Krelian turned the bitter thought over in his mind, idly twisting his hair around the fingers of his right hand. Miang, of course, had long since gone; Ramsus didn't seem to care about much any more, but he did follow Miang's every move, much like a sick puppy...... And he was not ready, yet, to learn the truth of his situation.

But he would never be ready. No matter how long they waited, or how much he learned, his moment of revelation would be their moment of danger. And Miang was not yet ready to merge with her counterpart. He was not ready to allow her to merge with her other half.

And there lay the source of his weakness. Elly.

Kind, beautiful, caring, understanding...... Her face constantly haunted his dreams, when he allowed himself the solace of sleep. He wanted, almost more than anything, to simply hold her hand again, or to gaze into those clear blue eyes and see friendship instead of fear, or at least the careful neutrality she had regarded him with after their confrontation over Lacan. He wanted to see her......

And she knew it. Miang knew....... what was worse, she understood everything that had driven him that far, because she had been the one to place those precarious stepping stones in front of him, since that fateful day...... one, after another, after another...... Every event, every tragedy, one more step to her, to Solaris...... to Deus......

In the end, we all become what we hate. We are bred by our mistakes, and therefore can never truly learn from them.

Bitterness...... it was all he deserved. He defied his conscience, and ended up in the arms of what he had once considered the very epitome of evil; in his turn Krelian had become worse than she was. Miang did not take lives, other than the spirits of those bodies she so desired to posess, but he slaughtered indiscriminatly at every turn, and reveled in doing so when it provided him with another piece to his puzzle.

But they deserved it; every human alive existed because of the sacrifice of his Holy Mother. And they would each shed a thousand tears for every drop of her blood that spilled for their sake.

Krelian sat up abruptly, wincing as he yanked at his own hair to free his hand. A wave of vertigo accosted him as soon as the motion stopped, and he froze, enduring it with his eyes closed against the sight of his quarters. It certainly wasn't a great loss; plain walls and rumpled sheets were all he would find upon opening his eyes.

He hoped. He wouldn't put it past the woman to leave some token behind to torture him, some remnant of Sophia, or worse, Lacan...... As if she herself wasn't bad enough already. What in heaven and earth had posessed him to...... to.....

Could he not even think of it? Krelian opened his eyes slowly, dreading what he might find. yet all he saw were the empty walls, the bare table, and the bed he reclined on, sheets scattered and blanket tossed to the floor.

It was a mess, but he found it peculiarly comforting, somehow. Although he hated to admit it, his thoughts, his emotions, were more tangled now than the disaster draped over his legs. He hoped fervently he managed to contain his state of mind better than he was now, when he went before the Ministry. They would latch onto any weakness like leeches, and never let go -- he had learned that the hard way. These lapses in judgement were, to his growing disgust, becoming a recurring nightmare......

"Unbend a little, Krelian......" Miang pushed herself up, drawing her fingers down along his ribs. "We're here to enjoy ourselves, aren't we? Really......" A small, crafty smile. "You were never this difficult before. Always willing to try new things......."

Krelian scowled, kicking the sheets from his legs to stand carefully, stretching languidly in the gray dimness of the room. No sunrise penetrated his quarters; he had long since tired of seeing such a reminder of the passage of time.

I should have known better. I am a fool if I thought letting her have her way would make things any easier for myself. The old saying really was true -- it seemed impossible he would ever learn certain lessons in life. "Especially regarding Miang," he muttered sourly, trudging across the mess to seize his uniform.

Blood spattered the left shoulder; he almost smiled. It was her blood...... A reminder, and a comfort to him, that her success with him came at a price. It wasn't much, but Krelian accepted small victories where he could. He would be a fool not to.

Or haven't I already established that I am a fool?

The bathroom light flicked on immediately upon his entrance; he blinked in the harsh illumination, hurriedly pulling his uniform on as the chill of the ceramic tiles began to travel up through his feet. And as he shrugged his coat on, truly feeling the cold for the first time in ages, his eyes were caught by the mirror......

...... And held by the sight displayed before his eyes.

