MATTHEW

They entered the heart of summer and the city inside a mountain baked as it did every year, in spite of the distant whir of the cooling system. School ended, and Matthew enjoyed the fact that he was no longer technically skipping classes, a fact he made sure to point out to his father. Adam, far from satisfied, countered with the fact that Matthew would have been finished with the compulsory schooling at this point if he hadn't effectively dropped out. The conversation was a sour note in Matthew's thoughts.

His silent relationship with the dancer evolved. They both became proficient in the other's choreography for several pieces, and sometimes danced synchronized with each other. Even though they remained on opposite sides of the room, Matthew found he looked forward to the times they would dance together. He started to wonder what she would be like as a dance partner and itched to ask her if she had ever partnered with someone before. He made no attempt to talk to her however, as he and G had agreed.

One day, they wordlessly took up places for a dance they had done together a couple of times. When the music began, Matthew was momentarily confused as the young woman broke right when he went left. Then he realized she had flipped the choreography. He thought he understood why about halfway through the song, when they came face to face with each other, separated by only eight feet or so. It was the closest he'd ever been to her, and they studied each other for four beats before the dance had them move back to center.

Her skin was a light brown, the shade of coffee with milk mixed in. It had a coolness about it that differed from the warmth of Matthew's deep brown skin. Her features were long and well defined, her lips full. She wore a scarf on her head. Matthew had never seen her without it, and it was always dark in color, as were the clothes that covered her lean form, long sleeves and leggings in spite of the heat. Better for hiding, he suspected. Her figure boasted only slight curves, and she stood perhaps half a foot shorter than himself.

At this close distance, though, it was her eyes that captivated him the most. They were a piercing blue. Lensherr-blue he thought to himself fatuously. The Lensherr line was famous for their deep blue eyes, as well as the strain of white hair that had emerged centuries ago. The combination was the height of beauty in the Montagne, and very rare. Many people born with blue eyes bleached their hair to achieve the effect, but it rarely looked natural. The dancer in front of him had eyes that would qualify, and Matthew lost himself in them long enough to miss a few beats and had to run to catch up with the choreography. He wondered what she thought of him.

Days crept by, then weeks, and Matthew lost himself in the routine. He looked forward to seeing the dancer each day and was glad when her off days became rarer. At some point she stopped missing days altogether. While they never spoke, their non-verbal communication expanded, especially as she slowly allowed herself in closer proximity to him. Dubious looks, over the shoulder glances and small smiles as she turned away spoke volumes. Matthew found himself working for the last and wondering if he could get her to laugh.

He hadn't realized that summer was over halfway through, and weeks had passed since he had last hung out at the center or spoken to G in anything that qualified as more than passing, until the morning he saw Travis Lensherr outside the Towers.

Nephew to the current Head, Travis was a small, slight teenager with dark hair, pale skin and the legendary blue eyes bordered by thick glasses. He was three years lower than Matthew at school, and Matthew was familiar with him, though they weren't acquainted. He was reserved, and people whispered at school that he was a bit odd.

Matthew dismissed all that. The presence of anyone with the Lensherr name set him on edge. The tabloids were never far behind them, and Matthew didn't want that sort of attention again. He had been happy when the papers had finally lost interest in him and his DownMountain escapades. He scowled as Travis' figure disappeared down an adjacent alley. Two tall figures waited at the end.

Finding G to tell him about Travis proved to be easy. The big man was waiting for him and grabbed him by the arm when he entered, dragging him to the base of the stairwell.

"What are you doing, Mattie? Stop making eyes at the girl, and remember we are trying to help her!" Matthew was taken aback at G's vehemence but recovered quickly.

"Hey, I'm doing what you asked me to do, remember? But there's a bigger problem. I just saw Travis Lensherr lurking outside. You know he's going to bring unwanted attention here by virtue of who he is." Matthew was not impressed with G's reaction.

"And virtuous he is. That is one fine looking young man."

"G, he's only 16."

"But he won't stay 16 forever." G raised his eyebrows suggestively, then returned to his former scowl. "Stop distracting me with juicy tidbits. Matthew, time is of the essence. Summer is not going to last forever."

"G, you aren't taking this seriously. What if Travis finds out about the girl? He'll make something out of it and sell it to the tabloids!"

"There you are wrong. Travis has a brain and unlike you he actually uses it sometimes. Point of fact, he's been hanging around here on and off for the past year and has never caused a problem. Anyway, he knows about the girl."

