Donde lieta usci

Miserere Mei Deus
Part One:
Donde lieta usci Jewel Faulkner
jfaulkne@brynmawr.edu

Ingtro: Nothing is ever easy; certainly not for my characters! Things were going far too well, and I decided it was time to, shall we say, shake things up a bit before I end everything.
Now, for those of you who may be wondering, the title of this story is from the opera "La Bohème," and means "I am going back." And here we're actually *returning* to the Gargoyle world, albeit several decades in the furture. (whoa...)

Legal jargon: Christine, Belinda, Hope, and Christian belong to me. Mars and Mark Adams belong to Scott Iskow, Ares and Athena belong to Ryan Stout, and Alexander Xanatos belongs to Buena Vista (see, told ya that we're returning to the Gargoyle World...look for more characters to pop up in the next series, including (gasp) characters from the show.) This is got an PG-13 rating, because of language (my little Christine has been turning into a little potty mouth...) and sexual situations (no, I didn't go hogwild with descriptions. I'd be blushing red as a lobster the whole time if I even *tried*, and it would destroy my rep as "so-hopelessly-innocent-it's-cute" that I (deservedly, believe it or not) have among my friends.)
Oh, and a shout-out goes to Jenn G., if she reads this--thanks for telling me about one of your little "reindeer games"... ;)

*** *** *** ***

All your words are nice, Mimi,
But love's not a three-way street!
-Rent

*** *** *** ***

New York , 2037

         "I don't even believe I let you drag me in here."
         Belinda threw back her head and laughed. "Oh, chill, chica." she said, throwing her arm around her sister.
         "Belinda, have you noticed what kind of store this is?!!?" Christine hissed under her breath, fighting off a blush and failing miserably.
         "Dear, the name of the store is 'The Erogenous Zone.' Yeah, I know what it is. Ooooh, look, fuzzy handcuffs!" she said, her eyes lighting up and dragging her sister over to them.
         "Belinda!"
         "Oh, Christine, you're such a prude." Belinda said, rolling her eyes. "I dragged you in here because of that. You need to spice your life up."
         Christine blushed even redder than she had been before. "My life is just fine, thank y..."
         "Pfft." Belinda said, rolling her eyes. "Please. Christine, dear, I love you to bits, but you have no imagination about some things. And, well, Mark's...Mark. He's a sweetie and more or less sane, but that man has 'missionary' written all over him."
         "Be*lin*da!" Christine yelped, turning fuschia.
         Belinda raised her eyebrow. "Deny it."
         Christine opened her mouth but no words come out, despite several attempts.
         "Uh-hunh." Belinda said, shaking her head. "Just as I thought. *Boooooooring.*"
         "But...!"
         "Yeah, yeah, I'm sure to someone with no imagination it's great." she said. Christine started choking.
         "Ooooh, this is pretty." Belinda said, picking up the jet black piece of sheer lingerie. She held it against her arm. "And our skin tone does *great* with black. You should get this. A little modifications and it's all good to go."
         "I could *never*...I would look ridiculous!"
         "Humph. Hey, sir!" she said, suddenly grabbing a guy in the store. "Yo. Question. If you saw my sister there in this," she said, indicating the little sheer scrap of nothing she was holding, "would you sleep with her?"
         The guy looked Christine over and nodded. "Yup."
         "See?" Belinda said, hands on her hips. "You would not look ridiculous. Now, if it was leather, you'd look ridiculous. Either ridiculous or like some thirteen-year-old boy's wet dream. What do you think?" she said, looking back at the random guy.
         He raised an eyebrow. "Wet dream." he said, and went back to looking at the handcuffs.
         Belinda grinned.
         Christine pointed her finger at her. "Don't you *even* think it." she said. Belinda tossed her head back and laughed.
         "Too late." She threw her arm around her sister again. "OK, Christine. Now. Seriously. This is me here. Anything you've ever wanted to do? C'mon. I know you've got *something* brewing in that head of yours, no matter how buried it is."
         "I do not."
         "Yeah, I believe that one." Belinda said, rolling her eyes. "Come on. You can't tell me that you've *never*..."
         "I'm not even dignifying that with an answer..."
         Belinda grinned. "*Never* had any ideas?"
         "No. Although..." she began, then bit it back.
         "What?" Belinda said, her eyes lighting up and grinning.
         Christine looked over at the handcuffs. "We-ell..." she began. "Oh, I could never!"
         Belinda grabbed a pair. "These would fit him."
         Christine bit her lip. She was wavering... "I...no. I couldn't. I would never use them, and what would I do if he found them?"
         Belinda raised her eyebrow. "Just *try* to deny that you've never wondered what it would be like to dominate Mark."
         "I could beat the crap out of him if I wanted to!"
         "There's a world of difference between being able to beat someone to a bloody pulp and dominating." Belinda said, hands on her hips. "Deny you've ever wanted total control over him and to be calling the shots."
         "I...I...I..." she stamered, at a loss for words.
         Belinda held the handcuffs up and shook them.
         Christine was staring at them.
         "Come on, girl! Get creative! There's more to life than missionary."
         Christine touched the handcuffs gingerly. A secretive little smile briefly touched her lips that she tried to hide by biting her lip; a brief look passed in her eyes that was gone a second later, and Belinda tossed the handcuffs onto the basket she was carrying. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have ourselves a winner!"

