One month later…
“So, tell me about this movie you’re making,” said Dylan Rosenberg, leaning back in his chair and adjusting his glasses. They were at the Ramaris house in Diomede City, where Dylan had taken up residence.
“Well, I guess you could say that it’s a family project,” Vachlan explained. “I got the kids helping me to direct—just giving them small tasks and asking for their help with minor decisions, here and there. I’m hoping that it stimulates their creativity.”
“That sounds like an excellent bonding experience,” Dylan said.
Vachlan shrugged. “After I abandoned Ivory and Ronan for so long, I really wanted to make it up to them. I know you told me about how crucial these early years are, with the rapid brain development and all—I didn’t want to waste any more time.”
“I’m really glad to hear all this,” Dylan said, making notes in his notebook. “You’re really doing a lot better than you were when we first started having these sessions. Do you think you’re ready to talk about the subject matter of your movie today?”
“Yes,” Vachlan said. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a weathered old script. “You see, the movie is based on a play I wrote when I was very young. When I first met Visola in 1797, she asked to see some of my writing. This… this is the first thing I ever shared with her. I don’t know why I gave it to her. Back then, I was very sensitive about my work. Too sensitive. But she loved it. She understood it.”
“What did she understand about your work?” Dylan asked.
“It’s hard to say exactly,” Vachlan said, flipping through the yellowed pages. “This story was loosely based on my life. It’s about a man who achieves world domination, but the entire time that he’s fighting to conquer the world—he feels empty. He feels ill-at-ease with his own power, and he doesn’t really want it. I guess, he keeps looking for something to bring him down. He’s seeking his own end. Then, when he finally gets conquered by a force greater than himself… he finds peace.”
“So, it’s a story about loneliness?” Dylan asked. “A lack of love?”
“Yes,” Vachlan responded. He smiled. “As I said, I was very young when I wrote it, and I’d only seen really negative things happen around me in the world. I had never really had a true connection with someone until I met Visola. Frankly, I think the story is horrible. That’s why I recently re-wrote it.”
“What did you change?” Dylan asked.
“Four main things. First, I made the main character a female,” Vachlan said with a smile. “I used to see myself in the lonely warrior, but now I see Visola. Second, I made it relevant to recent events. Instead of having the fighting take place mostly in Europe and Africa like in the original story, I had the main character destroy the United States of America. Third, I gave the main character a family. I gave her a husband who loves her unconditionally, even when she’s killing tens of millions of people. I also gave her two adorable children. Fourth… I gave the story a happy ending.”
“Those all sound like excellent changes,” Dylan said, making plenty of notes.
“Yes. I have considered using Ivory and Ronan to play the parts of the children,” Vachlan mused, “but I worry that it might seem like cheap theatrics.”
“Cheap theatrics?” Dylan asked.
“Yes. The movie is for Visola. It’s my trump card.”
“It’s for her?” Dylan asked. “In what way?”
“She’s going to see it,” Vachlan explained. “I’m going to pour a shitload of money into advertising. There will be posters and billboards everywhere. She’ll see the title, and she’ll read the synopsis, and she’ll recognize and remember. It’s important to us. I still remember sitting cross-legged on a small bed across from her in a ship’s cabin, and listening to her talk about my story with such excitement. It meant as much to her as it did to me. I know that.”
“What did it mean?” Dylan asked.
“It meant that we both needed something to live for, so we decided to live for each other. It meant that we both felt vastly superior to our peers, both physically and mentally, and this bored us. So we decided to challenge each other so we could continue to grow. It meant that we discovered, through our feelings on this story, in that moment, that we were two parts of the same person. We were each other’s missing half. Soulmates...” Vachlan trailed off in memory. “It sounds cheesy, but that is literally the way it is. There was never any going back from that. I tried to put centuries, and half the planet between us, but once I found her, there was no letting go. She was always there. Every time I looked in the mirror, and she wasn’t beside me, I only saw half a man. Do you know what I mean? Dylan?”
The doctor had taken off his glasses and was holding his face in both of his hands. His shoulders were moving a little erratically.
“Dylan?” Vachlan said with concern. He got up and moved around the desk, to take the man by the shoulders. “Dylan! Dylan, look at me. Are you okay?”
“No,” the doctor whispered. “How can I ever be okay again?”
“I’m sorry,” Vachlan said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I do know what you mean—about soulmates.” Dylan could not seem to stop crying. “I didn’t even have one year with her.”
