Pain is a temporary thing. But scars stay. They always stay. And I have never been able to not feel the ones on my back. My skull. My hips. My legs. I earned each one from my mistakes, his anger, our jealousy, and all of the hearts we broke. In the time it took to find the survivors, I try to remember what made it all worth it. I am still not certain. Every day his eyes are stranger. I feel stranger. And nothing I did to make up for the past changed anything. Time does not forget. Neither of us could forget either. He brings up the past with him in the dawn of every return. Now that we are in the position of the world we built together, I no longer find comfort in hope. I was born to twist in his path, and he in mine. I no longer any path that will lead me away from him or any closer.

No true determinate can claim victories in the war we fight. We both hold too much power over each other. When too much energy builds in the pursuit of power and love, its destruction leaves nothing.

Nothing. Not even pain.

"Did you sleep with her?"

He met her eyes, full with contempt; confusion. She was on edge, but determined. All he could do was stare, and it made her bravery practically forfeit itself upon the theory of this conversation ending too passionately.

"What?"

Her lip twisted at the underlying curiosity in his eyes, "Did you fuck her tonight, Mac?"

It was a simple question. Nothing was ever simple between them, however. When it was convenient, he adjusted questions in his favor. And when the time was right, he took considerate advantage. Tonight was not that kind of night, surprisingly enough.

He took a long enough pause to study her face for fear. When he found that, he smirked, and chuckled to himself. A usual reaction. The unusual part, almost just as predictable. He grabbed a hold of Demeter's jaw, kissing her fully. When he separated himself, his hot breath was still heavy in her mouth.

"You know I did, sweetheart." He muttered. With her eyes lowered, unable to breath, Macavity released her, then stepped away to sofa, lounging himself, sipping at the whiskey that had been waiting patiently on the coffee table.

She stared at the floor. She felt his breath, still moist, on her lips. The craving swelled for a moment, then went away. He loved to play games. But Demeter was not in the mood. With a swift turn, the gold queen placed her back against the wall. Unhinged by his physical contact, her spirit had returned. "I don't understand why it always has to be like this. It should always be just the two of us. I'd prefer not to be in a harem with my sister forever."

"But that is just the thing, isn't it, Deme?" Macavity finished the whiskey, paused to swallow, then spat in the corner. Demeter didn't react, like he wanted her to. It was a control method between them. "You came. Then she followed. We all took advantage of that. And there haven't been complaints on her end, have there? You should follow her example I think."

"Dammit, Mac." She growled. His affection. It was poison. A lie. She undid the falsifying he had imbedded years within her. If only just for a moment. "You come up with the same excuses every night. You didn't have to fuck her. You didn't have to hurt me."

"Your idealism gets tiring after a while." He raised an eyebrow staring at her again. His patience was thinning, that was his signal. "We're not in the Junkyard, Deme. We aren't structured by all the old laws. By all of my father's ancient ways. We are free to make our own choices." He paused a moment, having a quarry in his eye. He casually stood himself up and strolled over to her, "Now let me ask you, Deme," He pressed his forearm above her head, trapping her between him and the wall. His paw held her chin, forcing her to look back at him, "What was the choice you made?"

With his voice just below a growl, Demeter found herself knowing the answer without needing to think. She took the breath to keep herself looking nervous. It made her wonder if she was just as much of a sociopath as he was. "You." She relented, taking a deep breath. Her chest put an inch of distance between them.

He looked satisfied enough. Without hesitation, he kissed her again, less heatedly this time, then let her go. "Then remember that your sister made that same choice. And all of our choices have consequences." It was a chiding tone, but he didn't look too concerned any longer.

Demeter felt full, but empty at the same time. They didn't talk much; not as much as they used to, anyway. She took the full minute to breathe as he sat in his desk, writing something ambiguous; something she would never bother reading. When he was done, he looked back, seeing that she had moved herself at some point to the bedroom door rather than staying on the wall.

