Part 6
Angel--
She got the address almost right, I found the demons only a few doors away.
It felt good to kill them; to let my anger at how unfair the world is out
on these creatures of evil before I sent them back to Hell. I missed Doyle
being there, the whole-hearted way he threw himself into the fight, even
after all his insistence that he wasn't getting involved in the physical
side of my work. I missed his smile when all the bad guys were gone, and
how he would be so gentle with the victim. Half the time he ended up looking
worse than they did, and as much as I understood his refusal to use his demon
side to help him fight, I wish I didn't have so many memories of him bruised
and battered.
It's odd, how he helped me accept my demon side; to learn to use it more
than I ever had before, and yet still couldn't accept his own. My demon is
evil, a killer, when his was benign. He never had to fight against the urge
to let go, to kill both the innocent and the guilty. There wasn't any blood
on his hands, no fear that he would go so far that he couldn't ever get
back.
I wish there had been more time. After Harry came, and he shared the story
of their marriage, I should have done more, shared more. It's a human mistake,
to put things off, to avoid conversations that would hurt. Not that it matters
now, in the end, he used his demon side to save our lives. I wonder what
it cost him to show Cordelia that face, knowing it would be the last image
she had of him.
I should go inside the office, instead of standing outside the door like
a coward. She's still there, in shock probably, and I don't blame her. She's
tied to me now, another person recruited without warning into the fight.
It won't be easy, she still thinks that her time with me is only temporary,
a kink on the road to her perfect life. She doesn't realize that from now
on, normal is going to be out of her reach.
I don't know what I'm supposed to say to her. She's lost almost everything
in the last few days, and I don't understand how I can make that any better.
If Doyle was here, he could. But, if Doyle was here, this wouldn't be happening.
It all comes down to that. I should have died. It doesn't matter that he
believed I could save more lives by continuing, what matters is that I couldn't
save his, and I'm afraid that I won't be able to save hers. What's the point
of all of this if I can't save the people that matter?
"Angel?" Cordelia's voice was low, and afraid, her eyes bright with unshed
tears as she stepped out of the office. "Why didn't you come in?"
"Sorry." I murmured, walking up to the door to join her. "I was just
thinking."
"About the visions?" She asked, her tone implying that she hadn't thought
of anything else. Her mouth opened, then closed, as if the words she wanted
to say were hard for her. Finally, she took a deep breath, and let the words
out in a rush. "Do you think he meant to give them to me?"
I hadn't thought of that. "No." I answered slowly, shaking my head.
"I don't either." She agreed, relief softening her posture. "I know they're
important, that what Doyle did was as important as what you do, but I don't
want them." Lifting her eyes, she stared at me defiantly.
"I don't blame you." I admitted quietly, afraid to break the calmness of
this conversation by speaking too loudly. The moon shone brightly in the
sky, sending a soft light to meld with the streetlights. There wasn't any
traffic, or people walking the streets. It was just the two of us, the way
it was going to be from now on. "It's not going to be easy."
"I can't get rid of them, can I?" She dropped her eyes as she asked the question,
leaning back against the door. "No." She answered herself, before I could
gather the courage to say the same thing. "I'm stuck."
"Cordelia..." I reached for her, to comfort her.
"No." She cut me off, her voice barely rising above a whisper. I stopped,
my hands falling loosely to my sides. "This was never supposed to be forever.
I'm not that giving, or good. I want the normal life, with all the extras
money can buy. Okay, maybe lately I started to want a little more than the
superficial stuff, but it was supposed to be more, not all."
"You can still..." I started to say, but stopped the lie before I finished
it.
She smiled, a sad, empty smile. "I can't. How could I? Hey honey, call Angel
when I start holding my head in agony, okay? It's just visions of unspeakable
evil, and I have to tell him where it is." Shaking her head as tears fell
down her cheeks, she continued. "Does that sound normal?"
"You might find someone who would understand." I offered; hating that this
had happened to her. Hating that I had involved her in my life.
