They stayed that way for a long time, maybe hours, just the two of them, together in pain and anguish. Syl could feel that her body was close to his, but she felt loose and detached and not at all comforted. She slowly released him and looked up at his face, at the tears that had slipped down his cheeks and into her hair. She sat down and Krit sat next to her. He extended a hand to take hers but she pulled away, not quite sure why, not quite caring. His dark eyes flashed with surprised pain but he didn't reach for her again. They sat that way until the silence was choking her, until it was never-ending and frightening and making her so tired that she wished she could sleep and never wake up again. She wondered what time it was, remembered vaguely that Krit had said it was 6:30 before they'd listened to their messages. She tried to imagine how much time had passed since then- an hour, a day, a week? Any amount of time was too much of an understatement for the changes that had just taken place.

If she'd listened, all this could have been prevented. Brin had complained a thousand times of being tired, of being stressed, her hair turning white and her hands shaking with something different than seizures. Take time off work and you'll be okay, Syl had said once. Come on, you'll be fine, let Zane come to New York, another time. You have Greg, let Zane see Ben with us. Syl closed her eyes bitterly against the memory; if Zane had been there, maybe he would have been able to help her, protect her and fight when she couldn't. What did this Greg know, this man who cried on the phone that his fiancée was missing, his fiancée Brianna with a tattoo on her neck from a dare, Greg who knew nothing of anything but love and weakness and fear? But Zane could have done something, could have saved her. Syl stood up. She looked at Krit watching her and sat down again. His hand was warm and soft, gentle against her hair, a feeling Brin would never have again, never feel again, the simple touch of someone who loved her. Syl shrugged away, angry for reasons she was too tired to discover. And where was Zack?

"He'll call," Krit said as though he was reading her thoughts. It hurt to speak, but she forced herself to do it.

"Twenty-six rings," she said, and marvelled at the sound of her voice, hollow, even, almost calm in its numbness. She didn't look at him, didn't want to, because his eyes were dark and loving and pained, and they would wake her up, make her feel, make her cry again. "The emergency line, Krit," she said, studying her hands. Zane had once said hands were an important part of a woman; Syl looked at hers and wondered if they were beautiful, concluded that they must have been because of how she was made, was astounded that she could think about that at a time like this. She sighed and dropped them into her lap, finding the apartment suddenly hot, stuffy, the air stale. Krit was saying nothing and it was unnerving her, but she didn't want him to talk or she might scream or cry or break something. All she could think about was Brin dead, or worse captured, facing what kind of horrors Syl could only imagine. What would be Manticore's punishment for an AWOL spanning ten years? She didn't want to know.

"We should call the others," Krit said finally.

Hey, Tinga, how's your family? That's good, well I've got news about this side. Brin's probably dead, or as good as dead at least. Yes, it is a shame, isn't it? Of course it could have been prevented if we'd just listened to the girl. No, no, Zack hasn't called, he's missing too, isn't that odd? Well, we're just going to sit here and wait for his call as though we weren't trained for this, as though we couldn't track her and find her ourselves...

"Did you hear me?" he broke through her thoughts.

"They're in New York and I don't know Zane's cell number. We'll call them later. We have to go to California now."

"Let's wait a bit, it's only been an hour since you called Zack." He was talking to her slowly, like she might bolt, like she might freak. Was she that obviously tense? Could he smell the adrenaline clinging to her?

"I don't want to just sit around," she growled. Krit reached for her but still all she could think was that Brin wouldn't ever feel anything like that again. She stood up and moved to one of the armchairs, and she felt Krit watching her but she didn't care.

"Syl," he whispered. She closed her eyes against his face and turned to stare out the window.

"Two weeks today," she said softly after a long time. "She was supposed to get married in two weeks." Syl wrapped her arms around herself tightly. "It wasn't supposed to be like this for Brin," she whispered. Krit hesitated, stood up. He reached for her hand and squeezed, but she pulled away and drew herself closer into the chair. He looked at her for a moment, hesitated, then spoke.

"Do you want something to eat, Syl?" he asked softly. "Or a drink?"