Vachlan moved away to sit on Dylan’s desk. He sighed and strummed his fingers on the wooden surface. He happened to glance down, and was startled to see the doctor’s notebook open near his hand. The notes were surprisingly simple and repetitive. Written over and over again in the doctor’s neat handwriting, was a single word:
Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna. Sionna.
“Dylan?” Vachlan said with concern. He picked up the notebook and rifled through it. He found hundreds of pages covered in the same way. “Good god, man! How long have you been doing this?”
The doctor gestured up to a shelf that contained several dozen notebooks.
Vachlan moved over to the shelf, and began to rifle through them. He found at least ten notebooks that had only Sionna’s name written in them from cover to cover. Finally, he managed to find a book that had actual coherent sentences. The final real entry was dated on the day of Sionna’s death. They were notes on her lecture from the conference in Cairo. Vachlan turned back to the blonde man, and fixed him with a pensive look. “This can’t be healthy,” Vachlan informed him.
“It’s not,” Dylan replied with a smile. “You probably should have let me shoot myself in the head, that day.”
“No,” Vachlan said. “You’ll get better. I promise, you will.”
“Am I supposed to be counseling you, or are you supposed to be counseling me?” Dylan asked sadly. He sighed. “Vachlan, I can’t do this. I’m too close to the situation. When you talk about your wife that way, I think about her sister. I feel jealous of you, because you had things—you have things I will never have. I can’t be impartial. I think you need a new therapist.”
“No,” Vachlan said. “I don’t just want an impartial, logical counseling session, man. I’m not just here because Elandria said she would take my children away unless I got therapy. I’m not just here because I’m seriously messed up in the head. I’m here because you’re my friend. We went through something together that really messed us both up. I’m not going to ever be comfortable speaking to another human being about what happened in that car, in Cairo. But you were there. You cared as much as I did—maybe more. No one else can understand what that day was like.”
Dylan nodded, tearfully.
“This?” Vachlan said, holding up the notebook covered in Sionna’s name. “This is what my therapist should be writing. This is the whole point. This is the heart of the matter. This is the reason for everything that’s happening. The whole world should know and understand, but they don’t.”
“I want to help you do everything you need to do,” Dylan told Vachlan. “I want to help you be the best father you can be. I want to help you find your wife and reach her, and pull her back from her madness. But how? How can I do that, when I’m dealing with my own madness?”
Vachlan reached out and placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder again. “We’re all a little psychotic. All of us. You and I are going to talk this out, as much as we need to. We’re going to get through this together. We’re going to counsel each other. Okay?”
Dylan nodded again. “Vachlan… I think there’s something I need to show you.” He cleared his throat, and replaced his glasses on his nose. “But if you’re going to counsel me, you need to keep this confidential. It’s very important to me, and could get me in a lot of trouble.”
“Sure,” Vachlan said in confusion. “Not a problem, mate.”
Dr. Rosenberg rose to his feet and moved out of the office, gesturing for Vachlan to follow. He walked up the stairs of the house. “I stay here because it’s where she stayed, you know. I do everything I can to be close to her.”
“I know,” Vachlan said.
“Please, try to understand what I’m about to show you,” Dylan implored. He opened the door to his bedroom, and gestured for Vachlan to enter.
With a curious expression, Vachlan entered the room. His jaw dropped. “Holy shit, man! You—you did not… you…”
“I’m sorry,” Dylan said, moving forward to place his palms against the cryonic glass casket. “I just couldn’t let them cremate her. What are we, barbarians?”
Vachlan exhaled in amazement. “Whose body did they burn?”
“Just some dead woman I stole from the morgue,” Dylan said with a shrug.
Vachlan nodded in approval. He moved forward and examined the body, feeling a little shiver at her perfect state of serenity. While frozen, Sionna looked like she was merely sleeping. Dylan had even arranged flowers around her body; her favorite oleander. “Why are you showing this to me?” Vachlan asked.
“I figured that you would understand. Since you told me the story about taking that strand of Visola’s hair from the motel room…” Dylan cleared his throat. “I know this is much more than a single strand of hair, but it’s the same concept. I couldn’t lose her altogether.”
“Why is this in your bedroom?” Vachlan asked.
“So I can see her every day when I wake up, and before I go to bed,” the doctor answered.
