We'd spent the day passing looks at each other, hers cautious and annoyed, mine inviting and speculating. She'd shown me some of the things she'd created, and I in return had looked them over before returning my eyes to every tight part of her clothing. But that night brought something else. Sparrow jumped into her bed and fell asleep. I took longer. Halfway through, she began moaning three names. Alex, Rose and Timothy. Then it just switched to Rose. And then she began crying. She sat bolt upright, suddenly awake, and staring into space, her eyes wide and filled with tears.
"I've killed my sister, haven't I?" She whispered.
"What on earth do you mean?" I grumbled.
"I could've brought back my family. Alex…Tim…Rose…but instead I chose to return strangers."
"Well, finally it kicks in." I muttered.
"Don't mock me!" She cried, in an agonised screech. "Every-frigging-night, the same nightmare. My family looks at me disapprovingly, as though by choosing to save others I've let them down. And my own little dog, just whining at me like I've broken his heart. I hated that noise when he was alive. I loathed it. It's not FAIR! Why couldn't I have had two wishes? I didn't want thousands of gold. I just wanted everyone to be happy. I guess I wasn't in the equation. Damnit!" She picked up her pillow and threw it at the opposite wall. "I hate Theresa! Surely such a massive object of power could've done all three. She was so bloody keen to keep it." The tears began to flow again, thick and fast, splashing onto the duvet. What could I offer except condolences? I knew how it felt to be plagued by endless nightmares of what could have been. But Sparrow and I were different in that context. She was hardened, tough, but favoured others over herself (well, before they'd let her family die, of course.) I, on the other hand, had chosen to sacrifice to the Shadows and take my eternal youth. I was for me. No one else mattered. But to Sparrow, all that had mattered once was revenge. I had never felt vengeful against anyone, being above them in so many ways. I got out the bed and retrieved the pillow. Then I chucked it back to her and lay back in the bed.
"Honestly, dwelling on what could have been is dangerous for the soul, Sparrow. Trust me." I warned her. She sighed, and suddenly I found a pair of arms wrapped around my torso, with Sparrow pulling herself onto me.
"Then help me forget." She whispered faintly. I secured her in a hug and chuckled dryly to her.
"If someone had told me, five years ago, that the Hero of Bowerstone would one day be begging me to sleep with her, I would've been delighted but rather disbelieving." I told her, running fingers through her golden hair and over her back. So, she wanted to forget what had happened, hmmm? Well, this was going to be more than passably fun.
There was sunlight glancing off my eyelids when I awoke. It was late, perhaps eleven in the morning. I glanced up and my brow raised. Sparrow was asleep bang on next to me, one arm around my back, her hand gripping mine in an almost childlike manner. I appeared to a warm, human blanket for her. Oh, I didn't mind. If last night's antics were anything to go by, when she woke up she might go in for another. Sure enough, she groaned at something and slowly opened her eyes. When she saw what was happening she quickly slipped her arm out from behind me and let go of my hand, pulling away swiftly. I pulled her back, running my hands over her. Then I stopped. I could feel two new marks on her legs.
"Sparrow," I squeaked indignantly, "what HAVE you done to yourself? These…these…scars…" She grinned rebelliously at me.
"I love them." She purred. "I've always found the rugged look more my type. And you can blame the Hollow Men in Shelley Crypt for them." I raised a brow.
"So why are we sleeping together? I'm more of a refined person."
"Because you're trying to get some money off the guards, dimwit." She reminded me. I rolled my eyes.
"Yes, of course. How could I forget? Oh, I know. Because I'm busy enjoying screwing you."
"You're enjoying it? I didn't know I could live up to the standards of the Great Reaver."
"Trust me." Now it was my turn to purr. "You tick all the boxes."
"You have tick-boxes?"
"Of course."
"What are they?"
"1. You have to look good.
2. You have to be utterly helpless and compliant when I say so.
3. You have to be human.
4. You have to had some sort of experience before." She snorted with laughter.
"Great tick-boxes, my dear." She laughed at me. I pouted.
"But you're completely sexy and remember, it's that which keeps me from putting a bullet through your head. Don't get a big head now." She gave me a look.
"You've told me not to get a big head when you've openly just admitted you find me sexy. Interesting theology, Reaver." I pinned her on her back and began to ease her legs open.
"You're a renegade. You're tough. You appeal to my tastes far too much. Perhaps for your own good." I whispered, tracing her with my fingers. She sighed, small tremors running down her back.
"You're a prick." She reminded me, digging her fingers in when my hand dropped down her skin.
"Oh, but you like that." I murmured, and kissed her fiercely.