"Why do you always forbid yourself from sitting down in here?" He asked, only curious.

It was a simple question. One she took delight in answering. "You control everything in your room. I like feeling I have some control over something."

"And standing for hours makes you feel like you control me?" he patronized, sneering at her.

She looked at him and shook her head, "Not you. I said something."

Macavity took a moment to ponder her response, then turned his chair to face her. He made himself comfortable as he cocked his head to the side. "Please elaborate, darling."

She hummed, and shrugged her shoulders, "Well, when we're fucking, you always have me lying on my stomach or on my knees. But when we make love, I am either up or down. Depends on the time you want to be controlled." She took a smile at that, knowing it would get to him, "So when I am in control, I am sitting on top of you, but you have just enough power to change things if you want to. But you don't. You let me sit. So, by that logic, if I am sitting on my own accord here, I am following your control in this room. You can change whatever you like whenever you like it. But we don't make love or fuck by standing. Therefore, when I stand, I am in control of myself."

He listened keenly, then chuckled out of some amusement. "You have a very observant idea of sexual conduct and power, Deme."

She shrugged, her shoulders again, smiling at him, "I learned from the best."

Macavity smiled back, relishing a moment of peace between them, then raised an eyebrow at her, "There is a flaw in your logic, however."

"Is that so?"

"I'm afraid so, my dear." He stood up stretched his muscles. "You see, standing does not necessarily mean you control anything. I can change everything just as easily in any position you are in."

She huffed, then quietly leaned herself up to a straight position. "You're wrong, Mac. Here I am standing, and I can go anyway I want." She took a step away, his gaze following her, then she faced him fully and grinned, "You cannot control me from way over there."

"…No, I suppose you're right." Macavity walked up to her, quicker than before. He was gentle, however, when sliding his paws around her waist, tightening his hold. "Much better."

Demeter only smiled, "Touché, I suppose."

"You do not stand a chance against me, tete-a-tete, my love."

"Perhaps not. But you do allow me control. Allow it to me this time."

He chuckled, "You did something for me yesterday, taking care of Griddlebone's chores. I think I can afford you a favor."

Demeter smiled, this time it was warm. But anything he gave her was so, so cold. "I would like you to kiss me. Like you always do. Then I would like you to take me into your bedroom, make love to me, and then sleep next to me."

"Easily done than said." He whispered. He bent his neck to lean into their kiss. A claw stopped him short. Demeter purred and stared him in the eye:

"But first, tell me you love me."

He took a long pause at this, but even then, he relented. "I love you."

She smiled "I knew it." With that, she fully invited him to press his lips onto hers. He took full advantage.

He invited her into his room. She gladly took him up on the offer.

He invited her to a drink. She hated saying no to his good wine.

She him on the bed. Nothing could have stopped him.

She invited him between her legs. He did not hesitate.

And she kept asking him over the relentless connection of his movements to tell her again. He moaned to her several times until she orgasmed: "I love you." And she moaned the same phrase in his ear until he was satisfied himself. They lied in bed, and she repeated his words in her head several times until they fell asleep.

This time, she truly believed him. A foolish mistake, but what was a young fool to do? There was nothing left for them but to love each other.

And love, of course, is the most dreadful pain of all.

"Deme, hurry up!" A spritely ginger tom laughed as he ran far from the little golden queen. Demeter was very young, but she was as agile as they came.

"Mac! Slow down!" She was out of breath and sorely tired. But he never let her stop until they reached the shoreline of the Thames.

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow, "What are we doing here?" She asked uncertainly.

"I found someplace that's really cool. It's gonna be our new hangout, okay? But you can't tell anyone."

She perked and smiled immediately, "Okay. Where is it?!"

He pointed in the direction away from the dock. There stood a large warehouse, rickety. Eerie. He pushed her lightly, and they raced all the way to the boarded entrance, concerned only with outrunning each other.