘ow’. She tugged against his grip and whether it was that or some wandering realisation of what he had done inside his own mind, Aidan let go. Dodge swung dangerously dark eyes to his, a frown set deep on her previously relaxed brow.

The cool stare that met her gaze wasn’t expected and she blinked, as if trying to rid her vision of the emotion that he couldn’t possibly be feeling. And then he spoke, his words as bitter as the tone that delivered them. It frightened her, that he could turn so easily and over something she didn’t quite understand. Her right hand went instinctively to the wrist he had strangled before, the skin there still tense from his tourniquet grip. She glanced down at it, half expecting the skin to have turned red, and her gaze was snagged by the very thing that caused his flip of emotions. She shut her eyes and her right hand covered the silver and diamond ring as if she still had time to hide it. A surge of guilt washed over her; a guilt that belonged to a woman with a soul black from lies, deceit and debauchery.

But she had done nothing wrong. She knew she had done nothing to warrant the spite in his voice and the accusations his words delivered. Her eyes shot open and narrowed in on him again. His gaze was colder than it was before; emotionless, but the words that dripped with blame wrapped its icy fingers around her pounding heart and willed it to stop.

She knew that the moment he finished he regretted what he said. She regretted it too. But she didn’t quite understand… her dark, onyx eyes bore into his, growing more emotionless with passing seconds as she ignore the shock and regret his expression offered and listened to what he really had said… And then it made sense. He had told her two years ago that she was too young, foolish even, to believe she loved him. He told her that she didn’t love him, that she didn’t know, she couldn’t. Two years ago. Two years passed with her knowing that she did love him despite his cruel words; believing that he would never come back, but never giving up hope.

“How dare you…” she whispered, the words tired with the cold and bitter knowledge that he could be so cruel. She was angry, and she was disappointed in him, and then they eased off in face of the bitterness she felt towards herself for letting it happen. A harsh and real bitterness that she could find only one outlet for. She clenched her teeth, her eyes narrowing dangerously as they bore into the idiotic boy who dared accuse her of doing wrong.

“You have no idea… You left here two years ago, Aidan. You haven’t got a clue what went on here when you were gone; when you weren’t here to hold me back. How dare you even think you have any idea what been going on. I prayed for you, and you come back here and the best you have is ‘I told you so’? Where in that pathetic excuse for logic in that empty head of yours did you find the right to even think you know what happened? Or that you even know me any more?”

So bitterness had turned to anger, which had made way for unbridled fury as she spoke, her thoughts and wishes for the boy that sat in front of her not finding an ounce of justice in the words her mind could produce. She wanted her words to blister like his had done; hurt as bad as his had hurt two years ago, and feel as painful as they did now. When her emotions surpassed her verbal capacity all she could do was breathe, and even that was proving difficult. She had to let her eyes close again so that she could try and unclench her jaw before she grated through her own molars. But that was probably the worst thing she could have done, for the moment he was out of site and she tried so desperately to think of something other than breaking his nose (again) she realised that her eyes had been stinging from the very beginning of her rant, and now that she knew it, there was little she could do about it. But she refused to let him see her tears.

With a heaving breath she opened her eyes and shoved herself off the sofa. She refused to look at him again. She didn’t care if he stayed or not, or at least that’s what she told herself, so she didn’t go out of her way as she left the TV room to find him and empty room for the night. He has spent two years finding places to sleep, what was one more night after all? Maybe this way she was just giving him a head start on leaving again.