"I did." She whispered, her face contorting with the effort to keep from
sobbing. "But he's gone."
I stood there, my eyes dropping to watch my feet. It felt wrong to look at
her, to see the pain that she was in, and not be able to help her.
"I feel so cheated." Her words brought my head back up, my eyes searching
hers. Her chin trembled as she continued. "I'm so angry at him for dying,
for never letting me find out what we could have had. And I'm so angry at
myself for waiting so long, for thinking that I could just string him along
forever."
"You couldn't know." I told her. "You didn't do anything wrong. Doyle didn't
do anything wrong. It just...he just..." My voice faded as I struggled to
find the right words.
"He did the right thing." Cordelia finished for me, reaching out and grasping
my arm. It was the first time she had initiated any contact since he died.
"He knew that you had more people to save, and he gave his life so you could.
So that we all could live. It was the right thing, and I'm proud of him for
it." She sniffled, and wiped the tears from her face. "Does that make any
sense? I'm proud of him, and I'm furious with him. I want so badly to have
him back, but I know what he did was right."
"He was a hero." I whispered.
"But I'm not." She admitted sadly, pulling her hand away from me. Crossing
her arms tightly around her chest, she hugged herself. "I don't think I could
have done it. I'm not like him; I'm not brave, or unselfish. I shouldn't
be the one you depend on to tell you who needs help."
"You'll be fine." I answered, surprised to find out that I meant it. She
could handle it. It would take time for her to believe it, but my belief
would be enough for now. She would adapt to the visions, and the new direction
her life was taking, but I would give anything for Doyle to be here to help
her through it.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Part 7
Doyle--
It rained our entire first day on the island; huge balls of water that soaked
you to the skin in seconds. I stood outside the tent I was sharing with Reiff
and his family for hours, as if somehow the rain could wash the demon away.
It didn't of course. There wasn't anything to wash the demon away from. I
remember a phrase my mother used to use to describe a man in the village
where I grew up whose wife had died in childbirth, 'He's only half a man
now.' She would cluck sadly as she said it, as if it was the worst fate that
could befall someone.
I wonder how she felt when I told her that my demon side had shown itself.
Had she buried the truth so deeply in her mind that she didn't realize I
was always only half a man? She was good to me, my Ma, never made me feel
like a monster, but she never asked to see my demon face, my true face. If
she saw me now, she wouldn't recognize me as her son. The baby she named
Allen Francis Doyle who once was half a man and now isn't a man at all.
Tears sting my eyes and my skin as they trail down my cheeks. I can cry in
the rain, and it blends into the other water. Reiff and his Father, all of
them have been so kind to me, taking turns sitting with me, offering whatever
comfort they can. Reiff explained, after my anger had faded into apathy,
that they had been afraid at first, not of me, but about how death might
have changed me. In their culture, someone who returns from the dead is
considered a Halwi, a creature who seeks souls to seduce into evil. I considered
telling them that I was one, in the hopes that they put me to death, but
the look in Reiff's eyes stopped me. Besides, I'm not even sure if I can
die now.
Wouldn't that be perfect? An eternity spent with the damn magic of the Amara
keeping my body alive. I could spend a few thousand years in a hut, then
maybe move into a cave for a change.
"Doyle?" Reiff opened the flap to the tent, his young eyes old as he watched
me. "Are you ever coming in?"
I didn't answer him. I didn't want to talk to any of them. Sharing my pain
isn't going to make it any better, and even if it could, I couldn't do it
to them. They have never passed for human. They've spent their whole lives
like I'm going to spend mine from now on. I don't know whether to be jealous
that they don't know what they're missing, or happy that I at least had a
chance to live in the human world.
Reiff stepped out of the tent pulling a garbage bag pulled over his body.
I turned away from him slowly, looking out over the scenery in front of me.
He came to a stop beside me, his voice conversational as he spoke. "It's
nice here, isn't it?"
