CONTAINS CONTENT:
Mild sexual content.
{{Unedited}}
During the first three-hour stretch, Marielle had fallen asleep on his shoulder, and Vincent was glad. The one pain injection that he could give her wouldn’t do much to alleviate her suffering, and it was probably close to wearing off now. The longer that she slept, the more she wouldn’t be bothered by the intense burning.
In a small way, Vincent was grateful to Austin; he was one of the only team members that could help get Marielle through this. Wei Ling wasn’t on the flight, and Kirra could force cells to agitate and regrow to heal but, in this case, such an action would undo what he’d started. No, what had been done had to set, so to speak, and then being healed by Kirra wouldn’t undo this particular wound, if one could call it that.
He remembered when he’d done this to himself, how for the first five days straight he considered going to Kirra and telling her to stop the pain. He bit his tongue, pulled pillows apart, screamed into his mattress, and everything in between to make sure that he didn’t change his mind.
Vincent had made this process easier for Marielle. The pain was about fifty percent less for her than it had been for him, but it probably felt like enduring a blinding migraine all over her back and the undersides of her arms. She was wonderful about it and didn’t complain, but everything in him said that all of this was wrong.
He was going to have to tell her things sooner or later, anyways. He’d have to tell her that she’d been married to Austin first in his dimension and that Austin had started off bad –admittedly far worse than this Austin – and that he’d only slowly gotten worse, eventually horribly abusing her. All the while, Austin always looked like a deer in the headlights; as if something or someone else was controlling his actions and he was actually sorry for doing those things.
In truth, Marielle might have been the only thing keeping him anywhere near sanity.
After she’d died things got a lot worse for Austin. How much worse? Vincent couldn’t even find it in his heart to say. He wanted to make sure that the Austin from his dimension didn’t come anywhere near Marielle. Because that Austin would destroy her.
He’d also have to eventually tell her that for all his believing, hoping, planning, and trying… he’d been to approximately thirty dimensions trying to find her – the woman that he so desperately desired that he’d broken the space time continuum and the universe to find – and was horrified to learn that in most of them, she was dead.
In the five or six others? Well, in one, she was with Chamber. To what extent were they together? He couldn’t know. Vincent was never able to track them long enough to find out. But in all of the others? She was deeply, desperately, and hopelessly in love with Austin Rancor, and they were always exceedingly happy. They were married in all of them.
And this was also when he learned just how different people could be from dimension to dimension.
For instance, the Chamber in this world was a weapons designer and a hit man, who probably saw some combat in his life. Vincent was all of these things, but had actually been in the military and seen combat several times in different countries.
For some reason, this Chamber was the one that had been smart enough to break through to meet him. He’d rarely come into contact with another; although he’d also worked with a few others.
Chamber was cockier than Vincent, although both displayed their pride on their sleeves whenever it suited them. Vincent imagined that some of the personality difference was due to what he’d been through in his own dimension. He’d never dreamed of loving or staying with a woman until he’d met Marielle; before her, he was more like Chamber was now… hiding in shadows, disappearing off the map, and going home with a pretty woman from a function, or political gathering wasn’t beyond him in any sense of the word.
But when Marielle left Austin, she had become Vincent’s entire world; the one that he would have spent his life growing old with. He wasn’t sure what Chamber would be like as a husband if he ever chose to be one, and for the first time since he’d come here, he began truly considering if he had – as Marielle had asked – stolen Marielle from him.
Vincent would see him soon, maybe he’d ask Chamber how he really felt.
Vincent glanced at Liam, considering him. Liam was similar to his double, but in Vincent’s dimension they’d been a bit closer. Even though the age gap was only about sixteen years, losing his father as a teenager made Vincent crave that mentorship and acceptance that he had been missing. Liam had never been the go-to for all or any of that. In fact, they’d started out not really liking each other too much after Vincent’s initial rescue of him.
Vincent found that situation funny, now; Chamber had come through this dimension to help him. Back then, Vincent and Chamber had figured out how to bring someone in, but hadn’t figured out how to travel out, yet. The O’fallons had some of the rest of that puzzle at the Everette Linde research facility.
It was funny to Vincent how none of the others really and truly knew just how long and for what purposes Vincent and Chamber had been aligned. There had been countless instances of help, betrayal, and even moments where they considered eliminating one another. They eventually fell into an understanding of each other and a kind of brothership, or twinship.
Vincent used to tease Liam, saying “Please Brimstone, I am your key to the other side, you should at least pretend to like me,” back when he was still trying to open worlds.
Eventually Vincent and Liam worked out their differences, and Liam was really there for him when Marielle died in ways that were irreplaceable to him.
