Razor's Edge

Life and death are balanced on the edge of a razor. Homer, Iliad

Authors' Note: This is a post-Evolution fic co-authored by ephemereal and Zelda. Who's writing what, you ask? That's for you to figure out. These characters are not ours and never will be. No copyright infringement is intended. We hope very much that you enjoy.

Chapter One

To himself everyone is immortal; he may know that he is going to die, but he can never know that he is dead. Samuel Butler

There was something in the shadows, following her. Selene was sure of it. It was nearly dusk, and the red ball of sun that occasionally peeked out behind thick clusters of ominous black clouds was enough to make her eyes burn. It couldn't hurt her anymore, not truly, but she didn't think she'd ever get used to seeing it again. Thick rows of thorny bushes lined the path back to the small hotel where she'd left Michael, and the unsettling rustling was coming from there.

Clutching the bag of precious supplies she was carrying closer to her side, Selene eyed the foliage suspiciously, painfully aware that she had no guns or ammunition with her. It was bad enough having to walk around in torn leather, still speckled with blood in some places. She looked like some twistedly futuristic hobo, but luckily there were very few people out and about in light of the impending storm. A crack of lightning lit up the horizon as punctuation to her thought.

The rustling grew louder as she neared the hotel, and she caught a glimpse of something dark, far off in the underbrush. Selene stopped in her tracks, preparing to put the bag down and fight. One lycan she could probably handle on her own, though hand-to-hand, her odds were bad. Not to mention the stir it would cause if she were to start a fight. But if one of them had managed to get this close, it would be able to follow her scent back to the hotel. Running was not an option either.

The sun passed behind a cloud as she stood waiting, and the day grew unsettlingly dark. What a cliché this is, thought Selene, though it did absolutely nothing to quell the anxiety clenching her stomach. A distinct snap told her that her pursuer was nearing the edge of the bushes. Setting down the bag at last, Selene took her best defensive stance and held her breath. Whatever would be now, would be. Not two days before, she'd been completely resigned to her own death.

A fresh peal of thunder rolled over her ears at the exact moment that a scruffy black head emerged from the leaves, followed by a matching body and underscored by a chorus of whining. A stray dog. Selene gave a growl of frustration as the pathetic animal began nosing at the bag she'd set on the ground, and fought the urge to kick it. No reason this pest should have to suffer for her own stupidity, after all. She contemplated its worth as food for a moment, then dismissed the idea. She'd killed enough innocents already.

Pushing the dog out of the way, Selene retrieved her bag and continued the small stretch remaining back to the hotel. The storm broke just as she got her key into the lock. Inside, the blinds were drawn, but ineffectively, casting strange shadows over Michael's sleeping form. Silently, she thanked whatever power had gotten them this far that he hadn't been attacked during her absence. It had been risky leaving him defenseless, but she hadn't had a choice.

Suddenly exhausted in the wake of adrenaline, she quickly pulled on the new clothes she'd procured and deposited the ruined corset and bodysuit into the trash, not allowing herself time to think about what she was doing. Sentimentality was a luxury she could not afford at the moment. Coming back into the main room, Selene sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the rain outside.

Michael's eyelids fluttered in response to her weight, and he groaned a little, half awake. Selene shifted uncomfortably, wanting him awake but loathe to interrupt his much-needed rest. He'd been out cold practically since the moment they'd arrived at the hotel. And rightfully so, she had to keep reminding herself. Regeneration took a lot of energy, and he'd already expended more than she'd known was possible.

"Selene?" His voice was slurred with sleep, and she had to force herself not to show him just how endearing it was. I can't deal with that now. Not yet. Not until we're safe.

"You okay?"

She nodded, pulling her feet up onto the bed and balancing on one elbow. He looked blearily at her and smiled, reminding her strangely of the first time he'd woken under her gaze, in her room at the mansion. But that was all gone now. Destroyed. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than you, by the looks of it." Michael rolled onto his side and leaned up, kissing her very gently. "Kinda sore."