*** *** *** ***          Mark knew something was wrong with Christine, but he had no idea what. He watched her sleep--she was tossing and turning--something he had *never* seen her do--and mumbling unintelligibly in her sleep. He wished he could wake her up--seeing the way her she was shaking her head so hard in her sleep, her entire face scrunching up, made him want to comfort her and make whatever her nightmare was go away. He frowned. What was she dreaming about?
         When the sun set, she woke up suddenly, all but tearing her eyes open, her breathing strained and her eyes wide.
         "M-Mark!" she yelled and suddenly hugged him, holding onto him tightly, shaking. He held her tightly, not liking the way she shaking.
         "Christine, Christine, what's wrong? What were you dreaming about?"
         "I don't...I...I was a little girl. That's all I remember." she said, shaking her head and rubbing her temples. "Something about...Xanatos. And tests. And...and programming." she said, trying to hold onto the memory as it faded away from her quickly. "I don't...I don't remember." she said, irritated at herself, tears of frustration in her eyes. She didn't remember the dream at all now, only snatches that were fading--Rosenkrantz, Owen, Xanatos, Schulery, and the tank. All the words were gone, going, even the words that had been bandied about the most.
        Xana...voy...tos...oh...suh...Xan...bay...ah...oh...tos...bay...voy...xan...a...suh...oh...voy...
tos...oh...zan... to...es...ce...bay...voy...suh...
         It was gone. She pressed her face against Mark's chest, against the scars that were a mirror of the ones across her back. "I...every time I think I'm getting it all together, that I've finally put my damnable past behind me, it comes at me like this. I'm shaking, I'm terrified, and I have no idea why! I can't even fucking *remember*!" she yelled in frustration.
         Mark tightened his arms around the shaking hybrid. "Christine, don't push yourself. You'll remember in time, you know that. You have forever. Let it go for now...it'll come to you when you're ready to face it."
         "Let it go?" she said, pulling away and looking at him. "Let it *go*? Mark, I don't dare! I have to hold on to every scrap of memory I have, to try and make sense of it all! I still don't know everything they did to me! I can't just 'let it go'! I can never 'just let it go'!" she yelled, irrationally angry. She jumped to her feet, stalking around and nearly shaking with rage. "I've lost too much in my life to ever try to wait things out--every time I've tried that, things have gone from bad to worse! From Limbo to Hell! How the fuck *can* I let it go?!!?" she roared. Mark flinched without meaning to--Christine had one *hell* of a voice when she yelled; he had no doubt that it wasn't his imagination when he thought he saw things shaking in the room. She swept her arm out and slammed her fist into a wall, cracking it. He watched when the pulled her fist back, her entire small-framed body shaking with rage. He had *never* seen her so angry. She roared and slammed her fist into the wall again, this time putting a rather large hole in it.
         All of a sudden, she stopped. She fell onto her knees, shaking. "What am I...what am I doing?" she said, sounding like a child. Mark went over to her and held her.
         "I never...I've never been so...this *rage*..." she whispered, shaking to hold irrational anger in. "Mark, what's *happening* to me? Is this what Thoth meant by "healthier" after integrating that Turandot alter back into me? This *rage*? This *anger*?"
         Mark said nothing, not knowing what to say and knowing that trying to say anything would be useless.
         "I'm even more unstable now than I was before!" she said, afraid of herself.
         "Christine."
         "What if I hurt Hope? Or Christian?" she said, her eyes panicked. "What if I..."
         "Christine." Mark said again, taking her face in his hands. He made her look at him. The fear on her face tore at him--she was afraid of herself, of what she might do--she was afraid of hurting *children*. It was completely inconceivable, and he told her so.
          "But...but the wall..."
          "Is a wall. An inanimate object. Christine, for the love of God, do you think for one blasted second you could actually lay a hand on one of those children?"
          "I...I don't kno..."
          "I do." he said, looking her straight in the eyes. "Christ, Christine, you're putting yourself through hell for no reason. What is worrying going to do? You're frustrated, I know. And I wish to god there was something I could do. But there isn't...and there's nothing you can do, either, but wait. Whatever it was you dreamed, it'll come back in it's own good time. Getting angry because you can't remember won't make it happen any sooner. And beating yourself up over...*impossibilities* isn't very conducive to that, either."
           He sighed, and hugged her tighter. "Christine...have you been to the old subbasement you were...you were...created...in?"
           She shook her head no, sniffling and trying to dry her face off with her back of her hand, resting her heavy head on him. "Never...I never went there...not in all those years, I never...I never could..."
           "You...maybe you should go there. Face your demons, Christine. Go back to the Eyrie." he whispered. "Find out what they did to you."
         She sighed and shook her head. "I don't know...it's a Pandora's box I don't know if I should open or not. Oh, well." she said shaking her head gently. Her head was still resting on his shoulder.
         Mark suddenly tensed. "Christine, you know it drives me crazy when you do that." he said, his voice gruff.
         She giggled. "I know. Why do you think I'm doing it?" she said, nibbling his jawline gently. "Now, if I was *really* trying to drive you crazy, I'd..."
         Mark's arms tightened around her suddenly. "You only look sweet and innocent. I wonder how many people you've got fooled." he said. She was doing that *thing* with her tail...
         "But you know me better, hmmm?" she said, pulling back slightly and smiling.
         "I most certainly do. You don't have me fooled. I know what that evil little gleam in your eyes mean."
         "Oh, you do, do you?" she said, tilting her head, her eyes flashing at him and her smile widening. "And what, pray tell, does it mean?"
         His next remark was inherently indecent and certaintly not like him.
         "Give the boy a gold star!" Christine said, giggling. She gently pushed him on the bed and straddled his stomach, holding his arms down over his head. "You *do* know me pretty well. Guess I can't put one over on *you*, can I?"
         Mark raised his eyebrow. "'Fraid not."
         Christine lightly bit her tongue while thinking about what to do with him now. "Well, guess I'll have to keep you on your toes...get a bit...'creative', shall we say?"
         Mark chuckled, the sound low in his throat. "Surprise me."
         Christine's grin widened and she bent lower down over him. "Oh, don't worry..." she whispered in his ear. "I *will*." ***   *** *** ***          Christine rested her head against Mark's chest, a satisfied little smile on her face. "Good thing Hope didn't decide to barge in on us *this* time..."
         Mark snorted. "That girl does have an amazing sense of timing," he said sarcastically. "And absolutely *no* understanding that a locked door means she can't come in."
         "I love her, but I'd have strangled her this time." she said, her little smile widening. She suddenly looked up at him, resting her chin on his chest. "Did I surprise you?"
         Mark laughed. "When the hell did you get handcuffs?"
         Christine chuckled again, her eyes lighting up. "A present from Belinda. She said I needed to spice up my life. Actually, what she said was, 'Girl, get creative. There's more to life than missionary.' She'd dragged me into a sex toy shop and then went hog-wild, shopping. She bought me stuff I had never seen before in my *life*."
         Mark's eyes lit up. "Oh, really? What else did you get?"
         A devilish look passed through Christine's brown eyes. "You'll find out."
         "What have you got planned for me?" he said, a faint smile on his face. He had the distinct feeling he wasn't going to be going anywhere anytime soon...not that he could go anywhere while handcuffed to the bedpost...not that he objected in the least...
         "Let's just say it involves you, a blindfold, those handcuffs, a whip, and ice cubes." Christine said, jumping up and checking the lock on the door, this time securing it with magic--last time Hope nearly picked the damn lock psychokinetically, and shit if Christine was going to be explaining *this* to the girl... She turned and looked at him, hand on her hip, the tip of her tail tapping the ground. She smiled very, very sweetly, then lunged. *** *** *** ***          Christine didn't know why she went. God knew she never wanted to see that place again, where so much had happened to her. Besides, she thought, trying to gather her strength, it had been 40 years, surely it had been revamped, so it wouldn't be the same...
         "Hello, Owen." she said as soon as she entered the Eyrie. He was there, and she wasn't surprised. It was strange, all of it...he hadn't aged. At all. Neither had she. All the yers...decades, had passed, and for them, it was as if nothing had happened. Him because of Oberon's curse; her because of Titania's..."gift."
         "Christine." he said, staring at her for a minute. When he had...'remembered' that he had seen her again...*alive* centuries before she should have been, it had been one of the changing moments for him. Seeing her die...and Erika as well...he hadn't been able to handle it. He had felt as if part of him had died when they had. And to find that they *weren't* dead--at least, that Christine wasn't... And then, a memory of seeing her *as* her--not as a child, but as an adult woman...it was all confusing, really. And bizarre, in it's way. Maybe that was why they had avoided each other.
         Christine didn't say anything for a while. Things were...awkward. She knew why, both of them did, but, well, why thing about anything? Things would settle down, when he was more used to her being...alive. And when she could get used to the time she was living in, to her life, to everything. Time. That was all they needed. Time. "Where's Alex?"
         "He is in his office. He says he wants to help you find the information..."
         "Great." she said with a faint smile.
         "Are you sure you do not want me to help you?"
         "No," she said, shaking her head. "I need to take my time with this. You would find it way too fast. Plus, this gives me a way to catch back up with technology. I am quite a while behind." she said, with a faint smile. "But thanks." she said, touching his hand lightly. He stared at her for a minute and she dropped her hand.
         Time. They just...needed...time... *** *** *** ***          She tapped on the glass to Alexander's office. She had let him know ahead of time that she was coming. His face was grim.
         "Christine...are you sure you want to do this?"
         She laughed dryly. "No. But I have to. I have to...try to remember." she said flatly. Alexander squeezed her hand, and she appreciated it--she suddenly wished she hadn't told Mark not to come. She thought she'd be fine; that this was something she needed to do alone, but she knew now she had been so wrong that it wasn't even funny. Part of her wanted to stop and call him, but she decided against it. This was her fight, not his. Her own private hell. She did need to do this on her own, she knew.
     "If you're so determined to do this, all right." Alexander said with a sigh. He squeezed her hand a bit, then let go. "Come on."
         She followed him soundlessly, past the guards and the maze that Eyrie had always been. She got some strange looks, but she ignored them--most people didn't know what to make of her, no matter what--hybrids would always be...different.
         When they got to the subbasement that had been her own private hell, she clutched Alexander's arm tightly. A lot had changed...but a lot hadn't.
         "So much is...just like I remember it." she whispered.
         "Christine...are you sure you're ready for this? Are you sure you want to?"