While it was true that he’d spent many days in silence, staring at walls, and occasionally forcing a “thank you” to someone who offered condolences or brought him a meal – he didn’t recall who all did that, but he did know that Klara and Tayane did once and that he couldn’t eat it – or the occasional “It’s okay…” when someone said they were sorry for the fiftieth time. Mostly he found that people avoided him; which sometimes hurt more.
What he did remember was that for the first three weeks Liam never left his side. He basically moved into Vincent’s apartment and took over. On the seventh day, he pushed into the bedroom and smacked Vincent in the back. “On your feet, Soldier. Shower and drink these two bottles of water. That’s all I’m going to tell you to do today. But you need to do it. It’s not a request.”
Vincent had always been grateful.
He glanced at Sabine, nose deep in her book.
About eighteen weeks after Marielle’s death, she and him had had their strange encounter that neither of them ever fully understood.
They’d brushed past one another going opposite ways, and after a few feet, both had stopped not truly knowing why and stood in silence for a few moments, backs to one another. “I’m sorry,” she had said under her breath.
He had taken in a sharp breath, surprised that she’d spoken to him at all. “It-it’s okay,” he whispered, over his right shoulder.
She shook her head, and turned to him. “No, it’s not,” she had replied, and in a moment –that never seemed real when he recalled it – she rushed to him, and smashed her mouth against his, putting all of herself into it; her body pressed so tightly against his that he almost couldn’t breathe.
She’d immediately given him her tongue, and moments later, she had backed him up onto the table behind them both and crawled on top of him.
He didn’t remember much about the encounter except the things that he’d felt…
One thing that he did know was that he was grateful to Sabine. Because despite who she was, and the circumstances surrounding it, it had been the first time in months that he’d truly and completely felt his own heartbeat; and not only did he feel it, but it pounded, raged, and threatened to come out of his chest.
It reminded him that he was still alive, and that he still had things to do before he left this world.
He hadn’t just felt his heart, he felt the earth-shattering emotions of sadness, and renewal. For a moment, Sabine was Marielle, and for a moment, he was Morgan. Something that he’d never told Marielle, or this Sabine was that while he didn’t remember much of the act of sex between them, what he clearly remembered was that both had shakily whispered, “I love you…” – and both knew that neither had been speaking to one another.
Neither of them had ever spoken of it, or even really to one another again outside of general conversation, or business.
The encounter had been weird, wild, necessary, and shameful. They’d used each other, and Vincent understood that those feelings that Sabine had stirred in him had caused his brief bout with woman after woman and his love affair with alcohol, for a while. But on the other side of the spiral, he found himself again… at least in a way.
As he sat on the plane, Marielle resting against him, there was a large part of himself that was starting to question whether what he’d found was good or not.
Vincent had helped John not that long after, and the Sabine in his dimension had fallen in love with him there, as well.
Klara had been very much the same as her double. Vincent had loved her with a deep, fervent kinship. They’d spent many hours together working on projects, teasing each other; him slipping his tie around her neck and her waving it at Tayane later on. They went out for drinks, and coffee often before… well, before Everette Linde. After that, the death of the O’fallons, and something that he was certain that Austin had told her, Klara never looked at him the same, nor did she trust him.
The same event here – in Marielle’s dimension – had been for another reason. He and Chamber had shut down the research facility to stop the teleportation of more doubles… but there, in Vincent’s dimension, he’d done it to steal the O’fallons technology, research, and blueprints.
When Klara had come through to help Iselin, Sasha and Jamie steal Marielle on August fourth, Vincent’s heart had sunk. He’d hesitated… that was why Klara died last. It wasn’t a perfect shot. Vincent would never forgive himself.
He looked back at her now; her laughter echoed in the hall of the plane with that tinny, almost underwater sound that occurred in your ears after being airborne for a bit. She was sticking her tongue out at Tayane and holding something away from her. The two-arm wrestled for it, and laughing, they embraced.
Vincent felt the cords in his arms tighten… he’d lose her again, wouldn’t he? So far no one had said a peep about Everette Linde and it was only a matter of time.
He pushed those thoughts away. Many of the others were similar to themselves back home, and maybe that was why they didn’t really stand out to him. Erik? Pretty much the same. Jamie? Very similar. Mateo- also similar. Kiritani? Almost the same person.
Marielle winced, hissing at the pain.
He pet her, and she resettled.
Vincent glanced back at Barbara. She was leafing through a yellow folder, and she leaned over her tray table and wrote something. Barbara existed in his dimension, but Vincent didn’t know what to make of her. Something in him told him not to trust her at all, so he kept his distance as much as humanly possible without appearing suspicious.
Barbara glanced back at Austin who was two rows behind herself, and although it had been brief, Vincent didn’t like that look in her eye.