"Food would be okay," she answered quietly. He nodded, left the room. Syl sighed and pressed her chin into her knees, tried not to cry, to think. Memory, as always, rose unbidden.


Zack held his fist up in a halt command and signalled them to assemble. Syl hurried over on her stomach, her machine gun cradled in her arms, and stopped in front of him.

"Change of plans," he said. "Krit's down."

"Is he okay?" Eva wanted to know.

"Where is he?" Bram asked. Syl glanced at them, fear stabbing at her heart. Zack looked at her, motioned for Bram to go with her back the other way.

"Find him," he ordered. "Find him and take him to the medlab." Syl nodded and motioned for her brother to follow her. His usual darkened skin was pale with fear as he followed her wordlessly through the woods. It didn't take long to find Krit, lying against a tree, his breath coming in little pants as he fought for consciousness. His eyes widened in relief when he caught sight of them.

"Syl," he gasped as they knelt next to him. "Bram." Syl threw her arms around his neck and Bram unbuttoned his camo jacket, found the bullet hole high in his chest, just under his collar bone.

"Can you stand?" he asked.

"Yeah," Krit said. "I'll stand." Syl touched a hand to his cap of half-inch dark hair and slipped her arms around his waist, hoisting him to his feet. He grunted in pain and collapsed slightly against her. She staggered under his weight but Bram, little as he was, kept them both standing. They started at a slow pace back to Manticore, back to safety. Hospital staff were waiting for them just inside the doors, and sprung to work on Krit, baring his chest and treating the wound, wheeling him toward the surgical bay. Syl and Bram wanted to follow, but hung back on orders from nearby guards; Krit raised his head as he was wheeled away and Syl offered him a weak smile.

"You're going to be fine!" she called. "We'll see you outside." He nodded like the brave little six-year-old he was, and then his stretcher turned a corner and was gone.


"Syl?" Krit's voice wrenched her back to the present and she jumped at how close he'd managed to get to her without her having noticed. He sat down beside her tentatively and handed her a bagel with cream cheese spread on it, one of her favourites. She offered him a smile but she knew it wasn't reaching her eyes, so she sighed and took a bite of her bagel. It tasted like nothing and was hard to swallow.

"What is it?" he asked softly, reaching out to touch her hair. She jerked away without thinking about it, then glanced at her hands.

"I'm sorry," she said. After a moment he nodded and she sighed again. "I was remembering that day you were shot, when we were training," she whispered. "And me and Bram came to find you..." She blinked against tears. "It was only a few months before I killed him." Her voice was bitter; she averted her eyes. "What a stupid memory to have now, huh?"

"It's okay," he said softly. "I understand. I've been having them too." Syl shook her head and glanced away from him.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this for Brin," she said again, her voice distant because it hurt too much not to be. "She was supposed to get married and be happy like Tinga. She wasn't supposed to die."

"Hey," Krit murmured, not reaching for her this time though she knew he wanted to. "She's not dead." Not yet was left unspoken in the air. Syl stifled a sigh and glanced away.

"If she forgets," she whispered. "If... if they make her..." She stared at her hands, shrugged. "Then she'll be dead in any way it counts." Krit didn't answer; she knew he didn't know what to say. Syl glanced away.


Pain exploded through her body and her eyes shot open, fear seizing at her heart. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move, and her hands were shaking, her whole body, her teeth chattering together. She turned her head to the side and saw Brin's sleeping face, a peaceful expression on her features.

"Brinny," Syl whispered. "Brin, wake up." Her voice was weak, low, afraid, and she had to call several times before her sister stirred and stretched, her eyes opening. She caught Syl's eyes and started to smile, then woke fully.

"Syl."

"Hold my hand," she whispered, reaching out in the darkness they could all see through easily, her fingers outstretched in the space between their beds. Brin took her shaking hand, squeezed it.

"It's okay," she whispered reassuringly. "Do you want me to get Zack?"

"No, he'll just worry." Syl's teeth were chattering; the seizure was rocking her entire body and it hurt. She was cold. "Let him sleep." Brin gave her hand another tight squeeze. "It won't be much longer yet," Syl added.