"What? How? He knows she not from here?" Matthew demanded in a fierce whisper.

"He does not know that," G responded, pointedly, "And only a couple of the gang suspect that, though I never confirm. The rest, and Travis believe she's a proxy down on her luck, and not taking it well. Destined for Katya's Locker sort of deal." G grimaced, before going on. "She and Travis had a bit of a run in themselves, back when she first arrived. She startled him so much he set off a few of his sparklies." Travis' mutant power was weak pyrotechnics. "She put a foot in his chest and left him gasping on the floor." G sounded proud, although Matthew wasn't sure of whom. He wondered briefly that Travis hadn't raised an alarm over the altercation.

"And you were going to tell me this…when?"

"Ah Mattie, I wasn't worried about you. And if I hadn't known she could defend herself, I wouldn't have brought you in. But Matthew," he continued, taking Matthew's arm, and ignoring his friend's indignation, "I know in your UpMountain world these things don't happen, but here when it gets to fall, food gets tight to get us through the winter. And I'm not willing to rely on your handouts indefinitely."

Matthew hadn't known that. Each time he learned of a new way in which the DownMountain suffered, it felt like a kick in the gut. He cursed his lack of knowledge. He wasn't just doing a favor for G anymore. He wanted to help the dancer see that there was a lot more for her here than running and hiding. The Montagne was not perfect, but it did take care of its people. More or less.

"We've taken our time, and she's gotten more comfortable…I think it might be safe to approach her," G was saying in conclusion.

"You're right, G. I'll try to talk to her today. Just let me do it at my own pace." G nodded, satisfied, and let Matthew go up the stairs. Matthew ran is hands over his head in frustration. He had no idea how he was going to get the girl to listen to him and not run away. He hoped that her small entreaties towards communication meant that she was comfortable enough with him to hear him out.

When he reached the room, the young woman was already dancing, so Matthew set up the music and started stretching. His silent companion glanced at him, then continued with the routine she had been practicing. Soon they were both dancing and the day proceeded as usual.

They danced synchronized a couple of times – Matthew was distracted and her flat looks made it evident that it showed in his dancing. Otherwise they each worked independently. Shortly after noon, when they often stopped for a break, Matthew decided it was as good a time as any. He didn't try to approach the young woman, and simply started talking, deciding to get as much out as he possibly could.

"Hey, uh, I'm Matthew. I said that before, didn't I?" He was babbling. Not good. He wanted to know her name but didn't dare ask. She was already eyeing the nearest door. "I have really enjoyed this. I love dancing here, I love dancing with you," What the hell was he saying? "but it's not the only reason I come. You see, my friend G, he kind of runs the place below, for the kids. Well, he's worried about you. And so am I. You obviously don't have a place to get food, and I shudder to think where you sleep. You don't have anyone here, and G, that bothers him. He really looks after the kids downstairs and while you are not a kid he wants to help you as well. And he can. We don't know why you don't have a pass card-"

The girl had just been standing and listening until now but started to move at his last words.

"-and we don't care," he added hurriedly, "if we did, we would have reported you ages ago." She stopped, just a few steps from the door, and then turned back to him, waiting. Good, she was logical and apparently had some trust in him. He could work with that. "And that's just it. G has a pass card you can use. It belonged to his sister. You look a bit like her, and you are about her age, or the age she would have been. Anyway, G says the administration is super loose down here, it could be some random guy's card and they probably wouldn't stop you. So, what do you say? It's really a no brainer. No questions asked, no ties to bind. Well, G will continue to keep an eye on you, but he'll give you your space. He's good like that. It seems straightforward to me. Please, let us help you." Relieved he had to gotten it all out, he caught his breath while he waited.

"Where did you learn to dance?" Her voice was low and melodious, and as G had said, her command of the language was perfect. He blinked at the question; it was not what he had expected. But, she was talking, so….

"The Pietrovich School of Ballet. UpMountain. My dad had danced there since he was a kid, so he brought me there when I was little. I've been dancing ever since."

"Really? Why were you so bad when you got here?" Her tone was suspicious.

Matthew winced, and he paused before responding. He decided he would tell her he didn't mind that. He cleared his throat.

"Um, I had this dance partner. We had been together forever – grew up together really, dancing together the whole time and eventually becoming a couple. Anyway, she cheated on me a several months back. And it changed everything for me. My dancing had been so connected to her…I just couldn't do it anymore. So, I stopped. Until I saw you dance." He shut his mouth before he said anything else creepy.