Vincent stretched, and brushed some hair back from his beautiful wife’s face. He wanted to lean in and dare a kiss, but fear of waking her from where her pain wasn’t so bothersome kept him back. He glanced back at Austin; he was talking to the older stewardess again. Vincent could tell by his body language and smile that he was enjoying the attention, but something was different about him, and this… this scared Vincent more than anything had since he’d been here.
If he was honest with himself, Austin scared him more than any of these doubles that he found himself in the company of.
What was shocking to him was Hazal. He hadn’t expected when he’d landed here to find out that Hazal was a woman; he’d found this out in most other worlds as well, but it had always baffled him how this had happened. Traveling to other dimensions never answered some of these questions. Why was Hazal a woman here? Why was he a man where he’d come from?
Back home, Marielle and Hazal had been close, so close that Austin had been jealous of him.
Vincent thought about what had happened when Hazal had come here and how bizarre that must have been for Hazal; how ironic that Marielle’s worst fear at the time was – from Hazal’s perspective – her ex-husband violating her. It must have come as an extremely weird shock given everything that occurred in Vincent’s dimension.
Due to their closeness in the other dimension, Vincent suspected that this was why Hazal had given up chasing Marielle that night. Not only was Hazal dying, he was using his powers to frighten him and Sasha as well; he had loved Marielle in a deep way.
Thinking on this drew Vincent into a different memory.
***
Vincent had to keep his secrets. If there was anything that he did have to keep, it was those. His sanity? He felt like that had been long gone and maybe ever since he’d met Marielle. The desire for her and her touch only burned harder, and more fervently every day that he knew her. He felt like at any moment it would entirely consume him.
Still, he’d refused to lay a single finger on her, or even make his desires known. He knew that she knew; she could see it in the way that he looked at her… He could see it in the way she looked at him; she’d thought about it, maybe even wanted it. But she was committed to that bastard; her husband.
He glanced over at Austin, now. He’d just brought something into the lab and handed it to Sabine, then turned and left.
Vincent felt his cheeks grow hot. He loved Marielle and Austin, both and he was watching as Austin slowly deteriorated into the worst husband imaginable, and as Marielle sank further into depression at the knowledge that her husband was cheating on her, and starting to abuse her.
Vincent clicked through a series of files on his computer and glanced up into the reflective sticker that he’d put on the corner of the screen. It revealed the room behind him and he caught Hazal glancing his direction, and looked back to the files.
Then his heart rate picked up, and he glanced at the mirror again, noting Hazal looking his way. He swallowed hard as his eyes went back to the file and skimmed it.
Valorant, at Cory’s direction, had been looking for a way to bridge the gaps in the teleporters, so that the cooldown time was non-existent and more than one person could teleport at a time, and the file that he was skimming was telling him something…concerning.
The words on the screen were telling him that they needed something organic to bridge the problem. Something or…someone.
As he scanned the lines and the coding, his heart began to race, and he dragged his fingers over his forehead to clear the sweat that was beading.
Vincent knew exactly what this file was going to lead to, and what the train of thought was going to be.
A sudden movement made him glance at the mirrored sticker. Hazal had turned quickly to…nothing.
Vincent closed the file with rapid clicks just as Cory leaned over his left shoulder, hands on both sides of the chair. Since Cory had no reflection, he had to be careful to watch others in the room for cues that he was approaching.
“What’d you find?” Cory asked.
Vincent faked a big sigh, and gestured at the computer, which was now showing an old file, “Nothing new.” He said, wanly.
Cory turned his face to Vincent, the other man now a mere inch or two from his face, close enough to kiss. “Why do I think you’re lyin’ to me, boyo?”
“Why do you think I’m lying to you, Cory?” Vincent asked, his eyes darting left, then back to Cory’s innocent face.
Cory shrugged a single shoulder, but his strong gaze never left Vincent’s face.
A voice broke in, “Vincent, I still need you to help me with that thing,” Hazal said, pocketing his hands. He coughed once, and patted his chest, then stood glaring at Vincent as if saying, “I’m waiting.”
Vincent smirked at Cory, and stood, going to Hazal, who led him out of the room. But after the elevator opened, Vincent took the lead, going toward the courtyard for air.
“I know what’s in your head,” Hazal was saying, following closely behind. He tried to reach for Vincent’s shoulder, but Vincent pulled away, shoving a shoulder against the exit, and bursting out into the light of the courtyard.
“Tell Nightmare to knock it off.”
“It’s your fear, Vincent, I can feel it.”
“Stay out of my head, démoniste,” Vincent growled, heading toward the fountain.
“Enough with the names,” Hazal said gaining on Vincent. His longer legs carried him quickly, and Hazal rounded Vincent at the fountain, standing in front of him, there. “She’s not yours, Vincent!” Hazal barked. But his tone came out as compassionate.