The door to the section of the old converted barn that was the Jacob’s personal home was open as she had left it, though she doubted something as trivial as a lock could have kept a door closed to her. The air out here in the corridor was colder than it had been in the TV room, and she could feel the burning hot tears streaming down her cheeks, and they only made her temper boil. How dare he come back and accuse her of… of…

The very thought had her clenching her fists and wanting to beat the tiles off the walls. She knew it was a bad idea; that Dodge vs. stone was never the best match, but right then she didn’t care. How dare… how could he? Before she knew it she had reached the end of the cold, empty corridor and was facing the door to the bathroom. Perfect. She let herself inside and closed the door, making sure to lock it behind her. Her anger still bubbled, her mind fuelled by a rage that didn’t seem to want to ease, so there was only one thing for it. She went to the shower and turned on the cold tap, turning it on to full power. Strange, maybe, but it was better than breaking her fingers against the stone wall outside. She did take off her topmost shirt, so there was some part of her logical mind still ticking over at least, but the pale blue singlet and denim jeans were hardly a match for the icy downpour. Barefoot, she climbed into the bath that sat under the shower’s range, and sat on the edge against the wall. Already her fingers were turning blue from the freezing water, but it was working. She bowed her pounding head, letting the downpour seep through her thick hair and trickle over her scalp, feeling much like the cold, hard rain she had walked home in earlier that day. She closed her eyes, letting the water run off the end of her nose and down her neck, wishing that as it crashed against the top of her spine it would work faster to cool her boiling blood. She waited, for ten seconds or ten minutes, she couldn’t really tell. Her grip on the edge of the bath loosened and she lifted one frozen hand to wipe the scalding tears from her face. As she did a sob, unannounced and unwanted, echoed off the ceramic tiles of the lilac and white bathroom, and she clamed her hand over her mouth to stop the next. She didn’t know if Aidan had left by now or not, but she wouldn’t risk him hearing her weakness.

[meg]

If he thought he’d felt bad the second the words had crossed his lips, it was nothing compared to the way his heart twisted as she turned those hurt and angry dark eyes to him. Anger he could deal with from her... it seemed as if they were forever bickering when he’d been in San before, and truthfully neither of them seemed to be very happy unless they were at one another’s throats as often as not. But the disappointment he read in the sparkling depths.... that had his stomach dropping through the floor and his blood running cold. He’d only ever seen that look in her eyes once before, and he’d promised himself 2 years ago that he’d never do anything have her looking at him like that again.

Whatever his intentions, he’d obviously failed.

Words failed him in the silence that filled the space between them after her quietly uttered words faded away, that much more effective for the cold manner in which they’d been spoken. The small, tinny sounds of the TV show still running rang in his ears, competing with the sound of his painfully pounding heart as he waited, breath bated, for her to continue. But then she was pushing herself up off the couch, and in the couple of seconds that it took for him to realize what she was doing and respond she’d made it halfway down the corridor.

“Dodge... DODGER! Wait!”

His long legs ate up the distance between them as she turned without a backward glance and headed into the open bathroom door; the one door within easy distance that she could lock him out of effectively. “OH, for crying out-... SUZIE! Wait, I-“

But the door slammed in his face before he could get the rest of his sentence out, and he let out a sigh that was more a groan of frustration than anything else as he rested his head against the cool, hard frame of the door. He heard the sound of the pounding water start in the shower, and mix with the dry sobs that were breaking his heart with every second they continued. He knew she couldn’t hear him... even if she’d wanted to, the water along would have prevented it, but still he pounded on the door, speaking through the tiny crack in some vain hope that she might actually listen to what he had to say.

“Dodge, I... god, I’m sorry. I had absolutely no business saying something like that. No business even thinking it. I’m... happy for you, really, I am,” he said, his jaw clenching tightly to push out the words his heart (as well as his head) was having a hard time getting out. “You deserve to be happy, and I’m glad that you are. I’m the world’s biggest git for saying something so stupid that I didn’t mean, but you knew that already. You’ve told me enough times in the past. Hell, you broke my bloody nose for it before. You just... I can’t...”

Words failed him again as he clenched his eyes shut, the pang in his heart telling him how futile it was to stay and beg even while he couldn’t seem to make himself leave. “Look, I don’t have an excuse. It was inexcusable. And I’ll leave first thing in the morning if you want me to, but please don’t let me ruin this... don’t let me ruin the night I’ve been looking forward to for 2 years. Don’t let me...” His voice cracked a bit in his desperation and he sighed, unable to keep the abject misery from his voice any longer. “Don’t let me be the person I’ve been since I left you.”

