Chapter 32
Bran and I returned to my house in the middle of the night. Standing in the living room made my skin prickle like I'd been shocked by an electric eel slithering down my spine. I couldn't stay there. I kept close to Bran.
After using a scarf to carefully remove the stone from the rubble in the bedroom, Bran and I walked hand in hand back to the car. I set the small bundle in my lap. We kept our fingers entwined as we drove back to his house, but we did not speak.
There, we walked out to the patio where we sat together under a blanket and watched the world through our two sets of very different eyes, both ignoring the scarf-wrapped bundle that lay on the boards feet away from us.
Would the world look the same tomorrow? Would I be even remotely like the person I thought I was now? Did I want to be? What of Bran would remain? As much as it horrified me that I might become a murderous and manipulative psychopath, it pained me even more that there may be nothing of Bran left. Bran may have been the things of myself I did not want and hoped to deny but he was not evil. We were not diametric opposites. We were yin and yang, a little of us in each other. I leaned against his shoulder and smiled.
"Something amusing?" He asked. He must have been watching me.
I nodded. "If you are the worst my soul has to offer, then maybe I really don't have anything to worry about. You aren't so bad."
He was not comforted. "You haven't witnessed me at my worst," he said. After another moment, he added, "And I don't think I am the bad in you. I think I am just what scares you."
I considered. There was likely some truth to that. But I needed reassurance to keep my conviction strong. "You did not sell yourself to Morrigan because you lusted after power," I said. "You lusted after love. That has to count for something."
He said nothing and his thoughts were a mystery to me. He sighed out the weight of the world as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. It was nice sitting there, just being, pretending that we were not what we were, pretending that a happy future was a possibility for both of us. The sun set and the temperature dropped, but we remained, watching the stars as we had in that ancient time when we were unknowing.
Bran gave a pointed sigh, the kind indicating our wait was nearing its end. I wrapped my arms around his middle. I had not even realized I had been putting it off, but now that our reverie was nearing its end, I knew I had behaved like a coward.
"From everything in me," I whispered, "I am sorry."
Tears fell down my cheeks as I uttered those few words. It was, as most authentic apologies, an admission of guilt. I had done this. I had created a mess that all the men around me had devoted their lives to save me from. I did not recall the person any of them had known but she must have been amazing. I wished I could be that person again, someone to be proud of, someone worthy of being loved the way these men had loved me, enough to deny their own meaning of existence to live for mine. It was my acts of stupidity and selfishness that I was facing now and I had no right to feel the dread and anguish over what would happen. I had no right. Bran had the right. He was an innocent victim of my actions.
I hugged him tighter. I was the one unable to face my darkness. He had embraced who he was and embraced me but I was unable to take that step.
"Together, we fell," he said.
And in that, I knew what he was trying to say. He felt as guilty as I for that last thousand years. I had run but he had chased.
He kissed my head. "It is time, dove."
I nodded even as I gave a limp effort to pull him back as he reached for the bundle. He looked down at me with his blue and green whirlpools. I did not want to make him disappear. I did not want to punish him by severing his existence. But the warrior in his eyes was ready. It was I who, as always, wanted to run. He faced the hoard. I cowered. But it was not fair to keep making him wait. I let him reach the bundle.
He set it in his lap. He pulled back the fabric and stared at the small stone. I stared at him. It was his choice. He was the one who had endured hell and he was the one who would die.
He looked at me and forced his crooked smile. "Together."
I nodded.
He kissed me and the shrieking inside me erupted. I refused to take any cues from it. It was Bran's warm lips that mattered. He entwined his fingers with mine.
He pulled away to rest his forehead against mine. He was taking rapid breaths. "To the end of my life, dove."
"And beyond the end of mine," I whispered.
And with that, he brought our entwined hands down upon the stone.