“But she should be!” Vincent squeezed his eyes shut along with his fists, then his eyes opened and wandered to her office where he could see her in the window looking down at them. Had she heard them? Vincent prayed not. She disappeared a moment later.
There was a long, drawn-out pause. When Vincent opened his mouth again, he’d forced himself calm. “You’re my best friend… I understand your concern.”
“I knew her before all of you. But it’s frowned upon,-” he looked off again, longingly, “-So, I let her go.” He glanced back to Vincent whose nostrils flared. He’d never broke gaze with Hazal. “But more importantly… she didn’t want me. I always figured that if it was meant to happen, it would happen. Somehow, we’d work it out. Allah would forgive me, or something.” There was a pause as the other man narrowed his eyes at Hazal. “Learn to understand fate, Vincent. She wants Austin. She’s another man’s wife.”
“She should be mine,” he whispered.
“You don’t get to make that proclamation,” Hazal replied, icily. “Don’t make the mistake of believing that you’re the only man who…” Hazal’s voice trailed off, and he broke eye contact with Vincent, and looked away to the fountain.
Vincent actually dared another step toward the scarecrow man, who stepped back when Vincent got close. “You still love her, don’t you…?”
“Don’t get in my face about it. I have no lies in my head telling me that she’ll be mine. I have no plans for it. That doesn’t mean that I don’t…” his voice drifted off again, and again he looked away, took in a deep pull of air and let it out slowly. He coughed a few times, and pat his chest. He swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed against his thin neck. “We all do, Vincent. Surely, you know that. You’ve heard the others talk. She’s beautiful, and she knows us all intimately because of the job she does. She never holds it against any of us, even the really dark parts. She’s kind…” his voice took on a dreamy quality, and he stared into memories with a soft smile, “and delicate…and strong, and so, so desirable…” He swallowed, and flicked his gaze back to Vincent’s, as if coming out of some fantasy where he was wrapped around Marielle. His mismatched eyes grew dark. “I know what you do. You spend time with them, you get close to Austin so you can be close to her. You daydream, you imagine. You’re in sin!”
Vincent whirled to Hazal, their faces nearly touching. Hazal was the taller man, but Vincent never felt small, regardless of how much taller someone was. “Don’t talk to me about sin!” He barked. “You just nearly admitted to me that you do the same.”
“She will never be mine! And I have accepted that. You have not.” Vincent’s jaw tensed and he looked away. “Let her go.”
“Have you let her go, Hazal? I know you love her.”
“I have to the best of my abilities!” He barked, and again he cut his eyes to Vincent, looking down at him with a look that was clear, get any closer to me, and you and Nightmare are going to have a problem. “I may desire her, but I know that it can never be. You’re planning for it!” Hazal added, meeting eyes with him, and for a moment, his mismatched eyes blazed, beginning to reveal Nightmare.
Vincent didn’t falter. “He hurts her, Hazal… did you know that?”
The brightness in Hazal’s eyes died down and became serious, grave. He looked away. “I think I always… but… it’s not our business. Marielle can take care of herself. You don’t make moves on her, you don’t pursue her.”
“I’m not.”
“Good,” Hazal quipped, half turning away from him. “You’ll complicate things. You’ve already complicated things by allowing your fantasies to go as deeply as they do.”
“Stay out of my head.”
“I don’t share in your fantasies, Vincent,” Hazal sneered when he said this. “Just your fear.” There was silence as Hazal slowly did a three sixty, running a sinewy hand through the parts of his hair that were white. “And I’ll tell you something about fear. If you allow it to eat you… it’s liable to come true,” he finished, and he stood for a moment in silence, gazing at Vincent. Then he coughed once, pat his chest, and walked away.
Vincent sat thoughtfully on the edge of the fountain, clasping his hands between his knees. He knew that Hazal was right, he knew that he couldn’t stop his love, or his desire, and he wanted to die right where he sat. He glanced up once more at Marielle’s office window. She never returned to it.
***
Marielle stirred, and opened her eyes. She sucked air in through her teeth and bit her bottom lip. “I’m so sorry, love,” Vincent said, petting her head and combing through her beautiful black hair. “I tried to warn you.”
She let out a long breath. “It’s okay. You said this was twice as painful when you did it?”
Vincent nodded, and leaned in, kissing her. When he pulled back, he sighed. “Oui. I did my best to make it easier.” He continued to comb through her hair, and dared another kiss.
She smiled at him. “Why are you kissing and touching me so much?”
“Should I stop?” he asked with a small smile.
“No, it’s nice,” she purred, putting her folded hands against the seat, and leaning on them as she faced him.