A thin, ghostly pale face stared back at him, with eyes that would have done a zombie proud. They glittered like glass under the treated-florescent lighting, seeming to be both on the verge of tears and exhausted by that false release, all at once. Or perhaps it was just his own impression of himself, colored by his feelings, rather than his true appearance; he could not really find any fault in his reflection, other than the normal self-hatred that all humans experienced when looking upon themselves.

Was it that strong, his self-loathing? Did Miang truly make such an impression on him? Were her 'favors' so significant to him, or that electric touch so abhorant?

They served a purpose...... The 'trysts' as she insisted on calling them, did more than gratify her need to torment what was left of his soul; while before he would have collapsed rather than carry out his normal duties, he now felt he could carry the entire army on his back and lay seige on Shevat by himself. Deceptive in a way, but her power, however she managed to channel it, was sometimes literally all that kept him going.

God, how he hated that. He hated her.

And of course, that's why I slept with her? Stupidity. Pure, undiluted, stupidity. There were such things as stim tablets, and coffee. Or better yet, a regular sleep schedule. It was his own damned fault! He let her use Elly against him, he allowed her...... to......

"I'm not sure what it is she missed in you, Krelian......" Miang's smile was unreadable, devoid of sarcasm and kindness. Was she mocking him?

Krelian gritted his teeth. 'She'...... 'Elly', 'Sophia'....... Miang could never replace that one person, the one girl who had managed to change his life with a simple smile...... How long did he wish, deluding himself as so many young men did, that he could wake up one day, and see that precious, bright-eyed smile warming his face...... his lips.......?

He held his breath, staring again at the mirror and seeing his troubled expression reflected back to him.

Who was to say she wouldn't have chosen him, if he had told her before Lacan came back to Nisan? What said she wouldn't have been his, to hold, and to love and to care for........

He knew what her favors meant for him....... he knew what the draw of her promises would truly grant him. But he could not....... or would not...... bring himself to leave the enticing warmth of her pale, somehow familar skin......

He had always wanted, somehow, to touch that soft ivory throat...... he recalled vividly the softness of that skin, and the delicate scent of roses...... To feel, just once, those slender, supple limbs.......

"No......" His eyes pleaded the mirror, implored it. "No......."

...... Or just to rest his head on her breast, and listen to the steady, rhythmic beat of her heart...... as he had that night in Shevat, when she found him crying....... and that scent of roses, and the unmistakable sharpness that was her, and not any earthly perfume, that enveloped him. So...... close......

"No! NO!"

The mirror shattered, splintering into a thousand shards as his fist impacted the silvered glass. Blood immediately ran from his knuckles, sliding along the wall, dripping onto the glass...... running over the myriad reflections of his face, and the hateful, solitary tear that crept down his left cheek.

A million times a million of those reflections glared back at him, accusing, resenting, incriminating...... he squeezed his eyes shut, slamming his fist against the wall again, although only a few more shards clinked to the tiles at his feet.

No...... He slumped forward, leaining his forehead against the wall, hardly caring if he stained his skin with blood. Never...... I never...... Never had he wanted Sophia in that fashion. Never. She was not an object, or a thing to be desired, but a person, a human, a friend......

A friend he had loved with his heart, not his hormones. He had desired her love, yes, but....... but not......

I would never........ never....... Krelian shivered, shaking his head vigourously against the wall, hardly noticing the cuts he received for his effort. She is not Miang. She is not......

But she was Miang...... In a fashion. And vice versa.

Another shudder ran through his frame; the pain of his wounds finally bit through his reverie with that slight movement, and stabbed at his senses with a vengence.

But any pain was better, easier to endure....... He had promised himslef -- the only promise he had ever intended to truly keep -- that he would not harm her, or desecrate her purity. And yet, seen in this new perception...... he had broken that promise. Broken it and betrayed her, even if she did not know it.

What greater evil could there be, than seeing his angel as...... as Miang? What greater injury could he cause her, other than these actions?

I've broken it....... broken her....... Krelian swallowed, mouth as bitter as cold ashes. And all she'll do is turn around and forgive me......

Another tear, icy and diamond hard, slid down his cheek.

I'll never forgive myself. She'll understand. Never........


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