She just looked at him. He took the moment to gaze back at her. He had slowly started walking towards her as he talked, and now was close enough to see her eyes clearly again. He jumped when she spoke again. "This 'G'. How do you know him?" Matthew blinked again.

"G and I go way back. We came to the Montagne together."

"You weren't born here?"

"No. There are a few people like that in the Sewer. Um, I mean the place where this building is." Her isolation had kept her from learning about the Montagne. Well, he'd teach her what he could. "The Montagne has been keeping a protective eye on the Wastelands for generations, and regularly brought children back from caravans that were raided and abandoned. G and I were among one of those groups."

The story put her off balance. She looked surprised, then confused, then horrified. "People…on the Wastelands? Attacked? And the kids were left out there alone?" Her eyes filled with pain. "That's horrible," she whispered.

The topic triggered a memory he hastily pushed back down. He was suddenly angry. Why was she dwelling on this? He was trying to help her couldn't she see that? She-

He realized he had lost track of what he had been saying. She was looking at him strangely and backing away. He panicked. G, that's right, he was telling her about his connection to G. In his desperation to keep her there, his blurted out everything.

"Yeah, G and I were in the same caravan that was attacked. His parents died. My mother was killed in front of me. We were found later and brought to the Montagne. My sister and I were adopted UpMountain. That's where I learned to dance."

Flustered, he looked away from her. Had that made sense? Why had he told her about his mother? He didn't like to talk about that. He forced himself to look back and found her gazing desolately into the distance. She seemed as if in a trance.

"My mother died in my arms."

His body jerked with shock. She regained her composure. He thought he saw a brief look of horror and disbelief before her face settled into the controlled mask he was starting to understand she always wore. She looked at him.

"I'll consider it," she said, then turned and bolted through the nearest door.

Matthew stood there feeling numb. His mind vaguely processed that she must have meant she would consider the card, but other things dominated his thoughts.

My mother died in my arms. He now acknowledged that pain and grief had bled from her the first time he had watched her dance. Her mother's death must have occurred shortly before she arrived at the Montagne.

She dances like you used to.

He felt his own grief try to break free from the place in his heart where he kept it contained. Shaking himself, and refusing to face the pain, he slowly went to collect the music box and head downstairs.

"Mattie!" The whispered call shook him out of his numb state when he reached the bottom of the stairs. "You did it!"

Bright was standing there, grinning up at him.

"She-?" Bright nodded.

"She came down. She's talking to G in the common room right now! Looks at the rest of us like we are about to eat her, but you got her talking!" Matthew grinned at Bright's excitement, which made their own dark-skinned face break into a wide smile. The non-binary grabbed his hand. "Come on."

When they arrived in the common room, however, the young woman had already moved on. Spotting them, G came over, a wide smile on his own face as well.

"You did it, Mattie. You can add bringing in strays to your list of accomplishments."

"She took the card?" Matthew felt a pang of disappointment that it was done so quickly. G grimaced.

"Not yet. She's 'thinking about it.' But now I think she'll come around. You broke the ice." The large man glanced at Bright. "Hey, Bright, could you give us a moment?" The younger person nodded releasing Matthew's hand and went to join Tray and Hulio in another part of the large room.

"Um, Mattie, did you have to tell her all that…stuff?" After a moment of confusion, Matthew realized what 'stuff' G was referring to. The caravan.

"Ah, it kind of slipped out. She brought it up?"

"Yeah, quizzed me on the whole thing." Matthew nodded taking this in.

"She was checking my story against yours. Probably to see if we are trustworthy." G's face took on a look of calculating admiration.

"I should have seen that. So, she's a smart one then. I can work with that." G nodded thoughtfully, and slapped Matthew on the back. "You better keep coming back, Summers."

"What? Of course, I'm going to…" Then he realized that with the lines of communication open between the dancer and G, he served little purpose anymore. He felt a sense of loss for a moment but pushed it aside.

"Of course, I'm going to come back! I've got my reputation to clear and my own private dance studio upstairs!" And she'll still be there. The thought was purposeful, as if he was trying to convince himself of the truth of it. He was sure she would continue to dance upstairs for at least for the next while, but he also recognized that her days of dancing alone in the Towers were probably coming to an end. Again, he felt a sense of loss.