         "No, and no." she said. Then she squared her jaw. "But I'm going to do this. I'm tired of just...flashes of memories. I want to *know* what happened. I *have* to know. I'm not like Mark," she said, shaking her head slightly. "I can't just let the past be the past and try to forget about it because I can't change it. I've tried to explain it to him, but...but I don't think he understands. I can't put it to rest yet, no matter how much I want to...so much was done to me, to my *memories*, even to my subconscious, and I have to know what. I just can't...let it go."
         Alexander hugged her tightly. "You don't have to do this all at once." he said softly. "If it gets to be too much, any of it, stop. You have all the time in the world, Christine. Don't hurt yourself more by learning too much too fast."
         She looked up at him. "When did you get so smart, Alex? Most of what I remember of you is that wise-ass you were so good at being."
         He grinned his own distinctive grin. "The wise-ass is still here, Christine. I've just learned tact."
         She laughed. "I'm glad you came down here with me. I thought I could do this by myself, but..." she said, sighing suddenly. She pulled away from him and went over to one of the computers. "So...what's the access code for this terminal's server?" *** *** *** ***          "I found it." she said flatly. After 40 years, the files were still there, archived in one of the old servers. Alexander came over to her. He had been searching as well, trying to find the old files. He suspected they were there; after all, they contained so much data that was still revolutionary that he suspected that they wouldn't be destroyed.
         But, oh, God, had they ever been hard to find. The two of them had been looking for the last three weeks. She had doggedly looked, and soon it had become a quest for him as well--what kind of man had his father once been? They say the sins of the fathers were revisted upon the sons, and he felt it now--he felt the weight of the things his father had done, felt them wehn Christine would wander the basements, telling him about the things she remembered. It was strange to see her seeming fragile, when for all his life, she had seemed so strong. He had gotten to know her well in these last three weeks...she often said she was glad he was helping her. If nothing else, he had been able to make her laugh when things got too heavy.
        It was strange how she hadn't wanted Owen's help. At all. Both of them knew he could have found the information for them with ease, but no, she'd wanted to do this on her own. And Owen had let her. It was all very strange.
        "Good." He frowned. "Don't read it here. Transfer it up to my office and read these files there."
         "But I..."
         "Christine, really--do you *want* to read those here? You know how strong the memories are for you here anyway...do you *want* to spark the more unpleasant ones while you're actually *in* this place?"
         "No...I...I suppose I don't." she said, frowning. Her hands were shaking, but she didn't know why. She just did as he said, and transferred the files quickly, even downloading a copy onto disk so she could take them home.
         Alexander smiled suddenly and went over to her. "Christine...I know this is all really hard for you. You want to find out everything, and you want to know *now*. But trust someone who's known you all his life--take it slow. You don't want to find out too much to fast. Give yourself time."
         She smiled faintly. "I will." she softly. She stood and stretched, even unfurling her wings before closing them again. "In fact, despite the fact that right now I want to just run up and read these," she said, tapping her disk, "I'm going to wait. I just realized that I haven't eaten. Would you care to join me?"
         Alexander grinned and bowed slightly. "I would be delighted." He offered his arm. "Milady?"
         She grinned back at him, and took his arm. *** *** *** ***          "So...how's Hope doing?" Alex began. He seemed nonchalant, but Christine saw the faint tightening of his face.
         "She's OK. She's a little...she's getting used to everything. Give her time, Alex...she'll warm up to you." she said, reaching over and patting the man's hand. Hope, for some strange reason, seemed completely unable to stand her father. And she made her feelings abundantly clear.
         Alexander smiled and patted her hand back. "You were always good at giving sympathy."
         "One goes with their strengths." she said with a smile and a shrug.
         "Still self-depreciating, Christine?"
         Her smile widened. "Again, one goes with their strengths."
         Alexander laughed. Christine laughed briefly then went back to eating--or at least picking at her food--while she waited for her smile to fade and Alexander to stop chuckling. She brushed her hair out of her face. Alexander looked at her and smiled.
         "It seems almost all of my memories of you have you doing that." he said, grinning and flicking the lock of white hair that had immediately fallen back in her face. She blushed slightly and wasn't quite sure why. Things had been getting...strange...the last week or so around Alex. She had no idea why. She was noticing things about him that she hadn't before, and that was...strange...too. "That, and you singing."
         She smiled again. "Like I said..."
         Alexander chuckled faintly. Then he sighed. "You were gone so long...all those years, everyone thought you were dead."
         "It was for the best." she said. "I couldn't come back during that crap with Shiva--Thoth insisted. And it would be something of a mess to show up and have a time with two temporal versions of my sister. I had to wait for it all to play itself out. And wait for a time ready for those children. Besides, if I came back any sooner, there was a chance Shiva would get wind of it and have gone after his son. And that would be terrifying, with as powerful as the boy is. Thoth told me they have a future...what, I don't know. Time will tell." she said with a shrug.
         "Do you have any idea?" Alex asked, his brow furrowing.
         "I wish I did." she said softly, sipping her glass of wine. She shook her head. "But I have no idea. Something awaits them, that much I know. Just like I know something's going to bind them together for the rest of their lives."
         Alexander frowned. "What do you mean?"
         She sighed. "They have a link far deeper than me and Belinda's. They have...I can vaguely sense the dependence they have on one another. It's mainly on Christian's side. He's as powerful an empath as his mother is a telepath, and I *know* that that has to be hell for that boy. It's one thing to know what others think, but sensing their emotions? I know how it is for me, and I'm a mild empath. Sometimes, you can't tell where your emotions end and where someone else's begin. You can never be sure if what you're feeling is really what *you* are feeling, or if you're just leeching off the nearest person. I think Hope puts him in perspective...but I think Hope needs him, too. I think she's gotten used to being his...buffer against the world. I don't know if I should let them keep doing this or cut it off now. One day, they're going to have to separate. There are risks to stopping it now and risks to doing it later. I can wait until he's a stronger person, but that means's waiting until he's also a more powerful empath and more dependent on Hope. No matter what, it's not going to be easy, but it has to be done."
         "Do it slowly." Alexander said, shrugging. "Help him develop his own buffers. He's resilient--he'll learn."
         "That's probably the best way. But I've got time. They're just children." she said. Alexander was serious, and his face showed it. His eyes--and she noticed suddenly that he had very pretty eyes--were troubled. Then she noticed with surprise that he was an attractive man. It was a little jarring. Then she frowned and focused her eyes on her hair--a much smarter place to focus on. "Oh, goddamn it." she muttered. "I could superglue this streak back, and it'd still end up in my face."
         Alexander laughed. "You wouldn't be you without hair in your face. Or without that voice. How's life off of the stage?"
         "Strange." she said, smiling faintly. "But I'm used to it--after all, I did spend fifty years off of it. But before that, I kept my family fed with my singing. And now that I'm back in this time, I'm so...tempted to go back to opera. But I won't. That was my old life. That life--the woman I was--is gone." She smiled again. "But maybe in a few centuries."
         "I'd love to see the diva on stage again. You came alive when you were on stage. Even though I *hated* opera..."
         Christine snorted. "Only 'hated'?" she interrupted. "Alexander, as I recall, you had to all but be dragged there kicking and screaming!"
         "OK, so I loathed opera." he said sheepishly. "The only time I would go with anything even vaguely resembling willingness was to see you. The last Tosca you did at the Met was electrifying. I have it on disk, since they were doing a live broadcast of it."
         She laughed. "I don't even remember. It was so long ago for me. Actually, I'm surprised you even remember--it was at least fifteen years!"
         "I never forgot it. The videodisk didn't hurt, either."
         "You watch it?"
         "Well, the second act. That's interesting. The rest...eh."
         "I'm going to let that go to prevent your eminent death."
         "Come on, you know I hate opera."
         Christine barely managed to keep a smile off of her face. "You..."
         "But I love to hear you sing."
         "Flattery becomes you, Mr. Xanatos."
         "I try." he said, raising his glass slightly and nodding in her direction. "And I'm about to hit you over the head with the request for you to sing."
         She smiled slyly. "Why do you do the things you do? Why do you do these things?" she sang. "What do you want of me? What does he want of me?" she finished "What Does He Want of Me?" from Man of La Mancha.
         Alexander looked at her, his eyes piercing. Her smile faded. He set his glass down. "I thought I could do this." he said to himself. "But I can't. I can't lie to myself anymore."
         "A-Alexander?"
         "Christine...I'm in love with you."
         The glass of wine she had just finished slipped out of her hand and bounced off the table and onto the floor, somehow managing not to shatter.
         "Excuse me?"
         "I'm in love with you." Alexander said nothing after that, he only raised his eyebrow. Christine just stared at him.
         "Alexander, you've lost your mind." she said, blinking.
         "Then I lost it a long time ago, Christine." he said, leaning back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. "I've been in love with you since I was thirteen years old."
         "Now I *know* you're nuts." she said, shaking her head. She put her hands on her hips. "No. There's no way that...."
         He jumped to his feet and was in front of her in seconds. "Opening night of Turandot at the Met. Mom got sick--a cold. Extra ticket, and I didn't want to stay with a baby-sitter. So Dad said I could go. Actually, he said, 'It's time you got an appreciation for the opera. Get dressed.' I was *not* happy." he said with a wry grin. "Beautiful set, but I was bored to tears and ready to *die*. So I'm suffering though Act I, looking around through the opera glasses. When, all of a sudden, I had my breath literally knocked out of me. What happened? A vision in white. A woman. She appeared and made a single gesture. The second I saw her, I was lost. You, Christine. In that instant, you suddenly weren't 'Belinda's mother' in my mind, like you always had been before. I suddenly saw you as the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life." He smiled faintly. "I understood that opera, then--I knew why Calaf was willing to risk his life for Turandot. In a bolt of white, everything in my life turned upside down." he said, leaning in closer to her. She drew back slightly. "Dad asked me what was wrong when he heard me gasp. How could I explain to him? I didn't know myself. Everything was different. For the first time in my life, I was aware of women. Of you. I didn't know what had happened, but I did know this--by the end of the opera, I had sworn to myself I would win you." he said, smiling faintly. "As I got older, I told myself to get over that childish crush. And I thought I had. But I now know that I never did. It's still here. It will *always* be here." he said, tapping his chest.