“Dylan…” Vachlan said. “The moment you start keeping a dead woman frozen in your bedroom is the moment you should seriously consider doing something other than counseling others on their mental health for a living.”
“I know that I’m damaged, but there is some logic…”
“No. You can never try to reanimate her,” Vachlan warned.
“Maybe not anytime soon. But science is a wondrous thing—maybe in 100 years or 200 years, they could find a way…”
“That can’t ever happen. If you bring Sionna back… with her brain damaged the way it was. She won’t be the woman she was. She could be too dumb to tie her own shoelaces. Unable to speak in simple sentences. She would be little more than an animal that looked like her old self.”
“Don’t say that,” Dylan said, sitting down on his bed. “I just want to have hope. I don’t have anything else to look forward to in life.”
“Also, it’s not just your call,” Vachlan told him. “Legally or ethically. Her sister should have a say in the matter—but even more than Visola, Princess Yamako and Sionna were basically married. You really shouldn’t do anything to Sionna’s body without consulting the princess.”
“I know,” Dylan said, “and I will tell Yamako. I just wanted a little more private time with Sionna to say goodbye, before sharing her with anyone else.” He pressed his hand against the glass near her face. “We had so much time stolen from us… I just wanted her for a few more minutes.”
Vachlan gazed at the scene before him with regret and pity for his friend, mixed in with his own sadness for the loss. There was something hauntingly beautiful about Sionna’s pale complexion and peaceful repose. “You win,” Vachlan said. “This is much better than my single strand of hair.”
“On the bright side,” Dylan said sarcastically, “if you lose that hair, I’ve got lots to spare. Their DNA is pretty much identical, so except for the sentimental value—the hair would have the same molecular makeup.”
“Thanks,” Vachlan said with a grimace. “That’s really romantic.” He suddenly snapped his fingers. “Their DNA! That’s it. Dylan, you’re brilliant. You might have just saved the entire world by keeping this body.”
“What do you mean?” Dylan asked.
Vachlan smiled and clapped his friend on the back. “This is the golden ticket, right here. We could use her to stop the war. We could fake Visola’s death.”
“No,” Dylan said.
“Yes—the USA wanted my full cooperation in capturing and killing Visola. So, maybe I should go to them, and offer my cooperation. If I can get Visola to agree to play along, and stop the attacks at the precise moment that the USA finds ‘her body,’ and declares her dead—we could fix everything.”
“There are many ways that any good doctor can tell that this isn’t Visola,” Dylan told Vachlan.
“So we’ll mess her up a little. We can have parts of her found in the remains of an explosion, with just enough of her face and dental records left to identify her.”
“A good forensic pathologist can tell that this woman has been dead for a little while,” Dylan argued. “The body begins to decompose…”
“You froze her,” Vachlan said. “I know that you would have barely given her a chance to decompose. It’s a feasible idea, right? This could work? This could potentially get the Americans off our backs?”
“Yes,” Dylan said, adjusting his glasses and frowning. “With enough damage done to the body, they wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. They wouldn’t be able to tell that Sionna has never had children, or see her lack of caesarean scars, and dozens of other scars that Visola has… It is a good idea, Vachlan, but I’m not ready for you to take her away from me.”
“This might be the only way I can save my wife,” Vachlan told him. “This might be the only way I can get them to stop hunting her down. You know, after what she’s done—they will never let her live in peace.”
“I’ll consider it,” Dylan said sadly. “I know that a dead body is a small sacrifice if it can save many lives. But it’s Sionna. I don’t want any more harm to come to her. I don’t want her to be mutilated or injured. I just want to keep her safe and perfect, forever.” He sent Vachlan a small smile. “Yes, I know how creepy that sounds. Anyway, I also do know that Sionna would do anything in her power to help her sister. So, if this really does end up being the only way—if Visola agrees to fake her own death, and Princess Yamako agrees to use the body—then I will agree. I already know that Sionna would agree.”
“Thank you, Dylan,” Vachlan said. “It’s just an idea. I don’t want to take her away from you.”
“I know that I need to let go. I know that it’s the healthy thing to do.” Dylan looked at Vachlan with helpless eyes. “But I just can’t let go. I just want her back. The world was a better place when she was here.”
Vachlan grimaced. “Considering that a global war started due to her assassination, I would say that you are literally correct. Sionna is the new Franz Ferdinand.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Dylan said, with a frown. “Don’t you feel it? The world is emptier now. The sky is a little less blue, and the water is a little less clear. It’s like she took some of brightness right out of the sun. It’s just so much darker.”