Selene sighed as he pulled away and let her head fall onto the pillow beside him. The little sleep she'd had time to get had been interrupted by flashes of what were undoubtedly Corvinus' memories and worry over Michael's injuries, all of which had resulted in the worst headache she'd had in years. She knew in the back of her mind that it went deeper even than that, that what she was experiencing was more than likely a physical reaction to the plethora of emotions she wasn't allowing herself to feel. She'd been there before. More times than she'd readily admit.

"Here." Selene reached over to the bedside table and retrieved the clothes she'd managed to find for him, an outfit identical to the one she was now wearing. She'd been gone nearly a full twelve hours, though she guessed he'd been asleep the entire time. "Crude, I know, but it was the best I could do."

The little mountain town they'd made it to was barely more than a village, really. One ancient-looking hotel, a butcher's shop, a bakery, some rundown homes, and a general store, where she'd gotten the clothes. It would make for a good hiding spot until they could rest enough to figure out their next step, but Selene was used to the city, and the slow pace of country life was already beginning to grow tiresome after two full days. She looked at the new clothes as Michael examined them: an oversized black t-shirt and a pair of men's pants made of some kind of flimsy cotton material Selene was sure she could rip through with her nails. An outfit she ordinarily couldn't have been coerced into wearing. Given the state of their previous attire, however, it would just have to do until they could find something more suitable.

"Thanks," said Michael grinning as he pulled the shirt over his head, ever compliant. He looked so disarmingly human and so lost that she had to struggle to picture him as the beast he'd been just hours before.

Concentrate on that. He's powerful. He can defend himself.

Selene took the robe he'd discarded and dropped it distastefully into the closet, not bothering to put it back up on a hanger. Nothing about the room they were paying minimum rate for had been particularly well-prepared, and Selene made a habit of repaying service in kind. Michael was seated on the bed when she turned around again, looking as though he was waiting for further instructions from her.

Unsure of what to tell him, she sat on the bed beside him instead. A hint of surprise registered on his face, still so easy to read even in the aftermath of his Change.

That'll be your greatest weakness if you don't learn to conceal it very quickly, thought Selene, though the idea of him becoming any less human than he was now saddened her.

"What are we doing?" asked Michael at last, the inevitable question she'd known would come if she gave him long enough to voice it.

"Going back to sleep," said Selene, knowing it wasn't the answer he wanted. I'm not going to answer that. Not now. She swung her legs back up onto the bed, lying half on her side, half on her stomach, and feeling very out of sorts. Michael gave her a look of helplessness, and flopped back against his side of the bed, strands of hair falling into his face and hiding his eyes. "We'll both need to be well-rested."

"For what?" He blew at his wayward bangs uselessly, grimacing as they immediately flopped back into his face.

Selene frowned sympathetically, scratching at the neckline of her new shirt. Somehow, though it was obscenely large, the thing also managed to be uncomfortably itchy.

"You okay?" Michael asked again, and she realized it must have been more than a minute since he'd asked.

"Fine!" she snapped, more harshly than she'd meant.

"You just looked…far off," he said, and Selene could practically hear the flinch in his voice. She grabbed a handful of bedspread and dug her short nails in, suddenly hating that he was still afraid of her. It had been a power trip at first, and she wouldn't have had it any other way coming from a human like him. But now…now it just reminded her that she truly was alone in her world. She'd made damn sure of that.

"We need to be well-rested so that we can leave as soon as word arrives," said Selene sharply.

"Word from what?" He sat up, looking utterly lost. "I thought the entire coven was destroyed?"

"It was," said Selene tiredly. She was unaccustomed to explaining her ways of life, having been banned from training underlings centuries ago after she'd shown her ineptitude as a teacher. "But there are—were—two great covens. After the New World was adequately settled, Viktor decided it was to our advantage to have a power there. And so he split his coven, placing Amelia in charge of the one established overseas. New York, to be exact." There was a pained expression on his face, she noted, and Selene studied him carefully. The photos. I know you, Michael.