“This was one of the hardest things I’d ever done in my life,” he explained, moving his fingertips over the gold lines on his left arm and over a few grooves of skin that were deep enough to be scars.
She narrowed her eyes at him, “What was the other?”
“Watching you take your last breath, and burying you,” he said, flatly.
She supposed that she knew that, but hearing him say it was like a punch to the gut.
There it was- always in her mind, this internal reminder that all of this was ultimately about her, and she didn’t like that, but there was nothing that she could do about it now. It had felt like slipping while walking along a ravine… now she was in the tumbling and falling stage and all that she could do was figure out how best not to die, and to land in a way that wouldn’t hurt too much.
Considering Vincent, that no longer seemed possible; she could no longer land without getting hurt. Marielle had decided that she wanted Vincent.
But a giant part of her wanted Austin and she hated herself for continuing to go back to him over and over again… yet, for whatever reason, she just couldn’t help it. Their connection was so strong and fervent that she craved more of it every time they were apart, and she continued to think of him and that night… and his little bites on her neck and shoulder every single time she had a moment alone.
She kept trying to tell herself that he was no good for her. The thing that she couldn’t say out loud to anyone was that the reason that she couldn’t bear the thought of a relationship with him was because she knew that due to their connection and affection for one another, that the moment he screwed up – the moment that he cheated on her, or started going out on her – he’d break her, and not in a little way. She would crumble and carry that pain with her forever. She knew that that stab would kill her. She’d never love anyone again… and she couldn’t say any of that out loud; she could hardly even think it. If she thought about it, Austin could read it eventually, and then he’d know how to break her.
She leaned back and tried to ignore the hot, searing pain that shot down her back again.
“Go to Austin,” Vincent whispered with a sigh.
Marielle glowered at him. “He’s already helped.”
“And he can help again. Sit with him if you have to.” He finally turned to her. “I’d rather you sit with him and be relieved than sit with me and burn.”
“Maybe I’d rather burn,” she said through gritted teeth.
Vincent smiled, lifted her hand to his lips, and placed a gentle kiss on the back of her knuckles. “You wouldn’t,” he insisted, and urged her with his head to go back to Austin.
Sighing, she got up, passed Austin, and lumbered to the bathroom, where she locked herself in and used it.
As she rinsed her hands in the little sink, she stared at her own reflection. The flesh on her back screamed.
As someone who cooked, Marielle had been burned several times; it was one of her least favorite feelings in the world. Hours of fingers and palms in icy water was the only way to ensure relief. This was far worse, and she was enduring it moment by moment.
Sighing, she looked down. “How did I get here?” She asked herself, and for a second, she recalled nearly everything that had happened over the last few months. The day she’d met Vincent, how Austin had come into the picture the day after, how he’d flirted with her and told her that “when he was trying to seduce her… she’d know…” and how it’d been pretty darn obvious that night at his house.
Do I trust him? Do I believe him when he says that he wants more than my body? He’s being honest. I can see it in his eyes. He’s always been honest with me. God… he’s even been honest with me when he knew it would hurt me… and Vincent? He still lies to me.
She bowed her head and squeezed her hands into fists and pushed back on her legs, stretching them and her lower back. “I used to be good at reading people. These two men are going to drive me insane,” she said with a heavy sigh and an ironic chuckle after lifting her face to the mirror again. You know how to read Austin, and now you can read his thoughts, too, when you both really try. You weren’t dreaming, either – you did have the same fantasy a few weeks ago in the forest – with us being little kids and him wanting his kiss.
Frustrated, she stood straight and rolled her shoulders a few times, the pain in her flesh becoming unbearable.
She exited and went to Austin, who was only a few rows down on the right. He looked like he was asleep; eyes closed, hands folded over his chest. An in-flight pillow was behind his head, his neck was arched in a way that was so appealing to her; making it long and smooth. His Adam’s apple was bitable. She wanted to lean in and kiss it.
Instead, she slipped in next to him, admiring his handsome face, and collarbone because Austin almost never buttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirts unless he was wearing a tie. He always left just a little skin peeking out, and while she knew that this was on purpose, and to attract her and any other woman who was looking, that didn’t stop its power.
-You look so handsome.
-I never look as handsome as you look beautiful. His reply shocked her.
He opened his eyes and rolled his head to look at her. His hair, which had been hanging loose against his scalp rolled with him, and several black tendrils hung down in his eyes. She felt all of her senses heighten, he was so damn delicious.
She swallowed and looked away, shakily. “So…” she began. “You can hear my thoughts even if you aren’t focused on my eyes?”
He let out a long sigh and for a moment, his expression was distant as if he was trying to consider this. “Only sometimes, and only if I really want to know what you are thinking.”
