Twins

by Francine Pascal

  At 7 A.M. Natasha had called for an early briefing at Odessa, a small Russian diner on Avenue A. Apparently a great deal had happened since their last meeting at the seaport, and Tom had started demanding details before she’d even brought her coffee to her lips.

  “There was a skirmish of some kind,” Natasha said, sipping carefully and then placing the cup back on its saucer.

  “Skirmish? What kind of skirmish?”

  “We’re not altogether sure,” she replied cautiously. “Agents were of course keeping their distance, and it was quite dark in the park. They were surrounded by bushes….”

  “Who? Who was surrounded by bushes?” Natasha’s hesitation was only making Tom more anxious. “How many assailants were there?”

  Natasha averted her gaze from Tom’s eyes, tucking her silken, honey-colored hair behind her ear with one delicate finger. “That is what we are not sure of,” she said. “There was at least one, or there may have been three … maybe even five.”

  “How is that possible?” Tom demanded. “How obstructed were their sight lines?”

  “We had two agents, gathering as much as they could through the bushes,” she said defensively. “But when the battle fell into view, they could not confirm if she was fighting different men … or if they were all the same man.”

  “I don’t understand—”

  “And sometimes, Tom,” she interrupted. “I’m sorry … but sometimes … she seemed to be jumping at nothing. Or conversing with thin air.” Natasha quickly looked down at her coffee and took another long, slow sip.

  Still hallucinating. His daughter was still being tormented by visions of God knew what. The thought of it brought excruciating pressure to the back of his head.

  Each new report served only as another challenge to Tom’s strictly enforced morality. Because he knew his brother had done something to her. Something chemical and inhuman. And Tom could feel himself crossing over into impulses much darker than just the need to protect Gaia. He was beginning to share in his brother’s need for vengeance. He shook it off as best he could.

  “Where is she now?” he asked quietly.

  “She did not come home last night,” Natasha said. “She spent the night at Ed Fargo’s.”

  Tom flashed Natasha a disapproving glare. He couldn’t mask his disappointment with her. It had been less than forty-eight hours since Gaia had been kidnapped from that very location. Ed was Gaia’s closest friend, and Tom respected that. He understood that she must have needed a true confidant and a familiar face very badly after all she’d been through, but Ed Fargo’s apartment was far from a safe haven now. If Loki was looking for her, Ed’s would be the first place he’d go.

  “Well, you have to get her out of there,” Tom stated severely. He dispensed with the need for any further explanation. “You have to get her out of there today.”

  Natasha seemed caught off guard by his harsh words. She bowed her head slightly and then straightened her posture. “I understand,” she replied. “Of course. I will do it this morning.”

  “She needs to stay home,” Tom implored her. “With you. You need to earn her trust, Natasha. That’s essential to keeping her safe.”

  “Of course, you’re right, Tom,” she said. Suddenly her eyes were overflowing with heartfelt contrition. “You are absolutely right.”

  Tom lightened up his expression, hoping he hadn’t been too hard on her. “I’m sorry,” he muttered to the tabletop, shaking his head. “I don’t mean to take it out on you.” He turned back to her and looked into those overpowering brown eyes again. “You have to understand…. I’ve been trying for years to figure out the best way to protect her, and I just haven’t been able—”

  “It is okay,” she interrupted him.

  Tom knew she had interrupted him just to spare him any further self-flagellation. That seemed to be the kind of compassionate heart she had.

  She slid her coffee to the side and reached across the table, placing her gentle hands over Tom’s. Tom felt his hands go rigid, just as his whole body had the night before when she’d touched his shoulder.

  But this time he didn’t pull away.

  “I will try my best, Tom,” she said, her eyes charged with sincerity. “I will try to be as motherly as I can to her. I promise you. I want for her to trust me as much as you do. I hope …” She dropped her eyes to the table.

  “What?” Tom asked, lowering his head slightly to regain eye contact. “What were you going to say?”

  “I …,” she began, locking her eyes with his again. “I hope also that you trust me, Tom. You do, do you not?”

