Okay, I'm feeling charitable today, you can have two new chapters in one day...But that last chapter was shocking, wasn't it? All right, not much to say, here's Chapter Eleven, still don't own the characters, don't sue me, etc. Just keep reading.

Life

Nine months, almost to the day, and eight hours of labor later, Christine gave life to a beautiful blue-eyed, brown-haired baby girl. She smiled sadly at her daughter, knowing there would be no way to ever tell whose child she was. The girl was promptly named Megan, after her aunt, much to her name-bearer's delight.

"Oh, Christine! However shall we know who you are calling when you say Meg?"

"She will always be Megan, and you will forever be my Meg. Two different people, connected in spirit by your names."

Life had begun well for the fragile child, but her mother was not quite through yet. When her contractions continued, Meg told her some startling news.

"Christine, there's another baby."

"What!" the young, exhausted mother cried.

"Don't worry. I've always heard that with twins, the second birth is easier."

Ten more hours later, another girl made her way into the world. This baby, unlike her fair sister, had black eyes and dark hair. Her mother sank back into the bed after eighteen grueling hours of labor.

"Christine," Meg whispered, sadness lacing her voice. Christine's eyes flew open, and she gently took the bundle Meg held out to her, worried about the horrified look on her friend's face.

The new mother looked once at her daughter's face and laughed mirthlessly. "Well, I guess we know who the father is."

Brilliant gold eyes looked up, unfocused, at Christine. How could fate have presented her with such a dark gift? For her face, just like that of her father, was scarred on the entire right side, from just above the eye ridge to right below her lip, extending back almost to her ear. Helpless to defend her second daughter from the cruelty of destiny's joke, Christine named her Serenity, in the hope that her name might help her face her identity. She prayed that the name might protect the girl form feeling the pain of suffering as she grew up.

So time passed quickly for the little family. Too quickly, almost, as Meg had fallen in love with David, the farrier in the nearest town, shortly after the twins were born. At first, Meg refused to think about a family of her own, as she had Christine to look after. After a few weeks, however, Christine had convinced Meg that she would be perfectly fine on her own, and David began courting her. Within two months after the twins' arrival, the two were married. And three weeks before the girls' first birthday, Meg's son, Luke, was born.

All three children seemed to grow before their parents' very eyes. Before Luke's birth, as the twins began to walk, it became clear that they were inseparable. When Serenity took her first steps, Megan had joined her by the next day. They both spoke their first words within moments of each other, and they refused to sleep unless they were together. After Luke's arrival, when he grew old enough to play with the girls, the three bonded as though they were all true siblings. Whenever they ventured anywhere, as they grew older, they walked together, always hand in hand.

By the time Megan and Serenity were six, the twins' connection was obviously something beyond that of siblings, though. It seemed as though they were of one mind, one being, simply using two physical forms. Their guardians watched with joy as they became fine, strong young ladies. Megan was always quiet, reserved, and fair as a winter morning; her eyes were ice blue, and her pale skin accented her light brown, straight hair. her sister, however, took after their father. Serenity was always tall, her skin a darker tone than her twin's, her hair black as ebony, long and curling, and her eyes were deepest black, at the edges, fading into a dark gold in the center. Whenever she became angry, the gold grew more prominent, and her eyes glinted fiercely. But generally, they were soft and filled with endless wonder. She was always strong, bright, and laughing.

The greatest difference n the twins' appearances, however, was always the brilliant white mask that Serenity wore to cover her scared face. It marked her out in a crowd, and she told her mother persistently, when she was very young, that she did not want it. By the time she was four, though, she had come to terms with her fate.

"Mother," her high voice piped one morning in the kitchen, "can we bake pastries today?"

"That's a wonderful idea, Senna," said Megan. She coughed harshly after this, her frail seven-year-old frame shaking with the effort. "May we, Mother, please?"

"Maybe, if we have time," Christine replied absently, looking out the window. "What are you doing out of bed, anyway?"

"Aw, Mamma. I'm always in bed. I never get to play with Senna and Luke anymore." She pouted, lip trembling, eyes liquid, but another bout of coughing wracked her small form.

"You can't play until you're better, and you won't get better without lots of rest and good food. So, you go back to bed and I'll bring you a yummy breakfast, hmm?"

"All right, Mamma," Megan sighed sadly, and trudged back to the twins' shared bedroom, trailing a disheveled-looking teddy bear.

"Mother," Serenity asked, climbing into a chair at the table, "Megan's very sick, isn't she?"

"Well, yes, Senna, but she'll get better in no time, you'll see."

"No, she won't. She's dying." Christine looked at her daughter in horror.

"How could you say that?" she finally whispered. "You love your sister."

"Of course I love her, Mamma. But I know megan as well as I know me. Maybe better. Sometimes, when she coughs, my own chest hurts. Something is wrong inside her. I've seen all the doctors, I know they can't fix her. She knows I know, too. We've talked about it already. She says she's not afraid, because she knows as long as I love her and remember her she'll never really be gone. We decided I should tell you, Mamma. She says she couldn't stand to see you cry."

Christine was crying. She stared in helpless amazement at this seven-year-old, speechless at her perception, and her ability to cope with the situation so gracefully. She dropped the skillet in her hand onto the counter and rushed over to hug her mysterious second daughter.

"Come on," she whispered, taking Serenity's small hand, "let's go talk with your sister. Then we'll all bake those pastries."

They walked hand in hand to the girls' room, and the three laughed and told stories and enjoyed being together for the rest of the long afternoon.