Even though the day was early yet, he bid good-bye to G and the crew and went home. On the train, he wondered how strange it would be if he kept coming to the Towers, now that his mission to help the recalcitrant dancer was complete.

Matthew was being attacked. One person held his arms pinned behind him, while another approached him from the front. A third held back and was shouting something that Matthew understood distantly was a warning. The one in front snapped back at his cohort as he reached for Matthew's shirt and pulled it open making buttons pop off and to the side.

Fear coursed through him, and adrenaline surge through his body. Fighting the fear, he tapped into the rush of energy and tried to assert some control. He knew he could defend himself. He just had to be careful about how he did it. Using the self-defense he had practiced, he brought his knee up into the crotch of the man in front. The man jumped back, anticipating the attack. Fear spiked in Matthew, and suddenly the arms behind him were pulling him to the ground. The man in front kneeled and started pulling up Matthew's skirt, yelling something to the one behind. The third stepped forward, and still talking meaningless words, placed his hands on Matthew's ankles.

Mentally, Matthew froze. With a rising feeling of panic, he realized this was not his nightmare. How was this happening? Something was very, very wrong.

The dream continued. The woman, that fact was terribly clear to Matthew now, was fighting, twisting violently to stop the men, her panic and fear coloring the nightmare. She was trying to focus on something, something small but important. Her fear was making it difficult. Matthew couldn't follow her thoughts for the powerful emotions vying for control of her.

Panic took over and she jerked, discovering that the man by her legs wasn't really holding her down. She immediately brought her legs up to kick the one in front of her, who was now trying to pull her tights down. In response, the man behind her kneeled on her hands and wrenched her head back, trying to bring her under control. Suddenly the attacker behind her gasped in disbelief and released her. The other two stared at her as they started to back away, horror on their faces.

"Demonspawn," the one directly in front of her whispered, and the word hit the dreamer with such impact its meaning shuddered through her, and Matthew's, entire being. The two men began to move away, and the third suddenly came into view on the side. Together they fled, a comment panicked and excited, drifting back down the alley.

Suddenly weak with fear and relief, the victim pushed herself to sitting, and then backwards until she hit a wall gasping to catch her breath. She fumbled to pull her clothes back on. Then a terrible understanding filled her, and she launched off the ground her mind racing.

Matthew was mentally pushing himself away, trying to get out of the nightmare, but found himself firmly ensnared. He blocked out as much of her experience as he could.

Distantly he became away that the woman was in a dark tunnel. She was desperately recalling plans of some sort, but Matthew paid no heed, and pushed it away again, still trying to get out of the maelstrom of emotion. In the nightmare, time started to slip and jump, and Matthew connected that there was a new fear rising in her, something worse than the gang rape she had just narrowly escaped. It was associated with her destination. With a person. Her mother. Mentally, Matthew froze.

She was out of the tunnels now and had just entered a building through a basement door. A dark and dusty staircase flew by, a seemingly endless flight upwards. A door opened a crack, the hallway beyond empty, a flash of relief. But as she approached one of the doors off the hall, that relief evaporated. The door was ajar. She pushed it open on a new horror.

On the floor, surrounded by boxes, was a woman. She had been viciously beaten. The left side of her face was swelling and turning purple. There were likely broken bones. Her hands rested painfully on her stomach, suggesting internal injuries. A dark stain marred her trousers at her knee, and Mattie thought the angle looked wrong. He started to feel sick, and knew it was his feeling not that of the dreamer.

The dreamer fought anguish, despair and guilt as she knelt down and gently lifted the woman's head into her arms. Internally, she was fighting down her primal feelings and grasping for calm so she could think, so she could get them out of this terrible situation. Tears poured down her cheeks, her throat closed with despair and she sobbed. She wasn't succeeding.

The woman stirred and opened her eyes. One of them, as the other was swollen shut. It was a warm golden-brown color, and Mattie sensed she was trying to project calm and focus through her pain.

"Eleni! Go! Run! LIVE!" Each word was a faint gasp, barely intelligible, but they tore through the younger woman. Even as he continued to try to break free, their meaning was clear to Matthew.

"Mom, no, no!" It was more of a sob than a sentence, and then her words were tumbling one on top of another. Matthew felt regret, guilt and horror in the words. And desperation. "Don't leave me, mom! Don't leave me!" Matthew went cold.

Despite the girl's desperate entreaties, her mother's lips stopped moving and, her body went limp

"No!"