"It's okay, baby sister," Brin whispered, stroking her fingers gently in her own. "Don't worry. Try and go to sleep." A small smile played at the corners of Syl's lips and her dark eyes gazed at Brin, full of warmth and affection, glad that she didn't have to be alone now, glad that Brin was here. Syl let out a small sigh, sensing that the shaking was finally starting to lessen.

"I love you, Brinny," she whispered. Brin reached over and stroked her sister's half inch of blonde hair, then kissed her own fingers and pressed them to her forehead tenderly.

"I love you, too."


Syl stood up.

"I don't think I can handle this, Krit," she whispered, hugging herself again as she went to the window. She heard him rise, come to stand beside her. It had started snowing outside, and the November night was freezing. Syl reached out and opened the window, felt the blast of icy coolness on her face. She shivered and Krit reached out to close it. She stopped him with a hand on his arm. "No," she said. "I like it." He lowered his arm, nodded. She let go of him and they stood there not speaking, staring out at the falling snow and getting cold.


"We have a mission to complete." Jack didn't look like he wanted to obey his own statement any more than they did. Syl turned and smirked at him, turned to watch Brin extend her hand, the tiny flakes of beautiful white melting against her skin. Brin smiled and she raised her palm to her lips, tasted it.

"It's perfect," she announced. Ben glanced over.

"Can we keep our attention, please?" he asked. Syl ignored him, walked over to Brin, caught a few flakes herself and tasted them. The two sisters looked at each other and grinned.

"Snow doesn't come that often, Zack," Brin said, smiling at him, reaching out her hand and motioning him over. He frowned at her.

"It severely lowers mission performance," he said. Syl looked at Brin and they both laughed.

"Zack," Brin said. "Come on." He frowned at her once more, then walked over. With Zack participating most of them lost their hesitancy and joined their sisters, even Ben. Syl looked at Brin and saw that the white flakes were sticking to her sister's dark hair, catching in her eyelashes. For the first time in her life Syl recognized a thing of beauty.


Her teeth were chattering but she didn't care; she couldn't feel her arms anymore. A blanket draped around her shoulders, brushed softly against her skin. Krit's hands slipped around her waist and she wriggled away almost violently, throwing him off her. He made her want to cry, to run.

"I'm sorry," she said, closing her eyes against his stricken expression, confusion and hurt palpable in his eyes. "But I told you to leave me alone."

"You're not the only one in pain, Syl," he said softly. "She was my sister too. I loved her." Syl glanced away, fought against tears.


"Brin, how can I ever thank you for what you've done?" Syl asked softly. Humour touched her sister's voice.

"What have I done?" she asked tenderly; Syl was momentarily taken aback.

"Brin," she said. "You saved me."

"From what?"

"I..." Syl trailed off, thought about that for a moment. "From... myself."

"Krit could have done it just as well," Brin said gently. "If you'd let him."

"I can't."

"I know. That's okay." Relief flooded Syl at her words and she wished they were in the room together. She smiled into the phone and felt content.


"Where is Zack?" she whispered; Brin was gone, and now the only other person that had ever comforted her, understood her, had disappeared as well. She turned around and looked at Krit, wished she'd told him, wished he hadn't fallen asleep that night, knew it was too late to say anything now. He looked at her but didn't approach.

"I don't know," he said. "He'll call. He always calls." Syl nodded without any real hope and turned back to the window. The wind changed and snow blew into the room, small white flakes lodging in the wool of the blanket Krit had draped around her. She watched them fade, melt into the blanket, disappear. Her hand finally reached out and closed the window against them, felt Krit's relief behind her. She turned around.

"I'm tired."

"Me too."

"I'm going to bed."

"I'll come."

"No," she said, the word coming out unbidden. "I want to sleep in my room." He blinked.

"Your... room," he repeated after a long time. Syl knew it hadn't been her room since they'd first moved in here, that it was there because, as Brin had once said, it had served as a psychological comfort for her when this relationship had first started, so uncertainly. Now she needed that comfort.