  Tom looked into her eyes and wondered how she had done it. How she had managed to be an agent all these years and still have such a living, breathing heart. There was no hardened facade, no cold, brittle membrane that blocked all her genuine emotions from being outwardly expressed. Tom had thought the “emotional wall” was practically standard issue at the Agency. It came with the badge and the gun. But somehow she’d avoided it. She really was a rare breed. Rare and disconcertingly beautiful.

  “I do,” Tom stated simply, his eyes fixed securely to hers. “I do trust you.”

  Natasha unleashed a bright smile that caught Tom totally off guard. It caused a most unexpected prickling sensation to run down the center of his chest. Some unknowable amount of time passed as the two of them stayed frozen in the exact same position.

  Something about her smile … No, it wasn’t the smile itself. But something about the way the smile made Tom feel reminded him so much of …

  Tom suddenly tugged his hands out from under hers, rattling the two cups of coffee on the table as he cut the invisible adhesive between their eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” Natasha uttered senselessly as she abruptly busied her hands. She smoothed her hair back and her dress down.

  “No, no,” Tom mumbled uncomfortably, making unnecessary adjustments to his coffee cup. “N-No, I was just thinking …,” he stammered, looking anywhere other than at her. “I really think you’d better go pick up Gaia.”

  “Yes, of course,” she replied, overlapping him. “Of course. I will do this right now.”

  Natasha slid out of the booth and struggled to get her coat on quickly. “I will contact you the moment she’s been secured.”

  “Good,” Tom said. “Perfect.”

  Natasha walked briskly to the door and quickly disappeared from the window. Tom turned back to the table and tried not to think.

  Fake Sleep

  IT HAD BEEN FIVE YEARS SINCE this particular phenomenon had occurred.

  Gaia had gotten fully accustomed to having no idea where she was for the first two minutes of any and every morning. It was an inherent part of her daily ritual: Wait for her vision to unblur, feel around the bed for clues, blind herself with sunlight or a bedside lamp until she could see the room, and then … Right, still here. Same life, Gaia. Sorry, try again tomorrow.

  But this morning was different. It seemed like for the first time in years, Gaia knew where she was from the moment her eyes had begun to open.

  She was in Ed’s bedroom. Resting her head on his chest. And she felt better.

  So much better.

  Maybe her fever had broken. Maybe she was through with her painful visions and nightmares. It was as if Ed himself possessed some sort of magical healing qualities. Why not? He’d found some miraculous way to bring back the use of his legs. Maybe he’d found some miraculous way to heal Gaia overnight while they were sleeping. She’d felt it from the moment she grabbed his shirt and lay down on his shoulder the night before. Her breathing had immediately begun to return to her. The nauseating, fearlike feeling began to subside. She began to remember who she was.

  It was as if the rest of the world was on some mission to unravel her—to hammer away at her identity until there was no Gaia left in Gaia. But Ed always seemed to do just the opposite. Ed always seemed to be keeping her intact. Reminding her of who she was in her weakest moments. Letting her be who she was
when she was strong. He was a healer. There was no other explanation.

  She rolled her eyes upward toward his chin to be sure he was still asleep. She was extremely careful not to move her head. If she moved her head, then she might wake him. And then she’d have to move from this perfect position—his chest as her pillow and his hand firmly grasping her shoulder. She couldn’t have him wake up and find her like this. It would just be too obvious … too close. A sudden wave of agitation washed over her, constricting her chest and tensing up her hands.

  What did that mean, “too close”? What would be too obvious?

  Gaia … enough already. Your denial has reached joke status. You have an IQ on the genius level. You know what you’re feeling. No amount of guilt or confusion is going to change what you already know.

  She felt awfully tired of herself, lying so happily in Ed’s embrace. Tired of pretending this thing hadn’t happened. This change in her feelings for Ed. Ed had the courage to tell her everything he was feeling. Everything he’d always been feeling. He was the fearless one now. She was just plain chicken. That injection must really have worked. Because here she was, as safe, sound, and happy as she would probably ever feel, and she was too cowardly to move a muscle.