She dragged a shaky hand down her face. “Can you do this if I’m not near you?”
“Not to the best of my knowledge?”
She looked back at him. Those little pieces of hair in his right eye were making the hair on her arms stand up. “How big do you think your range is?”
He shrugged the shoulder closest to her and for a moment, both were lost in one another; their scents, their expressions. “I think it’s getting stronger,” he whispered referring to their ability to communicate via their minds. She nodded, considering this, but what it meant for the both of them? She pushed any related thoughts aside.
His eyes were a bit sleepy, hers a little lost and dreamy. -I was late because I deleted like nine folders of porn. Wait- eleven. There isn’t any more saved to my computer.
Her eyes widened for a moment, then wandered away from his face, and back again.
-You’re still going without…He nodded slowly, lifting his arms up to stretch as he yawned, and put his hands onto his knees, where he rubbed for a second. She noted this. He wanted her to touch him like that; it was projection.
She glanced away, wondering if anyone was eaves dropping, then realizing how dumb that thought was. No one else could hear their thoughts. -Why are you doing this?
He narrowed his eyes at her. –I – I figured that would be obvious.
The entire plane shifted once, and she reflexively grabbed his wrist, freezing and looking around the cabin. The lights flickered and again, the plane jerked. She squeezed him more tightly. He didn’t seem to care. His gaze was entirely focused on her until the light to put their seatbelts on and stay seated came on above with a ding. He glanced up at it, but his eyes shortly returned to her face. Then he gestured at the seatbelt with his head.
–Put it on, Marielle. She did so one handedly. -Looks like you’re stuck here for a while.
–Just what you wanted. She chuckled facetiously. There was a pause, and she slowly let go of his wrist.
There was a bing overhead. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re experiencing some slight turbulence; nothing to worry about. We suspect it won’t be long. Just sit tight, and try to remain calm, and as always, thank you for flying with us,” the captain’s pleasant voice drew their attention for a minute.
He hadn’t moved since she’d grabbed him. His thoughts slipped. -I want more of your touch.
-Austin…
–Austin. He winked.
She smiled on the left side of her mouth. He was right… she loved when he mocked her over saying his name. He was such a little boy, and it reminded her of her childhood. She’d had a good one. -Why do you think that it’s getting stronger?
He pursed his lips for a moment, -Not real sure. The only thing that I can figure is that the more we’re together the stronger it gets? She narrowed her eyes at him inquisitively. -I mean you can pass through me. I can’t pass through you. For a moment your heartbeat slid next to mine. Your mind was inside of me. For a moment, I was actually calm inside.
She swallowed, studying his blue eyes. -You’re completely anxiety ridden most of the time, aren’t you?
-Only sometimes.
-And… and my passing through you helped? He nodded, slowly; his gaze intense and purposeful. She reached down between the seats like he had before, offering him her hand. He took it and they squeezed simultaneously. She could feel his heartbeat in his palm, it sped up the moment their skin met. -I’m going to try something.
He glanced around. Kirra was asleep against the window, and she was the person closest to them that could actually see them. Sasha was a row behind Vincent and he was also asleep against his window. Mateo and Jamie were at the back of the plane playing some handheld game. It looked like they were racing; totally entranced, and Tala was with them. She was also out cold, leaning on Mateo’s right shoulder. Sabine, John, and Liam were all the way at the front of this aisle, with Barbara a few rows in front of them. Vincent wasn’t watching at all, and Austin got the feeling it was because he knew… he knew what was happening; he must. Vincent was smart and the only thing Vincent could do right now was ignore it. Austin nodded at her.
She focused her mind, quieting all her thoughts, and gently pushed her hand against his more and further until it slowly began to stick like glue that had dried a little and pulled apart in gooey strings. He took in a deep breath of air, and closed his eyes. She could see his pulse in his neck. She pressed a little more…gently, slowly… and to both of their surprise, she was able to press her hand through his until they were one.
She closed her eyes.
Their heartbeats were wild; pounding. They could both feel each other’s blood thud through their veins, shaky and uneven.
Then a strange thing happened… as they sat for a moment with her hand mostly inside of his- without trying, their breathing lined up and synched, and as that happened so did their pulse; perfect heartbeats thudding completely in time as if they were one person.
He opened his eyes, their expression lost…scared…confused. He looked uncomfortable, and curious. They could both hear and feel their perfectly aligned pulse, indistinguishable from one another’s. -This is…he began, but couldn’t find the words.
-Yeah, I don’t know.
He finally met eyes with her. They weren’t the eyes of a man who was in his early-thirties. They were the eyes of a child; bright, innocent, begging, and scared. Then, as if they had both commanded it in their minds, their pulse began to speed up together. This was led by Austin, his heart had begun to pound first, hers followed suit right alongside his until they were one again.