          She began shaking her head. "No. No, no, no. You...you fell in love with an idea. With a woman on a stage. Not me."
         "If only that was true. Would it have lasted this long if it had just been an idea I had fallen in love with?"
         "Yes." she said flatly. "Being in love with an idea is the easiest thing to be in love with. You don't love me, you love your...*idea* of me." she said, nodding. "Besides, even if you *did* love me, are you forgetting Mark?"
         "No. I'm just not going to let a little thing like that stand in my way." he said, sitting back down.
         "A little thing like... OK." she said in stunned disbelief. "What the *hell* brought all of this on?" she said, brushing her hair out of her face.
         "I let Erika slip away...and I won't let it happen now. I won't let you slip through my fingers because I won't speak up." he said, putting his hands on her shoulders. "I won't lose you. I won't keep silent. I'll do *whatever* I have to...but in the end, I will win."
         "What am I, some prize?"
         "A prize? No, Christine...but you will be something I have to fight for." he said, gently lifting her face with fingertip.
         "I--I think I should go." she said, trying not to shake. She looked at him, searching his face desperately for the child she had known so long ago...but the child was gone from her memory, barely more than a phantom after so many years. And this...this was no child; there was no trace of a child within the man's face. He leaned closer to her and gave her a feather light kiss. Her eyes flew open.
         Alexander walked back to his chair and sat down, putting his hands behind his head, leaning back in the chair. He smiled faintly.
         "If that's what you want to do." he said nonchalantly. She got to her feet and started to leave, her mind whirling. "But Christine." he said, calling out without raising his voice, with an inherent confidence that she would turn around--which she did. She was shocked again to look at him and realize that she could barely remember what he had looked like as a child, or what he had been like; he was almost a stranger to her. "You will be back."
         "Yeah. To bring Hope to see her father." she said, disconcerted. The way he was looking at her right now...her heartbeat sped up. "That's it."
         The faint smile came back. "We shall see."
         She turned and ran. *** *** *** ***   ***          She was afraid. Not of Alex--but how she felt right now. When had she stopped seeing him as that little boy? She couldn't reconcile the two, the half-remembered child and the man who had looked at her like that and who had been so certain of himself. She couldn't help but think of the opera that had started all of this for him--"In your eyes, I saw the light of heroes. In your eyes, I saw your supreme confidence. And I hated you for it! ...and I loved you for it."
          She landed on a rooftop quickly, shaking. No, no, no. This was all wrong. This was just messed up completely. And it was *not* helping that she could remember the way his lips had felt during that brief kiss. She touched her lips without intending to, then she stomped her foot. No, no, *no*. She looked skyward. "Is there any particular *reason* why You're turning my life into a soap opera?" she said. "Or do You just like to screw with my life when it seems to get settled?" She shook her head. This was ridiculous. She had someone who loved her at home, and she would return to him. Alex would just have to get over this silly, left-over remnant from childhood. If only he hadn't looked at her like that...
         Get a grip! she thought to herself. All of this is just because you were close to him and picked up on his emotions. That's *it*.
         She decided to ignore the fact that she had never been able to read his emotions before. *** *** *** ***          She burst in the next night. "What are you doing to me?"
         Alexander looked up. A grin lit his face when he saw her. "Christine?"
         "No, no, no. You stay where you are!" she said, holding out a talon and pointing it at him...hoping her hand wasn't shaking...
         He frowned. "Christine?"
         "I can't eat. I toss and turn all day when I sleep, and that's a damned hard thing to make me do. I can't think. Leave me alone!" she yelled, angry tears burning in her eyes. "Just...stop! No, no, I told you, stay...no! Alex!" she yelled. All of a sudden she was swept up in his arms, him holding her tightly while she shook, trying weakly to get free but not knowing if she really wanted to.
         "Ssh. Ssh. Calm down, ssh. Tell me what's wrong. Ssh. What ever's bothering you, tell me. Sssh. Sssh. Everything will be fine, I promise. I promise..."
         She rested her head against him when it suddenly felt to heavy to hold up, still shaking slightly. "Bimba, bimba, non piangere." he whispered gently. [Child, child, don�t cry.]
         He heard her laugh. "I thought you hated opera. And here you are quoting it, and quoting it quite well, may I add. Butterfly?"
         "I, shall we say, 'borrowed' Owen's recording of your Butterfly not long after I saw Turandot." Alexander frowned suddenly. "You know, that tenor looked a lot like Owen..."
         She laughed dryly. "Erik Vogel. He was Erika's father. He died."
         His arms tightened around her. "Erik, eh? How did he die?"
         "Long story. A very long story." she said, sighing heavily, and laying her cheek against him. "But you listened to that Butterfly? To this day, I think that was one of the best recordings I've ever done. That either of us did. It was when I still loved him...and in his way, he still loved me."
         "It was amazing." Alexander said gently. "But...tell me about Erik."
         He could hear the smile in her voice, even though he couldn't see her face. "Why? Jealous?"
         "A little." he said faintly. "Besides, I want to know who you could fall in love with. Enough to have their child, but not enough to ever mention even to tell his child."
         "Erik was..." She sighed. "It was a long time ago. A lifetime ago. Several of them, actually." she said, lifting her head and looking him in the eyes. Alexander brushed her hair out of her face--the white streak that was forever falling in her eyes no matter what she did with it-and looked into her dark eyes.
         "You've been through more lifetimes than anyone else, Christine." he said, touching her face gently. "More hard times than I think anyone else could have taken. But you're still surviving. You always will. I remember the occasional bruises on your face...the way you wouldn't lie about them, either. If someone asked you, you just said what happened. I remember, when I was little, that I couldn't understand why on earth someone would hit you. I was about seven or so, and I wondered if it was some strange, grown-up thing. I decided I wouldn't do it. I still," he said, brushing her cheek gently with the back of his hand, "can't understand why someone would ever hit you."
         She lowered his head and leaned her head slightly against his hand. "Because I would let them. I was young and I was stupid, and conditioned to think nothing of it. I hope I'm over that. I think so, but... I won't know unless I'm in that position. And given my lousy track record..."
         "Well, not for a while. You know I'll never hurt you." he said, lifting her face. He put a slight emphasis on 'I'. She stepped away from him, out of his arms, and walked to the window.
         "I...I should go." she said, resettling her wings. It was the nervous habit that took over biting her lip, which she stopped after she grew her fangs back. She wasn't going to look at him right now...it was too dangerous.
         She felt his hands on her shoulders, then wrap around her from behind. "I wish you would stay." he said gently in her ear, his chin on her shoulder. His arms tightened around her waist. She began to shake slightly, feeling unsure of herself. Not knowing whether to stay or go, knowing she had a choice to make and having no idea how to go about making it. She knew if she opened her mouth to stay anything, she would end up stammering hopelessly. She was out of her depth and she knew it.
         Alexander sighed heavily, then kissed her neck. "Stay with me."
         "I...I...I should go." she said, deciding the smartest thing to do was to just cut and run. Give herself time to figure all of this out and figure out what exactly she felt and what exactly she wanted to happen. Now, she felt off-balance and not on secure footing. Why the hell had she come here? And why was she where she was right now? How had this ended up so differently than she intended this to go?
         "It's not about what you *should* do, but what you *want* to do. Stop thinking so much, Christine. Your whole life, you've thought about things too much. Everyone always said you were just like Goliath in that. For once, stop thinking." he said. He turned her to face him, and kissed her passionately. She tensed, for an instant, not expecting it, then went limp. Maybe...maybe he was right. Maybe she thought too much. Maybe...he seems to know, she thought, still feeling off-balance. Maybe...I don't know what to...what will happen if...how do I...but he...I...
         She gave up. The kiss ended and she fell against him, weak and out of breath. "I..."
         "If you want to go," he said, still holding her in his arms, her still somewhat collapsed against him. "Then go. I won't stop you. I won't try to make you stay. I won't do anything you don't want me to."
         She said nothing. She felt ready to cry, and she had no idea why. Why suddenly hit her. She was confused. She didn't know how she felt, what was happening, or how to deal with this. Her head was beginning to pound.
         "Do you want to go?" he said, his voice a whisper.
         "I...I don't...I don't know." she said, shaking her head, as though shaking it would clear it. "I just don't kn..."
         "Go." he whispered, his arms tightening around her for an instant, then letting her go. "If you aren't sure, then go. I won't lie, Christine. I want you. But I don't want you unless you know, one way or the other, what you want." He took a step back from her, but still reached out his hand to trail her hair over it as he slowly pulled it away. "When you know...let me know. I'll be here."
         She frowned. "I don't un...I...I give up." she said, feeling bewildered. She shook her head again. "I...I'll see you later, Alex." she said, opening the window slowly, waiting for him to say something. He stayed silent. In fact, he was doing paperwork. She frowned suddenly, a strange feeling running through her. What was going through his head?
         That was when he looked up. "If you stay," he said softly, "Only stay because you want to. If you go, then go for the same reason. But don't run away."
         "I...good-bye." she said. *** *** *** ***          She stared at the moon. It was not time to go back, she knew. How could she face Mark now? Now, when she was thinking about another man? She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head again. Everything had been so clear...and now it was all upside down. He had let her go. She started shaking again. A little more pressure, and he would have given up...but he had stopped and let her go, not wanting her like that. Now she was more confused. Now she didn't know what he felt. Did he love her? It no longer seemed like a childish wanting to possess anymore. He could have simply had her then and it would have been over. But he had...and she...
         She heaved another sigh and rubbed her temples. She sighed again. OK. So what did she feel? Pretty damned confused. That was beating out anything else. And her head was pounding like mad. She normally didn't get headaches. Hell, the last time she remebered headaches like this...there was that time with Mark, when he had been the Hunter. Before that...that time when her real memories came back, after Owen's spell. Why was she getting them again? It didn't make sense.
         Later, she thought. Later. Time now to go home. And she couldn't go home thinking about another man. Time to put this out of her head for a while. Time to go home. This could wait.
         She flew home, singing sadly and not even aware of what she sang.

