Disclaimer: And Then There Were None, all characters, places, and related terms are the sole property of Agatha Christie's estate.

And Then There Were Two

So long Vera had presented the facade of an innocent, pure young woman, pretending. Sometimes she almost forgot about the blood on her hands and the darkness in her soul (until guilt pricked her like a hot iron).

So long Vera had carefully kept distance between herself and all others whether acquaintance or stranger. She could not stand to see the disgust in people's eyes when they found out or suspected and drew back. (Sometimes she tried to run away from herself.)

But Philip… Arrogant, unremorseful Philip had seen, had come closer. Even before Vera was forced to stare her sin the face, strip away the lies, he had looked at her, known what she really was. While suspicion, fear, and death escalated among the dwindling group, and she believed she was going insane, Philip had not shielded away but came nearer. He watched her with a knowing look, aura of acceptance. "Stick with me," he'd told her that night they danced.

It had been a foreign concept to Vera. To not be alone. To be understood. To be accepted. But she had not dwelled on it as the surreal nightmare grew worse. Things as such as survival became her focus.

Yet now it was all over. And instead of none there were two. Gazing blankly at the water sparkling in the sunlight from the beach, Vera's moody musings faded as she registered Philip speaking, plotting what they would do once they were off the island.

"We will make it," he stated, confident.

"W-w-we?" she stumbled over the word, briefly glancing at him.

A tight grasp on her upper arm brought her attention back to him. Fully facing her, he was frowning, confusion rather than anger in his look.

"Surely you never want to see me again? I did shoot you," she explained.

Something flickered in Philip's eyes. Then he swiftly bent his head and kissed her. The kiss was shockingly tender. Vera had not anticipated such gentleness from this man whom could be so cold, tough.

"Stick with me."

At the low words she opened her eyes. He was still so close; his face was almost blurry in her vision. For a long time they silently stared at one another – she searching, he waiting. Slowly her cheeks pinked.

Quietly she repeated, "Stick with me."

A corner of Philip's mouth tugged upward. His hand slid down her arm to her hand and he laced his fingers through hers.

"Together?" He raised one eyebrow.

Vera squeezed his hand. "Together."

"Darling!"

THE END