GOODBYE AND SORRY
Author's note: Okay, so here's the thing. It's a bit slashy. Nothing happens during the fic and it stays PG throughout, but it DOES posit a physical relationship between Cole and Zin in the past. You've been warned, so please no flames... if you do, I'll have to break out the fire-hose.
Oh, and I'm NOT a slash writer (guess I sort of am now, lol... but it's not an exclusive thing like it is for some authors). Therefore, any future stories by me are unlikely to be slash. This was just one of those 3:00am ideas and once the plot bunny wormed its way into my psyche it was write the thing or go crazy. Crazier?
GOODBYE AND SORRY
"Cole, you can't keep brooding over locking Zin in that damned vault!" Mel snapped, glaring at the Cirronian. He had been sitting on the couch in silence for hours now, not even looking at Mel when she tried to get his attention.
"He was my friend, Mel." Cole shook his head, not looking up at her.
"He would have killed you!"
"He could have, Mel. He didn't. He yelled at me to stay down and then he tried to leave."
Mel sighed and shook her head. "Cole... This is ZIN. He's one of the bad guys."
Cole shook his head and rose, fleeing the living room for the sanctuary of his War-Room.
"Cole!" Mel sighed, shaking her head and going after him. "What is your PROBLEM?" she demanded, pounding on the locked door.
The door snapped opened and Cole glared out at her, looking angrier than she had ever seen him. He had come CLOSE to looking that angry when he had taken Tev, but she had definitely never seen even half this anger directed towards her. She took an involuntary step backwards.
"He was my FRIEND! Does that mean ANYTHING to this species, Mel? Anything at all?" he demanded.
Mel took a startled step back, hurt. "Cole, of course it does... Haven't I proven that to you? Haven't I always been a good friend?" she whispered.
Cole bit his lip and nodded, closing his eyes. "Always, Mel. Until now." There was no recrimination in his voice, only sorrow.
Mel winced. "Cole..."
"Zin was my friend, Mel. Of course I feel pain over what I did to him. Why can't you understand that?"
"I..." Mel shook her head, tears in her eyes. "Cole, I'm sorry. I just... I never KNEW the Zin who was your friend. Just the Zin who murdered me in cold blood and tried to do the same to you."
"Don't cry, Mel," he sighed, pulling her into his arms. "Please... don't be upset. Just... I just need you to understand that he WAS my friend. I need time, Mel."
"Why? Why won't you talk to me?" Mel sighed. "You keep telling me that he WAS your friend, but you refuse to talk about him. Cole... how can I understand if you won't TELL me?"
He shook his head. "I think you would understand less if I DID."
She shook her head. "I don't buy it, Cole."
"Mel, our relationship... it was a complicated thing."
"What, you think my human brain isn't cut out to understand it?" she asked, irritated.
"I didn't say that. I just... I know how you feel about Zin. I don't want you to not like me any more." He looked at her sadly, those brown eyes she loved so much full of tears.
"Cole, nothing you can tell me is going to change how I feel about you."
"You PROMISE?" he asked hopefully.
"Yeah. Yeah I do." She nodded.
"My... my wife was not the only person I ever had as a mate, Mel. There was another... after her death..."
"Um... okay." Mel nodded slowly, not quite sure what this had to do with anything. "Lontoria, right? I'd kind of guessed..."
"NOT Lontoria, Mel."
"Not... well, who?" she looked up at him, curious. Understanding hit like a bucket of icewater on a winter day, taking her breath away. She shook her head and took a step backwards. "Cole, no. No way."
Looking defeated, he shrugged and nodded. "I'm sorry, Mel."
"You and... oh, Cole... NO." She shook her head. "You couldn't... I mean... you aren't even the same SPECIES."
"Neither were your grandparents," he pointed out quietly, not looking at her. "Zin was... ingenious."
Mel shivered. Way more info than she really needed. "And this was... um... willing on both your parts?"
"Zin would not have taken me by force, Mel. We were friends."
"Friends with perks." She muttered bitterly.
Cole stared at her, uncomprehending. "It was... something I very much needed at the time, Mel. I... when my wife and our daughter died, there was an empty hole inside of me. You've lost loved ones, you know what that's like. You would do anything to get rid of that void, to fill it. With anything."
Mel swallowed hard, doing her best to master her disgust. Losing battle. "I... I wasn't there. I don't know. I... can't judge, Cole."
"But you DO. I can tell. This is why I never told you." Sighing and shaking his head, he stepped back into the war-room, reaching to close the door. "I should get back to work."
"Cole." Mel began, reaching for the door. "Don't. I didn't know..."
"And now you do and it disgusts you?"
"It... will take some getting used to." Mel admitted quietly. "But I can't blame you for being emotionally vulnerable, either."
"You think Zin took advantage of me?"
"Yeah. Yeah I do." She nodded. "And that's not your fault, Cole." She assured him.
"It wasn't like that, Mel. Zin had a lot to lose. On Vardia, the penalty for those behaviors is death."
"Being gay is a Capital crime?" Mel asked, frowning.
"On Vardia, yes, Mel." He nodded. "So is out-breeding."
"Gee, that's... open-minded of them."
"They believe very strongly in racial purity." Cole told her simply.
"So why'd Zin take the chance? He was really that attracted to you?"
Cole shook his head. "I don't think so, Mel. I really don't think that attraction entered into it that much. Not on his part."
"Then WHY?"
His voice a whisper, he confessed the truth. "Because I asked."
"Oh, God..." Mel stared at him.
"I loved him, Mel."
"Cole..."
He sighed and nodded. "I told you that you would not want to hear this. I need to get back to work now."
Mel watched, too stunned to react, as Cole slipped back into the war-room and closed the door. Disgust vied with pity for a long moment before disgust won out. Shaking her head, she walked down the stairs to get healthily drunk.
In the war-room, Cole stared at the screen, remembering. He knew how Mel thought it must have been with them, but Mel was wrong. She could NOT have understood. Not the pain, not the emptiness, not the way that Zin had restrained himself to be more gentle with a heartbroken young man than any Vardian would ever have been with his own mate. ALL Mel could see was the betrayal and, seeing that, she dismissed the entire relationship out-of-hand.
He knew himself now to be as biased as Mel, if in the other direction. Some part of him had always assumed that Zin would back down, would become that old Zin again. Some part of him even wanted that relationship back. It had been a small part of their total time together, but an important one. How could he look on those nights together less than fondly... And why couldn't Mel SEE? She could be so blind when she wanted to, almost as blind as Cole himself.
***********************************************
Daggon was in the washroom cleaning up and Zin was in the living area fighting the urge to be physically ill. It was not JUST that he was old enough to have been the boy's father. It was not merely that he had just committed not one but TWO crimes punishable by death. It had NOTHING to do with the boy's gender or even his race. Zin simply could not believe that he had taken advantage of the Cirronian's grief in that way. Daggon was, after all, his FRIEND.