It was too much. Matthew continued to try desperately to disengage himself from the nightmare, but knew it was too late. The dreamer's feelings were too familiar. He felt his own nightmare forming from the depths of his mind. "No!"

The scene changed.

The brutal sun beat down on parched and rocky earth. Down in the ravine below, he knew that fires burned consuming many charred bodies and large boxy shapes. Matthew clung to his mother, shaking. Trying not to sob. She was trying to calm him down.

"Think of your daddy. Think of your daddy, Mattie. We're going to get back to him. I promise. But I need you to be quiet. You're safe here. And you must not think out loud. You can do it, Mattie. Look at me. You can do it, Mattie."

Gentle but insistent, the litany continued until Matthew was able to tear his eyes away from the direction of the destruction he knew lay below. His mother's hazel eyes looked down at him, focused only on him despite the tragedy that had just struck them. Filled with love for him. He swallowed and felt his breathing calm slightly.

"You are so strong Mattie. I knew you could do it. I need you to be strong for me for a little longer. Can you do that?" Matthew nodded, although he felt anything but strong. He would try his best for his mother.

"Mattie, Jalisa's down there, and the other kids. I can save them. I have to try." No, don't leave me! "That's what we do. Protect each other. Keep each other safe. You'll be safe here. They won't know you are here, so long as you do not think out loud. Can you stay here, quiet, and wait for me?" Mattie nodded, although he was panicking inside. Don't leave me alone! But…his sister and friends were down there. He nodded again.

She pressed her finger to her lips, and silently slipped out of the narrow opening to their shelter. She stayed close to the ground and moved slowly. Nothing else moved. Matthew squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't look. The panic of not knowing what was happening to his mom made him open them again.

She had moved a few feet away, slowly easing herself up to get a better look at what was happening below. Voices floated up from the ravine, and the sounds of children crying. Matthew started shaking. He thought he saw something moved to his right. "Mommy!" He cried out. She turned back to him, starting to stand in alarm, a red glow taking shape around her. He felt the familiar warmth of her powers and thought he was safe. Then a sharp pop sounded, her head jerked forward and her body fell limp to the ground. A dark stain began to spread over her hair. The glow faded. Matthew screamed.

"Mommy!"

Men were coming up the hill behind her body, dressed in dark uniforms with white arm bands.

"Mommy!"

The scream came out as a hoarse whisper. Matthew's throat was constricted and dry from fear. Desperately, he tried to breath, gasping in air, fumbling for some form of control. Why had he had that nightmare now? It had been years since he had last seen it.

As his breathing calmed, he sorted back through the terror. The same one as always. Perhaps more vivid and terrifying than he remembered. Also, different…he had been attacked, and then running. He was still running. No, that was wrong. He had a moment of vertigo, a sort of double vision. Suddenly he understood.

It was her dream. The dancer. Somehow, they were linked. A psychic bond? He thought that only happened after a long association and had to be accompanied by strong mutual feelings. Nonetheless, the evidence was in front of him and he couldn't deny it. Now that he was aware of her, he could feel her. She was panicking. She was terrified.

He shot out of bed, shoving on whatever clothes came to hand on, and quickly but quietly left the house and jogged towards the train station. It was just before 1 o'clock in the morning. He was fairly certain the trains were still running. Trains UpMountain from Down ended early, but jobs for workers from DownMountain started early and ran late, so trains back didn't stop until the small hours of the morning, only to start again a short while later. Bitterly thankful for the inequality that let him get to the dancer, he slid onto the train waiting at the station and waited impatiently for it to leave.

ELENI

Eleni ran. She had woken up and almost fallen, catching herself at the last minute. As soon as her feet were on the ground, however, her instincts had kicked in and she had started running. The part of her mind that was grappling for control was telling her to go back to where she had come from, but in the dark of night she was lost. When she slowed to try to orient herself, she became keenly aware that she didn't know this place and didn't know what dangers might lurk. So, she kept on running. It felt like she had been running forever.

"Mommy!" The child's cry echoed in her mind, and she was again subsumed by his fear and despair. When her mother had died in her arms, she had been devastated, but she had been an adult, and able to understand what she was facing, able to manage her emotions enough to get herself to safety. The feelings of this child were wild and the fact that he could not understand or control them only amplified them. Every time she thought she had tamped them down so she could start to process what she needed to do next, they reared up again causing her breathing to break into choked gasps. It was like a horror movie you couldn't get out of your mind. Tears streamed down her face as she ran.

