Part 15

"What're you gunna do, Veidt?" she asked acidly, opting not to use his first name to convey her rage. "Kill me?"

"Don't!" he yelled right in her face, his eyes mere inches from hers. "Don't you say that! You think I have no moral boundaries?"

"Uh, let me think… yeah," she said sarcastically.

"I can't. I just can't take another life. Especially one I've come to value," he said, and she noticed his lower lip trembling.

He would admit that he cared about her, now of all times.

"A little too late for that, don't you think?" she asked.

"Stop. Please, just stop acting like that," he begged, and she noticed that her hands were going numb from the grip he had on her wrists. "I know you hate me now for what I did. You may feel that way forever. But just try to see it from my perspective. Consider what would have happened if I hadn't. Complete and desimating nuclear war."

"What might have happened," she corrected. "You're not an oracle, remember? You don't know that they would have launched."

"You're being an optimist, Grace. Our military was at Defcon 1, and the Soviets had mobilized their warheads towards Saint Basil's Cathedral so they could access the motorways along the Moscow River and leave the city. They would have fired. It is a complete certainty," Adrian said, staring her in the eyes, obviously hoping to bore his point of view into her. "You think I would have done it if there were any other way?"

She stared back, the silence between them dripping tension.

"What do you want me to say, Adrian?" she asked after long last, softening her tone slightly. "That I forgive you, condone what you did, and life goes on?"

"No," he replied, breaking her eye contact. "I need you to tell me that you will remain silent. You don't have to forgive me. But millions died for the peace we share. I need you to promise me that you will keep it that way."

"Oh, so now I get to keep your secrets too," she said, trying to shift under his grasp but not even managing to flinch. "Lucky me. I'm guessing the other Watchmen know?"

The pain in his eyes was evident. "Yes. They know. And they agreed that to maintain peace, they must stay silent."

She sighed, not knowing of anything else to say. She'd had her side of the argument, and he had countered it with an equally plausible counter-argument.

"Can you let me go now?" she asked. "I lost feeling in my hands a few minutes ago."

He sighed, and released her. She pulled her hands down and rubbed her wrists, where the white marks resembled handcuff scars.

"So what changed?" she asked, and he looked back up at her.

"About what?" he asked.

"I would have thought you'd panic when you found out I knew. What changed?" she asked.

He considered for a moment, his hands on his hips as he thought. "Well, I realized something."

She didn't ask, just raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"I realized that either way, if you don't agree to keep my secret or you do, that it's all going to be over soon," he said.

"So…" she began. "Even if I don't agree… you won't do anything about it?" And by that, she meant, "You won't kill me?"

He just stared at her for a moment, scoffed, and turned and walked into the kitchen. A bit shocked, she blinked her confusion away, and followed him.

He was standing at the wet bar, pulling out a glass of wine. He grabbed two glasses, and poured the vintage beverage into both of them. He looked at her, standing confused in the doorway, then turned and, with his back to her, garnished them. She almost laughed that he would take the care to do something like that in this situation.

He then walked over to her, handed her a glass, and stared in her eyes for a moment.

"You realize that this means that… I'll leave. That… whatever happened here is over. I can't stay here, looking at you every day, knowing what you did," she said.

"Yes," he said, and there was something completely unreadable in his gaze. "I know."

She sighed, and raised the glass to her lips. Alcohol was always a great help in these types of situations.

He laid a hand on her arm, stopping her, and grabbed the front of her shirt, pulling her towards him. She had to hold the glass out to the side to avoid it getting crushed between them.

Before she registered what was happening, he was kissing her. There was a split second of surprise on her part, but then her head began to spin, and a flash of heat ran up her spine. Every time he moved his lips, it happened again, and she actually began to feel light-headed. She kissed him back, putting all her rage, sadness, and built-up passion into that one single kiss.

And as quickly as it had begun, it was over. He pulled back, looking away from her. She hadn't realized it, but apparently she hadn't breathed for the duration of the entire kiss. She stared strangely at him, tilting her head in confusion. He sighed, turned slightly away from her, and lifted his own glass.

"I know I've done it several times already, but I want to thank you again. For everything you've done for me," he said, and sipped his wine.

She didn't know how to respond. 'Alright. You kiss the snot out of me, and you say thanks?' didn't seem appropriate.

So she raised her glass and took a big gulp. She smiled as it went down. Only the best wines for Adrian Veidt. It was then that she noticed something strange. Her vision began to spin again, just like it had when he kissed her. Then it turned to tunnel vision, with odd black clouds appearing in the corners of her field of vision. Her breathing began to speed up, and she could feel her heart hammering against her chest so hard she thought it might jump through her ribcage any second.

She blinked several times to try to shake it, but nothing helped.

"Adrian," she said, and her voice sounded far away… like it was under water. "I feel…" she couldn't finish. Now her whole body was beginning to shake. She tried to focus on Adrian, no matter how much he was spinning.

He turned his head toward her slightly, and his eyebrows were slanted with grief. "I'm sorry," he said.

That's when she got a flash of her dream, and it was all so clear. She was walking down the streets of New York, and it was as breathtaking as ever. The buildings were gleaming so brightly; it was as if they were screaming for compliments. People scurried around her with their early morning mochas, hurrying to get to work but somehow managing to say "hello." The city was perfect, in every way.

But just as before, a huge machine was situated right in the center of Times Square. Standing in front of it, in all his faultless glory, was Adrian. He was facing the machine, but she knew it was him. He was wearing his old superhero suit, and he was standing so elegantly; shoulders back, chin high, everything about him giving off the aura of confidence.

She reached for him, and he nodded to her over his shoulder as he reached up and laid a hand on the giant machine. It began to hum and click, and Adrian slowly lowered his arm. As she finally grasped his shoulder, he turned his head to look at her.

He was perfect. He was his old self again; his skin bearing that youthful glow, his hair perfectly swept back over his headpiece. And his eyes… they were magnificent. Even the otherworldly blue glow of the machine didn't compare.

He smiled sadly, and reached up and took her hand in his. He squeezed it affectionately and said, "I'm sorry."

The blue glow expanded, and the darkness surrounding her vision swallowed her whole.

This is NOT the end. So stay tuned :-]