         "Porgi amor
          Qual che ristoro
         Al mio duolo;
         A' miei sospir.
         O, mi rendi il mio tesoro,
         O mi laschia almen morir."

         [Please, Love,
         Bring some relief
         To my sorrows;
         To my sighs,
         Oh, give me back my treasure,
         Or let me die.]

*** *** *** ***

         "Christine? Where were you?" Mark said, looking up when he heard her come in. "Are you all right?"
         She smiled, and prayed it looked normal. "Fine." Her smiled widened into a genuine one. Hope was sitting in his lap, and he had a book open and had been reading it to her. She felt something soften in her, and it relaxed her--she loved him, she knew that. Enough of this garbage with Alex--the second she saw Mark, how she felt about him reassured her of herself. She felt better, on firmer footing, not so completely uncertain of herself. She puzzled over why she felt so unsure of herself around Alexander.
         "Christine? What's wrong?"
         "Nothing."
         Even Hope didn't believe that--she shook her head and rolled her eyes, then began humming to herself. Christine stared at her granddaughter. "Hope, honey, where did you learn that?"
         She looked up. "I don't know--I heard it today and thought it was pretty."
         "Was it the first time you've heard that?"
         "Yeah. Ale...my father let me listen to a recording. It was very pretty." She frowned suddenly. "In fact, the lady sounded like you!"
         "I...it was me. That's Un bel dì from Madama Butterfly. He has the recording of me."
         "Oh."
         Mark looked back at Christine. She could see the concern in his eyes--she was thinking about Alex again, so she *knew* her far-too-expressive face was revealing how she felt. She also knew he wouldn't question her in front of Hope.
         "Hope, sweetie, why don't you go and get an apple."
         "I don't like apples."
         "Get one anyway." Mark said absentmindedly, looking at Christine. "They're good for you."
         "Can I have a pomegranate instead? They *look* like apples."
         "Go on." he said, smiling at her. Hope jumped down and skipped off. Mark smiled faintly. "She's got your ear for music."
         "I noticed that--I'm thinking about teaching her to play piano--she did love to listen to the harpsichord..."
         "Christine, what's wrong? Something's bothering you, I can tell."
         "It's nothing. I'm fine."
         "And I have a lovely piece of beachfront property off the coast of Arizona to sell you." he said flatly, sarcasm dripping from every word.
         Christine snorted faintly in spite of herself, and walked over to where he was sitting. "I'm fine, I promise. I just have a lot on my mind."
         He reached up and pulled her into his lap. She tensed, then relaxed against him, her head against his chest. She sighed.
         Mark let her sigh--he knew something was bothering her--and he knew she wouldn't say word one about whatever it was until she was ready to. He had to give her time--she was very closed and very private, and he suspected he'd never get to really know the deep part of herself that she kept hidden from *everyone*, sometimes even herself. The best thing to do was give her the space she needed--as well as the support. She was a contradiction, he had discovered--half the time desperately needing to be alone, the other half needing someone, almost with a childlike desperation, clinging as if terrified at any moment she would be alone. Sometimes needing to be alone but needing someone at the same time--and this was one of those times. So he simply held her as her mind whirled over *something*, letting her know that he was there if she needed him, biting back the urge to ask her why she was shaking like she was, what made her frown so.
         Christine didn't want to think anymore, but her thoughts kept spinning 'round and 'round her head, tormenting her. She sighed again and held onto Mark, trying to make everything make sense again, trying to empathically tap into his security and certainty so she could find some of her own. She felt ready to cry, and he didn't know why. She hated being so off-balance. All she wanted--all she had ever wanted in her life--was stability. A nice, boring, ordinary life. And just when it looked like she was getting it, the earth was wrenched out from under her again. She *liked* her life. She loved Mark. She loved Hope. She loved Christian, the shy child who nonetheless had enough power to one day tear the world from pole to pole, but whom even now it was obvious he would know what to do with that power. And Belinda was finally getting the chance to grow up...everything had been going so well. And now it was all confused. And the fact that it was so confused scared her--if she was certain of her feelings for Mark, would she be feeling like *this*? She *thought* she knew what she felt for the man who held her now, but...but her own confusion over Alexander sent dark doubts over what she once had understood.
         She considered just ignoring all of this--slipping back into her nice comfortable life. Just ignoring the way Alex was making her feel. But she knew herself--she knew that if she did that, she'd be lying to herself and her doubts would stay there, and eventually tear her apart. But to risk everything for an uncertainty, especially when everything had felt so *right*, and the uncertainty so *strange*...
         She buried her face in Mark's chest. His arms tightened around her. She felt so small in his arms to him, suddenly...
         "Christine...please, tell me what's wrong." he said, not able to keep silent any longer. Something was tearing her apart.
         She looked up at him. "I..."
         "Mom-mee! I finished my pomegranate!" Hope said, bounding over to her.
          Christine shut her mouth with a snap, and plastered a smile to her face. "Oh, did you? Good girl. Come on, let's go wash your face." she said, jumping up and picking up the child.
         Mark stared after them when they left, frowning. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. But what?

