December 2011

Sometimes Keith got crabby. Regina knew not to say it like that in front of her brother, but there was just no other word for it. Usually he cast his exhaustion in a noble light — part of the sham, part of the uniform that he hid behind — but sometimes he took it too far. He went from stonily quiet to selfishly taciturn, from unsmiling gravity to sour frowning, and when you reached out to his mind you met thoughtlessly sharp, icy edges.

Regina had learned not to fear those. She could touch them and not get cut, although the weep of frigid meltwater — that was what it felt like in her mind — was messier than she wanted to deal with.

He didn't need a therapy session anyway. Like he'd even remember it later, as tired as he was. He just needed to be put to bed, and she had a good old-fashioned method. It was even one of her talents.

Carlo had been the one to figure out that rich normals would throw money at you if you acted like a good little pet and used your powers to do tricks for them — and that they weren't terribly good at keeping track of what you did with the money afterward. But Regina had tried to do her part. After years of practice, using her powers to create just the right temperature in just the right place with the same precision that served her so well in a fight…

After all that, the one thing Carlo never found fault with was her cooking.

But then, branding monograms on perfectly-seared Kobe beef hadn't been her only method of keeping big spenders on the client list. That she'd kept to herself, never let anything happen where Carlo could see, never let a hint of it slip out beyond the walls of her own mind where he could hear it. Not even the question — Big Brother, do you know? She was too afraid of the answer, but surely he didn't know. She liked to think he'd have shown it if he did. She liked to think there'd have been a body count if he did.

Thankfully that was all behind her.

Somehow cooking had never picked up the taint of the job, and today she had enjoyed putting everything aside, leave recruiting and missions and skirmishes with those Army traitors and all of it outside the door and seize the kitchen as her kingdom, where everything was under her control and everything was perfect — even perfect enough for Carlo to nod in satisfied silence. She wanted to get better than that from him, but then, there were a lot of things she kept behind her walls because it was better if he didn't know…

It was a little flare of temper, that she was making the meal for Keith and not him. It brought up the memory of having to look her brother — her angel of a brother — in the eye and tell him she wanted to be with someone else… And that was Keith's fault, the brat.

What am I, a little girl? I have to ask permission?

But she'd said that at the time, and he'd answered it — You don't. I do. It wasn't worth it to him to have drama about it later.

Well, it wasn't like it was worth it to her, either, really. If it hadn't put her in such a temper it never would have been worth it to her to face that moment, looking her brother in the eye and not letting a hint of the truth slip out because dammit, she was already the messiest thing in his life without him knowing that…

The worst part of it was that he'd smiled. He was happy about it. He probably thought they were really in love and was hoping they'd get married or have children or something, and no. Just no. She couldn't even tell the truth about the lie. Yes, Big Brother, your charismatic leader and I are each using the other one as a substitute for the people we really want and can't have, we're just willing to live with it and it's nice to have somebody to sleep with.

There was no way she was telling him that.

But it might as well have happened the way it did. Avoiding it wouldn't have gotten her anything better — nothing was going to get her what she really wanted — and it was nice to have somebody. It was a bit of comfort amid this whole mess. Honestly, Keith's take-it-or-leave-it coolness was preferable to other attitudes she'd had to deal with, and he needed something to take his mind off things, too. Something besides sighing over his "best friend" in a life-support pod, anyway.

It was nice to have somebody, but it left her playing second-best to Sleeping Beauty. And some dead people, whom she tried hard not to resent.

It also left Regina with the job of dealing with Keith when he was crabby.

This time, though, her plan was going well so far. He hadn't argued with the pretext of a candlelight dinner at his place. It was almost Christmas, so she had an excuse to roast a goose — even more tryptophan than turkey! But then, people said it was really the carbohydrates that did it, so she made sure to have plenty of those, too: stuffing and potatoes and pie…

She was cleared for access to his quarters, and she had everything ready and waiting when he got back from whatever it was he was trying to do with no sleep. When she heard him coming, she lit the candles from across the room with a practiced touch.