Glancing at Dylan with great pity, Vachlan nodded. “I feel it, man. I really do.”
Visola had been fighting alongside the Japanese forces to gain access to Cheyenne Mountain for hours. Due to the secure location of the bunker, and the extra vigilance of the American forces, it was proving to be an insurmountable task.
“Just get me access,” Visola repeated in a mocking tone as she crouched behind a boulder. “It’ll be easy once we’re inside. Spoiled princess is used to getting everything she wants.” She tried to peer over the rocks and fire a barrage of shots at the opposing forces. There seemed to be even more men defending the facility than before. “Sedna’s tampons!” she cursed. “Where are all these people coming from? Haven’t we killed them all yet?”
She was considering ordering her men to retreat, and coming back on another day. She was considering attacking a different facility. There were a few other important military bases that Princess Yamako wanted to gain access to, so that she could get to work on cracking their digital security and taking command of their weapons. Revenge was a difficult chore that required much patience. When a small airplane flew overhead, Visola pointed her rifle upward. However, there was no gunfire from the plane. She frowned in confusion.
“General Ramaris,” said one of the Japanese soldiers. “Something’s changing. The men are surrendering and granting you access.”
“What?” she said in confusion. “Why? That takes the fun out of the fight.”
“I’m sorry, General.”
“I was lying,” she told the man, with a roll of her eyes. “This fight was never fun. But this doesn’t make sense. Allowing us inside the mountain gives us the advantage. We can’t be trapped inside. I suppose they could release a gas of some sort once we’re inside, but we’re all equipped with gas masks and fully protective armor in case of such an emergency.”
“Should we go in?” the soldier asked.
“Sure,” she said with a shrug. “What’s the worst that could happen? Let’s see what kind of nasty surprise they have planned for us.”
Visola slowly rose to her feet, and was immediately surrounded by a tight formation of her soldiers. They formed a wall around her as she moved, keeping their weapons raised. The American soldiers had laid down their weapons, and placed their hands in the air. Visola frowned at the situation, as she moved forward. The 25-ton doors to the Cheyenne Mountain bunker were open, and her people were easily able to walk directly through to the inside.
Once they were deep inside the structure, she began to suffer from a very bad feeling. “Everyone put on your gas masks,” she instructed in a whisper, as she did the same. She moved forward stealthily with her weapon, confused by all the open doors and empty rooms. “Wait here,” she told her men, when she saw the silhouette of a person sitting in a room with a giant control panel and tons of electronics. “Don’t come in unless I give the signal that it’s safe.” Visola walked forward quickly but quietly as she approached the shadowy individual.
“Why did you let us in?” she inquired. “Who are you?”
When the man swiveled in his chair, Visola stumbled backward in fear and dove behind the nearest piece of equipment for cover. She forced herself to remember to breathe. She had not expected to come face-to-face with her greatest weakness today. Her body had broken out into a cold sweat, and her breaths were coming short and quick. In order to cope with her anxiety, she repositioned and tightened her hands on the grip of her weapon.
“Come now, Visola,” he said in a familiar voice. “There’s no need to consider me a threat.”
“You’re working against me,” she said breathlessly. “You’re helping the Americans!”
“I am just here to have a conversation with you,” said the man. “I don’t even have a weapon.”
She made a loud snort of derision which echoed throughout the room. “Please. You are the weapon.”
“I am your weapon,” he responded. “Only yours.”
Her eyes began to sting as she considered the very real possibility that she had been betrayed again. She bit down on her lip in frustration, for her stomach was flip-flopping at the sound of his voice. “If you’re not working with them, how did you gain access to this facility?”
“I told them that I was the only one who could help them capture and execute you, to stop the destruction of the United States of America.”
Hearing this, Visola scowled. “And how do you plan to do that?”
“If you come out here and look me in the eye, maybe we can have a real conversation.”
Pointing her weapon at him, Visola moved out of cover. She stared warily at the man with longish-dark hair, and sad grey eyes. She spoke his name guardedly in acknowledgement. “Vachlan.”
“This was a really great idea, Viso. Using their own bombs against them—simultaneously destroying their offense and defense. I’m really impressed and proud of the way you’ve embraced new technology.”
She squinted at him cautiously as she aimed her rifle at his face. “You’re helping them to bring me down.”