"Okay, but why would they be any more sympathetic to us? I thought every vampire and lycan in the world was supposed to be on our tail now."

He sounded hurt and bitter, and Selene felt a momentary pang of guilt over some of the things she'd told him. She had been known to exaggerate, particularly when it was urgent that she get her way. I've only done what was necessary to survive.

"Viktor and Markus were only two of our three elders," said Selene carefully. "The third, Amelia, was killed by lycans the same night you came to the mansion. A direct result of Kraven's…aspirations. I've appealed to them for sanctuary. My hope is that they'll be sympathetic since they were the victims of deceit as well."

"And if they aren't?" Michael seemed to regret the question the moment the words were out of his mouth, but Selene had to admit that he was only voicing the same concern that had been pounding in her head for the past two days.

She shook her head and pressed two fingers to the bridge of her nose, grimacing at the pain that seemed to be radiating from behind her eyes. "I don't know."

Michael sat up further and placed one hand on the small of her back, working long fingers into the cramped muscles there. Selene took hold of his wrist, about to stop him, then thought better of it. He needed the comfort of physical contact, she told herself, even if she didn't. She wouldn't deny him that little concession.

"I wasn't dead, you know," said Michael after a long moment. His voice sounded as far away as she felt. "Not really. Or maybe I was, but it sure as hell didn't feel like it. I mean, how would I know, anyway?"

"How do you mean?" asked Selene, dreading his answer. She closed her eyes, willing herself not to see his limbs hanging limp, the skin and bone of his chest brutally shredded. The metal stake that had gone clear through his body. Even Corvinus's memories were preferable to that certain one of her own.

"I could see it all. And hear it. But I wasn't me." Michael paused, brushed a hand across his eyes. "I wasn't…anything."

Selene drew in a slow breath, the gravity of his statement sinking in. She was ashamed enough of the way she'd acted…and if Michael knew? Then he knew her in ways that changed everything.

"You saw?" she said after a long moment, hoping against hope that she'd misunderstood.

"Everything," said Michael. The look he gave her was filled with such untainted hope that she suddenly felt every day of her six centuries like a weight on her back. He paused for a moment, bit his lip, practically shaking with doubt. "You know I'd do the same for you. Fight to the death."

"Michael, you already have."

"And I'd do it all over again."

I can't deal with you now. Not when you say things like that. Selene gave him a look, hoping he'd catch the hint. "Go back to sleep, Michael. You need your rest." She rolled over so that her back was to him and turned her face into one arm, assuming the conversation would end there.

The next thing she felt was his hands on her shoulders, gently coaxing her to roll back towards him. When she failed to oblige, his lips came down very softly on the back of her neck, his startlingly warm breath tickling the delicate skin there. Selene swatted at him blindly with her free hand, but he simply took hold of her wrist and began kissing it instead.

"What are you doing?" she muttered at last, trying to sound irritated and failing miserably. In fact, what came out sounded alarmingly like whining, a crime she simply couldn't abide in anyone else.

"Fighting for you," he said simply.

Selene exhaled sharply, because there was no other way to express the painful stab of emotion his words provoked without giving her own vulnerability away. Though, curse him, he probably knew already. Reading her mind seemed to be just one of his uncanny new talents.

"I'm tired," she insisted, still refusing to look at him. It was true, yes, but it certainly wasn't the reason she wished he'd leave her alone. Your heart was in shreds. I could barely tell where it had been.

"I'm not dead now," Michael insisted, and she wondered for a moment whether she'd said the words aloud. "Come on, talk to me. Just a few minutes. I'm not used to so much quiet."

"Quiet is the way I am," said Selene bitterly. "You don't want me to talk."

"And how can you be sure of that?" He really was determined, for once, and she wondered for a moment how she'd thought him afraid of her just minutes before. She wasn't sure whether she liked this new, confident side of Michael. It could be useful strategically, she told herself, but she wouldn't be able to keep hiding herself if he kept pushing this way.