"Beautiful." I answered him angrily. It was beautiful, even with the rain
pouring down, and the ground growing muddier by the second. The trees were
huge, and a shade of green I don't think I've ever seen before. A stream
flowed from the forest, leading back into the ocean. Sand lined the
land for as far as my eyes could see, and when it ended, tall grass blended
the line between forest and beach. I hated it, every grain of sand, every
leaf, even the small birds that chattered happily in the protection of the
woods. This was my world, and if I could, I would burn it to the ground.
"We're going to start building homes as soon as the rain clears." He continued,
as if he didn't hear the anger in my voice. "Dad said that you can live with
us, or we can help you build your own place. There's lots of wood."
"I was thinking I'd leave. Go to the other side of the island." There wasn't
as much anger in my voice now, just hopelessness.
"Why? You'll be alone over there." Reiff asked, his voice filled with
confusion.
"I need to get used to it." I answered, hating the self-pity that rolled
through every cell in my body. I couldn't control it though, I was too angry
at what fate had done to me.
"No, you don't." Reiff replied, the sudden force of his voice shocking me.
I turned to face him, my eyes narrowing into small red slits. He glared back,
his small shoulders straightening defiantly. "I'm sick of you. How can you
say you have to be alone when you have friends who would be so happy to know
you were alive? How can you say it when you have us, all of us, here and
willing to help you?"
"I don't want to live like this." I whispered, "And I don't want Cordy and
Angel to see me like this."
"Oh, I get it." Reiff exploded, his body shaking with anger. "It's okay for
you to save us, to get us to this island so that we can live, but it's not
okay for you. You're too good to be demon? Well, here's a thought. Tough.
You are a demon. You've always been a demon. It doesn't matter that you used
to pass, that you looked human. You never were. So now, the only thing that's
changed is that you look the part." He paused, taking a deep breath to calm
down. "We all look the part Doyle.
All of us here. I'm not saying you have to call Angel or Cordelia, but you
could at least stop acting as if being like us is a fate worse than death."
I didn't answer him for the second time that day. Putting one foot in front
of the other I walked away from him, towards the forest and the cover of
shadows that I craved. He was right, and he was wrong. I had always been
part demon, not all. The face I used to wear, my human face; that was mine
too. So maybe I was guilty of avoiding the demon half, of wishing that it
didn't exist, but I never forgot, not for one moment after my twenty-first
birthday, that it was there. This is different; this isn't some awakening
of genetics, some as yet unknown part of my body coming to life. It's death.
My human side, my Mother's half, is dead. I'm not like them any more than
I'm like Cordelia. I am a Brachen demon and that's all I am. Reiff is wrong,
being like them wouldn't be a fate worse than death, being like I am now
is. If I could go back, be given back the human to go along with the
demon...
I can't though. There isn't any back to go to.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Part 8
Cordelia--
I don't think I'll ever get used to the office without Doyle. I bought more
plants, and brought pictures from my apartment to try and cover up the empty
space, but it doesn't work. Doyle was always so visible, so here. Whether
he was lounging on the couch, complaining about his hangover, or hunched
over the computer checking the race results, or just sitting silently. It
never mattered what he was doing, when I walked in he would look at me, and
smile. Starting the day without that smile still feels wrong. Despite that,
I'm always here until the early morning hours, sitting in the darkness with
Angel. We don't talk much, unless it's about a case, but the silence is
comfortable.
Tonight it's been a month. A month ago Doyle was alive, and now he isn't.
We had a drink, toasted his memory, and the fact that we're still surviving.
It's not getting easier, or maybe, it is, but that just makes it harder.
We're out of balance, still learning how to relate to each other without
him as our middle. Plus, there's the whole vision deal. Angel is walking
on eggshells around me, afraid to talk too much about it, or ask how Im
doing.