***   ***   ***   ***          She planned on never going back. She had found what she needed, and she'd stay away, except for taking Hope to see her father. Everything would calm down and go back to normal.
         Until she realized she had left her copies of the files at the Eyrie.
         "You're laughing at me, aren't You?" she whispered to the sky. She sighed. She wanted those files. Needed them. There was so much she had to know...
         Briefly, she considered just hacking her way in. After all, she knew where they were located...She decided against it. She was still behind the technology after her long absence, she would need more time to get up to her old level of knowledge. No, she'd just go back to the lion's den.
         "Besides...it was the wine. That was it. He just had one or two sips too many. Yeah. That was it. Same with me. One or two sips too many." she said to herself. She knew she was completely lying to herself, but that was OK. It beat the truth.
         "I'm an idiot..." she said to herself as she decided to go to the Eyrie. After all, all she was doing was picking up the files and leaving. Nothing more...
         "Christine? Where are you going?" Mark asked her when she saw her heading for the door.
         She turned. "I...need to finish finding files at Eyrie." she said, the words popping out before she could stop them.
         "All right...how close are you to finding them all? I've barely seen you these last few weeks." Mark said, going over to her and touching her cheek. She smiled.
         "Not too much longer." she said, nuzzling his hand for a moment.
         "All right." he said, and kissed her forehead. She smiled faintly again, and left. *** *** *** ***          "Files. I want my files." she said flatly. She had been chanting "Files. I'm going to get the files and go." under her breath the entire time she was en route to Eyrie.
         "Here." Alexander said, not looking up from his paperwork. He nodded in the direction of the microdisc on his desk. She went over to it and not so gracefully grabbed it.
         "Uh...thanks. Thanks for all your help."
         "I'll want that back after you finish with it." he said, not looking up. "It's still XanaCorps property, and still classified information. I don't want it leaking out."
         She nodded. "That's...that's fair, I suppose." she said. "And...thanks again. For everything." She headed for the window, glad that everything had gone so smoothly. She started to spread her wings, when she heard Alexander again.
         "Christine...I meant what I said."
         She knew he wasn't talking about wanting the files back. She desperately wanted to pretend that she hadn't heard him, but she had.
         "Alexander..."
         "I'm not going to push you on this. I know better."
         She came back inside. "Alex, listen...I'm flattered, really I am, but...but..."
         "You don't think I really love you."
         "No."
         "You're wrong." he said, not looking up from his computer. She went over to him.
         "Listen to me." she said, putting her hands on his shoulders and swiveling him away from the desk. "You are *not* in...in...in love...love with me." she said, jarred by the way he looked at her. She tried *really* hard to stamp down on the fact that she *was* attracted to him. He was a handsome man. It was undeniable and she didn't even bother trying to lie to herself. He was intelligent, handsome, and he made her laugh. She was attracted to him. She wasn't dead, after all. But she was involved. With someone she *loved*. Simple lust--attraction! Attraction! It's just *attraction*; there's a difference! a little voice screamed in her head--was not a reason to be stupid. After all, for better or worse, spell or no, this was the father of her grandchild. This was not going to happen at all. It just wasn't.
         Another little voice started laughing hysterically in her head over *that* one.
         He stared at her. His eyes, light color though they were, seemed suddenly very dark. Christine fought back a sigh--she wished to God that she could read him. But all of his emotions were a blank to her, and it left her unsure of herself. She wasn't at all used to having to rely on body clues and vocal inflection.
         His eyes seemed piercing to her--she wasn't at all used to being looked at as he was looking at her. Mark did, but she was always able to read his emotions so it never threw her as much as Alexander's eyes disconcerted her. And...something else entirely...
         Her hands were shaking. It took her a while to realize it, but they were. She quickly yanked them off of his shoulders. "Y-You're just not!" she said.
         It had suddenly hit her why she was so completely disconcerted. It was because she was suddenly very sexually aroused. It had come out of nowhere and she was completely not expecting it. Get a grip on your hormones, Christine!, a little voice yelled in her head. And no, getting a grip does *not* mean wondering what it would feel like if he would get a grip on *you*!
         "I--I should go." she said, deciding that getting away was a very safe thing to do.
         "If you think that's best." Alexander said, tilting his head coolly, but his eyes still burning at her.
         "I-it is." she stammered. Why did she feel like she was straight out of one of those wretched romance novels, going into spasms of lust for no damned reason? It was entirely too disconcerting a thing for her. She was no stranger to lust, but random like this when she needed to keep her wits was completely alien to her.
         It seemed a second later--if that, or maybe an eternity--later, he was on his feet, towering a few inches over her, suddenly very much a presence.
         "Then go." he said, his eyes still burning into her, so close to her that she couldn't focus on anything else. "or do you want to stay?"
         "I...I..." she stammered, feeling overwhelmed. She was almost afraid to move. "I..."
         The next instant, she had no idea how or when, exactly, she had rushed him and they were kissing, her mind blanking out rather quickly. Her heart rate sped up, and everything just shorted out aside from what she could only describe--had she been capable of description--as the primal need that had driven all species since time immemorial.
         How had she ever seen this man as a child? She had been fooling herself--he was a child no more than she who had never been one was. She had refused to admit to this attraction, and that had been her downfall. Had she accepted it and dealt with it as the human weakness that it was, she could have been all right. But now, it was too late, it crashed in on her all at once, and she was lost. All her emotional ties, her responsibilities, all of it, lost in a fiery upsweep of burning, enveloping, drowning...obeisance... All of a sudden, where she was was not the real world and she was not herself; this was a different place and she was a different woman, the life she lead and the man she loved suddenly no longer existed, all that there was was the here and now of this place, of *this* man, of this rush...
         There was, right then, nothing else. *** *** *** ***          "What in the *hell* just happened?!!?"
         Christine buried her face in her pillow. Then she began banging her head against it. It was too soft. "Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it." she said over and over again.
         "You know, Christine, that's not the typical reaction to wild, passionate sex." Alexander said, raising his eyebrow.
         She looked up to give him a look that could have boiled water. "What the *fuck* was I *thinking*?" she said, then buried her face back in the pillow. She jumped out of bed quickly, taking the sheets with her. "It didn't happen. You got it? It *never* *happened*! Oh, God, where the *hell* was my brain?!!?"
         "I don't remember you cursing this much."
         "Yeah, well that's life. People change. God damn it...and why aren't you getting dressed?!!?" she said agitatedly, putting on the clothes that were tossed all over the place as she found them. "Where's my damn shirt?!!?"
         "Christine, calm down."
         "I will *not* calm down!" she yelled, giving him a look of pure disbelief. "Alexander, this is not a time to be calm! I just...we just...oh, god! And will you get dressed?!!?"
         "No. I'm quite comfortable the way I am."
         "Well, I'm not! Oh, God, what *was* I thinking?!!?"
         "'Thinking' per se got shorted out before we even made it out of my office. Which is probably where your shirt is."
         "This didn't happen! Are we agreed on this? We keep this *to* *our*selves*. You know, random, fluke thing, will never happen again..."
         "No."
         She stooped midstream. "Excuse me?"
         "No. It was not a fluke, it did happen, and it will happen again."
         "The *hell* it will! Jesus, Alex!"
         He smiled faintly. "You enjoyed it and you know it."
         She turned bright fuschia, then made a face and said, "Smug little bastard, aren't you?"
         "We *both* know you weren't faking that." he said, raising an eyebrow.
         "You....you...you...!" she managed to splutter out.
         Alexander's attempt at a straight face failed miserably.
         "What are you laughing at?" Christine said, brushing her hair out of her face, her chest heaving.
         "You."
         "You...you...will you please get dressed?!!? And this is no laughing matter!"
         "Christine, my dear, it is a laughing matter."
         "No, it's not!"
         "Will you relax?"
         She stopped fuming and started at him. She blinked a few times. "You...want me to...relax.   After...this...you want me to relax."
         "Yes."
         "Um, correct me if I'm wrong, but...we just had sex!!!!!!" she yelled suddenly at the top of her lungs.
         "You most certainly are not wrong there." Alexander said, a faint smile on his lips in remembrance.
         She continued, deciding to ignore him rather than smack him. "Are you forgetting that I'm in a relationship? Happily so?"
         "Not too happily, or else what just happened *wouldn't* have happened." he said, raising his eyebrow.
         "Oh, don't even try putting this on me!" she roared, shaking. "You...you...this is all *your* fault!"
         "You're acting as if our sleeping together was a bad thing."
         She stared at him, her jaw hanging open. "I don't even believe this."
         Alexander stood up. Christine very carefully kept her gaze on his face, because he *still* had not gotten dressed.
         He lazily started dressing. "This," he said, his voice full of the quiet, almost smug, certainty that she remembered to this day as being in his father's voice, "was not a mere fluke, Christine. And we both know it. This is not a random, one time thing. Neither one of us is the type of person to do something like this. There is something else involved...if you don't want to admit this to yourself, fine. Keep your little delusions." He suddenly looked at her out of the corner of his eye, a faint smile on his face.
         "But we *both* know better."
         She stared at him again. "I...I've got to go." she said, beginning to feel out of whack again. Before Alexander could open his mouth to say another word, she was gone.
         Alexander looked out the window and saw her gliding away. He smiled to himself. "It's only a matter of time, Christine....only a matter of time." *** *** *** ***          "Oh, *fuck*." Christine said, skidding to the ground near her home. She smacked her head. The files. Not only had she fucked up her relationship with Mark, but she had forgotten the very thing she had gone to the Eyrie for--her files.
         She stood outside of her house, several yards away from it. She started at the entrance. Now what? Mark was in there. She couldn't face him *now*! She swore, climbed a tree, and started gliding. She flew around to the bedroom, and thanked her lucky stars that a) Mark wasn't in there and b) the window was open. She got in and headed straight for the bathroom. As soon as she got in, she jumped in the shower and began cursing under her breath.
         "Shit, shit, shit, shit, *shit*." *** *** *** ***          Christine knew there was no way that she could possibly face Mark right now. It just wasn't going to happen. So as soon as she showered and dressed, she got *out*. Now she flew. Great. This was just *great*.
         What were you *thinking*?!!? she screamed at herself. Good God, her brain must have absolutely *stopped*. I don't believe I slept with him....she kept repeating over and over in her mind. Worse, I don't believe I'm considering what he said! It was just sex. It had to be. It *was*. There is nothing else to this. It was just one...OK, three...sessions of sex. Good sex, she admitted to herself, her face turning red. Really good sex...ooh, I don't want to think about this anymore!, she thought, burying her face in her hands.
         She heaved a sigh. Regardless of whether or not she *wanted* to think about this, she was going to. I just ruined my life in a bout of raging hormones.
         She needed to talk to someone. Anyone. But not Belinda. Oh, she could just imaging how *that* conversation would go. And Athena...the woman would start hyperventilating if Christine told her. Demona....ye gods, no. Macbeth...oh, hoo hoo, she could just the look on his face to *that* one...maybe Gem? She settled on Gem. She figured she could talk to the quiet clone. OK. Gem it is...
         She tapped on Gemini's window, glancing around. Please be home, please be home, please be home oh, *shit*! she thought when Mars opened the window. Fuck, fuck, *fuck*, started running around in her head. Mars would be worse than *Belinda*. Oooh, she could *not* tell him.
         She plastered on the fakest smile she had ever done on her face. "Hi, Mars. Is Gem here?"
        "Nope." Mars said, ushering his cousin in. "She's out."
         Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Calm down, chica, Christine thought to herself. Just keep the smile and leave, and no, you are *not* going to tell your overprotective cousin that...
         "I slept with Alexander Xanatos!" she wailed suddenly.
         Mars stood there. He blinked a few times. His mouth opened. It moved a few times. No sound came out. He blinked a few more times.
         Then he started screaming. *** *** *** ***          She had never seen Mars turn that shade of red before.
         Or seen the little veins in his neck and forehead stick out that much.
         "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!!? YOU...YOU...YOU DIDN'T!!!!" he yelled.
         She laughed shakily. "Um, well...it just sorta, well..." She smiled and shrugged. "Happened."
         "SOMETHING LIKE THIS DOES NOT 'SORT OF HAPPEN'!!!!" he roared. He started pacing, his chest heaving. Christine...sex...Xanatos??!!? It was not a happy mental image. Oh, it was a good thing Alexander Xanatos was *not* there right now, because Mars had the not-too-vague suspicion that had Alexander Xanatos been there, he would have then found himself short a few body parts.
         "Oh, for God's sake, Mars, I'm not a child!" she said, picking up on his emotions. Oh, yeah, telling him had been a *mistake*...
         Mars glared at her. He started muttering under his breath, and Christine suspected that she most certainly did *not* want to know what he was saying. He started pacing, and shooting her glares in the process.
         Then he started yelling again.
         "YOU SLEPT WITH ALEXANDER XANATOS? CHRISTINE, WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING? CHRISTINE, HE'S HOPE'S *FATHER*! AND..."
         "He only slept with Erika because of that spell she put on him, and we all know that."
         Mars stopped pacing and started at her, an indescribable look on his face. "You're *defending* him?!!?"
         "Well, it's the *truth*!"
         Mars shook his head and muttered again. It sounded like a curse.
         Christine decided to defend herself. "I was stupid. I *really* don't know how it happened. And I have no idea how I'm going to face Mark...."
         Mars bristled at the mention of Mark's name, and then let loose a few choice things about Christine's choice in men.
         "For the love of God, will you stop dragging Mark through the mud every time someone mentions his name?" Christine yelled, rubbing her temples, feeling a headache coming on. Oh, this was *such* a mistake...
         Mars ignored her and continued grumbling.
         Christine had had enough. "Mars, you aren't helping!" she roared, her frazzled nerves showing through finally. It was yell at him or try to strangle him, and right now, strangulation was looking pretty good.
         Mars stopped mid-stream and took a good look at his cousin. "Shit..." he said, trying to think of a way to apologize to her. He took a deep breath. "OK. OK. Tell me what's wrong. I promise not to yell."