Because if I talk, sooner or later you'll find out that I'm not what you think. "Because I highly doubt you'd be able to keep up your end of the conversation." It was cruel and she knew it, but Selene hoped he'd be stung enough to back off.

His lips were against her ear so quickly and silently that she nearly jumped, and for a moment she was reminded that despite everything else, Michael was still a lycan underneath. Silently, she chided herself for forgetting that crucial fact.

"Try me." Selene shivered this time despite herself, and pulled away sharply, sitting up. Please, Michael. Please don't do this to me. You won't like what you find.

She got up and stalked over to the window, staring at the rain that was coming down outside as though she could turn it to liquid fire with her eyes. She'd liked the rain at home. It had fit her somehow, and had been strangely comforting. But now they were miles from that place, and could never go back.

You're acting like a sniveling human child, she chastised herself, then decided that that was exactly what she felt like. Behind her, Michael was rifling through the bag of supplies she'd brought back from the general store where she'd gotten the clothes. She was tempted to turn around and take it from him just so she'd have something to do, but it would serve no rational purpose, and the last thing she wanted to do was turn into a squabbling adolescent.

"Selene?" He'd found something of interest, obviously, and now felt the need to ask her about it as always. Endearing trait, sometimes; infuriating the rest. Grudgingly, she turned back toward him and made her way over to the bed. He was holding up the newspaper she'd bought and pointing to something on the front page. She'd never much cared what went on outside of her world, but if they were going to get to the New World, they'd have to be passable humans for a few days. She wasn't going to risk blowing their cover on something so simple as national headlines.

"What is it?" Selene snapped, though her heart was no longer in it.

"Look familiar?" He handed the paper over to give her a better look at the picture under the headline. She drew in a breath as she realized what it was.

"The UV bullets," said Selene softly. "That's where they came from."

"Can you read it?" asked Michael, moving to lean over her shoulder.

Selene gave him a look. "Can't you?"

He shrugged, looking at her helplessly. "I've only been here a year. I learned enough to get around. Besides that…the exchange program I was a part of at the hospital was mostly American students. I didn't have much need of language skills." He looked sad all of a sudden, and Selene was almost sorry she'd asked. It isn't my fault, she thought almost desperately. You'd be dead if not for me.

"We're required to learn English to communicate with members of Amelia's coven," said Selene for no particular reason. She folded the newspaper out for a better look. "Yes, I can read it.

"Scientists in an international cooperative are being investigated for a series of tests involving irradiated ammunition. It appears that the ultraviolet bullets we've seen were just the first of a long series of experiments, and the least destructive. The weapons pending investigation are thought to be a serious environmental hazard if used in mass quantities." Selene tossed the newspaper onto the bed, her lip curling in disgust. "Humans will never cease to be hateful, reckless, and dreadfully short-sighted." And we're no better, she added silently.

"Have to agree with you there," said Michael, still gazing raptly at the newspaper.

"Amelia's men will need to know about this," continued Selene, suddenly wide awake. "Something should be done."

"Like what?"

"I don't know!" exploded Selene, slamming her fist into the mattress. The frustration was all getting to be too much, and suddenly she wanted very much to tear the horrid comforter to shreds, just to prove that she was still capable.

"Hey, it's okay!" Michael caught her by the wrists again, giving her a look somewhere between fear and sympathy. She realized suddenly that he thought she was going to hit him, and made a visible effort to relax.

"We'll figure it out." Letting go of her wrists, he took hold of her shoulders and very gently pushed her back against the bed, leaning over to kiss her as her head hit the pillow. Selene dug her nails into the back of his shirt, kissing back so hard she tasted blood.

"Jesus Christ," he murmured as he pulled away at last, resting his head against her neck and reminding her suddenly very much of the dog that had frightened her. A lost creature in need of comfort.

Selene had the sudden urge to find that dog and bring it inside so it could stay dry. She'd rescued animals often as a child. It was a thought that hadn't even occurred to her in over six hundred years.