[Nona Constantine]

She felt numb. The freezing water was doing its job. She barely heard the thumping on the door through the purring of the electrical shower and the spattering water on the ceramic and plastic of her surroundings. Her closed eyelids felt hot against her pupils but she knew better than to open them. The hand pressed to her mouth, covering her nose for good measure, created the barricade she was looking for between her sobs and the outside world. She could do this. She was stronger than this. She could master the feeling of unjustness and bitter betrayal of her emotions and get them to disappear. She could bury the monster that reared its ugly head and rooted itself to her chest. She would not let it win.

She lowered her hand and gripped the edge of the tub with them both. Her short nails stabbed at the impenetrable white surface, and she willed her resolve to be as sturdy. She took a deep breath, and then another, only opening her eyes when she thought she could feel her tears already drying. She released her grip on the enamel tub to wipe the hot rivers of liquid from her cheeks, but they were only replaced by the cold water from the showerhead above. Staring, unseeing, at the slightly yellowed grid of tiles on the opposite wall, Dodge nudged the faucet with her elbow, and the onslaught of the bighting droplets of water ceased. The silence that followed the metallic drumming of the shower felt just as loud in her ears and she considered for a moment turning it back on just to fill the void.

It was then that she heard it; a faint, murmuring voice deep within the confines of her mind, the parts that she had locked away two years ago and had never returned to. She blinked, and frowned, as the voice changed, not in tone or pitch but in intensity and volume. The voice had source, a grounding foundation in the real world, the world just outside the bathroom door. She frowned again as Aidan’s voice carried through the uneven crack in the corner of the door, trying to ignore the uneasy, unfamiliar sensation of what she had just heard. She couldn’t have heard his voice, surely. She sniffled, the rough air flooding her lungs and washing that strain of doubt away for another time, another place. She concentrated on something else, and that something was the words that carried on Aidan’s broken voice. Her dark eyes flicked to the doorknob as she listened in silence.

She did know what he was like, or what he used to be like, in any case. Aidan was always saying the wrong thing to the wrong person, and if that person hadn’t been Dodge she was the one trying to get him out of the trouble his careless ramblings used to cause. And she really didn’t mean to break his nose; damage his ego, sure, but his nose was within reach of her clenched fist when he had dismissed her heartfelt feelings as childish nonsense. She felt bad for it then and she felt bad for it now. Mostly. She glared fiercely at the knob, lifting her darkening gaze to the point on the door that she presumed his curly head would be. He was lucky, really, that he couldn’t see the daggers she sent his way. She willed him to leave, to go away; her mind screamed at him to vanish, disappear, to not exist.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, she was on her feet as unfamiliar panic washed over her. He couldn’t leave. She wouldn’t let him. She stepped out of the tub, the water that clung to every inch of her leaving a soggy trail as she went right up to the door… and stopped. The glare had already dissolved into a pathetic, pleading pout and he really didn’t need to carry on, but he did. She wasn’t going to let him go, but still he continued, and she could hear the misery in his voice less than a foot away on the other side of the door. It hurt to hear him say it. She could feel her throat tighten and had to open her mouth to take a huge, drawn breath to loosen it. She felt guilty. His voice broke, and she dropped her head forward to rest against the cold, white wood. Her eyes felt hot again, but she refused to let salted tears stain her cheeks. With a sigh full with as much determination to hold her composure as admittance of defeat, she unlocked the door, and then paused, just for a moment, before opening it.

The breath she had drawn held in her chest as she pulled the door open a few inches and peered through the crack at the forlorn, brown eyes that stared back at her. She rested her head against the edge of the door, lifting her own gaze to meet his in a clash of feeble hopelessness, still unsure about letting the door open enough to let him in.

“You’re a moron, Aidan Connolly,” she muttered eventually, her eyes not leaving his until his name left her lips. She stared at the front of his shirt instead as her fingers fiddled idly with the lock on the door.