It did not matter that Daggon had initiated things. Zin was older and infinitely more experienced in such matters (even if he HAD always in the past confined himself to the female of whatever species). He should have stopped it. He sighed and sat on the edge of the sleeping platform, superfluous in a room housing a Cirronian. There was one in every guard's room on Sar-Top. As a frequent guest of Daggon, Zin had often slept there himself while the dedicated Cirronian worked into the night. Today, he had used it for something else entirely. He closed his eyes and moaned softly, disgusted with himself.
"Zin? Are you ill?" Daggon asked gently, walking out of the washroom. He approached the Vardian slowly.
Zin looked up at the Cirronian, shocked. This was not the Daggon he had befriended years ago, not the proud, happy young man with his entire life ahead of him and not a single care in the universe. This was a broken man, a shadow of his formerly radiant self, barely recognizable. It was not just grief, either, or even MOSTLY grief. That had been there for the year since the murder of the Cirronian's family. This was new, though, some sick blend of shame and uncertainty that was totally out of keeping with the Daggon Zin knew. His head was down and he was almost SLINKING across the room, his posture and manner apologetic, submissive. It was beyond shocking. It was, to the Vardian's way of thinking, reprehensible.
"Don't DO that, boy!" Zin snapped, rising and moving past Daggon and into the washroom. No longer able to fight the urge, he emptied his stomach into the waste-hatch.
"Zin, I'm sorry." Daggon whimpered from the door. "I shouldn't have... you must hate me so much..."
"Daggon, son... no." Zin shook his head and turned to the Cirronian, absently wrapping one hand around his throat, exactly as he might have to comfort his mate or offspring. "This was... unwise on both of our parts, certainly, but I don't hate you." He shook his head. "How could I, hmm?"
Daggon regarded him sadly. "Will you get in trouble, Zin?"
His answer was honest, if defiant. "Only if anyone finds out."
Zin looked down at his hands, examining his claws for telltale blood. Of course, he had been gentle with his friend and there was none, but he looked anyway. For the tenth time in under five minutes. Infidelity was one thing and would not have earned him so much as a dirty look from his mate, but Cirronian blood was obviously Cirronian and he would have been in SERIOUS difficulties if someone had made the connection. He looked Daggon over, too. Excepting a largish bruise on his chest, there was nothing to indicate that the Cirronian had just shared his bed with a Vardian.
"I'm sorry." He told Daggon, touching the bruise lightly. "Does it hurt?"
"No, Zin." Daggon shook his head. "You were... you were so gentle. I wasn't expecting that."
Zin sighed and shook his head. "What else was I supposed to be? I couldn't hurt you."
"You hurt your mate." He pointed out.
"That's different. She's Vardian. We BOTH get hurt. It's part of our biology."
"But you are still Vardian, even if I am not." Daggon pointed out. "But you sheathed your claws and your teeth didn't break the skin..."
"I didn't want to hurt you. You wouldn't have enjoyed it." Zin shook his head. "And WHY am I justifying myself to you?" he demanded.
"Because I asked." Daggon pointed out. "And friends are honest with each other."
Zin's reply was sullen. "Occasionally."
Daggon's face fell. "You're upset, Zin. I didn't mean to upset you. Did I do something wrong?"
Zin shook his head. "No, Daggon. Of course not."
"But you're upset, Zin..."
"With MYSELF, boy. I had no right."
"But, Zin, I encouraged you. I ASKED."
"And I agreed." Zin shook his head. "Doubly unforgivable, even before your age is taken into account."
"I'm no child, Zin."
"Yes, Daggon. You ARE." Zin sighed and turned his back, closing his eyes when the Cirronian's hands touched his neck. Vardian necks were almost as sensitive as Cirronian ones and Daggon knew it, damn him. He felt like slapping the boy, maybe even biting his hand to make him stop. Instead, he quietly requested, "Don't."
"You like it. Why shouldn't I?"
"Because I ASKED."
"You didn't mean it, though."
"Does it matter?"
"Yes." Daggon nodded firmly, his fingers tracing random patterns over the back of the Vardian's neck. "It DOES matter. Can't you see that?"
"I know what you're thinking, and you're wrong." Zin spun to face him. "There's no future for us, boy. NONE. I'm Vardian, you're Cirronian. My people execute on the mere SUSPICION of such behavior..."
"Then don't go back."
"My WIFE lives on Vardia! You expect me to turn my back on her? On my people?" Zin sighed and glared at him. "Daggon..." He began. "You KNOW better."
"I know, Zin." Daggon nodded. "I can't help it, though. I... When I was with you, it stopped hurting. It's been so long since I've felt anything but pain..."
"I know, son." Zin nodded weakly. "Your wife was an amazing creature and her death left a gaping hole inside of you. And now you are sad and lonely and... DESPERATE, Daggon. You need to fill that emptiness with something, so you chose sensation."
"It was more than that, Zin..."
"No, Daggon, it was NOT." He shook his head, regarding the Cirronian apologetically. "We are friends. Best friends and we always will be, but... you are young and easily confused. It feels good and so you call it love or... WHATEVER you are choosing to call it, but it's not. It feels good. Period." He sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Daggon."
Daggon regarded his friend bleakly. "Zin, I... I... I'm sorry."
"What do you have to be sorry about, hmm?" Zin asked gently, reaching up and running one claw lightly over a small scar on the Cirronian's face. "Remember when you got this?" he asked lightly, wanting, NEEDING to change the subject.
"We were rock-climbing on Orsus. I remember." Daggon nodded.
It was one scar of many, pale white lines on his luminous skin. Zin had always been fascinated by Daggon's scars. Few Cirronians were adventurous enough to ever get a single scar on those beautiful and delicate hides of theirs, so Daggon's many scars made him almost unique among the species. They set him apart from other Cirronians, as so many aspects of his personality did.
"You bled." Zin whispered, remembering Daggon's surprise and, more vividly, his FEAR to suddenly find himself in pain and losing blood. The boy had been horrified. The Vardian had reacted the only way he COULD.
"I hurt. You held me."
"I did." Zin agreed. "And I told you it would be okay."
"You were right." Daggon pointed out.
"I know I was, son. But this time, I can't offer you those reassurances."
"Then just hold me." He suggested.
Zin sighed and started to shake his head. "You need a woman, Daggon, not me. What about that Lontoria? She's a sweet creature, and VERY lovely." Almost as lovely as Daggon himself. Cirronian or not, no male should be allowed to look so lovely, Zin reflected. It was SO annoying. And confusing, ESPECIALLY confusing. Why did Cirronians have to be so beautiful?
"I don't love her."
"You don't LOVE me." Zin countered, irritated.
"I do."
"You don't. You are hurt and confused, Daggon. Your pain is clouding your judgment in this. You think that because you feel affection for me and because my touch makes you feel good things that you love me. But you don't KNOW..."
"I know, Zin, that I FEEL when I am with you. I need that right now or I'll go mad."