  Maybe now was the time to test out a little bravery again. Yes. Now was the time to let herself give in to an irresistible impulse she’d been having since she’d opened her eyes. A small but dangerously telling impulse …

  Absolutely. Why not? She had nothing to be afraid of.

  Ed was still asleep.

  She’d just do it very slowly and very gently.

  She surveyed the landscape of his torso, checking twice more to be sure that his diaphragm was rising and falling with the regularity of sleep. And then, as cautiously as if she were defusing a bomb, Gaia stretched her hand out wider on his T-shirt. Here goes nothing. She slid her fingers slowly across his chest, and then she grabbed on firmly to his side. Success. Mission accomplished. Now she was holding him. Now they were holding each other.

  You see? There’s really nothing “frightening” about this. Brave is easy.

  Ed suddenly shifted slightly in the bed.

  Damn. He’s awake.

  Gaia slammed her eyes shut and froze every muscle in her body, quickly faking as much fake sleep as she could.

  Fake sleeping? Nice, Gaia. Brave. Very brave.

  Too Intimate

  ACCIDENTS. HE COULD ALWAYS CHALK it up to accidents and extenuating circumstances. Ed had awoken to his sunlit ceiling, the low-pitched din of New York morning traffic wafting through the window, and he’d realized that Gaia’s head was now resting on his chest. But only because she was sound asleep.

  Just an accident of sleep, he was sure. Another random occurrence that indicated no actual desire on Gaia’s part. Like their one real kiss—just this anomalous moment born only out of heated and totally chaotic circumstances. Or her request that he hold her last night-another anomalous moment born out of her desperation and a very high fever. Never really an act of her will. Never simply because she wanted it.

  It wasn’t doing wonders for Ed’s ego. Still, Ed did everything in his power not to move an inch. He didn’t want to wake her. Even if her position was an accident, waking up with Gaia’s head on his chest was still an easy number one on his Top Ten Stellar Ways to Greet the Morning. At least she was there and not gone. At least she was alive and not dead. At least she was safe and in his arms…. That was worth plenty, no matter what the reason.

  Gaia shifted her hand slightly on his chest. It sent a wave of remarkable shivers down his spine.

  Accidents, Ed. Just accidents …

  Only her hand didn’t stop moving. It spread out flat, pressing its fingers firmly against the center of his chest. And then it glided ever so slowly. Across the entire width of his torso, firing off every nerve ending from his throat through to his fingertips. And it was still moving … Her hand finally anchored just under his ribs, grasping firmly the muscles of his waist.

  Unless Ed was hallucinating, Gaia had just caressed his chest and reached over to hold him. One very clear and concise thought erupted in his head.

  That was not an accident.

  No way. It was too slow. Too deliberate to be a midsleep flop of the arm. Too intimate to be some childlike teddy-bear-substitution maneuver. It was a clear-cut, undeniably intentional dare he even say sexually charged, gesture. Last night she’d asked him to hold her. But this morning … she wanted to hold him. And that was something completely different.

  Could physical contact still be an anomaly after the third incidence? Ed thought not. The third time wasn’t just a charm. It was one hundred percent antianomalous. Ed’s heart rate doubled. A thick dose of primitive joy began to pulse through his veins in the form of pure adrenaline. He’d been doing everything humanly possible to stay completely still, but he couldn’t help himself. His sudden rush forced him to shift slightly in the bed.

  When he settled again, Gaia’s hand had thankfully still not moved.

  Wait. Was that a good thing? Why hadn’t she moved at all? Was she still asleep? Oh, Jesus, if she was still asleep, then this was all meaningless. Don’t let her be asleep. Please don’t let her be asleep. He crunched his neck forward, trying to see if Gaia’s eyes were still closed.

  And they were. Sealed shut. Fast asleep. Ed’s heart quickly sank down to somewhere under the bed. Let it go, Ed. Just let it go.

  She was probably dreaming. She could be dreaming about anyone or anything. She could be dreaming about Sam for all he knew. Still, he couldn’t help watching her face as she slept.

