Consciousness was an ocean, one with a surface, on which Lucina floated, half in, half out. The world was a jumbled mess of sound and pale, red light, distant shimmery stars. Fragments of nonsensical dreams flickered and died, living full little lives in seconds, and she slowly became aware that she was lying on her back, something soft under her head. Her head throbbed with a stiff, pulsating discomfort, and her mind felt stuffed with cotton. But clarity slowly stole up to her, tapped her on the shoulder, and then shoved her into wakefulness.

“Mmnh,” was all she could say for a moment, as her eyes fluttered open to stare at the ceiling above her. There was a large hole in it. Bizarre. Her eyes traveled down a bit, and found another, smaller hole the size of a dinner plate there, the edges warped as if melted slightly. Touching her head, she winced, bringing her fingers into view, and she rubbed some fresh blood between her fingertips. Slowly, she turned her head left and right, looking for…

She saw him, sitting propped against a wall, without his leather coat, head tipped against the wall, knee up, forearm on knee, pistol dangling from his hand with his finger set just above the trigger. The security captain’s mouth was a hard line, his eyes inaccessible and distant as he stared at her, careful to avoid her eyes. Her heart began to stutter in her chest. “Killian?”

With his free hand, he lifted a shot glass from the floor, careful to avoid using a swollen, puffy-looking thumb. Sipping from the amber liquid, he watched her as she roused. A bottle of liquor sat by his side. “Mornin’, sunshine.” His voice was flat, clipped words in tight mouth, flashing teeth in the dim light. Another slow sip, a gentle grimace. “You got somethin’ you wanna tell me?”

Fear was starting to rise like bile in the back of her throat, thick and burning. She had been less scared shielding Killian from Jonquil. Her mouth went dry. Did he turn you against me, my love? Jonquil’s words writhed in her mind. “I…” was all she managed to get out before her breath caught in her chest. What was she going to say, anyway? That she could explain? That’s the problem, she could explain. Something squeezed her heart like talons of ice. “Are you going to kill me?” was all she could manage, finally.

“If I gotta,” came his immediate, cool reply. “Do I gotta, Lucina?”

“Please, Killian, I can be useful. You can…” she was going to say she could be trusted. Empty words. Wasteful words. She sat up slowly, pulling herself against the opposite wall to him, tucking her knees up, hugging her legs, as if it provided some modicum of shielding, of peace. Her head swam with the movement, and it throbbed to the rhythm of her pulse. She groaned quietly before staring across the debris-covered floor at Killian. There was a look of betrayal and sorrow on the security captain’s face, barely hiding beneath his cold anger.

He tapped the barrel of the pistol against his shin as he watched the floor vaguely. “Be a crying shame to put a hole in something pretty as you.” Slowly, his eyes, flint-hard, returned to her forehead, always avoiding eye contact, always careful, always guarded. For the briefest moment, his pupils flickered a gray-green, like a cat’s eyes, reflective, a predator in the dark. “Talk.” An emotionless imperative.

She watched him for long moments, her chin on her knees, a surface though momentarily distracting her before being consumed by the deep currents of her psyche, that he was likely not fully human either. He’d had gene modding done at some point, probably to augment his ability to see in the dark. Not so pure a human, it would seem. She drew a deep breath.

“Jonquil and I, we…We were…um…” She did not dare look him in the face. Dropping her eyes, her gaze fixated on a stray spoon, its twisted form glittering in the low torch-lamp light.

“You love him?” His question cut through the stuttering.

She nodded her head, still looking away. “Yes, but I also…don’t.” Her hands dug deep into her hair, and she grasped her head, as if to keep everything from spilling out. “We grew up together. We’ve been intimate. We sought to break free. But this wasn’t part of the plan, Killian. The murders, the evacuation, the chaos.” It had all been a house of cards, the realization slowly laying hold of her. She had thought 23 could be, would be her salvation, her freedom. “My feelings towards him are…” she made a twirling motion with her fingers. “They’re all twisted up, all mangled and spun together, a Gordian knot.”

“Y’know what Alexander did with that knot, right?” Killian made a chopping motion with the pistol. “Seems like a good solution to me.”

Knees still tucked up beneath her chin, she nodded, watching her hands as she scrubbed her fingertips together slowly, little flakes of dry blood alighting into her lap, disappearing on the dark fabric. “I don’t recognize him anymore. I haven’t recognized him for a while, to be frank. But that thing he’s become, it’s alien to me. A monster wearing human skin.” She shivered as she recalled the look in his eye, that look of mania and arrogance, of power hunger. “We need to stop him. I can help. Please Killian, let me help.”