Daggon shrugged, the confession made. Whether he loved Zin or not did not matter any more. The Vardian did not love him. The knowledge made him feel cold all over, deep into the core of his being. He should have known better. He would be lucky to retain the Vardian as even a FRIEND now, having pulled the stunt he had. The Cirronian suddenly felt like being ill himself. He KNEW that the Vardian had always secretly had an interest in Cirronian females. He KNEW that members of other species considered male and female Cirronians to be very similar physically. And he had known exactly how to stimulate a Vardian. Too much alcohol on the first anniversary of his wife's death had even made it seem like a good idea. The Vardian's enthusiastic response had even been enough to convince the Cirronian that there was some hope for them.
"If you need to... feel, you will." Zin promised gently. "I will do anything I can do to help you through this, legal or not, Daggon. But you can NOT go around using words like 'love' and expecting us to have a future together. We don't. We can't."
Daggon sat on the edge of the sleeping platform, his shoulders slumping. "I miss her so much, Zin."
"I know you do." Zin sat down next to the Cirronian and gently drew him into his arms. "So do I. The universe is a little darker and a little colder without her. And you... you are not nearly so radiant as you once were. I miss that about you, son. I miss it so much... That look in your eyes when you're happy, the way you LAUGH..."
"I'm incomplete without her, Zin. I... I need to fill that. How do I fill the emptiness?"
"You'll know when you find her." Zin promised, caressing the younger man's face in a gesture that bore no resemblance to the earlier caresses. "In the meantime, I AM here for you." He dropped his hand to the Cirronian's throat, subtly changing the nature of his caresses. The touch of a father-figure became the touch of a lover. "If this is what you need, it is what you shall have. But you can't use that word and you have to understand that nothing can ever come of these... these times when I comfort you."
Daggon covered the hand on his throat with one of his own hands, stilling it, refusing to allow Zin to caress him further. He looked at his mentor sadly. "Is this what it feels like to use someone, Zin? I don't think I like the way it feels. It seems so WRONG."
"No, Daggon, it is NOT wrong." Zin assured him, freeing his hand and stroking the Cirronian's throat again. "Because, in this case, I KNOW that I am being used. I allow it. I EMBRACE it. I... enjoy it." Zin confessed. Aware that he had, perhaps, said too much, he explained gently, lying, "It feels good, Daggon, and Vardians are hedonists of the first order. So we both gain from this arrangement. You get to feel alive again and I get more pleasure than I ever could with my mate. We're using EACH OTHER." It was a lie, but he knew the Cirronian would believe it. Cirronians were easy to manipulate that way.
"It feels wrong."
"It feels GOOD. So if you need those feelings, if you feel that will help you through these times, I WILL give them to you."
"As simply as that?" Daggon asked, frowning. "Without love?"
"As simply as that." Zin agreed, nodding. "Without love," he lied. Smiling reassuringly, he patted the Cirronian's chest, careful to avoid the bruise. Shaking his head, he traced his fingers over the livid orange splotch. "You should heal this before someone sees it, son."
"Will you get in trouble?" Daggon repeated, ignoring Zin's suggestion.
"Only if someone finds out. We'll have to be careful that you aren't injured, or... at least that no one SEES any injuries. I spend enough time here that I don't think anyone will notice THAT aspect of it."
"Will we still be friends, Zin? I don't think I could stand not having you as a friend."
"Daggon." Zin sighed, gathering the young Cirronian into his arms again. He held the boy as he would hold any child in need of comfort and, whether the Cirronian admitted it or not, he WAS little more than a child. "No matter what passes between us, we will ALWAYS be friends."
"Cirronians believe..."
"That sharing your bed with a person binds you to them. I know of the belief. I don't share it. Besides, my friend, I have considered myself bound to you for YEARS now."
Daggon considered for a moment before nodding. "I'm glad, Zin. You've been such a good friend to me, especially in this past year."
"I know, son." Zin sighed, gave the Cirronian's shoulder a final pat, and rose. "Heal that bruise, now, then meditate for awhile."
"Where are you going?" Daggon asked as he healed the bruise on his chest as Zin had directed.
"For a walk. I'll be back before you finish your meditation."
"You're staying the night, then?" he asked hopefully.
"If you need me to." Zin told him gently. "Whenever you need me to."
He smiled gently and left the Cirronian's quarters. His smile faded the moment the door was closed. Leaving the living annex, he walked outside into the cold air. It was a welcomed change from the warmth of the Cirronian's room. Even if it had not been, though, he would have come out here. He needed to be alone for a few minutes, to reflect and to grieve.
"Using each other indeed." He scoffed. He was NOT using the boy. Daggon may have been using him, but he doubted that the Cirronian even realized it. The boy honestly did seem to believe that he loved Zin. "Wish it were that simple."
And he did, too, because if it HAD been, Zin's problem would have ceased to be one. He probably would have left his mate for the boy in an instant if he only could have believed that the boy actually felt the way he THOUGHT he did. But he did not, so the point was moot. Shaking his head, he stooped and picked up a rock, throwing it into the darkness. A small zapping sound told him that it had connected with the perimeter shielding and was probably little more than a cloud of dust any more.
Lucky rock. More small stones followed the first to its fate. Zin found this futile act of destruction obscurely reassuring, a gesture of control, a display of power. Absurd, he reflected as he tossed more stones into the energy grid, but no less satisfying. He bent to retrieve more rocks, wondering by all that was holy and unholy what he was supposed to do now. He had promised the boy that their little trysts could continue, and he WOULD honor that, but that only compounded the core problem.
Eventually, they would be compromised and the changed nature of his association with the Cirronian would be discovered. And, in accordance with Vardian Law, Zin would be executed. And Daggon... Daggon would, for the second time in his short life, be alone in the universe. Zin cursed and threw a handful of rocks at the perimeter. He should NOT have been so gentle. If he had hurt the boy, even just scared him, this might never have gone beyond a single incident. Now, though? Too late for either of them. Far too late.
Shrugging dismissively, he dropped the rest of the stones in his hand and dusted it off before turning and reentering the living annex. He quietly entered Daggon's room and dropped into a chair, watching the Cirronian meditate.
***********************************************
Zin sat in the vault, waiting patiently as he had been doing for days now. Help would come eventually, he knew. His people knew where he had gone, what he had gone to do, and when he did not return as planned a rescue-effort would have been mounted. He not unduly worried even though he knew it might take days or even weeks longer. His people, his loyal inner circle... they were the best and they WOULD find a way.
Unfortunately, this knowledge gave him little to do other than thinking about Daggon. The younger man had obviously FINALLY come to the conclusion that what he felt for Zin was not love at all. At least Zin HOPED so, because otherwise the boy would probably waste the rest of his life on self-recriminations and what ifs.
He sighed deeply, shaking his head. It was not the outcome that he would have hoped for. Damned stubborn Cirronians with their self-righteous code of ethics! They expected themselves and everyone else in the universe to be perfect. But life was never that easy, so they were a perpetually disappointed race. Daggon had, in that regard at least, been a typical Cirronian.
