Twosday: Twice-Made Choice

"He was everything you said, everything the Source was afraid of." They sat again on the bench. "But he wanted a normal quiet life to come home to."  She glanced at him, irony trying, even now, to hide the pain.  "No demons."

His hunch reoccurred to him as his sympathy rose.  "The final nail in his coffin," he said quietly.  

She nodded, her eyes half on the arm rest.  "Made me sick."  She half-grimaced, turning to look at him.  "But you knew that."

He had, but this version, without the Triad filter, was like truly observing an ant colony for the first time, and then realizing you wanted nothing more than to fall in line.  "I knew that he kept you rooted, in some way magic couldn't touch."   His hand on her shoulder settled just slow enough not to shock, just solid enough not to spook.  

"Rooted," she mused.  "Some of the best memories of my life,  And a whole secret part of my life."  She dropped her eyes to her belly.  "I'm sure you know that that night I ..."

He was careful now, exceedingly careful.   "Yes, I knew.  I didn't imagine anything else, given ..."  He paused an instant, made the decision. "Given what I was doing to you." 

Delusions, she thought.  And now she was the one walking the tightrope.  "Nothing about magic has really been in my control, and that was the worst.  But when..." They looked at each other.  "It made me feel safe, but it wasn't the whole picture."  She shrugged, embarrassed.  

She had succeeded in losing him to confusion.  In the interest of whatever honesty there was been them, she met his eyes.  "It was horrible.  But you were dealing with all of me.  That started," she glanced up at the hedge, and the songbirds, "hammering that final nail."