“No,” he said. He began unbuttoning his shirt, to reveal the wire he was wearing. He ripped it off and destroyed the small microphone. “They only think I am on their side. Visola—I haven’t seen you in months. Will you put the gun down and let me hug you?”
“No,” she told him, marching forward and pushing the barrel against his chest. The nozzle perfectly connected with a scar from a bullet wound that she had inflicted on him in the past. “I don’t want you or anyone else standing in my way. Don’t get involved in this situation, Vachlan. This is none of your business.”
“If it involves you, it involves me,” he told her. “Now will you listen for a moment? I have a plan to get you out of this. We can walk away, right now. You and me. We can be safe.”
“I have a plan, too,” she said furiously, “and I was in the middle of executing my plan when you got in my way and started wasting my time. What the fuck do you want from me, Vachlan?”
“I want my wife back.”
She recoiled as if he had slapped her in the face. She frowned at him, but lowered her weapon as she walked away to examine the computers in the room. “That’s not going to happen. You should go get a new one.”
“I liked the old one,” he told her. He watched her fiddle with the equipment for a minute, allowing his eyes to roam over her body with unbearable nostalgia. He cleared his throat. “They’ve erased all their sensitive data from the computers at this location. This facility won’t be of any use to you anymore.”
“Dammit,” Visola said, looking around in vexation. “I do like the layout, though. I think I’ll keep it. The interior design is really modern and minimalist. The grey is a nice neutral tone that will allow for splashes of color to really pop. I’m thinking I could add some throw pillows and curtains. Maybe some avant-garde paintings. It could be cozy.”
“Visola,” he said with a smile. “You should probably look for less high-profile real estate, love.”
“This will be a great new command center,” she declared. “I’ll give it to the Japanese.”
“Darling, I want you to tell me your plans,” Vachlan said. “I want to collaborate with you, and help you achieve completion. Then, I want you to cooperate with me so we can get out of this mess.”
She turned to glare at him. “Well, you seem to know enough about our strategy already. We’ve been deploying their own bombs, for the most part. Yamako is really close to gaining access to some great nuclear warheads, which we intend to scatter over the nation on Christmas Day—you know how land-dwellers love their Christmas.”
“That’s diabolical,” Vachlan said.
“Yes. But even if we don’t get these warheads—for example, if some prick like you gets in our way and cockblocks the operation—we have a backup plan.” She smiled at him sweetly. “Four new, state-of-the-art atomic bombs, built in Japan. We’re saving them for a special occasion. Midnight on New Year’s Eve—when everyone is gathered in Times Square to watch ‘the ball drop.’ They’re going to see a different kind of ball get dropped, if you know what I mean.”
“That’s cruel, Visola. That’s… almost too cruel.”
She shrugged. “It’s a taste of their own medicine. After New York, we have plans for Los Angeles, Chicago, and finally, Washington D.C.”
“That’s a lot of innocent people,” Vachlan responded.
“I know,” she said with a pout. “That’s the point. You shouldn’t kill innocent people.” She lowered her voice to a sarcastic whisper. “It’s not very nice.”
“They’re not all responsible for what happened,” Vachlan told her. “Most of them would probably be appalled if they knew of some of the mistakes their leaders made. But that’s all this was—a mistake, which you have already made them pay for. You need to let it go. You need to move on. Haven’t you gotten enough revenge by now?”
She lifted her gun and pointed it back at his chest. “It’s never enough. You’re here to sabotage me. They sent you as an emotional weapon to try to talk me out of this. It won’t work.” She shoved the gun against his chest harder, forcing him to step back. “Get out of this place. Get away from me!”
“No,” he said softly. In a single, fluid motion, he twisted the gun out of her hands, and grabbed her wrist, hooking a foot under her leg to slam her body to the ground. He maneuvered his weight on top of her, pinning her beneath him. “I’m not leaving you, Visola. You need to stop this. I know you’re in pain. I am not your enemy. I have never been your enemy—not even when I was, in fact, your enemy.”
“Get off me,” she said in a low voice. “I swear to Sedna…”
“You need to come home. You have two young children who need their mother. Ivory and Ronan ask for you every single day. They’re not upset that you’re gone, they just want to know that you’re safe. They want to know that you still love them. They want to hug you and tell you stories about all their little adventures. They need their mother.”