Zin had done his best to dispel that illusion (or was it a delusion?) of perfection in Daggon. Once he had begun planning and scheming, he had stepped up that campaign. Some secret part of him had hoped that the Cirronian might eventually be encouraged to join Zin in his plans. It had, of course, been a laughable ambition. The pure-minded Tracker would NEVER have cooperated in Zin's attempt to seize power in the Migar system by force and threat of force. Zin had known that, so he had done his absolute best to keep the plans a secret, but the hope had always remained. That some day Daggon might be willing to aid Zin. With the Cirronian by his side, success would have been assured.
"By my side?" he laughed, shaking his head. "Zin, you're an idiot." He sighed deeply. "The boy knows right from wrong, or THINKS he does... Ergo, he would never have agreed to help you."
He shook his head again, amused. Daggon was not so different from Zin himself, he reflected. He did what he felt necessary, no matter the price, and he never backed down. They were admirable traits. Some part of him was even pleased that Daggon had been able to follow through, locking him in the vault. If nothing else, it had saved Zin the necessity of killing the boy. The realization that it might come to that had been weighing heavily on Zin all year.
If it had come to that, he told himself that he WOULD have killed him, but part of him had always been afraid that he might balk when it came right down to it. And he HAD. When they had fought, Zin had had the Cirronian down and helpless, but he had not been able to kill him. He had just shouted at him to stay down and he had tried to leave. It had been a stupid display of weakness, but try as he might, he had not been able to act any differently. And then Daggon had locked him in this damned vault.
The boy had balked, too, he realized, his smile slipping. The Cirronian WAS powerful enough to kill him, but he had not. He had just thrown Zin into the vault, knowing full well that Vardians could go MONTHS without food or water if necessary. It was not in Daggon's nature to consign anyone to such a slow and painful death. He had not wanted Zin dead any more than Zin had wanted him dead.
"Stupid child..." He sighed. "You're a fool, Daggon. Always have been. Hell, you thought you loved ME." Tears in his eyes, he rested his head against the wall. "I hope you know better now, boy. I'm proud of you, you know that? You did what you had to. Like a Vardian. Now, if you could just learn not to feel regrets..."
Zin scoffed at himself, shaking his head and drying his eyes. Fine example he was of how not to feel regrets. Here he was crying for his enemy because the boy probably felt bad about locking him in an underground vault without food or water. In his whole life, he had only made two mistakes. He had loved and he had allowed that to affect his judgment and his actions. Both were, to put it mildly, unwise, but he could not bring himself to regret either.
Zin shook his head. "Goodbye, boy. And I'm sorry."
Shrugging fatalistically, he sat back and resumed his interrupted wait.
***********************************************
Cole looked up at the gentle tapping on the war-room door. Sighing, he wiped his eyes and rose. "Come in, Mel."
"Not, Mel, Cole. It's Jonas."
Cole blinked, frowning. "Um, coming." Shaking his head, he slid out of the war-room, keeping the door closed far enough to prevent Jonas from seeing inside. "Yes, Jonas?" he asked, curious.
The old lawyer regarded Cole thoughtfully for a moment, taking note of his red, puffy eyes. "Whatever you and Mel were fighting about, Cole, it's time to let it go." He told the Cirronian firmly. "She's downstairs, drunk and crying."
Cole bit his lower lip and nodded. "I should go apologize."
"What did you do?" Jonas asked.
"I... made a mistake." Cole shook his head. "Years ago. I... never mind, Jonas. You wouldn't understand, I think."
Jonas frowned. "Why's Mel crying over a years old mistake? Must have been a pretty big one..."
"It was a VERY big mistake, Jonas. A lot of people could have been spared a lot of pain." Cole shook his head and started down the stairs.
Blinking in surprise, Jonas followed. Not wanting to intrude, he kept right on walking, leaving the two alone in the bar.
"Mel..." Cole whispered, approaching her. "Please don't be angry with me. I... it was wrong. I... THOUGHT that I knew him."
Mel shook her head, sniffling and drying her eyes. She looked up at him sadly. "Cole, I'm sorry. It's just... well, it's not every day that you hear that the man you love used to sleep with the man who killed you." She shrugged.
Cole nodded, hanging his head. "I was wrong. It was a mistake. I thought I knew him."
Mel sighed and took his hand, urging him to sit next to her. "You really loved him, Cole?"
"I... I thought that I did, Mel."
Mel reached up and wiped away a stray tear on his face. "You thought?"
He nodded. "I also thought I knew the real him. I guess I was wrong about that, too." He looked at her half-full glass for a moment before picking it up and draining it. "I will always feel fondly towards him, I think, Mel. Grateful for the things he did to help me. Guilty..."
"GUILTY?" Mel repeated, frowning uncertainly.
He nodded. "I may not have loved him, Mel. I... I really don't know any more. I loved the man I THOUGHT I knew, but whether that was ever really Zin..." He shook his head.
"But why do you feel guilty about that?"
"Because Zin DID love me." Cole sighed and closed his eyes. "I was drunk, I took advantage of that knowledge, and I refused to let it end there. I... I used him, Mel. And I hate myself for it."
"Cole..." She whispered, gathering him into her arms. "I don't believe that. If you thought you loved him, you WEREN'T using him..."
He sighed and rested his chin on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her. "I deliberately allowed myself to be blind to the way he felt. Because I needed what he could give me." He sighed again. "Maybe... If I had been a little more observant, more attentive... maybe he never would have done what he did, Mel. Maybe I could have stopped him."
Cole shrugged and continued, "He once... one of the last times we were together before the escape, he told me that it was too late for either of us to turn back. I thought he meant our relationship, but... he meant his plans here, I think. He knew. He was saying goodbye."
"You never got a chance to say goodbye."
He shook his head. "No, Mel. I never did."
"Say it now, then." Mel suggested gently. "Make your peace, Cole, or this will eat you alive."
"I know, Mel." He smiled adoringly and nodded. Gently kissing her cheek, he rose and walked into the basement.
Mel stared after him with a sigh. Cole and Zin? Definitely a concept that would take some getting used to. Cole was still Cole, though, and she loved him as much as she always had. She would do what she could, stand by him in whatever way he needed.
***********************************************
Cole stared at the vault door, sighing deeply. If there had been a way to open it, he would have in a second. He was grateful that there was not. Shaking his head, he rested both hands against the door. He could feel Zin's lifeforce within, patiently waiting for the inevitable rescue attempt. It would come, Cole knew. Zin WOULD escape the vault. And next time he probably WOULD try to kill Cole. Probably Mel as well. And then Cole would have to kill him.
He leaned his forehead against the door. "Goodbye, Zin." He sighed. "Thank you for everything. And... I'm sorry." He smiled faintly, then. "You were right, you know. I knew her when I found her."
Sighing again, but feeling a little lighter, Cole rejoined Mel in the bar.