The shot glass slowly lifted to his lips as he took another drink, considering the wall next to her. He did not seem about ready to let her help with the hunt, though. “You manipulated Vincent, didn’t’cha?” He threw the drink back and he winced, breathing out slowly. He’d kill for a cigarette right about now.

“He’s not as careful as you.”

“Hmm, flattery’ll get you everywhere. Tell me you didn’t try when we first met.”

“Sure I did, but you were fast. Wary. You’re a cornered animal, keeping everyone at bay. Snarling and nipping at hands like a wolf.” She let loose a little half-smile, remembering the speed at which Killian had slashed the connection during their introduction. “We need some vulnerability to exploit, some chink in the armor. I haven’t found yours. Yet.”

“I s’pose I should be proud or something, but you just made me sound like a walled off sociopath.” He refilled the glass. The amber liquid burbled in the still, cool air. “I’m a Wildsman,” he said finally in explanation. “Vulnerability is death.”

“And I’m a Big Sister. We both have walls our little titles necessitate, hm?” There was bitterness in her voice, despite the situation. But she sighed, running her hands over her face, finally stretching out her legs in front of her.

Killian grimaced as his finger twinged with pain. “Now what? Where do we go from here?”

“He’ll be hiding on the rooftop.” She looked at the rest of the cafeteria and saw the mess. Rubble lay strewn everywhere, splintered tables and cutlery blown to the sides of the room by the enormous force of the railgun. Shrapnel dotted the floor, walls, and ceiling, telekinetic buckshot. “He’ll be trying to find a place to lay low, hoping he can get the drop on you. I can sense him, you can’t. I can try and calm him again.”

“Sure, that calmin’ effect was real effective.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Right,” she said, with some chagrin. “Well, I might be able to try the reverse.”

“Meaning?”

“He knows me too well. He’s used to my…attempts at calming him. But I’ve never tried the opposite. Amplification.”

“You wanna amplify crazy?” Killian’s question was incredulous.

“It might work. I felt a lot of his anxiety, self-doubt, fear. Those can be crippling if dialed up. A panic attack, basically. And since those feelings are already there, I don’t have to try and manufacture them.”

“Mmm.” The statement was non-committal as he sipped at the shot glass. “I don’t hate the idea. Still got a problem, though.”

“I think it’s fine if w--”

He cut her off. “You think I believe you can switch up loyalties just like that?” He snapped his finger, his good hand, of course. “I can’t trust you, Lucina,” he said after a moment, voice softening, as if entreating her to do something, anything to change the situation.

She stared at the tips of her utilitarian boots for long moments. Her fingers fretted on her skirt, smoothing and tugging at the hem. “I think his Shattering is partly because of me. I need to fix this, even if it means they fridge me, put me on ice, use me for parts.” She took a large breath in, then held it, before letting it sigh out. “They do that, you know. At least that’s what the rumor is.” Lucina felt Killian staring at her from across the room. “Some of that blood, it’s on my hands.”

“Don’t be stupid. That was all him. Don’t be takin’ another’s blood guilt on yourself.”

“No, I…pushed him.” An idea occurred to her, and she grasped at it like a drowning woman grasping driftwood. She scrubbed at her messy hair, tugging at the matted blood from the cut on her forehead, nervous energy as she wrestled with something within her. Finally, she spoke in slow measured tones. “Look, I can…show you.” She let the locks of hair drop.

“Pardon?” Killian raised a brow. “Show me what?”

“My raw, unfiltered emotion. Memories.” She steeled herself. “I’ll take the walls down, let you in. I can prove my sincerity.” Giving a wan smile, she drew a shuddering breath. “N-not to be too melodramatic, but…I can show you my heart.”

“Juéduì bù!” He seemed to recoil a bit as he snapped his refusal. “Naw, nuh-uh. Not a gāisǐ chance.”

She leaned forward, forcing a smirk, but she grasped her hands to keep them from shaking. “What, afraid of a little intimacy?”

“Y’think I’ll let you rummage around in my skull after you’ve proven a traitor?” He began to laugh incredulously.

“No, you’d rummage around mine.” The fear of letting someone into her mind was starting to show through her bravado. “And you’d think saving your hide by jumping in front of what amounts to a buzz saw would garner me some goodwill. Maybe a little trust.” She was nearly snapping at him at this point, her breath catching a bit in the back of her throat. Her eyes glistened in the low light. “Please. Just a shred of trust, Killian.” Her voice became entreating, a little desperate. “Please...”

