.

Blood seeps from skin. He can taste it as he swallows, feel it as he splutters, see it as he stumbles forward from the blast and staggers forward for the brick wall, but he isn't seeking cover, he isn't looking for a place to lay low until she recuses him. He hopes with all that he has that she won't, but he knows her too well.

He feels the sand, feels it beneath his feet, warm and soft and gloriously golden, "Aiden," she calls, but he treads down to the edge of the shore regardless, where the sand is wet beneath his toes, the foamy water brushes against the hem of his trousers. Sunlight shines defiantly above, in spite of the grey clouds that hover nearby.

Footsteps do not follow him, but her voice does. His eyelids languidly close, leaving only darkness and her. She is not here now, but she was before him. Footprints in the sand show her mark on this earth, but the imprint that she left on him cannot be washed away by the tide. He can see her now, see the crease of her brow and the rare warmth in the brown depths of her eyes. She can be cold, calculated and cruel, but so can he. He was cruel, unnecessarily so, "Is that what you think? That I don't feel?" she asked, but he left no words for her, spared no thought for her, because he wasted it all on his sister.

She suffers enough, his anguish always evident in his eyes for her to see and hurt and mourn and wonder over. But she has suffered enough, suffered too much, and he longs to see those eyes clear, those shoulders without burden, that heart without hurt. She watches him with curiosity when he talks like that, when he has that look of contemplation on his face as he wonders what could have been, what might have been had he not been Aiden Mathis and she not Amanda Clarke. She smiled at him, smiled sadly as she said, "This is the life we chose," but he knows that neither ever had a choice, that this life was forced upon them, and he would not forfeit this life for a life without her, without vengeance, because without both he would cease to have a purpose.

"You are the life I chose." he never told her.

He slumps against the wall, slowly sliding down it until he collapses down onto the gravel, a low hiss escaping his lips, vision blurred and bloody. Black spots dance around him as he blinks harshly in an attempt to clear his clouded eyes, then he sees her in his sights. There is a salty, metallic taste on the tip of his tongue, a taste reminiscent of the death which he has barely escaped in the past. He peers down at the wound through pensive eyes, his hand has a slight tremble presses down on it, putting pressure on it even though it is pointless.

"Stay with me, Aiden." she pleads.

He winces as she examines the wound, and he can see the beach again, endless plains of sand and a boundless blue skin, but he is no longer alone. She does not turn to face him, but he knows that it is her, knows her by the curve of her waist, the fall of her hair and the strength of her stance. And the footsteps he take towards her are calculated, but not cold. It is warm here, he feels blissful like he has never been when he is without her, peaceful like he has never known, and strangely content.

She is strong, her resolve outweighs his, her determination ought to be marvelled at, he believes that she will continue to be, continue to exist, even if he does not. Her hands intertwine with his, her cries, pleas, the sound of desperation as it rings throughout her words, is what draws him back to the present. He cannot help but want to be where she is.

"Look at me, Aiden." she begs, brown eyes pool with tears, and as looks he sees vulnerability, sees something that he feels the immediate urge to protect, to hold on, to continue on this journey with no end, but that is no longer his decision to make. He catches her hand, weakly takes a hold of it, murmuring her name softly once, "Amanda," as he traces that symbol, that sign of endurance, tolerance, patience. He runs the pad of his thumb along the marking, along her journey of no end, unintentionally smearing blood across the skin, but the blood doesn't bother her, it never bothered her until now.

"I'm not letting you go." she says, but she doesn't have a choice, she never did.

He smiles, suppresses a wince as a sharp jab reminds him of his ailment, and he doesn't want to leave her, wants to stay because no other would or could, but he feels himself drifting, feels a surprisingly pleasant numbing sensation devour his body, but she holds him tighter, claims him so that no other may.

"My journey always had an end," he once told her, because after seeking vengeance on behalf of his sister he saw no future, no continued existence, but that was until Aiden found Amanda. She reaffirms her hold on him, reassures him, repeats "I'm not letting you go," with arms encircling him as she hums the words like a mantra.

Aiden turns his head and presses a weak kiss to her hair, eyes falling shut as he feels her hold him, voice nearly inaudible as he tells her, just how he wishes he told her all those times before, "I never let you go."

.

For my darling sister.

Aiden/Emily is my OTP.

Let me know your thoughts.

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