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The Reunion

Alistair hurried down the country lane in the pre-dawn darkness, his coat unfurling behind him, thrashing around in the backwash of air like a cape as he ran at top speed towards the cottage. He hadn't run this way in many years so when the scent assaulted him at the top of the hill leading to his cottage, he almost hurt himself stopping short of his intended destination. Marcus! He stood there testing the air, tasting it for any hint of another… he didn't move for several minutes. When he was sure there was no other in the vicinity he moved forward much more cautiously approaching the front door of his own home with trepidation as though he knew he was marching into a trap.

He tested the door knob and finding it unlocked, stepped cautiously across the threshold into the darkened parlor. He pulled the door closed behind him and slowly lifted his head. The familiar figure from his past stood in the middle of the parlor unmoving, facing him for the first time in many centuries. Though every feature of his face was exactly the same as his perfect memory recalled, Alistair could see the lines of grief and despair that had grown into permanence around his eyes and mouth.

"Hello brother," Marcus voice was flat as always, but quicker to speak than he remembered.

"Marcus."

Neither one spoke for long drawn out minutes leaving the air between them dripping with centuries of doubt, suspicion and grief.

Finally, Alistair asked, "Why have you come, Brother? What's happened?"

Marcus took a deep breath but stood otherwise looking like a tense work of Michelangelo, "I've been… released."

"Released?"

"Yes, I would have come to find you centuries ago, but I couldn't leave Aro, he needed me. Even if I'd wanted to, Chelsea wouldn't have let me go."

"Chelsea?" Alistair frowns, "Your resolve to come couldn't have been very strong then. What's made you change your mind now?"

"Nothing, I only know that when I'd heard Chelsea had disappeared, I realized that I wanted to disappear too. So, I did."

"Aro?"

"I told him goodbye."

Alistair snorted, "I'm sure he took that well."

"He did, actually."

"Wait, Chelsea disappeared? Why?"

"No one knows. She's just gone."

"No one? Ashton?"

"Aro questioned him first, he didn't even know she was gone. It's still a mystery."

"Odd that she failed to mention her intentions to Aro?" Alistair's eyebrow shot up in a challenge.

"Yes, very odd. Naturally, he suspects foul play, but can't prove it."

"So Aro let you go, just like that, did he?" Alistair began to put his hat and coat on the wall rack, as was his custom to do.

"Of course."

"I don't believe it, Marcus. Aro must have been powerless to keep you there, and you're much too valuable to him to anger or destroy you," Alistair spat. "Chelsea must be much stronger than I'd thought. He'll be along to collect you as soon as he retrieves his jailer."

Marcus didn't answer quickly, he appeared to be unmoved and unmoving but finally he said, "Perhaps you're right again, Al. But, I've no reason to stay with Aro any longer. That place is only filled with sorrow and regret for me now. I came to tell you, you were right all those years ago too, that I've missed you and that I hoped we could find our way together once more," his voice cracked slightly, "You're still my family, brother."

Alistair pulled the newspaper out of the coat pocket that was still hanging on the rack and handed it to Marcus, still folded so the article faced up. "All Italy knows you've left Volterra, hardly discreet. I doubt Aro will have little trouble locating you and when he does, he'll find me as well," he cleared his throat, "not the best outcome I could hope for I'm afraid."

"He may have more difficulty locating you than you think."

Alistair's eyebrows shot up in a clear question mark.

"Demetri and Renata left before I did."

"What?"

"Aro's lost his best shield and his best tracker," Marcus watched the expression on his brother's face morph from shock, to surprise… to fear, "he has others, of course, but they're not nearly as good."

"Aro's got to be furious. This is an obvious pre-emptive strike, he'll have no doubt…" Alistair's mind was kicking into high gear now. "We've got to get out of England, brother. It's the first place he'll come looking for us."

Marcus sighed, "Don't be ridiculous, Al. He's not looking for anyone."

"He will be, and if I know Aro, which I DO," Al paused poignantly to glare at his brother for a moment, "He'll want his collectibles back as soon as he can get them."

"You never change."

Al scoffed, "that goes without saying, I'm a vampire, of course I never change and the pot is calling the kettle black, if I've ever heard it!" Alistair headed for the bedroom closet and Marcus followed him reluctantly. "Make up your mind now, Marcus. Stay here and go back to Volterra or come with me and stay out of the coming conflict."

Now it was Marcus' turn to scoff, "War? You have always been so ready to fly off the handle. Just because…"

Alistair turned to stare his brother down cold, "Think for just a moment, brother. Aro's favorite possessions are deserting him. It won't matter whether it's intentional or not, Aro's seeing red right now and he'd never blame his precious Chelsea for any of it. He won't want to believe it's the Romanians, that would be too obvious and accusing them right away would be too dangerous. As far as he's concerned, this is a strike against him from somewhere and he'll be lashing out. It won't matter who is actually to blame he'll be on the warpath and anyone in his way will be assimilated or destroyed. That's Aro and you know it, whether you've allowed yourself to accept it or not."

Marcus watched as Alistair pulled out an old trunk and started filling it with fresh clothing, "You're packing like a human?"

"Yes, well there's nothing like real Irish Wool and Linen. I may not have an opportunity to get any more for some time to come where I'm going."

"Where would that be?"

"You coming?" Al paused for a moment to scrutinize his brother's face.

"Well, I'm not going back to Volterra." Marcus tone was firm and decided.

"Northern Canada I think," Al snorted, "lots of privacy out there. Plus, it can be very difficult to track over the permafrost, for some anyway," he mumbled this last.

Marcus sighed again. "Good thing I brought my Italian loafers then." Alistair followed his gaze as he shifted his eyes toward the opposite corner of the smallish bedroom where a trunk almost identical to his own sat in the corner. For the first time in who knew how many centuries, Marcus winked at Al and the old hermit actually barked out a laugh.


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