How am I doing? The truth is, I don't know. The initial terror has numbed
a little, but that doesn't mean Im doing a happy dance every time my
head is invaded. I wish now that I had been nicer to Doyle after a vision.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm doing it right, not that I have any control over
it, it's just that Doyle used to get a vision every few days, and I've only
had four in a month. What if people are dying because my brain isn't right
for getting visions? What if how badly I want not to get them is affecting
them?
But Doyle didn't want them either. He was like me; he wanted to be normal.
Harry came to visit us last week, to talk about Doyle. She told me the whole
story of their marriage, and how he found out about his demon half. We talked
about him all night, drinking one glass of wine after another. Angel told
me the next day about Doyle's first vision and the guilt he felt over not
following it. I'm glad he didn't. He would have died then, along with the
other Brachen demons, and I would never have known him.
I'm afraid that this gratitude I feel for him means I'm healing. I don't
want to heal, I'd rather be like Angel, and brood about it forever. Some
nights, as I sit in the dark waiting for Angel, I talk to Doyle, tell him
all the things I should have said before, and some things I never knew I
should say. About how sorry I am that he had to find out about his Father
like that, and how much I wish I could have been the one to help him accept
it.
Funny, Cordelia Chase wanting to help someone accept their flaws. Except
it wasn't a flaw, it was just Doyle. Short, poor, drank too much, and half-demon.
It doesn't do him justice. There should be more about how caring he was,
and how brave, and all that stuff that I usually ignore in favor of looking
for imperfections.
"Cordelia? It's late." Angel spoke quietly, but I still jumped. Silence becomes
normal after a while, and words begin to feel like the intruder.
"Not that late." I answered, curling my legs underneath me on the couch.
I should be home, in bed, sleeping, but I don't want to leave yet. My home
was a gift from Doyle, a scary gift at first, but a gift. When I'm there,
I remember how much he wanted to make me happy, and it hurts. "Let's
have another drink."
He doesn't answer, but I can hear the glasses clinking in the dark room.
I hold my hand out, knowing he'll see it, even if I can't. My fingers are
tightening around the crystal when it hits, and the glass crashes to the
floor, shattering into tiny pieces. I'm more aware through the visions now,
I watch everything carefully through the pain; desperately afraid I'm going
to miss some vital piece of information that will mean someone's life. This
vision was clearer than most, but the face I saw shocked me.
I came out of it slowly, hearing myself moaning in pain almost as if it's
someone else. Angel was holding me, his cold hand covering my forehead. It
felt good, like a wet towel does when you have a fever. "I'm okay."
I told him, when my voice came back to me. He let go, walking over to flick
the lights on. I squinted at the sudden brightness, bringing my hand up to
shield my eyes. "Are you trying to blind me?"
"What did you see?" He asked, coming back over to kneel in front of me.
"Wesley." I answered, raising my eyebrows in amazement. "But he's not in
England, he's here. It looked like he was tracking a demon, and got caught.
I'm not sure."
"Wesley?" Angel repeated, his face almost showing surprise. "Did you get
a place?"
"The docks. I'm not sure exactly. Sorry." My eyes slipped down, feeling a
surge of fear that I had failed.
"I'll go, I'm pretty familiar with the docks, I'll find him." Angel was speaking
even as he was pulling his jacket on, loading his weapons into the pockets.
"I'll come with you." I offered, shocking both of us. I didn't usually go
with him, I was there for visions, and for clean-up, but the actual fighting
I usually steered clear of.
"No." His response was quick, and firm. "You are not putting yourself in
any danger."
I was going to fight with him, but the vision tired me out, and all I could
do was nod in agreement. I wasn't any good to him out there; I couldn't fight,
couldn't shoot, couldn't do anything but make it more difficult for Angel.
He smiled at me, and then disappeared out the door. The Dark Avenger, gone
to do his work. Doyle loved the image.
But Doyle isn't here.