Austin’s head rolled back in pleasure, and he briefly squeezed his eyes shut, then met them with her again. -Marielle… is it possible that we were just…
-Don’t say it, Austin.
–made for each other? She broke physical contact and looked away, trying to hide her expression and her thoughts from him. That was too much. “Marielle,” he pleaded, “come back,” he begged in a low, desperate whisper. “Please, come back.” He was gently panting. “I’m sorry.”
She swallowed hard and turned back to him, their eyes connecting again as she finally revealed her tears. -I’m so confused. She admitted; goose flesh scattering on her skin.
He looked genuinely concerned, –What about, darling?
Her eyes rolled dramatically in his direction. –Darling… you’re calling me darling, now. You don’t think any of this is confusing to me?
He paused, and shrugged. -I’ve always called you darling in my mind.
He had, hadn’t he? He’d done it the first day in his office. -Yeah… I’m sure that’s not all you’ve called me. She dared. He made a face that teased the idea and said, ‘you got that right.’
Among the names that he’d called her in his mind? That was a long list. He’d definitely used her name. He’d dared Masin, but had never tried it on his lips in front of her. In the throes of desire, he’d called her more dirty things- especially when he was pissed at her for causing him sensual torment; that was a long list. The night of the announcement when she’d first been with Vincent, she’d gotten the gamut in his head after he was finally alone and could shut up the other voices.
But a lot of that had died down in the last week or two, as he calmed his mental objectification of her. Slowly, she was becoming more than a physical need. She had transformed – in his thoughts – into a person, a woman. She always had been one, but in his mind, she’d been a plaything for many weeks. She was transforming into a desire and instead other words had been prevalent; darling, lover… wife. That last one frightened him possibly more than any word he’d ever heard in his entire life. He would never dare it… unless…
She rubbed her arms, remembering that she’d come here to get him to cool her burning skin down. It was amazing how talking to him sometimes made her forget all about her woes. But now she was freezing, and she crossed her arms over her breasts, protectively fearing that the chill had made her obvious.
He noted her movement, but hadn’t been staring. He offered her his hand again. -Maybe if you take my hand again, you’ll feel less confused. Teeth chattering a little, she did so… she could see the back of Vincent’s head and it put knots in her stomach. But it didn’t seem to stop the need within her to touch and be close to Austin and after a moment, their fingers slowly became more exploratory of one another. He was noting a small, almost minute bit of skin that had peeled back at the very tip of her index finger, and his attention was focused there. –What are you confused about, Marielle?
Her throat went dry. -This.
At first it was only their fingertips brushing one another; feeling the dips, divots and fingerprints. She had a little hangnail on her middle finger, and he wanted to lean in and kiss it. His hands were bigger and a little rougher, with long fingers. She loved both them and his arms; she’d noticed his hands the first time she’d ever seen them when they shook.
–This… feels so good. He sighed, dreamily, his eyes fluttering a little. -Doesn’t it feel good to you? Do you want to keep going?
-Yes… Delicious, hungry feelings began to move down her body, opening her up with need.
Their fingers became more exploratory, more responsive…pressing more firmly, and slipping down between one another, all the way to the base of their fingers at the palm and back up to the tip where their fingerprints pressed against one another and moved in slow circles, then back down to the V between each. If fingertips could make love, this was what it would feel like. The world blurred for both.
–I’ve never done anything like this before. He admitted.
-Me either.
–It’s incredibly sexy, you know? He groaned. -You’re gettin’ me in deep trouble, here. He glanced down, gesturing with his eyes.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. She was excited, too. He knew. He could see her chest rise and fall.
They twisted their hands at the same time so they were reaching for each other as opposed to palm to palm, and both put their middle fingers to the base of one another’s, and pulled until they came to the tips, then moved back down towards their palms. Once Marielle’s finger curled over the fleshy part of his palm, and gently stroked there for a moment in small circular motions, a sound escaped his lips that he didn’t mean to make. He pushed his lips together, and dropped the pillow that was behind his head to his lap.
Marielle stopped and pulled her hand away. He reached over and grabbed her wrist, his expression sharp, and pleading. -Don’t stop.
-I’m done, Austin. I’m not going to do that anymore.
-Why are you doing this to me, woman? He shook his head and chuckled, desperately needing release. A pause filled space between them.
-Why are you letting me? They were both silent for a moment. -Exactly. We don’t know, or won’t say, but we both like it. I feel so guilty.
-Don’t feel guilty, Marielle. You touched my hand, I got excited. Let’s call that a regular Tuesday at this point. She couldn’t help but grin, and her fingers moved over her warm cheek, then down her neck a little to her collarbone where she dropped her hand into her lap. He paused. -Are you still thinking about that night?
