Isolation

The Shadow walked through Marguerite Lane's brownstone, his face set in a firm scowl.

After discovering that Cranston had formed an attachment to his protégé, he decided it was time to put an end to it.

But remember what the Tulku said. Cranston's voice echoed in his head. Once the bond is formed, it can never be destroyed.

True, but it can be lessened. The Shadow argued back. The string can be tangled, stretched or frayed. It'll lessen her grief when something does happen.

Lamont didn't react. He knew full well he would die sooner or later. Bodies weaken; whether through the ravages of time or being cut down by cruel twists of fate.

But the Shadow will never die. He'll find the next person to manipulate and control to use them for his war for justice, leaving a trail of blood, anguish and fear behind.

Death begets death after all.

He entered her bedroom. Marguerite was sitting at her vanity, her back to him. She was dressed for bed and brushing her hair.

The Shadow could feel Lamont taking a deep breath as he looked over the beautiful woman. Keep your emotions in check, Cranston. He reminded his other self.

I'm only protecting the mission.

I sat at my vanity, brushing out my thick hair.

My lips were still burning from Lamont's kiss. Thoughts turned over and over in my head like a wheel.

Why did it feel so right? Why did it feel so natural?

It was almost…as if it was meant to be…

How is this supposed to work? I wondered. I barely know him…yet I feel like he's something special…

But I didn't have time to contemplate this turn of events as the all too familiar presence entered the room.

The Shadow heard Marguerite take a deep breath as she stood up and turned around. Her demeanor was cool and calm. "You got my message?" She asked.

The Shadow nodded. "I'm not here for Conway." He said, walking closer to her. Best keep this short and to the point. He decided. "Stay away from Lamont Cranston."

"Why?" Marguerite asked. "Did he do something…?"

"Yes, he did." The Shadow barked. He didn't want to be spend any more time longer than he needed to. The longer he was there, the more likely it was for the bond to strengthen. While the Shadow was in charge, Cranston was still there. The Shadow could feel Cranston's feelings bubbling beneath the surface. "Yesterday, you developed a fever. Cranston spent the evening with you."

"So it wasn't a dream…" Marguerite said with a soft smile.

She's aware of her budding feelings for Cranston. Time to stop this. The Shadow thought. "As a result of last night, you two formed an attachment."

Marguerite looked at him, confused. "An attachment?"

"Your mental energies are now combined. Whenever one feels pain, the other feels it as well. When one feels emotion, the other experiences it. When one suffers…"

"…the other suffers as well." Marguerite finished the sentence. "So that's how I knew a lot about him at dinner?"

"Yes." The Shadow said. "Attachments are dangerous. It's what killed Helene Conway and what drove Conway down the path he's gone down. If something happened to either you or Cranston, the other would suffer for it."

All my feelings swirled. I was confused and worried.

Our mental energies were connected?

Why?

If I was hurt, he would feel it?

If he was dying…would I as well?

Yet…for some reason, it was relieving to know what was going on. Why my feelings for him had developed as fast as they did.

"How do we break it?" I asked.

"It can't be broken." The Shadow said. "But the stronger your relationship is…the stronger the bond will be. Stay away from him, don't think about him and the pain will be much less. I made sure Cranston is aware of the situation."

It made sense. I thought. Best nip this in the bud before we get carried away.

"Then I won't say anything to him unless it has something to do with the mission." Marguerite said.

Excellent. The Shadow thought as turned to walk away, his opera cloak billowing out from behind him.

There was a sense of regret from Cranston. The Shadow thought as he cast the clouding suggestion. Don't regret it Cranston. The Shadow ordered, locking up the brownstone and heading out to where Moe was waiting.

I don't regret it. Cranston responded sadly. It's all for the mission. Just promise me you won't push her too hard when something does happen.

After the Shadow left, I made sure everything was locked up for the night before turning in.

Despite being absolutely exhausted…I couldn't sleep.

I was thinking of my parents telling me the story of how they met at the library. Mom was getting books from a shelf when she noticed Dad standing next to the ladder, looking up. When she asked if he was looking for something, he said 'I'm looking for some books to read to the woman I'm going to marry.' They married a little over a year later.

I remembered them. How they held hands and looked at each other in the eyes. How they'd finish the other's sentences. Even how they'd do nothing for hours but sit in silence and just look at each other.

Did they have an attachment, as the Shadow put it? I wouldn't have been surprised. Mom and Dad told me frequently that they just clicked the moment they met. They've often said 'where you go, I follow.'

At least they died together.

I wished they were there. I thought as I curled up on the bed. At least they would've been there for me, unconditionally.

As the Shadow mentioned, I could never go back to my old life. My friends and coworkers at the Mercury Theater probably thought I was dead. My parents' families wanted nothing to do with me. And the only person I made a real connection with could be in danger because of my presence.

Loneliness ate at me.

I wanted the kind and quiet man with thick blonde hair and deep blue eyes there.

Don't think of him. I told myself, rolling over and letting the tears fall onto my pillow. Forgetting about him would save his life and yours.

But the thought wasn't leaving me.

Lamont sighed as he went to bed. It had been a very long day. All he wanted to do was sleep after the past week of nothing but activity.

But for some reason he couldn't. He thought as he turned over.

Her face was coming to mind. Shy. Quiet. Resourceful. Brown hair. Blue eyes.

Due to the attachment forming, he was learning more and more about her just based on her thoughts.

She's the woman who prefers Shakespeare but isn't afraid to go window shopping on occasion. Whose favorite color is purple. Who used to have marathon Monopoly sessions with her parents. Who used to go to the nearby drug store for ice cream sodas with her friends and flirt with boys.

He refused to call her Marguerite. The name was too formal. Lamont thought as he rolled over.

While quiet and shy, there was more to her. Her sense of loyalty was admirable as was her compassion for others. He was always being surprised by her.

A sharp pain hit him in the chest. After a moment, it dulled into a throb.

Where was it coming from? He wondered.

Margo was feeling isolated.

For some reason, he wanted to go and comfort her. Without thinking, he went to get up.

Don't think of her. The Shadow argued. It'll only strengthen the bond.

Lamont took a deep breath and began his meditative exercises to slow his mind and ease him into sleep.

But her face troubled him.

A/N: Again, not my strongest, but I wanted to avoid the whole 'he decides to not tell her and it only hurts both of them' cliche.