         "Don't make a promise we *both* know you can't keep."
         Mars glared in spite of himself. "OK....I promise I'll *try* not to yell." *** *** *** ***          "OK..." Mars said, taking a deep breath, "So what exactly happened?"
         "I...well...I have *no* idea." she said, shaking her head and rubbing the bridge of her nose. "One minute, we were talking, the next we were kissing, and the next, well..."
         Mars swallowed back a grimace. "Yeah, I can figure out the 'next', thank you. Christine, were you out of your mind?"
         "I wasn't exactly thinking, Mars." she said flatly.
         "No kidding."
         "If I wanted sarcasm I'd have gone to my sister."
         "Well, too bad. Why the hell were you *at* the Eyrie to *begin* with?"
         Christine frowned. "I...I'd been having nightmares. So Mark suggested I finally put all my demons to rest--find out exactly what was done to me. I've never seen the files they have on me there, after all. So I went. I told Mark not to come because I needed to do this on my own. But I couldn't find the files because they're so old. So Alexander started helping me."
         "Yeah. So he could help himself..."
         "Mars...." Christine said, a note of warning in her voice.
         "Sorry."
         "No, you're not."
         "You're right. But keep going."
         "Any way..." Christine said, shaking her head. "Things are going slowly. But we find the files. We break for food, since I'm pretty much a wreck--here's what I was looking for, but it's kind of, well...scary." she said, looking up at him and hoping he understood what she was talking about.   Mars frowned slightly, but he nodded--he did understand. He had gone through something similar himself, wanting to know what he was and where he had come from--but then, hesitating at the last moment, out of something that was indescribable; a fear of the incredible change that was about to occur that you had been waiting for but now hesitated in the face of. "I agreed. So we went and ate something. And started talking. And...well...Alex said that he was in love with me."
         "That was random."
         "Yeah. I was in shock. And I didn't believe it. But, well...things got all weird. I don't know why. So I got *out*."
         Mars's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by...'weird'?"
         "Whoa, whoa, calm down." she said, all but seeing the little red warning lights going off in her cousin's head. She shifted her wings. "Nothing 'bad'-weird...just, well...weird. I got freaked. It wasn't anything I could point to. Aside from the fact that, well, I'm attracted to him."
         Mars tried to keep the pained look on off of his face, but enough showed through for Christine to see it.
         "I'm not blind, Mars. And I'm not a hormoneless, sexless angel." she said flatly. "He is an attractive man."
         "Christine, he looks exactly like his father."
         "So? David Xanatos was no slouch, either, as I recall."
         The pained expression grew. "Christine..."
         "Oh, calm down. It's not like I was lusting after Xanatos. I hated the man, remember? Yeah, we eventually patched things up--somewhat--thanks to Owen, but still...I never trusted him further than I could throw him with both hands tied behind my back."
         "Yet you...you slept with Alexander."
         "Yes. And don't jump ahead of me, here."
         "Christine, he's Hope's...!"
         "*Mars*..." she said, the note of warning coming back into her voice. Mars snapped his jaw shut. He was going to at least *try* not to yell.
         "OK, OK. Keep going."
         "I decided to be smart. I was *not* going to go back to Eyrie. Not for a while." Christine made a face. "Then I realized that I had left my copy of all of the files *at* Eyrie. So I had to go back."
         "Did you go back alone?"
         "Yes."
         "*WHY*?!!?"
        "You said you weren't going to yell."
         "I said I would *try*. And I want to know why."
         She shook her head. "Because I didn't want to tell Mark what was going on, that's why. And I thought...well...that I really would just go, get the files and leave."
         "And...?"
         "I went. I asked for the files. Alexander was a little cold, but he gave them to me. And then, all of a sudden, well...we were in his bed. And I *still* forgot my damn files!" she said, flustered.
         "When was this?"
         "About, oh...two hours ago."
         Mars' eyes flew open. His jaw dropped. Strange sounds started coming out of his throat. He finally managed to choke out, "*Two* *hours* *ago*?!!?"
         "Mars, you look as though you're about to cough up a hairball."
         "Chris-*tine*! You...you mean you only just...you...him...only two hours ago?!!?"
         "In a nutshell, yes." she said, rubbing her pounding head. Oh, had this ever been a mistake... "I couldn't exactly go *home* right now! And face Mark? Oh, God, I don't even know how this happened!" she said, then suddenly burst into tears. She sat down on the floor and just cried.
         Mars sat down next to her and hugged her. "Christine, I don't know what to tell you. I just don't."
"I wish I knew what was going on! Why is this happening? Why can't my brain, for *once* keep me *out* of trouble? The one time I *need* to think and I don't!" *** *** *** ***          "Christine, I wish I knew what to tell you." he said, sighing. Why couldn't Christine have stayed that little five-year-old? No matter what, every time he looked at her, he still saw that little girl who had sung "Pie Jesu" and hugged his leg. But she wasn't a little girl anymore--in fact, she seemed to have gotten herself completely enmeshed in one of the most grown-up of problems.
         "I have no idea what is going on--how do I face Mark? What can I say to him? Should I even tell him? Should I keep this to myself and pray I don't slip up? And what if Alex was right, that this wasn't just a stupid one-night-stand? Alex wants more from me, but...but...I don't know! I just don't know!"
         She pounded her fist into her leg. "Oh, I should just give up on men entirely, shouldn't I?"
         *YES*! Echoed loudly in Mars' head, but he knew better than to say so aloud. "Maybe you should...well...try avoiding Mark and Alex for a few days." (Years, decades, the rest of their natural lives..., he thought to himself). "You've obviously been shaken by all of this...why?"
         "I don't know. Maybe because I have no idea how I ended up in bed with Alex. And I'm not used to be overwhelmed by lust."
         Mars tried really hard to keep a pained look off of his face, but he failed miserably. Christine...lust...no, no, no. Those were words that didn't seem to fit in the same sentence.
         "...I mean, OK, yes, I've felt lust. I'm a biological entity, after all. Hell, I've even acted on it. But overwhelmed for no good reason? Yeah, there's being swept up in the moment, but ...Mars, are you feeling OK? You look kind of green."
         He swallowed. "No, no, I'm fine..."
         "No, you're not."
         "Yeah, but I'll suck it up and deal."
         "Thanks."
         "That's what family is for." he said, patting her on the arm. "Listen, you want to stay here for a few days? Gem hasn't seen you in a while, and you do need some time away from everything..."
         "I'd love to--but how would I explain to Mark why I'm gone for a few days? He'll worry about me, and probably show up to see if I'm OK."
         Mars tapped his talon against a tooth. "Hmm. You have a point."
         Christine sighed. "I'm going to have to face Mark sooner or later. Everything was finally starting to make sense. And now...I just don't know anymore." she said, standing up and shaking her head.
         "I really wish I knew what to tell you, Christine. All I can say is to stay away from Alex for a while."
         She snorted. "Don't worry. My life's messed up enough right now--I don't need to run the risk of a one-night stand turning into an affair."
         Mars frowned. "You think that it could?"
         She brushed her hair out of her face and resettled her wings nervously. "Very, very, very easily."
         "Why...?
         "Because...I don't know. Maybe because I am attracted to Alex. Maybe because he makes me laugh without even trying." She snorted. "Maybe because he was damned good. I don't know. I do know that my instincts are telling me that if I go near him, I'm going to end up sleeping with him again."
         "Do you...love him?"
         "No. Maybe. I don't know."
         "OK. Let's try this again. Are you...in lust with him?"
         "Yes."
         "OK. Is it just lust?"
         "I don't know."
         "What do you feel for your little Quarryman?"
         Christine glared at him. "He has a *name*, Mars."
         "Just answer the question."
         "I love him. I think. And I know he loves me."
         Mars swallowed very thickly for his next question. "Well, um, is, um, the sex...?"
         She snorted in spite of herself at her cousin's discomfort. "Yes, it's good. And I'll spare you anything else in that direction."
         "Thank you. So...what's the problem here? Just, well, avoid Alex."
         "It's not that simple."
         Mars frowned. "Why not?"
         "Because I had sex with Alex. That alone royally screws things over. I doubt that Alex will let it go as a one-night stand."
         "You don't think he'd do something stupid?"
         "No. But I know Alexander. He's too much like his father. When he has his mind set on something...nothing gets in his way. And he has his sights set on me. And if it was just to sleep with me, then I wouldn't be fretting like this--and Alex would have let me know the score. No, there's something else here, and I get the feeling that things are only going to be going from bad to worse."
         Mars sighed. "I hate to say this but...I think you're right." *** *** *** ***          She ignored her instincts and flew back to Eyrie. "Alex...we have to talk. And now."
         "OK..." he said, tilting his head. Christine bit her lip. Damn, damn, damn, he looked really good when he did that. And now that she was here, in the same room with him, she remembered all too clearly what his hands had felt like on her body and what his skin had felt like underneath her own. She realized too late that she had made *another* mistake. Her body had just gone into hyperdrive. She bit back making a face--one would think she hadn't had sex in decades.
         His eyes were piercing. She shut her eyes, knowing better than to look at the blue eyes that burned at her like that.
         "Alex, what happened between us shouldn't have happened. I think we're both mature enough to recognize that." she said, trying to keep a waiver out of her voice.
         Alexander was one his feet, then. "And what if I think it *wasn't* a mistake?" Alex said, suddenly right next to her. Christine stepped back a step, knowing it wasn't wise of her to be so close to him--when he was that close, all she could think about was the fact that he was...male. The realization that he wasn't just 'Alex', but...more.
        "Alexander...it shouldn't have happened!" And I shouldn't have come back..., she thought when she realized that she was suddenly thinking about running her hands across his chest, wanting to feel the skin there again...
         "But it did, Christine. It was not a fluke occurrence, either, and I think we're both 'mature' enough to recognize that."
         "Alexander..." she said, balling her hands into fists. "I have a life! I have someone I love! I can't and I won't throw all of that away for...!" she began, then stopped short when Alex stepped up to her and put his hands on her shoulders. His hands were huge... Her breath started heaving.
         "Then why are you here?" he said, his face solemn, but his eyes boring into hers. "If you really thought this was bad, you wouldn't be *here* now."
         "What are you doing to me?" she said, her entire body shaking. Her blood was pulsing in her ears, her entire body suddenly sensitive to everything.
         "Nothing." Alexander whispered, his breath hot against her ear. His hands ran from her shoulders down her back and she tensed, her hands spasming and her breath catching.
         "I...I...I should...should...go--oooohh..." she managed to get out, her eyes rolling back slightly.
         "But we both know that isn't going to happen." Alexander said, his lips finding hers, his hands tracing her spine.
"I...this..." she stammered out. Then her hands were tearing at his clothes, her mouth on his, then his neck and shoulders, her body trembling at his touch and at the anticipation of more. *** *** *** ***          "I want more than this." Alexander said afterwards, his cheek against her hair, his arms wrapped tightly around the hybrid.
         Christine sighed, her brow furrowing. "'This' shouldn't even have happened." she said, her voice low. Her frown deepened.
         "Well, it already has and there's no reason to continue growing upset about it." he said, his lips brushing her ear. She shivered slightly at the feel of his breath. ~Down, girl�~, she thought to herself in irritation. She felt like snarling--god damn it, what was she, a walking hormone? What, was her body deciding that since it had conveniently managed to miss the teenage years, this was a good time to make up for it?
         "Alex, we have no future. I won't let this continue. I can't. I have a life, and you aren't in it as anything other than Hope's father!"
         He sighed. "Because of Mark?"
         "Yes. He does rather complicate things." she said dryly.
         Alex sighed. "For now."
         "You're not listening to me."
         Alex smiled faintly. "Actions speak louder than words."
         Christine turned bright red. "Y...you...urrgh!"
         "I notice that for all of your protestations...you're still here. In my bed. In my arms."
         He had a point, Christine realized. A very good one. So why was she there? She had no clue, other than she didn't want to move. But a point had to be made and this had to be settled now. She started to get up.
         Alexander's arms tightened around her. "Don't go, Christine. I like how you feel beside me."
         "I have to go." she said, frowning as she desperately fought off the temptation to stay. A little voice started screaming at her that she had to go, but another voice won out and she stayed where she was. She was beginning to get a headache. "I...I...I should go...I *have* to go...I..."
         Alexander sighed, then let go of her. She was confused, he could tell. He knew he could press her and she would stay, but he didn't want her like that--he wanted her to stay with him of her own free will, not because he took advantage of the fact that she was completely out of it because she was being pulled in two different directions. Besides, he was a patient man--he could wait. "Go." he said gently. "And...when you've figured out where you really want to be...I'll be here."
Christine stared at him for a minute, then got up, dressed, and left, feeling as though her head was going to explode, and only one thought running through her head:
         This is all pretty fucked up. *** *** *** ***          Her luck was as she fully expected it to be--before she could get to her bed to go to sleep, she ran straight into Mark.
         "Christine, are you all right?" he asked the second he saw her. Christine tensed. Fuck, fuck, *fuck*..., started running around her head, chasing the waves of pain. She couldn't deal with this right now.   Between her head feeling like someone was taking a jackhammer to it with every pulse and the overwhelming guilt she was feeling, something had to crack. She burst into tears. "Christine!" Mark yelped, shocked. One minute she was fine--well, maybe not fine; she'd looked ready to keel over at any second, but certainly no where near tears--and the next she was bawling. He wrapped his arms around her, but she tensed and shoved him away suddenly.
         "My head hurts." she whispered, keeping her eyes closed. She knew she was getting one hell of a migraine--she was seeing 'halos' around things and every time she moved her head in any direction for more than a few inches pain hit her like a hammer, making the world black out for a split second. "My head hurts...I just want to sleep." she mumbled.
         "Go, go." Mark said, getting out of her way--she looked as though she would collapse at any second. "Let me help you. You look terrible."
         "Thanks." she said dryly. "But I'm sure I feel worse." *** *** *** ***          He left her alone, which was good. Despite her pounding head, she stood up and went to the balcony, to look out--she needed the night air. It was not yet dawn, although she knew that the dawn was coming soon. She would have a few hours of respite from all of this--but she dreaded the sunset because she knew she would have to handle all of this then. She looked out at the slowly lightening sky. Slowly, slowly, she began to hum, then let music flow from her.