After a while, I got up and went down to Angel's apartment to get some blankets
and a pillow. I should just leave them in the office, but I know tomorrow
morning I'll bring them back down. It feels too permanent to leave them in
the office, too much like admitting this is my life. I know it is. I know
that there isn't anywhere else for me to go, and to be honest, Im not
sure that I would want to be anywhere else.
Angel's told me time and again to just wait in his apartment. He's given
up on telling me to go home. I feel better waiting in the office, so I can
be close if he needs my help when he gets back. Sometimes, when he doesn't
get back until after sunrise, I wonder if he's gone too. I wonder what I'll
do if that day ever comes.
The dark part of me thinks that I'll just sit in this office and wait forever.
I never used to have a dark part. Once upon a time I believed in easy lives
and shallow souls.
This time, he was back in less than two hours, carrying a very bruised and
bloody Wesley. "Cordelia, get the first aid kit."
I jumped up and grabbed it from the shelf it sat on. Taking it back over
to Angel, I stood behind him as he cleaned and bandaged Wesley's wounds.
When he was done, I covered Wesley with my blanket, and waited for Angel
to speak.
"Some Rakeyn demons had him. Luckily, they don't like to kill humans.
They're more into small animals and birds. If Wesley hadn't been following
them, they never would have attacked him."
"Why was he following them?" I asked, sneaking a look at the Watcher I once
had a crush on. Until that kiss, the memory of which I will be trying to
repress until my dying day. "Don't Watchers just watch?"
"That's the rule." Angel answered, reaching down to check Wesley's pulse.
"We'll have to wait until he's awake to find out why he was following
them."
"I'll have you know that I am awake." Wesley stated, his hands moving towards
his face. He felt around for a minute, wincing when he touched a bruise.
His eyes opened slowly, staring in Angel's direction. "Where are my
glasses?"
"They're broken." Angel said, moving around his desk and sitting in his chair.
He leaned forward, his elbows planted on the desktop. "Now I have a question
for you. What were you doing following those demons?"
"I was trying to kill them." Wesley answered proudly.
"How?" Angel asked, his eyes flitting over to mine before returning to
Wesley.
"How?" Wesley repeated, struggling into a sitting position. "With weapons.
I have a wide array of instruments designed to cause great pain, and eventual
death to any demon I might cross."
"But a Rakeyn demon? Can't they only be killed by melted copper?"
"Well, um, I didn't realize they were Rakeyn demons at first. They look
remarkably like Gokeils, which can be killed quite easily." Wesley had the
grace to look ashamed of his mistake. I shrugged in Angel's direction, before
walking out of his office to make some coffee. It looked like a long night
in the making.
As I poured water into the coffeepot I heard Angel's reply. "But aren't Rakeyn's
green, and Gokeil's a bright orange?"
"Yes, well really, I have, um, I do sometimes have trouble seeing certain
colors." Wesley answered slowly. I could almost picture the uncomfortable
expression on his face.
"You mean you're color blind?" Angel asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
I couldn't help it; I laughed out loud, the sound echoing in the empty
room.
Then I stopped, my laughter turning to tears as I realized how much Doyle
would be enjoying this moment.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Part 9
Doyle--
I watched them work for a week before I picked up a hammer and started helping.
Dryan says that work is balm to the wounded soul. I don't know that I agree
with him, but at least I'm too tired to spend my nights mourning for what's
never going to be again. Now it's only early mornings that I fear, that split
second when I wake up and I think that my life isn't what it is. But then
I remember. Cordelia's face is much clearer to me in those hours, her smile
making even the sun that shines here seem dim. I miss her, sometimes almost
more than I can stand. In those hours, before the others wake and the days
work begins, I understand more than ever what it is I lost.
I try never to think of Angel, but I hear his voice in my mind constantly.
He's the one who tells me that I'm cheating both him and Cordelia out of
their choice. He's the one who promises that he is my friend, no matter what
my face looks like. I hate hearing him, even if it is my own thoughts he's
speaking. Reiff asked me the other day if I would have gone back if it had
only been Angel. I didn't know what to say to him at first, the question
shocked me. I wanted to say that I wouldn't have, that I was protecting both
of them, but the truth is; I'm only protecting her.