"Yes," she said, and walked past him, down the hallway. She felt him following her and wished he wasn't. She could smell uncertainty and upset all over him, and she knew he was itching to hold her, hug her, make them both feel better with the contact. But what right had they to feel better, to love each other, when Brin was gone, taken, being hurt, being destroyed? None. Absolutely none. When he followed her right into the bedroom she turned and reached for the door. "Goodnight, Krit," she said. Somewhere deep inside it hurt her that he looked so sad, but she couldn't handle his devastation anymore than she could deal with her own.

"Syl," he said. "Please." For a moment she saw that little boy she'd comforted on the stretcher with the bullet in his chest, the child who was in pain and afraid and asking for comfort from his big sister. That messed up her thoughts even more, that image of him, the child who she'd consoled, mixing with that of the man she'd had a baby with. She glanced away from him and closed the door, and she barely came out for a week.

* * *

Work was hell, but Krit made her go because he said it was healthier than crying in the apartment all day and night, which was probably true, but she wanted and needed to cry. Her eyes hurt and she didn't talk to the customers; everything was too bright and colourful. For some strange reason she had expected the world to go grey, or at least the people to be less happy, less cheerful, less loud. But if anything, they were more of all those things, and it hurt her head. To make matters worse, their boss decided that theme bars were more popular nowadays, and decided that their club would now be a western-style one. Syl tried not to cry as she wore her cowboy hat and poured drinks.

"Hey baby," some half-drunk guy said to her after she gave him a beer. She turned away but he grabbed her hand and held it as though they'd known each other for years. Syl glared at him. "Why don't you and I," he asked, his words slurred, "get out of here and go someplace-"

"Why I don't I just pound your face in, how about that?" she snapped, whirling to punch him and wrenching her hand free of his grip at the same time. He stumbled and barely kept his feet, turning on her angrily.

"You bitch!" he yelled, his nose bloody where she'd broken it. Syl started to turn away but she sensed his fist and dodged, grabbing his collar and pulling him over to her side of the bar so she could beat him up more effectively. He slammed into a tray of glasses and shattered several, and rose bleeding for an attack. Syl easily danced past all his crude, half-drunk moves and ended up breaking his left arm. He howled in pain and swung another punch with his good arm, so she threw him against the counter with a satisfying crack before she felt arms grabbing at her from behind. The entire bar had gone silent and people were gaping. Syl wrestled out of her new attacker's grip and whirled on Kevin, one of their bouncers. He stared at her.

"Syl," he said with disbelief, taking in her attack stance, the fire in her eyes. She lowered her fists slowly and watched the crowd part as Krit rushed through. He took one look at the crumpled man on the floor and came around to her side of the bar.

"It's okay," he said; Kevin nodded, moved away. Syl laughed out loud at Krit's cowboy hat and then started crying. She fell into his arms and sobbed.

"Go," Kevin said softly. "I'll tell the boss."

"Thanks," Krit said. He led her outside where she fell back against the cool concrete of the building, hugging herself. The moon was bright overhead; their shift had almost been over when she snapped so she suspected it was after midnight. Syl felt her knees collapse and fell hard onto the dirty ground, where glass imbedded itself into one of her knees, the pain a welcoming comfort. Krit knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms and she was barely able to twist away before she started throwing up. His hands gathered her hair off her face and when she was done she met his dark, concerned eyes reluctantly.

"I don't know why," she whispered before he could ask. Krit nodded, smoothed the hair off her face. He helped her stand up and they went to their SUV, climbing in silently. Krit started the engine and Syl leaned her face against the cool glass of her window, closing her eyes as he pulled out onto the road.


"Hey, you're home early, that's great!" Barely in the door and Syl's stomach still churning with nausea, she heard, "Me and Zane were just going to go clubbing, you want to come?"

"Jondy?" Krit asked; they went into the living room and he smiled at her, bemused and suspicious at the same time. "What are you doing here?" Her eyes flickered but then her smile was back and she shrugged.

"New York was a bust. Tinga's gone home."