         "Piangea cantando
         nell'erra landa
         piangea la mesta
         O Salce! Salce! Salce!
         Seden chinando
         sul sen la testa!
         Salce! Salce! Salce!
         Cantiamo! Cantiamo!
         Il Salce funebre
         Sarà la mia ghirlanda."

         [Singing she wept
         on the lonely hearth,
         the poor soul wept
         Oh, willow! Willow! Willow!
         She sat,
         her head bent on her breast!
         Willow! Willow! Willow!
         Come sing, come sing!
         The weeping willow
         Shall be my garland.]

*** *** *** ***

         Mark listened to her sing. He swallowed once or twice--something, God only knew what, was ripping her apart. Why wouldn't she tell him? God, what had she discovered? What at the Eyrie was so terrible to put her in the state that she was? He sighed. They all had their secrets--he had the feeling that no matter how long they were together, neither of them would ever truly know each other. Both of them carried around so much baggage, and had borne it for so long--alone for so long--that neither of them knew how to even begin to speak about any of it.
         He sighed again. Whatever was bothering her, she would deal with it. She had her own pain, her own past...if he couldn't yet even bring himself to really talk about his own life, how could he ask her to? Her baggage and pain were her own, and in a strange way, she needed them. He understood--his pain had defined him for so long, and his dealing with it alone had defined him...where would he be without them? It was a frightening place to be...stuck in a weird middle ground of torture, more afraid to go forward than to change. He frowned. She had looked so distraught...but dawn was coming, he thought. If she wanted to talk to him, she would. He wouldn't push her on this...whatever 'this' was. *** *** *** ***          She went to the Eyrie the next night, finally knowing what to do. When she got to Alexander's off, she faced him, her lower lip between her teeth. "It's over, Alex...I...I should never have let things go as they did...but everything did go the way it did." She looked at him. "Alex..." she began, almost reaching out her hand but stopping, feeling her heart literally begin to hurt. He turned away from her. He didn't want her to see him blinking as quickly as he was. She reached out a hand again, wanting to touch him, but stopping. No. This was what was right. She couldn't live a lie anymore. She couldn't. So what if this hurt? Hurt if she stayed, hurt if she left; better to do what was right.
         "Good-bye." she whispered, and headed to the window. She opened it and jumped on the ledge to fly off into the night, when she stopped. Suddenly, under her breath, she began to sing.

         "Donde lieta usci
         Al tuo grido d'amore,
         Torna sola Mimì
         Al solitario nido.
         Ritorna un'altra volta
         A intesser finti fior.
         Addio, senza rancor.
         Ascolta, ascolta.
         Le poche robe aduna che lasciai
         Sparse. Nel mio cassetto
         Stan chiusi quel cerchietto
         D'or e il libro di preghiera.
         Involgi tutto quanto in un grembiale
         E mandero il portiere...
         Bada! Sotto il guanciale
         C'è la cuffietta rosa
         Se vuoi...se vuoi,
         Serbarla a ricordo d'amor.
         Addio, senza rancor."

         [I am going back,
         At the call of your love,
         I'll go back, lonely Mimì,
         To my solitary nest.
         I'll return once more
         To embroider false flowers.
         Good-bye, without bitter regrets.
         Listen, listen.
         Please gather the few things I've
         Left behind. In the trunk,
         There's the little bracelet
         Of gold and my prayer-book.
         Wrap them in an apron
         And I'll send for them...
         Wait! Under the pillow,
         There's my pink bonnet.
         If you want...if you want,
         Keep it in memory of our love.
         Good-bye, without bitter regrets.]

Alexander slammed his fist into his thigh at the sound of her voice. No. It wasn't over, not like this, not when he knew that she was only backing out because of her own uncertainty and desire to go to what was in some way familiar. He knew she had made bad choices before, and, by God, he would not let her make another one, going back to that ex-Quarryman who swore up and down a blue-streak that he loved her. Bullshit. Once a bigot, always a bigot, and damned if he was going to let her go back to that. No. No, that wouldn't happen. Better she be alone than that, than she risk being hurt again.
What she needed, he decided when he heard her wings unfurl as she flew off into the night, with the F she had sung so softly still echoing faintly, was an awakening as to what Mark *really* was.

*** *** *** ***

To be continued.