"Welcome home!" she greeted, and gave him her hand. That was what he usually preferred to kiss.

He started to raise her hand to his face, but got lost halfway when he saw the dinner. He stopped and blinked at it.

She nudged at his mind to try to see what was going on. Wherever he'd been, he'd been trying to keep up appearances, so he'd largely shut himself down. Alone with her, though, and tired as he was, he was liable to get careless. Soon she caught it.

What day is it…?

With a feast like that on the table, he was afraid it was really Christmas and he'd somehow forgotten, and as he tried to figure it out, his brain was too exhausted to do anything but tie itself in knots.

She laughed and took pity on him as she led him to his chair. "I know, it's a couple of weeks early, but I thought when it gets closer everything will be so hectic, let's have something just for the two of us while we can." She sat him down to a plate already piled with goose and stuffing and potatoes — she wasn't going to let him get away with serving himself small portions.

And she hadn't neglected herself, either. Yes, Regina thought, she had done a good job. The goose breast was rich and just the right medium-rare shade of pink, the stuffing was moist and spongy with a crusty layer that was her own special trick, and the roast potatoes had that perfect crunch…

At first she didn't want to distract Keith from his food, but soon the time came when she judged it advantageous to distract him from just how much of it he was eating.

"So," she asked, "what do you want for Christmas?"

"Hmm." He thought about it very slowly.

She gave him room to think, and used the lull to pile more goose and stuffing on his plate and refill her wine glass. She noticed that his was also nearly empty, which was better for her plan than she could've hoped for. Usually he abandoned drinks at the first hint of felt effect and she was lucky if he drained an inch. Refilling it might risk drawing his attention to it, though, so instead she quietly switched glasses with him while he was staring off into space.

He finally gave a soft sniff and tried to flash a smile without much success. "I can't think of anything," he said. "Everything I can think of, if I think about it more I don't really want it now."

"Well, what are some of the things you thought of?"

Another long pause. "A cat."

"Oh, that would be cute! What would be wrong with getting you a cat?"

He shook his head. "No, I wouldn't want to have one now… here. That was just my favorite thing someone got me once. It was my birthday, not Christmas."

There's Sleeping Beauty again, Regina noticed.

"What about you?" he asked, rubbing his brow.

Keith always acted put-upon when it came to getting presents. You know, that just annoys people — but she didn't have the heart to tell him that. It was true enough that online stores didn't deliver to the "evil Psychiccer terrorists," but she knew people on the outside who could get things, and it was Keith for goodness' sake! He could ask anyone —

But that was the rub, he'd have to ask.

For the moment she just decided to miss the point of the question. "My favorite present I ever got?" she said. "Hmm… It was a pair of shoes."

"Shoes?"

"Mm-hm. They were white patent leather, and they had bows with gold buttons. I'd just fallen in love with them. Big Brother said they weren't practical, but then for Christmas he got them for me." She smiled at the memory of opening the box, the surprise of finding those "impractical" shoes nestled in tissue paper…

And then she was jarred out of it by an annoying feeling, like an echo of her earlier mental remark — "there's Sleeping Beauty again" — was coming back to her.

She made up her mind to ignore it and pressed on. "At first I thought I'd wear them everywhere, although Carlo said I'd wear them out if I did that. Sure enough, the very first day they got a scuff, right on the toe. I never wore them again after that, just kept them in the box, even after I'm sure I'd outgrown them. Then they got lost in a move, so they're probably still in Atlanta."

She felt Keith making a valiant but doomed effort to fit Atlanta into the scheme of moves and cities she'd told him about. "You've lived a lot of places," he said finally, in token of surrender.

"They were always moving us around so no one would find out," she said. "Of course, you know Carlo. Even back then, he probably could have hid his powers forever if it hadn't been for me…"

That struck such a sharp echo off Keith's mind that it brought her up short. He just stared blankly at her until she started casting about for something to say to break the moment.

"Chicago always was my favorite, out of the places we went," she said. She could tell him a story from when they'd been leading the field agents there. He always liked those stories…

But before she could decide on one, he spoke. "Did you ever think of leaving?"