"And Ben?" Krit asked; again the flicker, the shrug. She avoided the question and started chattering away about inane things that didn't hold Syl's attention. Jondy's voice grated on her nerves as she and Krit searched for something to eat in the kitchen cupboard, and finally she slammed one of the doors and turned around.

"I want Jondy to leave," she growled. Krit reached over and gave her shoulder a squeeze, then glanced at Jondy's stricken face, the pain in her blue eyes obvious.

"She had a rough night," he said. "She just needs to sleep." Before Syl could protest, Jondy did it for her.

"No," she said, turning sharply on her heel and stalking from the room. "She just hates me." She raised her voice. "Zane!"

"Yeah?" the call came from further back in the apartment.

"We're leaving right now."

"Jondy-" Krit started as Zane entered the room.

"We just got here," he said cautiously, knowing he'd missed something. "And I thought we were going clubbing." His gaze flitted cautiously between Jondy and Krit. He noticed Syl and his eyes widened. "Are you okay?"

"She hates me so we have to leave," Jondy said, throwing a few things angrily into a bag.

"That's mine," Syl growled when her sister reached for a small vase without meaning to. Jondy grabbed it and hurled it against the wall, where it shattered into tiny fragments of porcelain. "Get out!" Syl yelled at her.

"Stop it," Zane hissed. "Both of you, just shut up. Jondy, come on, let's go clubbing and let her cool off." He took her arm but she jerked away.

"No," Jondy hissed at him. She looked at Syl sharply. "Stop being so selfish! You think you're the only person in the whole world, Syl, and I'm sick of it!"

"This has nothing to do-"

"Alright, fine. You want me to apologize?" Jondy was pacing around, grabbing things off shelves that she'd brought with her, slamming drawers and banging cupboards. She turned and glared at Syl. "Okay, I'll apologize. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not sleeping, I'm sorry for being cheerful, I'm sorry if I'm trying to live while you just lie around moping all day. I'm sorry if I didn't love Brin enough for you, and if I think Zack's not coming back. I'm sorry!" Krit and Zane exchanged a tense look but didn't know quite what to do, so they remained silent. Jondy stood there for a few moments, waiting, then slowly walked over but disappointed Syl when she didn't attack her. Fighting would have been so much easier.

"Fine," Jondy said quietly. "Don't say anything. I'm sorry. I can't give you anything else."

"Scheiße, Jondy," Syl swore in German. "You can give me your absence." Jondy glared at her, rattled off a few obscenities in Chinese, slammed more things into her bag.

"Please," Zane said. "English."

"Why?" Jondy snapped. "We can understand." She spat out a bit of Spanish to annoy him, threw in a word or two of French.

"Get out!" Syl yelled. Jondy stiffened and grabbed her things.

"Come on, Zane," she said. He stood there for a moment uncomfortably, then finally shot Krit and Syl an apologetic look. He gathered his things and headed for the door with Jondy.

"Call us," Krit said.

"Of course." Zane closed the door behind them and Krit looked at Syl, angry but obviously trying not to show it.

"What was all that?"

"She pisses me off."

"I know, but there were about a thousand reasons why they should have stuck around. Being here for Zack's call, for one." Syl fell into the couch and hugged her legs up to her chest.

"You don't think he's going to call." The soft words made her so tired. Krit sat next to her slowly and tentatively reached out a hand to stroke her cheek. She hadn't let him touch her, really touch her, in days, and he was reaching out as cautiously as if she were a wild animal.

"Syl..." he murmured, brushing her hair off her face and tipping her chin so she would look at him. She pulled away only slightly.

"You don't," she insisted. Krit slipped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him.

"I think Zack is capable of anything," he whispered. She leaned into him and cried for the truth of his words, for the lie. She felt his hands in her hair again and then his lips met hers softly. Syl let him kiss her for a few seconds and then turned her head away.

"No," she said angrily.

"Syl-"

"No." She stood up. "I need to be alone." Her voice was choked with tears as she turned and walked away from him, and she heard his footsteps following her. His hands reached out and touched her shoulders, but she jerked away, fell into the wall.

"I mean it," she whispered shakily. "Go away." Then Krit got mad; he grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him, pushed her back against the wall.

