Disclaimer: I don't own Morgan (and I don't see how anyone other than Sira could even think to claim such a thing), or any of the other Trade Pact Universe characters/settings/concepts/quotes mentioned herein. They are all the wonderful creations of Julie E. Czerneda.

A/N: To anyone who was waiting for me to post the next chapter of Bless the Broken Road (which basically means just you, Jasen Morgan), I'm sorry. It's taking me forever, I know. But for some reason I find it easier to write Morgan's POV (I think it's because I can use third person), and I wrote this instead. If it doesn't always flow, I blame that on the fact that this was written during Spanish class. I'm rereading A Thousand Words for Stranger for the third time since May, and I came across something Morgan said that happened to spawn this. It's on page 216 in my version, while they're still all on the Torquad and Morgan has just shown Sira how to shield her thoughts (so if there's anyone out there reading this who hasn't read that far, beware spoilers).

"I've been deeper into your mind than I've ever tried with anyone else. I won't say I know what the consequences might be—I don't. But I do know your mind is the sanest place I've been. If that helps."
—Morgan, talking to Sira

Beautiful Sorrow

Morgan sighed as Sira walked out of the control room. She'd obviously been shaken by their lesson. He couldn't deny that he had been just as startled as her by her shielding abilities, but he was sure Sira had been affected even more so. What had begun as a way to help her regain some of her past had ended up with her feeling even more disturbed by it than before.

He'd seen more of her mind than he had of anyone else's, and what he'd seen had only reaffirmed his decision to help her in any way he could. If it meant the abandonment of his solitude, the opening of his mind to someone he barely knew…well, at the time it was more important for Sira's mind and powers to be free. She was too beautiful to be chained.

Morgan shook his head. Beautiful? he thought. Where had he gotten that from, he began to ask, but already he knew beyond a doubt. Her vulnerable yet still outgoing personality, coupled with her innocent, gorgeous soul, made her irresistible. He knew that Sira was a blessing, undoing his years of self-imposed seclusion within a few short days.

Morgan had emerged from his isolation to find the world just as crazy as it had been years ago. Curiously, with Sira around, the madness didn't seem to matter nearly as much. She was his sanity. Helping her provided him with a new sense of purpose. Every morning, her presence was reason enough to wake up and start the new day. Whether Sira was aware of it or not, she had given him so many things in the short time he'd known her.

Was it so strange for him to give her his love in return?

It wouldn't have been strange at all, had Sira been Human. It would have almost been expected. It would have been beautiful, Morgan thought sadly. He could have courted her, done things just to make her smile and then cherished the look of that grin without feeling secretly guilty. If Sira had been Human, there would have been nothing wrong with the thrill he felt at her casual touch, or the way he yearned to hold her close.

But Sira was not Human. Instead she was kin to Clan, the only race that could pass as Human yet despised that other race thoroughly. Once again Morgan berated himself for traveling down this path of thought. It didn't do him any good if the mere sight of her affected him thus.

If she had been attractive merely for her looks, Morgan could have easily suppressed his emotions. But the truth was that her appearance wasn't at all what he admired about her. It was her spirit, her soul that tugged so forcefully on his. Her mind, her presence had become his sanctuary. He'd just admitted to her that it was one of the sanest places he'd seen. Amending this statement to himself, he admitted that it was the only sane place he'd found so far in this universe of tumult and chaos. Though Sira had been abandoned on a dismal, backwater planet with no knowledge of who she was or what her past had been like before that night, she had not succumbed to the despair of her situation. Even on that first night, Morgan had sensed that she was different from everyone else he'd ever known. His time spent with her since then had more than proved it. He wished he could go to her now and hold her, comfort her as she struggled with the new things that had been forced upon her.

Don't think about it, his rational mind chided. Don't think about her. You can't ever have her. But this other side of him soon became alien, replaced by his overwhelming feelings for the young woman who probably sat now in her temporary cabin, wondering at how to cope with all of the startling things that had confronted her in the last few days. He longed to be there beside her, to hold her and tell her that it was alright to cry, that he would kiss away her tears and take her pain…

He forced his thoughts away from that highly distracting image with a tortured sigh. Still, his heart went out to her; at this rate, she would only learn more unsettling things soon.

And one of those things, sooner or later, would be the truth of her own race. Morgan had been inside her head—he knew her as thoroughly as he knew his own self—and he knew that Sira naively believed herself to be Human. It was a belief that he didn't have the courage to correct. Although to him her heritage was obvious, as long as she remained unsuspecting he could treat her as another Human like himself.

As long as she was Human, he was allowed to love her.

Somewhere inside Morgan knew that what he was doing was dangerous, that in the long run it would just get him in over his head, but as long as he was around her he could not resist. When she discovered herself to be Clan—when she regained her memories, and the prejudices that would undoubtedly follow—she would undoubtedly direct him to leave. Sira was the only one who could possibly order him away.

He sighed once again. Been doing a lot of that lately, he thought as he walked towards the door out of the control room.

Huido still stood guard on the other side, and Morgan spared a small smile for his erstwhile friend. "Do I pass?" he asked, half-joking. He'd instructed the Carasian to scan both his and Sira's grist before allowing them to exit the room, in order to ensure their minds had not been invaded by any other telepaths.

Huido looked down on him with a few critical, stalked eyes. "Your mind is still your own." A pause. "But there is something not right with you, Brother. Your grist smells of dejection."

"Oh, it's nothing," Morgan said evasively. Nothing new. "Come on, we still need to figure out what we do when we reach Acranam and Yihtor."

Huido made a sound of assent and followed Morgan, but for the rest of the day at least one of his eyestalks was focused on his friend in sympathy.