“Stop talking,” she screamed, struggling against him. “I don’t want to hear your guilt-tripping bullshit.”
“There’s no guilt. Only love. You have a family, people who love you. Poor Aazuria is lost without you. She’s so upset that she’s making poor decisions, like letting Prince Taranis Evenor take advantage of her. She needs you to protect her.”
Visola’s eyes displayed a flash of recognition. “Zuri’s in trouble?”
“Yes,” Vachlan whispered, lowering his face so that his breath brushed over her lips. He stared down with a wretched and pleading look in his warm grey eyes. “Visola, please. Instead of launching thousands of nuclear warheads, will you just cry and let me hold you?”
She studied him for a moment. “No, thanks. I like my original plan better.”
“Please, Viso. Please,” he implored her, releasing her from his iron grip and laying his palm gently against her cheek. “Launching those missiles will not bring Sionna back; she’s gone. But I’m right here, and I love you. I need you.”
“You?” she said quietly. “You? You’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” she hissed. “You’re the reason Sionna’s gone. She was helping you when she gave you access to those diseases. You know it’s your fault.”
He swallowed and nodded, unable to respond.
“You left me,” she reminded him. “You left me alone for 200 years, for no good reason. You left your unborn child. Now you’re telling me to come home? I never chased after you. I gave you your freedom. You’re the one who set the precedent for behavior in this relationship, and if I want to leave… that’s my prerogative. That’s my right.”
“It is your right, but…” He took a deep breath. “I can’t do this without you, Visola. Don’t abandon me. I’m scared that I won’t be a good father.”
She shook her head. “I don’t care.”
“What are you saying? Of course, you care. Viso, you have to come home. If not for me, for them. I know I don’t deserve your love and presence, but the children do.”
She gave him a sick little smile. “There’s no point. You’re just going to get them killed eventually.”
“What?” he said in horror.
“You’re the reason Alycone was killed,” she told him bitterly. “I already have one dead daughter. And a dead sister. What do I care if I have two more dead children?” She lifted her head off the ground, putting her face very close to his. “Do it, Vachlan. Kill them. Go home and kill them, and add them to the list.”
“Visola!” he said in shock. “How can you say something like that?”
“I don’t care anymore,” she told him. “I have let go of everyone and everything. It doesn’t make sense, loving people in a world like this. They just get hurt and taken away.”
“That’s not true,” he told her. “We can change the world together, and make it better.”
“I am changing the world,” she told him. “Haven’t you noticed? I’m improving it, one crater at a time. There’s nothing left for me here. I recognized, before I started, that I was signing my own death warrant. I can’t ever think of going home—I’m not stupid. You don’t get to do what I’m doing and then live happily ever after. They’ll never let me go, as long as I’m alive. They’ll hunt me down, wherever I go. I started this, so I need to finish it. I’m taking it all the way.”
“All the way to what? Complete annihilation?” Vachlan glared at her. “Listen. They will let you go, Visola. You do get to live happily ever after. I told you that I have a plan. You just have to trust me. I can make them think you’re dead.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have a body,” he said quietly. “I have a body that I can use to convince them that you’re dead. It will be altered so that it’s indistinguishable from yours. If they perform an autopsy or forensics, they won’t be able to tell that it’s not you. I will give them this body, and you and I can…” Vachlan was cut off by a punch to the jaw.
“You bastard,” she hissed, hitting him again. “You fucking bastard. How could you!”
“Visola, I just want…”
“You will not mutilate my sister’s body!” she screamed. “How dare you suggest that to me! They already took her life, and now you want to give them her body? I’ll give them my body!” she shouted furiously. “I’m the one they really want. Let them try to take it from me! I’m going to show America that they killed the wrong woman!”
“You’ve already shown them that, Visola. You’ve wreaked so much havoc…”
“I’m not finished! I have so much more to do.” She rose to her feet and stood over him angrily. “You want to fake my death so badly?” she said with a snarl. “Do it for yourself. Do it in your own mind. Let’s pretend you killed me here today. Let’s pretend that there was something left in me to kill. When you walk away from this place, keep that thought in your mind. ‘Visola is dead. Visola is dead to me.’ Just keep repeating that to yourself. Because there’s nothing more between us. That’s all I’ll ever be to you, from now on. Dead.”
With that, she turned and walked away.