Angel could have accepted me; he's accepted worse things about himself. I
don't want to think about that though, it just leads into the next question,
which is, am I being unfair to Cordelia to believe that she couldn't? She
accepted Angel, with his past, and his brooding, and the ever present threat
of the curse breaking. Who am I to say that she wouldn't accept me?
I'm her friend. I'm the short, poor guy that didn't fit into any of her lists,
or plans. I'm the guy she was going to date even if he was a half-demon.
I'm the guy who showed her the face of a demon for the first time seconds
before she watched me die. I think I've overextended my acceptance credit
with Cordelia, I'm not going to force this latest change on her.
By now, she's probably getting on with her life, dating the proper men again
and making Angel's life a little more bearable with her presence. I can't,
I won't, ruin that for her, force her to pretend that she can accept the
new me. To have her feel obligated to me, to pity me, is something I can't
ever live with.
Reiff says that I'm just being selfish, and maybe he's right. But I can't
take the chance that she would pity me, and I can't take the chance that
she couldn't even pretend to accept me. I don't have much left in my life,
the memory of her telling me to ask her out, even knowing about my demon
half, is the one bright spot on my soul. I refuse to take the chance of losing
it.
The sun is well above the horizon now, and the temperature is rising. The
heat here is almost unbearable, or it would be if I were still human. The
demon I am now revels in it. The others are already up, talking and laughing
as they prepare for the days work. I'll join them soon, when I hear the pounding
of the hammers. I try never to intrude on their small amount of relaxation
before work starts. I don't want the cloud that hangs over me to infect
them.
They're so happy with their new life, so full of optimism and plans for the
future. To them, this island is a promised land, to me it's still purgatory.
But sometimes, their hope gets to me, I can feel the slightest hint of a
life that may still be worth living. It passes quickly, but those small moments
give me the strength to get through the dawn hours.
When I climb out of my tent, they're hard at work. I watched them silently
for a minute, listening to the easy laughter that will fade when I join them.
Slowly, I make my feet move forward, plastering a weak smile on my demon
face, determined, as I am every morning, that I will not steal their joy.
It won't last long though.
"Doyle!" Reiff shouted, his voice ringing with excitement. He's the only
one who refuses to cater to my mood, to the doom and gloom that I live with.
"We need to talk to you." He came bounding across the clearing, jumping over
the logs that lay in his path. When he reached me, he was out of breath,
but beaming.
"What's up?" I asked, the smile still on my face. It feels unnatural to me
now.
"You used to be a teacher, right?" He asked, his small frame, now filled
out slightly from all the hard work he's been doing, trembling with enthusiasm.
"Weren't you?" He asked again, when I didn't answer.
"Yes." I finally said, the smile disappearing as the thought crosses my mind
that whatever he's so excited about is something that isn't going to be quite
as thrilling to me.
He ignored my distinct lack of enthusiasm, nodding his head back in the direction
of his father. I looked towards the others, only realizing then that all
work had come to a halt. They were just standing, shoulder to shoulder, watching
Reiff and I. My eyes drifted from them, and traveled over the half built
homes that littered the area. It reminded me of Little House on the Prairie,
the simple wooded frames, and the large logs that covered them. Los Angeles,
it was not. It amazes me how much they have accomplished in the short month
we've been here. When I looked back at Reiff, he was standing with his arms
crossed over his chest, his expression patient as he waited to regain my
attention.
"We need a teacher." Reiff said, as if that was all the explanation he needed
to give. I eyed him blankly, waiting to hear the rest of his story. In another
lifetime I would have realized what he wanted immediately, but now, I just
waited for him to tell me. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly
as he explained. "We want you to teach."
"No." I answered immediately, backing away from him. That part of my life
had ended with the appearance of my demon half; I couldn't resurrect it now.