She couldn’t stop herself. -All the time.
He tilted his head at her, he wasn’t sure why but this surprised him. -Marielle… his tone was shaky even in his own head. -Do y-you think about me while you’re with Vincent?
She instantly put her face into her hands, trying to drown out any thoughts that she had.
“Oh my God…” Austin whispered, looking around the cabin once again to be sure no one was watching. “You do.” He realized.
“This is so complicated,” she breathed, finally sitting back up.
There was a pause. “You’re just gonna keep choosing Vincent, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” She said quickly and firmly.
He pushed his lips together, and took in a deep breath. “I don’t understand you.”
“It’s amazing how we can literally read each other’s thoughts and still not understand, isn’t it?” She shook her head. “It seems like things should be so much clearer.”
“So what, you’re just gonna like… continue to have these little intimate moments until you just have an affair with me?”
Her green orbs found his, –We’re already having an affair, Austin. Or was that somehow unclear? He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was right; it was generally classified as an emotional affair, but their interactions were far more than just best friends. -I have boundaries that I’m not going to cross with you.
He narrowed his eyes, -like what?
-I’m not sleeping with you… She glared at him, emphasizing her seriousness. -in any way.
-Is that supposed to make you feel better about how you’re touching me right now, or something?
She shook her head. -Thought we were just calling that a regular Tuesday. Both silently chuckled.
The plane jerked again, and she wrapped her arms around her center, feeling her nerves quake. His tone came through gently and compassionately. -Marielle… I’m here. You’re going to be okay. He sighed and looked down, biting his bottom lip for a moment. A good minute passed before he spoke again. –This hurts. He admitted. She knew that he was referring to the state of their relationship.
-You can always move on.
-So can you. He had her there. His eyes became dark as if realization of a new kind had entered his mind. –You go home to Vincent and you let him screw you in whatever way you both think is fun or satisfying for that moment, and the whole time you think about me… do you know how much that hurts?
She narrowed her eyes at him scornfully. -How dare you, Austin… you’ve had how many surrogates for me? Do you know how much that hurts?
He felt like someone had actually stabbed him. She was right. -No. Because you never tell me how you feel. You just allude vaguely to things and keep me hanging on like a- He drummed his chin in silence for a moment. –Why are you doing this, why are you staying with him?
She looked at the back of Vincent’s head again. He might be asleep. –Because everything that he’s done, he’s done for me.
Austin scoffed, –Marielle, you’re not beholden to him. You still have the ability to choose, you know? You have a choice. She fell silent and looked down, and shock crossed Austin’s face.
-Oh my God, he’s given you the choice, hasn’t he? He’s told you that you can choose. He let out a ragged breath as light bulbs went off in his mind. “It’s me, isn’t it?” He nodded, accepting this prison cell as his fate. “It’s me,” he whispered, realizing. “I just realized what an asshole you think I am,” he scoffed. He lifted his hand and placed it against her back, giving her what she’d originally sat down by him to get in the first place. He’d known, he just hadn’t done it. She sighed with relief as the cool of his touch calmed her burning skin. “And I just realized that you’re right,” he added. He took his hands away, and leaned his head back against the seat, staring at the ceiling of the cabin, and folding his fingers on his chest again. She was right; he was an asshole. Everything in his body hurt and ached.
Their eyes found one another again. -Whatever, I’ll just speak in Italian from now on in my thoughts, In questo modo non capirai cosa sto dicendo. A proposito, tutto questo è per te, e non posso ancora ammetterlo a me stesso, ma sono abbastanza sicuro che mi sto innamorando di te. Better?
She narrowed her eyes at him, hurt, confused. -That was mean. You know that I don’t have a language to hide from you, you speak French.
–That’s right, I do… E forse voglio proteggermi dal potere che hai su di me. Oppure, diavolo, forse voglio solo parlarti tutto il giorno di come voglio che tu mi cavalchi tutta la notte, non lo saprai mai, e forse questo mi piace. Almeno sono onesto.
-Please don’t hide from me like that… at least let me know what you’re saying.
-No. Ma mi sto innamorando di te, e questo mi sta spezzando a metà dentro. Perché mi sto rendendo conto che in realtà non sono mai stato innamorato di qualcuno prima. Non ho mai conosciuto questo tipo di dolore. Fa molto male. Ma non te lo dirò mai.
Whatever he had said, his expression looked pained, like he was trying to wince back a severe migraine mixed with some kind of devastatingly sad news.
-You’re hurting me.
He swallowed hard and glanced down, his face reflecting that he knew that he’d made a mistake with those actions. -I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all of that.
-I have no idea what you said, Austin.
-I know. It’s going to stay that way for now.