Visola had been unable to sleep since her encounter with Vachlan. She was tossing and turning in the small bed of the college dorm room she was currently occupying. It was the holidays, and the dormitory buildings were completely emptied of students, so she had chosen to camp out there with her army temporarily, until moving to the next location. However, the meeting with her husband had left her frazzled. It had been her first unsuccessful and upsetting day in a while. She had been caught off guard by his presence, and she had been shaken by his words. She had also been shocked by her own words, and they would not stop playing on repeat in her mind. She had always been harsh and cruel, but she had never known she could be so heartless
He had barely touched her, but her body seemed to react to his presence in a manner she could not control. She had forced him out of her memory for a very long time; not the knowledge of him, but all the feelings associated with him. She had tried so hard to shut so many doors in her mind, but he had come storming in at the most unexpected moment, and tried his best to tear them open. They had barely budged at the time, but now, a few hours after the event, she felt a small earthquake shaking the foundation of her solid walls. It was unsettling.
She continued to toss and turn, completely unable to get comfortable or find peace. She dug her hands into her pillow, crushing it against her chest. She squeezed it between her knees. She pulled the blankets up over her head. She tossed them completely off her body. “Arghh!” Letting out this small yell of exasperation, she threw her pillow at the ceiling light fixture, and promptly covered her eyes as it broke and shattered.
Visola rose to her feet and tiptoed around the glass shards in the dark. She exited her dorm room, and ignoring the guards stationed outside the bedrooms, moved to the room beside hers. She slipped in quietly and closed the door behind her. She moved over to the small bed where Princess Yamako was sleeping, and sat down beside the woman.
“Hmmm?” Princess Yamako said as she stirred. “Is everything okay? Is there danger?”
Visola bit her lip. “I’m… having difficulty synthesizing the enzyme.”
“What?” said the princess, yawning and rubbing her eyes. “What time is it?”
Frowning, Visola looked around the small bedroom. Seeing some bobby pins discarded on a desk nearby, she crossed the room, combing her fingers through her hair to remove the tangles. Grabbing her hair together in one hand, she quickly twisted it, and used the other hand to tie it into a knot. She grabbed a bobby pin, and stabbed the bun to keep it in place. She grabbed another, and stuck it in there as well, for good measure. She turned back to the princess, relaxing her body and trying to make her facial muscles soften.
“Is everything okay?” Yamako asked in confusion.
“I’ve been… thinking so hard, all day,” Visola said, slowly walking back to the bed. “It was such a stressful day at the lab.”
The princess looked at Visola suspiciously.
“Yama, my brain hurts,” Visola said in a dejected voice as she sat beside her on the bed. “Will you make me feel better?”
Yamako smiled. “You just got into a fight with your husband, didn’t you?”
“Maybe,” Visola said with a sigh. She reached up to undo her bun. “Sorry, this isn’t working.”
“No, no.” Yamako reached up to clasp her wrists. “Leave the bun. I like it.”
“How did she do this?” Visola asked. “My sister pretended to be me lots of times, for lots of reasons. She even ran my whole goddamn army when I was away. Why can’t I be half as good as she is? Why can’t I be anything like her?”
“You’re more like her than you think,” Yamako said, stretching slightly and observing Visola’s downhearted face in the moonlight. Staring at the curve of her cheek was slightly overwhelming. “Do you know that Sionna tried really hard to present an image of structure and sophistication, just to differentiate herself from you? Just to prove that she could escape her nature?” Yamako smiled. “But it was in her nature to be wild and powerful, just like you. She was more like you than you realize.”
Visola nodded, closing her eyes briefly. “Thanks for helping me these past few months,” she said. “I couldn’t have gotten this far, this quickly without you. Those atomic bombs are going to be perfect.”
“I’m excited too, honey,” Yamako said, lifting herself to a seated position and moving closer to Visola. She traced her fingers along the other woman’s arm, starting at her wrist and moving to her shoulder. Leaning forward, Yamako pressed her cheek against Visola’s back. “I’m sorry if I touch you too much,” Yamako whispered. “I just look for her face in every person I see. I’m always trying to find her. And then, there are you are—so much like her. So much like her that it hurts. It hurts to not be touching you, and pretending that you’re her. Sometimes—like right now, when your eyes are closed, and you’re not saying anything stupid… I can almost fool myself.” Yamako smiled sadly. “I wish I really could fool myself.”
“You can,” Visola said. “I’ll be Sionna for you. Just once.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Just for tonight,” Visola said. “I need the distraction to keep me from killing my husband.”