END
Author's note: Okay, so here's the thing. It's a bit slashy. Nothing happens during the fic and it stays PG throughout, but it DOES posit a physical relationship between Cole and Zin in the past. You've been warned, so please no flames... if you do, I'll have to break out the fire-hose.
Oh, and I'm NOT a slash writer (guess I sort of am now, lol... but it's not an exclusive thing like it is for some authors). Therefore, any future stories by me are unlikely to be slash. This was just one of those 3:00am ideas and once the plot bunny wormed its way into my psyche it was write the thing or go crazy. Crazier?
GOODBYE AND SORRY
"Cole, you can't keep brooding over locking Zin in that damned vault!" Mel snapped, glaring at the Cirronian. He had been sitting on the couch in silence for hours now, not even looking at Mel when she tried to get his attention.
"He was my friend, Mel." Cole shook his head, not looking up at her.
"He would have killed you!"
"He could have, Mel. He didn't. He yelled at me to stay down and then he tried to leave."
Mel sighed and shook her head. "Cole... This is ZIN. He's one of the bad guys."
Cole shook his head and rose, fleeing the living room for the sanctuary of his War-Room.
"Cole!" Mel sighed, shaking her head and going after him. "What is your PROBLEM?" she demanded, pounding on the locked door.
The door snapped opened and Cole glared out at her, looking angrier than she had ever seen him. He had come CLOSE to looking that angry when he had taken Tev, but she had definitely never seen even half this anger directed towards her. She took an involuntary step backwards.
"He was my FRIEND! Does that mean ANYTHING to this species, Mel? Anything at all?" he demanded.
Mel took a startled step back, hurt. "Cole, of course it does... Haven't I proven that to you? Haven't I always been a good friend?" she whispered.
Cole bit his lip and nodded, closing his eyes. "Always, Mel. Until now." There was no recrimination in his voice, only sorrow.
Mel winced. "Cole..."
"Zin was my friend, Mel. Of course I feel pain over what I did to him. Why can't you understand that?"
"I..." Mel shook her head, tears in her eyes. "Cole, I'm sorry. I just... I never KNEW the Zin who was your friend. Just the Zin who murdered me in cold blood and tried to do the same to you."
"Don't cry, Mel," he sighed, pulling her into his arms. "Please... don't be upset. Just... I just need you to understand that he WAS my friend. I need time, Mel."
"Why? Why won't you talk to me?" Mel sighed. "You keep telling me that he WAS your friend, but you refuse to talk about him. Cole... how can I understand if you won't TELL me?"
He shook his head. "I think you would understand less if I DID."
She shook her head. "I don't buy it, Cole."
"Mel, our relationship... it was a complicated thing."
"What, you think my human brain isn't cut out to understand it?" she asked, irritated.
"I didn't say that. I just... I know how you feel about Zin. I don't want you to not like me any more." He looked at her sadly, those brown eyes she loved so much full of tears.
"Cole, nothing you can tell me is going to change how I feel about you."
"You PROMISE?" he asked hopefully.
"Yeah. Yeah I do." She nodded.
"My... my wife was not the only person I ever had as a mate, Mel. There was another... after her death..."
"Um... okay." Mel nodded slowly, not quite sure what this had to do with anything. "Lontoria, right? I'd kind of guessed..."
"NOT Lontoria, Mel."
"Not... well, who?" she looked up at him, curious. Understanding hit like a bucket of icewater on a winter day, taking her breath away. She shook her head and took a step backwards. "Cole, no. No way."
Looking defeated, he shrugged and nodded. "I'm sorry, Mel."
"You and... oh, Cole... NO." She shook her head. "You couldn't... I mean... you aren't even the same SPECIES."
"Neither were your grandparents," he pointed out quietly, not looking at her. "Zin was... ingenious."
Mel shivered. Way more info than she really needed. "And this was... um... willing on both your parts?"
"Zin would not have taken me by force, Mel. We were friends."
"Friends with perks." She muttered bitterly.
Cole stared at her, uncomprehending. "It was... something I very much needed at the time, Mel. I... when my wife and our daughter died, there was an empty hole inside of me. You've lost loved ones, you know what that's like. You would do anything to get rid of that void, to fill it. With anything."
Mel swallowed hard, doing her best to master her disgust. Losing battle. "I... I wasn't there. I don't know. I... can't judge, Cole."
"But you DO. I can tell. This is why I never told you." Sighing and shaking his head, he stepped back into the war-room, reaching to close the door. "I should get back to work."
"Cole." Mel began, reaching for the door. "Don't. I didn't know..."
"And now you do and it disgusts you?"
"It... will take some getting used to." Mel admitted quietly. "But I can't blame you for being emotionally vulnerable, either."
"You think Zin took advantage of me?"
"Yeah. Yeah I do." She nodded. "And that's not your fault, Cole." She assured him.
"It wasn't like that, Mel. Zin had a lot to lose. On Vardia, the penalty for those behaviors is death."
"Being gay is a Capital crime?" Mel asked, frowning.
"On Vardia, yes, Mel." He nodded. "So is out-breeding."
"Gee, that's... open-minded of them."
"They believe very strongly in racial purity." Cole told her simply.
"So why'd Zin take the chance? He was really that attracted to you?"
Cole shook his head. "I don't think so, Mel. I really don't think that attraction entered into it that much. Not on his part."
"Then WHY?"
His voice a whisper, he confessed the truth. "Because I asked."
"Oh, God..." Mel stared at him.
"I loved him, Mel."
"Cole..."
He sighed and nodded. "I told you that you would not want to hear this. I need to get back to work now."
Mel watched, too stunned to react, as Cole slipped back into the war-room and closed the door. Disgust vied with pity for a long moment before disgust won out. Shaking her head, she walked down the stairs to get healthily drunk.
In the war-room, Cole stared at the screen, remembering. He knew how Mel thought it must have been with them, but Mel was wrong. She could NOT have understood. Not the pain, not the emptiness, not the way that Zin had restrained himself to be more gentle with a heartbroken young man than any Vardian would ever have been with his own mate. ALL Mel could see was the betrayal and, seeing that, she dismissed the entire relationship out-of-hand.
He knew himself now to be as biased as Mel, if in the other direction. Some part of him had always assumed that Zin would back down, would become that old Zin again. Some part of him even wanted that relationship back. It had been a small part of their total time together, but an important one. How could he look on those nights together less than fondly... And why couldn't Mel SEE? She could be so blind when she wanted to, almost as blind as Cole himself.
***********************************************
Daggon was in the washroom cleaning up and Zin was in the living area fighting the urge to be physically ill. It was not JUST that he was old enough to have been the boy's father. It was not merely that he had just committed not one but TWO crimes punishable by death. It had NOTHING to do with the boy's gender or even his race. Zin simply could not believe that he had taken advantage of the Cirronian's grief in that way. Daggon was, after all, his FRIEND.