She nearly hit a wall and veered sharply left. The station. She didn't know how to get there…and yet, somehow, she did. She followed this new instinct. If it turned out to be right, at least she would know where she was.

A few more turns, and she hit the edge of a lit courtyard. She slowed and glanced up to make sure she was at the station. Shock jolted through her. Matthew was standing in the middle of the courtyard leading to the station. He was looking right at her.

A sort of numbness set in, as her mind grappled to incorporate this new development, and she slowed as she approached him, eventually stopping a few feet away. Gasping for breath, she stared at him.

He had become familiar to her, and in that was comforting. Tall with a broad chest and wide shoulders, his hair a short mop of tight-tangled dark brown curls that he pulled back to dance. His deep brown skin, and his eyes that reminded her of melted chocolate. She felt herself calming and started to try to make sense of the situation.

Matthew seemed relieved, then ran his hand through his hair with a bit of trepidation. He hesitated, then spoke.

"I'm glad you're ok. I need to explain. You see, I'm a telepath."

Eleni froze, her eyes flying wide in shock. She had let herself be lulled into a sense of safety in the Montagne. During her time here she had seen all forms of humans made half animal, a rainbow of skin colors, even people made from rocks or other materials. Few of them had seemed any more threatening than the people she had grown up with.

In truth, she was completely unprepared for living in a society where everyone had supernatural abilities. Her mind screamed danger, but the shock rooted her feet to the ground. Matthew was talking rapidly.

"I don't use it really, and never, NEVER, go into people's minds without their permission. It's wrong. But…I think we've developed a connection. Maybe like a psychic bond. I don't know how or why, but it is there. And that's why the dreams…the nightmares…I saw yours and you saw mine..." He trailed off, apparently looking for words to explain, but he had already lost her.

"A psychic bond?" Inside she was panicking. What had she gotten herself into? Could he read all her thoughts? A bond, did that suggest something constant, permanent? She started to back away, although the sick feeling in her stomach was telling her that running away was useless now.

"Elayni, wait, please I am no danger to you! The bond, it seems to be emotionally based. I can sense your emotions, but I think that's it! It doesn't mean I'm going to control you or anything like that! And I said, I don't do that! It's wrong. Please, believe me! If I had wanted to manipulate you telepathically, I have had ample chance!" All of this rushed out of his mouth. He was panting to catch his breath afterwards.

Suddenly, Eleni knew that he was desperately trying to keep her there. She could feel it. It didn't mix with her emotions – it was distinctly separate. Her own desperation and panic were still strong, but this new awareness temporarily distracted her. Was that the bond? She shook her head, trying to use the temporary stay on her emotions to reassert her control, and think.

"But you know my name. You've been in my mind!"

"I know your name from the dream. And that was involuntary – it just happened, probably because of our conversation from this afternoon." She paused, reviewing the memory she had relived nearly every night since her mother's death. Tears pressed against her eyes, but she forced herself to think of it. Yes, her mother had said her name. He really had seen her nightmare. She looked up at Matthew, searching his face. His desperation had faded slightly, and now chagrin flashed across his feelings.

"I did give you the suggestion to come to the station. And led you here. But it wasn't exactly entering your mind – more like tossing the ideas into your head…gently…" He winced slowly as he looked at her. His desperation rose again.

Eleni suddenly felt exhausted and helpless. He had put a thought in her head and she had followed it. With this bond he could probably find her anywhere. She stared at the man who had helped calm her when grief had threatened to overwhelm her but had now put her in a terrible position. She was too tired to fight it. The best she could do was understand what it meant at this point and find a way to undo what had been done.

As her panic and the need to run dissipated, sadness rose up in their wake. She found the source and looked at Matthew, remembering the nightmare from his past and knowing the trauma he had suffered. Knowing that that child still lived inside him. Suddenly, he didn't seem a threat at all.

"That was your mother," she said softly, sadness thickening her voice. He was momentarily confused by the non sequitur. Then pain flashed across his face and his feelings. He nodded.

"And that was yours," he replied. "I'm so sorry." He choked on the words, but Eleni could no longer see his face as tears filled her eyes. She would have crumpled to the ground, except that then Matthew was there, his arms around her. She buried her face in his chest and gripped him tightly, as her grief overwhelmed her and she let it out.