Teaching had been about sharing my joy in life with children, about teaching
them how wonderful the world was, and how much fun there could be in learning
about it. What could I teach now? How to accept your demon half in three
easy steps? Humanity, and how to live without it? There wasn't any way I
was teaching again. Not now, not ever. "No." I repeated again, more
forcefully.
Reiff's face fell, his body shrinking towards the ground as he shook his
head in the direction of the others. I squeezed my eyes shut for a minute,
swallowing back my intense need to tell him how stupid his idea was. When
I opened them again, Dryan had moved away from the group and was coming towards
me. I shifted; knowing Dryan wouldn't let me off the
hook easily. "Don't start." I warned him as he came to a stop beside Reiff.
"I won't." He answered with a shrug, wrapping one arm around Reiff's shoulders.
"I don't think it's a good idea either."
"Then why did you let him ask?" I questioned, a glare hovering around the
edges of my face. And why did he think it wasn't a good idea anyway? I was
a damn good teacher. Children loved me.
"Because he seems to think you still have something to offer to our community.
I tried to tell him that you weren't interested in anything more than sulking."
Dryan answered calmly, his dark eyes meeting mine easily. "Our children don't
need to be taught about the dark side of life, they've already seen it. They
don't need to be taught by someone who doesn't see the positive. What they
need is someone who sees the beauty in life, and is willing to share it."
"I see the beauty." I ground out between clenched teeth. "I'm just not part
of it."
"Do you?" Dryan asked, one eyebrow lifting slightly. "I haven't heard you
once speak of the beauty of this island, or how nicely our village is coming
along. In fact, I haven't heard you say one thing that could in any way be
construed as positive, or good."
I was so shocked by his words I didn't see Reiff's father approach. He stepped
in front of Dryan, silencing him with a lift of his hand. Turning to me,
he stepped forward, placing one hand on my shoulder. "Doyle. We believe
that you could be a valuable member of our community. We want you to be.
That's why we are offering you the chance to teach our young. Not only so
that they will have an education, but also so that you might rediscover the
things you have lost." He paused, looking behind him to the village, and
the people standing there. When he turned back to me, a small smile lingered
on his face. "We won't force you to become part of us. You can live as you
choose here, and if you choose to remain on the edges we will accept that.
But you saved us. When we had lost all hope, you gave us a new life. We want
the same thing for you."
I opened my mouth to rebuke him, to tell him that our situations weren't
the same. A small face caught my attention before I could. Reiff's sister
had snuck up on us, her tiny hand reaching up to clasp her father's. She
smiled at me, her expression open and accepting of the deformity of my face.
I smiled back before I could help myself, and suddenly found myself nodding.
"I'll do it." I said quickly, afraid I would change my mind if I didn't get
it out immediately. Reiff grinned, and Dryan smiled knowingly before drifting
back to the others. Somewhere inside me a small ember burst into flame
again.
"Thank you." A little voice peeped up. I smiled down at her, almost laughing
as she attempted to hide in her fathers' shadow.
"Thank you." I told her solemnly, rewarded with an even brighter smile. I
bent my knees, lowering myself to eye level with her. "And your name is?"
"Belina." She whispered, her cheeks burning a bright red.
"That's a beautiful name." I replied, feeling momentarily ashamed that I
hadn't bothered to find out earlier. I pushed it back, refusing to let it
interfere. "I'm Doyle."
"I know." She said, smiling as if I had said something really silly.
"Everyone knows who you are." Reiff said. "You are the chosen one."
"I prefer Doyle." I answered straight-faced. Reiff laughed, his face relaxing
into youth again. Straightening up, I smiled at the two men standing in front
of me before looking in the direction of the village. "Well, shouldn't
we get to work? We've got a school to build." Without waiting for an answer,
I headed towards the village. It might just have been me, but the sun seemed
to shine a little brighter over my head.
CONTINUES