It did not matter that Daggon had initiated things. Zin was older and infinitely more experienced in such matters (even if he HAD always in the past confined himself to the female of whatever species). He should have stopped it. He sighed and sat on the edge of the sleeping platform, superfluous in a room housing a Cirronian. There was one in every guard's room on Sar-Top. As a frequent guest of Daggon, Zin had often slept there himself while the dedicated Cirronian worked into the night. Today, he had used it for something else entirely. He closed his eyes and moaned softly, disgusted with himself.
"Zin? Are you ill?" Daggon asked gently, walking out of the washroom. He approached the Vardian slowly.
Zin looked up at the Cirronian, shocked. This was not the Daggon he had befriended years ago, not the proud, happy young man with his entire life ahead of him and not a single care in the universe. This was a broken man, a shadow of his formerly radiant self, barely recognizable. It was not just grief, either, or even MOSTLY grief. That had been there for the year since the murder of the Cirronian's family. This was new, though, some sick blend of shame and uncertainty that was totally out of keeping with the Daggon Zin knew. His head was down and he was almost SLINKING across the room, his posture and manner apologetic, submissive. It was beyond shocking. It was, to the Vardian's way of thinking, reprehensible.
"Don't DO that, boy!" Zin snapped, rising and moving past Daggon and into the washroom. No longer able to fight the urge, he emptied his stomach into the waste-hatch.
"Zin, I'm sorry." Daggon whimpered from the door. "I shouldn't have... you must hate me so much..."
"Daggon, son... no." Zin shook his head and turned to the Cirronian, absently wrapping one hand around his throat, exactly as he might have to comfort his mate or offspring. "This was... unwise on both of our parts, certainly, but I don't hate you." He shook his head. "How could I, hmm?"
Daggon regarded him sadly. "Will you get in trouble, Zin?"
His answer was honest, if defiant. "Only if anyone finds out."
Zin looked down at his hands, examining his claws for telltale blood. Of course, he had been gentle with his friend and there was none, but he looked anyway. For the tenth time in under five minutes. Infidelity was one thing and would not have earned him so much as a dirty look from his mate, but Cirronian blood was obviously Cirronian and he would have been in SERIOUS difficulties if someone had made the connection. He looked Daggon over, too. Excepting a largish bruise on his chest, there was nothing to indicate that the Cirronian had just shared his bed with a Vardian.
"I'm sorry." He told Daggon, touching the bruise lightly. "Does it hurt?"
"No, Zin." Daggon shook his head. "You were... you were so gentle. I wasn't expecting that."
Zin sighed and shook his head. "What else was I supposed to be? I couldn't hurt you."
"You hurt your mate." He pointed out.
"That's different. She's Vardian. We BOTH get hurt. It's part of our biology."
"But you are still Vardian, even if I am not." Daggon pointed out. "But you sheathed your claws and your teeth didn't break the skin..."
"I didn't want to hurt you. You wouldn't have enjoyed it." Zin shook his head. "And WHY am I justifying myself to you?" he demanded.
"Because I asked." Daggon pointed out. "And friends are honest with each other."
Zin's reply was sullen. "Occasionally."
Daggon's face fell. "You're upset, Zin. I didn't mean to upset you. Did I do something wrong?"
Zin shook his head. "No, Daggon. Of course not."
"But you're upset, Zin..."
"With MYSELF, boy. I had no right."
"But, Zin, I encouraged you. I ASKED."
"And I agreed." Zin shook his head. "Doubly unforgivable, even before your age is taken into account."
"I'm no child, Zin."
"Yes, Daggon. You ARE." Zin sighed and turned his back, closing his eyes when the Cirronian's hands touched his neck. Vardian necks were almost as sensitive as Cirronian ones and Daggon knew it, damn him. He felt like slapping the boy, maybe even biting his hand to make him stop. Instead, he quietly requested, "Don't."
"You like it. Why shouldn't I?"
"Because I ASKED."
"You didn't mean it, though."
"Does it matter?"
"Yes." Daggon nodded firmly, his fingers tracing random patterns over the back of the Vardian's neck. "It DOES matter. Can't you see that?"
"I know what you're thinking, and you're wrong." Zin spun to face him. "There's no future for us, boy. NONE. I'm Vardian, you're Cirronian. My people execute on the mere SUSPICION of such behavior..."
"Then don't go back."
"My WIFE lives on Vardia! You expect me to turn my back on her? On my people?" Zin sighed and glared at him. "Daggon..." He began. "You KNOW better."
"I know, Zin." Daggon nodded. "I can't help it, though. I... When I was with you, it stopped hurting. It's been so long since I've felt anything but pain..."
"I know, son." Zin nodded weakly. "Your wife was an amazing creature and her death left a gaping hole inside of you. And now you are sad and lonely and... DESPERATE, Daggon. You need to fill that emptiness with something, so you chose sensation."
"It was more than that, Zin..."
"No, Daggon, it was NOT." He shook his head, regarding the Cirronian apologetically. "We are friends. Best friends and we always will be, but... you are young and easily confused. It feels good and so you call it love or... WHATEVER you are choosing to call it, but it's not. It feels good. Period." He sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Daggon."
Daggon regarded his friend bleakly. "Zin, I... I... I'm sorry."
"What do you have to be sorry about, hmm?" Zin asked gently, reaching up and running one claw lightly over a small scar on the Cirronian's face. "Remember when you got this?" he asked lightly, wanting, NEEDING to change the subject.
"We were rock-climbing on Orsus. I remember." Daggon nodded.
It was one scar of many, pale white lines on his luminous skin. Zin had always been fascinated by Daggon's scars. Few Cirronians were adventurous enough to ever get a single scar on those beautiful and delicate hides of theirs, so Daggon's many scars made him almost unique among the species. They set him apart from other Cirronians, as so many aspects of his personality did.
"You bled." Zin whispered, remembering Daggon's surprise and, more vividly, his FEAR to suddenly find himself in pain and losing blood. The boy had been horrified. The Vardian had reacted the only way he COULD.
"I hurt. You held me."
"I did." Zin agreed. "And I told you it would be okay."
"You were right." Daggon pointed out.
"I know I was, son. But this time, I can't offer you those reassurances."
"Then just hold me." He suggested.
Zin sighed and started to shake his head. "You need a woman, Daggon, not me. What about that Lontoria? She's a sweet creature, and VERY lovely." Almost as lovely as Daggon himself. Cirronian or not, no male should be allowed to look so lovely, Zin reflected. It was SO annoying. And confusing, ESPECIALLY confusing. Why did Cirronians have to be so beautiful?
"I don't love her."
"You don't LOVE me." Zin countered, irritated.
"I do."
"You don't. You are hurt and confused, Daggon. Your pain is clouding your judgment in this. You think that because you feel affection for me and because my touch makes you feel good things that you love me. But you don't KNOW..."
"I know, Zin, that I FEEL when I am with you. I need that right now or I'll go mad."