“I can distract you,” Yamako said, moving forward to press a kiss against Visola’s ear. “And we are in a college dorm room after all.”
Visola smiled. “Okay. You’ll have to tell me what to do. I have no idea how this works.” Visola made a face. “I don’t know what goes where.”
“Just stop talking and kiss me.”
Visola woke up to the sound of soft crying. She was startled when she saw the naked dark-haired woman beside her. “Yama?” she asked with concern.
“You look just like her when you’re sleeping,” the princess said, with a small laugh. “Thank you, Viso. It was like I got to spend one last night with her. I never got a chance to really say goodbye.”
“I know,” Visola said. She reached out and touched the nasty scar running across Yamako’s neck. “When you were injured, you told her to date Dylan Rosenberg, to decide who she wanted. She had been spending all her time with Dylan in the days leading up to her death.”
“If I had known there was so little time, I wouldn’t have given her away,” Princess Yamako said. “I was trying to be generous because he saved my life. I was trying to be considerate of their history, and their unfinished business. I didn’t want to marry Sio if she still had questions. I didn’t want her to lie awake at night thinking about what could have been…”
“I think you did a really good thing for her,” Visola said. “It was awful timing, but that was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for my sister, in her entire life.” Visola smiled, staring up at the ceiling fan pensively. “Thank you for being so good to her. She was so alone, for so long… I know that she really loved you. She loved being part of Kaito’s life, too. Thank you for making her happy.”
“Oh, Viso.” Yamako looked down at the redhead with teary eyes and wistful expression. “We haven’t talked about her very much, until now. We haven’t been able to.”
“I know. It’s like we’re making a breakthrough or something,” Visola mused.
“I think… I actually feel a lot better,” Princess Yamako admitted.
Visola seemed surprised. “Hey! Me too.”
“Does this mean we shouldn’t launch the bombs?” Princess Yamako asked with a sly smile.
“Heck no!” Visola exclaimed. “Are you kidding? It just means we can enjoy them more.”
“Good, because I wasn’t feeling that much better,” Yamako said. “I still need the bombs.”
Visola laughed to herself, and stretched. She was startled when she felt a hand on her stomach.
“Sio didn’t have huge scars like these,” Yamako said.
Visola looked down. “Yeah. She gave me some of those. This one is from my caesarean section, and this one is me trying to perform hara-kiri and kill myself because Vachlan pissed me off.”
Yamako grinned. “Wow. You two have a very interesting relationship.” Yamako reached up to touch her neck absent-mindedly. “We both have some pretty nasty scars, don’t we?”
“The worst ones are on the inside,” Visola said. “I felt like when Sionna died… I had a surgical removal of most of my soul. She was the secret box where I stored the best aspects of myself. Once she died, I became a monster.”
“You didn’t become a monster, Visola,” Yamako assured her. “You have always been a monster.”
Visola smiled sadly at this. “You should have heard the things I said to Vachlan yesterday. I was so awful. I was out of control. Seeing him and hearing him talk about our kids. That was difficult. I’m not used to feeling things anymore. I blamed him for everything, but it’s not his fault. It’s this country.”
“You blamed him for what?” Yamako asked.
“For Sionna’s death. For Alcyone’s death. It wasn’t fair of me to say those things,” Visola said. She sat up and ran her hands through her hair. “This is new. I’ve had beef with lots of countries before, but never like this. I’ve never gone up against a country quite like America.”
“Honey, I don’t think anyone has ever gone up a country like this one. No one would be crazy enough.”
“I loved this country,” Visola said sadly. “I liked the people. I admire them, in a lot of ways. They can be good, kind, and fun. But they can be so dumb. And then they do things, like assassinate my sister…” She closed her eyes. “If only they had not made that mistake. They should have killed me instead. No one would have cared. If they had killed me, the world wouldn’t be at war right now.”
“You’re wrong,” Yamako said. “If it had been you instead of Sio, I would be right here, in this very college dormitory, on this same mission. Sionna would have reacted in the exact same way, and I would have come along and supported her in avenging you. The only difference is that we might have accepted Aazuria’s help.” Yamako gave Visola a teasing look. “And also—I’d be getting laid a lot more, and it would be so much better than last night…”
Visola laughed and smacked the other woman with a pillow. “Sorry! I just don’t know how to work with what you’ve got going on down there.”