"Leaving Chicago?"

"No," he said, quicker than his foggy brain should be able to answer anything. "I mean, if he would have been all right without you…"

"Oh, of course I didn't think of it!" Regina tossed the question aside. "All we had was each other, after all. They did think about moving just me a time or two, but he wouldn't let them."

Keith stared off into space again. When she tried to see what was happening with him, she found that the dinner was having its intended effect. He was so sleepy that he couldn't follow the thread of whatever he was thinking of — but that was bothering him. Not good for her plan.

"Well—" she started.

He turned toward her voice, half-startled, and his eyes showed an unguarded thought as they met hers. It's no wonder you're in love with him.

Regina started back, her cheeks flushing hot. It wasn't as if she hadn't known that he knew about that, but usually he had the good manners not to point it out. "Oh, be quiet," she said, although technically he had been quiet. "Let's have the pie before it gets cold."

That was a ridiculous excuse coming from her, but he was too tired to catch her at it. Anyway, he hadn't touched his latest helping of goose, so the pie was her best hope of getting more food into him, hopefully enough to tip the balance. Plus it gave her a chance to turn her back for a minute and escape the awkwardness they'd gotten into.

Thankfully the pie did distract him from it and calm him down, and the plan was back on track. By the time he put his fork down, he was fading fast. Now all she needed was an opportune moment.

It came when she started to clear the table, and he got up to help her.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," she said, taking his hand and leaning toward his ear with practiced sweetness. "You look like you're ready for your after-dinner nap."

He pulled her hand closer and turned toward her, so that she found herself hovering toward his lips instead. "Not necessarily."

Before Regina could stop herself, she dropped the honeyed pretense and laughed out loud. "You cannot be serious!" Maybe he felt like it — which she doubted — but she'd stuffed herself, too, and she certainly didn't. Besides, "You're too tired to make it worth it."

She felt his soft shock at being thwarted, but it wasn't that kind of thwarted, more like the vexation of a child who wasn't getting his way. You just don't want to go to sleep, you brat! She gave it an answer it deserved. "Would it be better if I tuck you in and read you a story?"

After a moment, he decided to take the barb with a weary smile. She caught him thinking about someone else, and somehow it involved a phone book — well, reading him a phone book might do it if she didn't fall asleep before he did. She also caught a ridiculous note of receptivity, as if a tucking-in and a bedtime story really was what he wanted. That wasn't the kind of thing anyone, let alone "Master Keith," just let people see. How long had he gone without sleep this time, anyway?

Still, she was willing to play along, and she led him into the bedroom. "Well, get into your pajamas, then. I won't look," she said, turning her back, at once teasing and maintaining her boundary. She didn't need to look; it wasn't as if she hadn't seen it before. It always struck her how narrow his shoulders really were under the jacket, much narrower than her brother's…

Just for good measure, she tossed over her shoulder, "Brat."

He made a soft grunt of displeasure. He didn't exactly like it when she did that, but he let her get away with it, which she was sure no one else could say. But then she was pretty sure no one else would try it to begin with.

And even Regina wouldn't try it in front of Carlo.

She did tuck Keith into bed, even gave him a good-night kiss on the forehead, but she wasn't about to actually read him a story, or sing a lullabye. She did have her limits. Instead, she created just the right amount of warmth under the blankets — she'd learned exactly where his comfort level was — and sat down on the edge of the bed beside him.

He was quiet, but he was still there, stubbornly awake.

She reached down and rubbed his shoulder, with enough careful heat in her fingers to nudge the upper boundary of pleasantness. I am not going to sing. I swear to God I am not going to sing.

He didn't want her to. Again, he was thinking of someone else.

No big surprise. Regina had her own idea of why, after what Wong had done to headquarters, the one psychic voice Keith had responded to had been the one that felt like fire.

Well, it wasn't as if she were any different.

"Hopeless cases like us have to stick together, don't we?" she muttered.

The reflection of her own voice on Keith's mind was just a murky, half-asleep blur, and then it was gone.