Daggon shrugged, the confession made. Whether he loved Zin or not did not matter any more. The Vardian did not love him. The knowledge made him feel cold all over, deep into the core of his being. He should have known better. He would be lucky to retain the Vardian as even a FRIEND now, having pulled the stunt he had. The Cirronian suddenly felt like being ill himself. He KNEW that the Vardian had always secretly had an interest in Cirronian females. He KNEW that members of other species considered male and female Cirronians to be very similar physically. And he had known exactly how to stimulate a Vardian. Too much alcohol on the first anniversary of his wife's death had even made it seem like a good idea. The Vardian's enthusiastic response had even been enough to convince the Cirronian that there was some hope for them.
"If you need to... feel, you will." Zin promised gently. "I will do anything I can do to help you through this, legal or not, Daggon. But you can NOT go around using words like 'love' and expecting us to have a future together. We don't. We can't."
Daggon sat on the edge of the sleeping platform, his shoulders slumping. "I miss her so much, Zin."
"I know you do." Zin sat down next to the Cirronian and gently drew him into his arms. "So do I. The universe is a little darker and a little colder without her. And you... you are not nearly so radiant as you once were. I miss that about you, son. I miss it so much... That look in your eyes when you're happy, the way you LAUGH..."
"I'm incomplete without her, Zin. I... I need to fill that. How do I fill the emptiness?"
"You'll know when you find her." Zin promised, caressing the younger man's face in a gesture that bore no resemblance to the earlier caresses. "In the meantime, I AM here for you." He dropped his hand to the Cirronian's throat, subtly changing the nature of his caresses. The touch of a father-figure became the touch of a lover. "If this is what you need, it is what you shall have. But you can't use that word and you have to understand that nothing can ever come of these... these times when I comfort you."
Daggon covered the hand on his throat with one of his own hands, stilling it, refusing to allow Zin to caress him further. He looked at his mentor sadly. "Is this what it feels like to use someone, Zin? I don't think I like the way it feels. It seems so WRONG."
"No, Daggon, it is NOT wrong." Zin assured him, freeing his hand and stroking the Cirronian's throat again. "Because, in this case, I KNOW that I am being used. I allow it. I EMBRACE it. I... enjoy it." Zin confessed. Aware that he had, perhaps, said too much, he explained gently, lying, "It feels good, Daggon, and Vardians are hedonists of the first order. So we both gain from this arrangement. You get to feel alive again and I get more pleasure than I ever could with my mate. We're using EACH OTHER." It was a lie, but he knew the Cirronian would believe it. Cirronians were easy to manipulate that way.
"It feels wrong."
"It feels GOOD. So if you need those feelings, if you feel that will help you through these times, I WILL give them to you."
"As simply as that?" Daggon asked, frowning. "Without love?"
"As simply as that." Zin agreed, nodding. "Without love," he lied. Smiling reassuringly, he patted the Cirronian's chest, careful to avoid the bruise. Shaking his head, he traced his fingers over the livid orange splotch. "You should heal this before someone sees it, son."
"Will you get in trouble?" Daggon repeated, ignoring Zin's suggestion.
"Only if someone finds out. We'll have to be careful that you aren't injured, or... at least that no one SEES any injuries. I spend enough time here that I don't think anyone will notice THAT aspect of it."
"Will we still be friends, Zin? I don't think I could stand not having you as a friend."
"Daggon." Zin sighed, gathering the young Cirronian into his arms again. He held the boy as he would hold any child in need of comfort and, whether the Cirronian admitted it or not, he WAS little more than a child. "No matter what passes between us, we will ALWAYS be friends."
"Cirronians believe..."
"That sharing your bed with a person binds you to them. I know of the belief. I don't share it. Besides, my friend, I have considered myself bound to you for YEARS now."
Daggon considered for a moment before nodding. "I'm glad, Zin. You've been such a good friend to me, especially in this past year."
"I know, son." Zin sighed, gave the Cirronian's shoulder a final pat, and rose. "Heal that bruise, now, then meditate for awhile."
"Where are you going?" Daggon asked as he healed the bruise on his chest as Zin had directed.
"For a walk. I'll be back before you finish your meditation."
"You're staying the night, then?" he asked hopefully.
"If you need me to." Zin told him gently. "Whenever you need me to."
He smiled gently and left the Cirronian's quarters. His smile faded the moment the door was closed. Leaving the living annex, he walked outside into the cold air. It was a welcomed change from the warmth of the Cirronian's room. Even if it had not been, though, he would have come out here. He needed to be alone for a few minutes, to reflect and to grieve.
"Using each other indeed." He scoffed. He was NOT using the boy. Daggon may have been using him, but he doubted that the Cirronian even realized it. The boy honestly did seem to believe that he loved Zin. "Wish it were that simple."
And he did, too, because if it HAD been, Zin's problem would have ceased to be one. He probably would have left his mate for the boy in an instant if he only could have believed that the boy actually felt the way he THOUGHT he did. But he did not, so the point was moot. Shaking his head, he stooped and picked up a rock, throwing it into the darkness. A small zapping sound told him that it had connected with the perimeter shielding and was probably little more than a cloud of dust any more.
Lucky rock. More small stones followed the first to its fate. Zin found this futile act of destruction obscurely reassuring, a gesture of control, a display of power. Absurd, he reflected as he tossed more stones into the energy grid, but no less satisfying. He bent to retrieve more rocks, wondering by all that was holy and unholy what he was supposed to do now. He had promised the boy that their little trysts could continue, and he WOULD honor that, but that only compounded the core problem.
Eventually, they would be compromised and the changed nature of his association with the Cirronian would be discovered. And, in accordance with Vardian Law, Zin would be executed. And Daggon... Daggon would, for the second time in his short life, be alone in the universe. Zin cursed and threw a handful of rocks at the perimeter. He should NOT have been so gentle. If he had hurt the boy, even just scared him, this might never have gone beyond a single incident. Now, though? Too late for either of them. Far too late.
Shrugging dismissively, he dropped the rest of the stones in his hand and dusted it off before turning and reentering the living annex. He quietly entered Daggon's room and dropped into a chair, watching the Cirronian meditate.
***********************************************
Zin sat in the vault, waiting patiently as he had been doing for days now. Help would come eventually, he knew. His people knew where he had gone, what he had gone to do, and when he did not return as planned a rescue-effort would have been mounted. He not unduly worried even though he knew it might take days or even weeks longer. His people, his loyal inner circle... they were the best and they WOULD find a way.
Unfortunately, this knowledge gave him little to do other than thinking about Daggon. The younger man had obviously FINALLY come to the conclusion that what he felt for Zin was not love at all. At least Zin HOPED so, because otherwise the boy would probably waste the rest of his life on self-recriminations and what ifs.
He sighed deeply, shaking his head. It was not the outcome that he would have hoped for. Damned stubborn Cirronians with their self-righteous code of ethics! They expected themselves and everyone else in the universe to be perfect. But life was never that easy, so they were a perpetually disappointed race. Daggon had, in that regard at least, been a typical Cirronian.