"Dammit, Syl." She was too upset herself to feel badly about the tears in his voice.

"Just please go away," she whispered. "I can't-"

"She was my sister too," he told her for the thousandth time. She could smell his adrenaline, his anger. Tears slipped down her cheeks.

Finally she whispered, "That's just the start of the problems." Her voice was soft, gentle, but he tensed anyway.

"Don't use Brin as an excuse to run away from me," he said. Syl's head snapped up and her eyes flashed angrily through her tears. Krit's fists were clenched, his face anguished, scared and angry all at the same time. The tears slipped hot down her cheeks but she forced them back.

"I don't run," she said, low. His eyes darkened slightly but he took a long breath to calm himself, releasing her shoulders roughly. He reached out for her more tenderly. "Stop it!" she hissed, twisting away from him. "Can't you just leave me alone for five minutes?"

"No," he said. "This isn't helping you. You're killing yourself and I'm not going to stand around and watch it anymore." He brought a hand up and touched her cheek. "Syl, you have to eat something and you have to take that test-" She swatted him away.

"Stop asking me to do that!" He gripped her shoulders again; he looked angry and desperate all at once.

"For all we know you could be hurting someone other than yourself, and I'm not going to sit around anymore and let you do this." She tried to extract herself from his grip but his hands tightened. Didn't he get it? She wanted to be alone. She needed to think, to breathe. Finally he let her ago and she stalked down the hallway, but halted in the doorway of the bedroom they used to share; it smelled too much like him, like them. She turned back and plowed into Krit's chest; his hands came up to steady her but she slapped them away and shoved past him.

"Krit, please," she growled when he followed her to the front door, watched her slip on her shoes and a jacket. She reached past him to get the keys to their SUV.

"Where are you going?" he asked when she turned to pull open the front door. Syl paused and glanced back at him; he looked broken. There wasn't any other word to describe it.

"I just need to drive," she said, averting her eyes because it hurt to look at him. "I'll be back, I promise." She didn't care if she was lying, didn't even really know whether she was or not. She just needed to get out and find somewhere to go, somewhere with more air and less talking and less confusion. She opened the door, stepped into their building's hallway, and shut it behind her. When she was halfway down the corridor it opened again.

"Syl!" he called. It had to be almost one in the morning; he was going to wake up all their neighbours.

"Krit, you're not coming with me." Her voice shook but she wasn't going to give in, so she kept walking and didn't turn around, increased the speed of her pace.

"Syl!" he called again, angry now. He blurred and was beside her immediately; she shrugged away from his hands but he grabbed one of her arms, pushed something into her palm. She heard a rattling and looked down; a bottle of tryptophan. She met his dark eyes slowly and saw that they were shining with tears. His face was anguished, defeated. His hand was still holding the bottle of pills and he reached his fingers out tentatively to touch hers. She had to force herself not to jerk away.

"I..." His wasn't looking at her; he was just staring at their clasped hands. "I think you're going to need these." Finally he met her eyes and he gave her hand a squeeze. "Be careful, okay Syl?" His voice was so soft that it broke her heart. She felt new tears coursing down her cheeks and she reached out for him, pulled him close. She was holding him so tightly that he probably couldn't breathe, but she doubted he cared, and he was squeezing her just as strong. She grabbed his hand and pressed a kiss to it, then another against his cheek. He turned his face and caught her lips with his, but she pulled away.

"Krit..." She trailed off and bit her lip.

"Please take the test," he said softly. "I need to know." After a long moment she nodded, then took a step back from him, his expression tearing at her heart. She tried to smile, hesitated.

"I'm so in love with you, Krit," she whispered finally. His nod was slow, devastated.

"I'm in love with you too, Syl," he said quietly. "I'm sorry if that's not enough for you." His words were not angry or hurtful, just soft, resigned. Sad. She swallowed hard.

"I'm going now," she said. "I'll call you." She forced herself to turn and put one foot in front of the other, and somehow she made it to the stairwell door. She didn't turn around before shutting it behind her; she didn't need to. She knew he was still there.