  Cheesy Love Stories

  HE COULDN’T BE LOOKING ANYMORE. It had to be safe to cut the make-believe-sleep routine.

  Gaia opened her eyes. And when she did, she was looking directly into the wide-open eyes of Ed Fargo. He was most definitely still looking. And although Ed might have been caught staring at her, Gaia had just been caught gripping his waist and feigning sleep. So busted. So tragically busted.

  “You’re awake,” she croaked. Brilliant observation, Gaia. She was sure she was blushing.

  “You are, too,” he said. An impish smile spread across his face.

  Gaia felt compelled to hide her head somewhere. She racked her brains for some ludicrous explanation or excuse as to why she might be grabbing his waist. Why she might be pretending to be asleep. My, aren’t we full of bravery this morning? The only thing was, after a few seconds longer in his arms and Gaia no longer felt like she needed to be brave. Excuses no longer seemed necessary. She began to feel quite unexpectedly … comfortable.

  It soon became clear that in spite of their mutually embarrassing discoveries, neither one of them planned to budge from their position. Gaia didn’t remove her hand from his waist, nor did he remove his from her shoulder. The only movement on either of their parts was to adjust their heads so as to see each other better. Gaia shifted her head up to his shoulder, and Ed tilted his head down from his pillow.

  Now that they were face-to-face … there was just something oddly natural about their physical configuration. Gaia suddenly remembered that he was Ed. Ed Fargo. The one remaining life-form she could trust. And finally Gaia realized the truth. The fact that he was Ed Fargo could make their closeness more comfortable rather than less. Even their extended silence felt totally comfortable. Serene, even.

  Gaia couldn’t tell whether allowing herself to be this close was fearless or brave. She only knew that she had no desire to change it.

  “Are you feeling better?” Ed asked.

  “I am,” she said, checking again through her body to see if she agreed with her statement. “I think the fever’s gone.”

  “I’m glad.” Ed sighed. “You looked touch-and-go there for a minute. It was kind of freaky”

  “Try feeling it,” she said.

  Another long, comfortable silence as their eyes relaxed into permanent contact. Everything was suddenly falling into place.

  “I really didn
’t think you were coming back,” he said, turning slightly on his side.

  “Why? I promised I would come back,” she said matter-of-factly, adjusting her head so that their faces were in even closer proximity.

  “You did, didn’t you?” He smiled, inching his face a bit closer to hers. Whatever she was doing, Ed was doing it, too. And she didn’t want to stop him.

  He let his eyes roamover her entire face, brushing a few of the matted hairs away from her mouth and then giving her eyes his full attention again. “If I said something along the lines of, ‘I was losing my mind without you,’ do you think that would be over the top?”

  “Yes,” she said definitively, tracing the way his wild hair crushed against his pillow. “That would be just as bad as me saying something like, ‘You were the only thing that kept me going last night.’”

  Faces an inch closer.

  “That doesn’t sound so bad to me,” Ed noted.

  “Yeah, well, you’ve seen a lot more movies than I have. You’ve been totally desensitized to cheesy love stories.” Close enough to see the flecks of gold in his pupils. Close enough to feel his breath against her cheek and see each dark individual fleck of stubble.

  “Is this a cheesy love story?” he asked.

  “Could you say anything more ‘cheesy love story’ than that?”

  “I don’t know. Could your face be any closer to mine without kissing me?”

  Gaia froze at this statement. She swore she could hear the screeching rubber of a car slamming on the brakes somewhere off in the distance. Ed’s smile dropped away instantly. He must have thought he’d just said the wrong thing. The silence that followed wasn’t one of those comfortable ones. But she only stayed frozen for a moment. Because she was so unbelievably tired of being frozen. And dishonest. With herself and Ed. Frozen wasn’t really how she felt at all.

  “Actually, I think, probably …” She shifted herself even closer to Ed. “Probably I’ve got at least another …” Ed’s smile began to reappear in the corner of his mouth. She moved her face even closer until the tip of her nose had passed the tip of his. “Okay, there,” she said without a hint of a smile, grazing his strong chin with her own. “I knew I had more room.”