Zin had done his best to dispel that illusion (or was it a delusion?) of perfection in Daggon. Once he had begun planning and scheming, he had stepped up that campaign. Some secret part of him had hoped that the Cirronian might eventually be encouraged to join Zin in his plans. It had, of course, been a laughable ambition. The pure-minded Tracker would NEVER have cooperated in Zin's attempt to seize power in the Migar system by force and threat of force. Zin had known that, so he had done his absolute best to keep the plans a secret, but the hope had always remained. That some day Daggon might be willing to aid Zin. With the Cirronian by his side, success would have been assured.
"By my side?" he laughed, shaking his head. "Zin, you're an idiot." He sighed deeply. "The boy knows right from wrong, or THINKS he does... Ergo, he would never have agreed to help you."
He shook his head again, amused. Daggon was not so different from Zin himself, he reflected. He did what he felt necessary, no matter the price, and he never backed down. They were admirable traits. Some part of him was even pleased that Daggon had been able to follow through, locking him in the vault. If nothing else, it had saved Zin the necessity of killing the boy. The realization that it might come to that had been weighing heavily on Zin all year.
If it had come to that, he told himself that he WOULD have killed him, but part of him had always been afraid that he might balk when it came right down to it. And he HAD. When they had fought, Zin had had the Cirronian down and helpless, but he had not been able to kill him. He had just shouted at him to stay down and he had tried to leave. It had been a stupid display of weakness, but try as he might, he had not been able to act any differently. And then Daggon had locked him in this damned vault.
The boy had balked, too, he realized, his smile slipping. The Cirronian WAS powerful enough to kill him, but he had not. He had just thrown Zin into the vault, knowing full well that Vardians could go MONTHS without food or water if necessary. It was not in Daggon's nature to consign anyone to such a slow and painful death. He had not wanted Zin dead any more than Zin had wanted him dead.
"Stupid child..." He sighed. "You're a fool, Daggon. Always have been. Hell, you thought you loved ME." Tears in his eyes, he rested his head against the wall. "I hope you know better now, boy. I'm proud of you, you know that? You did what you had to. Like a Vardian. Now, if you could just learn not to feel regrets..."
Zin scoffed at himself, shaking his head and drying his eyes. Fine example he was of how not to feel regrets. Here he was crying for his enemy because the boy probably felt bad about locking him in an underground vault without food or water. In his whole life, he had only made two mistakes. He had loved and he had allowed that to affect his judgment and his actions. Both were, to put it mildly, unwise, but he could not bring himself to regret either.
Zin shook his head. "Goodbye, boy. And I'm sorry."
Shrugging fatalistically, he sat back and resumed his interrupted wait.
***********************************************
Cole looked up at the gentle tapping on the war-room door. Sighing, he wiped his eyes and rose. "Come in, Mel."
"Not, Mel, Cole. It's Jonas."
Cole blinked, frowning. "Um, coming." Shaking his head, he slid out of the war-room, keeping the door closed far enough to prevent Jonas from seeing inside. "Yes, Jonas?" he asked, curious.
The old lawyer regarded Cole thoughtfully for a moment, taking note of his red, puffy eyes. "Whatever you and Mel were fighting about, Cole, it's time to let it go." He told the Cirronian firmly. "She's downstairs, drunk and crying."
Cole bit his lower lip and nodded. "I should go apologize."
"What did you do?" Jonas asked.
"I... made a mistake." Cole shook his head. "Years ago. I... never mind, Jonas. You wouldn't understand, I think."
Jonas frowned. "Why's Mel crying over a years old mistake? Must have been a pretty big one..."
"It was a VERY big mistake, Jonas. A lot of people could have been spared a lot of pain." Cole shook his head and started down the stairs.
Blinking in surprise, Jonas followed. Not wanting to intrude, he kept right on walking, leaving the two alone in the bar.
"Mel..." Cole whispered, approaching her. "Please don't be angry with me. I... it was wrong. I... THOUGHT that I knew him."
Mel shook her head, sniffling and drying her eyes. She looked up at him sadly. "Cole, I'm sorry. It's just... well, it's not every day that you hear that the man you love used to sleep with the man who killed you." She shrugged.
Cole nodded, hanging his head. "I was wrong. It was a mistake. I thought I knew him."
Mel sighed and took his hand, urging him to sit next to her. "You really loved him, Cole?"
"I... I thought that I did, Mel."
Mel reached up and wiped away a stray tear on his face. "You thought?"
He nodded. "I also thought I knew the real him. I guess I was wrong about that, too." He looked at her half-full glass for a moment before picking it up and draining it. "I will always feel fondly towards him, I think, Mel. Grateful for the things he did to help me. Guilty..."
"GUILTY?" Mel repeated, frowning uncertainly.
He nodded. "I may not have loved him, Mel. I... I really don't know any more. I loved the man I THOUGHT I knew, but whether that was ever really Zin..." He shook his head.
"But why do you feel guilty about that?"
"Because Zin DID love me." Cole sighed and closed his eyes. "I was drunk, I took advantage of that knowledge, and I refused to let it end there. I... I used him, Mel. And I hate myself for it."
"Cole..." She whispered, gathering him into her arms. "I don't believe that. If you thought you loved him, you WEREN'T using him..."
He sighed and rested his chin on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her. "I deliberately allowed myself to be blind to the way he felt. Because I needed what he could give me." He sighed again. "Maybe... If I had been a little more observant, more attentive... maybe he never would have done what he did, Mel. Maybe I could have stopped him."
Cole shrugged and continued, "He once... one of the last times we were together before the escape, he told me that it was too late for either of us to turn back. I thought he meant our relationship, but... he meant his plans here, I think. He knew. He was saying goodbye."
"You never got a chance to say goodbye."
He shook his head. "No, Mel. I never did."
"Say it now, then." Mel suggested gently. "Make your peace, Cole, or this will eat you alive."
"I know, Mel." He smiled adoringly and nodded. Gently kissing her cheek, he rose and walked into the basement.
Mel stared after him with a sigh. Cole and Zin? Definitely a concept that would take some getting used to. Cole was still Cole, though, and she loved him as much as she always had. She would do what she could, stand by him in whatever way he needed.
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Cole stared at the vault door, sighing deeply. If there had been a way to open it, he would have in a second. He was grateful that there was not. Shaking his head, he rested both hands against the door. He could feel Zin's lifeforce within, patiently waiting for the inevitable rescue attempt. It would come, Cole knew. Zin WOULD escape the vault. And next time he probably WOULD try to kill Cole. Probably Mel as well. And then Cole would have to kill him.
He leaned his forehead against the door. "Goodbye, Zin." He sighed. "Thank you for everything. And... I'm sorry." He smiled faintly, then. "You were right, you know. I knew her when I found her."
Sighing again, but feeling a little lighter, Cole rejoined Mel in the bar.
END