She watched him as he tapped the pistol against his knee, thinking. He was conflicted, clearly. Lucina knew this was a huge risk for him, plain and simple. She could easily try and force her way into his mind, alter emotions, make him more pliant. It’s something she’d done all her life as often as she could. It was not just second nature for her, it was first nature. With the other Big Sisters, it was understood that you were constantly at risk of being dominated by a stronger will, a more powerful Empath. She had seen rampant abuses of power among the Children, the twisting of minds, the alteration of personalities. So you pushed back constantly, willpower against willpower, control against control, counterattacks against counterattacks.

This moment, though, was a gamble for her as well, not just for him. Killian would have no way of knowing she was sincere, but she had no way of knowing, once he was in, what he would look at, if his emotions and thoughts would infect her. And she would be dragging down walls that had protected her all her life to allow him in. No defense, no offense, just…open. Could she really do this? The anxiety of the situation settled into her bones like molten lead, bright hot as the sun, heavy as the mountains. Her hands gripped each other as if some inexorable force was going to drag them apart, her knuckles white in her lap as she watched him deliberate.

“Fine,” the Security Captain said finally, holstering his gun and clasping his hands together, dangling them over his knees. “Fine. Lucina, I’m gonna throw the dice. High risk, high reward, I guess. Big fan of poker, personally. But if this li’l stunt don’t convince me, I’m hog-tying you and shoving you into a broom closet until the lights come on.” He smiled wanly, trying to break the tension, but she could see he meant every word.

Lucina did not breathe a sigh of relief though. “Hand me that bottle,” she sighed, pointing at the whiskey and glass. “I’ll be needing a little ‘fortification’.” He shrugged and passed them over to her.

For a moment, there was quiet as she tipped the bottle, watching the ochre liquid trickle out, and regarded the shot glass, the oily whiskey clinging to the glass walls. She threw it back suddenly, with resolution, and winced at the burn. She didn’t cough though, and was proud of herself for it. Killian just smirked.

Then, Lucina drew close to him, her limbs and chest warm with liquor, her mind just tinged with softly swimming effects of alcohol. She did not feel a lick better, though. Sliding down to the ground, she crossed her legs under her, her knees touching his. Reaching forward, she moved to take his hands, but he drew them away.

“What--?”

“Physical contact increases the connection.” She persisted in her attempts to take his hands, and he finally let her have them. “Think about it. Emotion is conveyed in a lot of ways. You can hear a quiver in someone’s voice, signaling fear or grief. You can feel when someone is tense if you put your hand on their shoulder. Some people say they can ‘smell fear’, but I’m not so sure.”

“Sure, smells kinda like sour sweat.”

His hands were big in hers as she put her palms to his. Killian’s fingers were calloused, rough, with little scars peppering the palm, the wrists, the fingertips, signs of a hard life and manual labor. He was very close to her, now, smelling of leather and liquor and steel. He curled his fingers up a bit, pressing them against her palm and wrist, and she could feel his ring finger pressed against her thrumming pulse.

He looked down at their hands, then up to her forehead, shifting awkwardly. “Now what?”

“Stare me in the eye and just…fall in.”

Hesitation. Then, his hazel eyes dropped to hers, and there was that brief flash of reflective retina, that cat-like glimmer in the dark. Killian took the moment to stare at the girl before him, to truly see her. Her irises were so strange, so alien, shifting in fractal-like patterns, a kaleidoscope, something not of this world. She was visibly terrified, putting on a brave face. She shivered gently as if cold, and her mouth were drawn and tight, a straight line, plush lips pressed together hard. The world began to dim as he studied her eyes, and that strange tunnel opened in the back of his mind, a feeling rather than a visual, but unlike when they first met, there was no sensation of invasion. Just an open door. He leaned forward, almost unconsciously, before his forehead rested against hers.

She stared up at him, eyes wide, taking shallow, harsh breaths. Lucina could feel him there, feel his raw emotion, just standing at the cusp. He was worried, primarily, of course, but there was also a sense of exhilaration. Curiosity, a faint aggravation. And desire; it was faint at the moment, but it was there all the same. She felt her cheeks warming and she chided herself mentally before realizing that something inside her resonated with that feeling.

With some chagrin, she reached forward and tried to find more resonant emotions. His curiosity was good, but the sense of desire was a stronger base to work with. Sighing inwardly, she reached forward and ‘anchored’ herself to the emotion, allowing for a free flow of psychic information. This allowed him to ‘follow’ the emotion deep within her psyche.

The way was open to him, and Killian simply...fell.