InsaneJournal

Killian’s steps were soft as he made his way back to his room. His talk with Anders the night before did little to quell the rising tide of fear in his belly. Seeing Samantha writhing, begging, made him visualize his sister strapped to the same chair. Except instead of Roman standing before her, he knew it would be him. And he knew the Furies would have to kill them both right there in front of everyone.

Anders didn’t want that. The words had brought some comfort to him; he didn’t want to die either but the veteran agent was wise enough to know that if Kennedy flipped and went rogue, got captured or something happened, he’d lose both twins instead of one.

The thought made his stomach lurch, twist and knot up in a way he didn’t like. Likely because he knew it was true - if Kennedy defected, if they knew she had doubts, things would take a bad turn. He needed to talk to her, to quell any of those straying thoughts and get them both back in line.

Easing open the door, Killian was paler than usual. Haunted. “Kiki?” The buzz in his tone was less today, but that wouldn’t last. It never did.

He shut the door behind himself, snapping it gently into the frame before depositing his shoes into their spot and making his way further into the room.

---

Somehow she hadn’t been surprised to see Killian’s bed empty when she awoke. She had intended to stay up with him until he had fallen asleep but exhaustion hit her with full force and she was down for the count before she could even think to fight it. Obviously, he hadn’t encountered the same problem and sought out someone else to be with instead of sitting in their room alone with a snoring sister. Anders, most likely. It was good he had someone else he could go to for comfort when she wasn’t around to give it. Very good. It’d make their inevitable separation easier for him.

Because she was going to die; she had spent the entirety of her morning resigning herself to that fate. She wasn’t sure when, or for exactly what, but it would happen. She had been making too many mistakes, the worst of which was just last night at the ritual. If Killian and Wyatt hadn’t stopped her, she very well might’ve run out into that circle without even realizing it before it was too late. Why did it have to be a slow and painful death? What was so necessary about that? Just kill her - there, Pantheon and its secrets are safe - let’s call it a night. But no, it needed to hurt because reasons. She was sure someone would be more than happy to wax poetic about the necessity of it and she would be just as happy to punch them in the goddamn face.

She was seated cross-legged on her bed - the little rabbit Killian had put in her sleeping arms sitting in her lap along with her own rabbit plush - staring down at an open magazine that was holding none of her actual attention when she heard him call out. “In here,” she called back. No amount of will would make her voice not sound downcast so she didn’t even try.

---

He sat down next to her. Head lolling onto hers, snuggling in and close. A life without Kennedy was apt to be a miserable one and he didn’t want to take a chance that something of that magnitude would dare to come to fruition. That was an agony he didn’t want to endure or understand.

“I’m scared, Kiki.” No beating around the bush, no playing it down with sweet words. Kennedy hadn’t done anything wrong in his eyes - it was human nature to want to help someone - but either way it could pose detrimental. Harmful, deadly. His fingers found hers and he held her hand just as firmly as he had last night at the ritual.

“I’m scared that you’re going to be in that chair one day, and that I’m going to be the one who has to do it.” His voice was low, and he didn’t bother to hide the emotion swirling through it. She needed to know, needed to understand that he didn’t want her to feel hopeless or isolated.

---

Kennedy didn’t make any movement when he joined her on the bed and snuggled in close, her head hanging low as she continued to stare at the magazine spread out in front of her. There was nothing interesting on the pages but it was something to settle her gaze on. She felt numb. She didn’t want to look at Killian; she didn’t want to see his face contorted in distress when she could hear it loud and clear in his voice.

He was scared. Of course he was. He had every reason to be. There was a time that she knew exactly what to do to help soothe his fears and alleviate his worries but she wasn’t sure she could do that for him now. Not when it was her that was the cause of that fear. She flexed her fingers, letting them intertwine with his when she felt him grasp for her hand.

“I think you’re right,” she said in a quivering voice as tears began to form in her eyes. With the reality she had been combating all morning back with a vengeance, the shield of numbness she had crafted to cope shattered, allowing a suffocating wave of despair to come crashing over her. “I’m so sorry, bug. I was supposed to protect you. But I’m going to end up being the one to hurt you the most.”

---

Moisture cut lines down his face leaving shimmering tracks. He didn’t bother to hide them. Didn’t bother to wipe them away. “You have to do something, Kiki,” the desperation wound up in his words felt suffocating. “We have to do something.” Anything to prevent her from feeling the cold steel of that chair on her legs. “We can train and keep doing what we’re doing or we can find some other way but…” his throat bobbed, emotion popping lazily up and down in the back of his throat.

“…but, we have to find a way.” A way to solidify. A way to bat away the doubts and make things feel more firm.

He wasn’t overlooking what had happened; death was a part of life and a contract was a contract. Consequences came with actions, whether those were brutal or simple. It had been hard to watch, but worse still to realize that Sam could have been Kennedy. It broke his heart.

---

“I’m trying!” She exclaimed, voice cracking. Kennedy’s head lowered even more, feeling guilty for snapping at him, adding softly. “I’m sorry... I just... I’m trying so hard, Kill. I really am.” Her breath hitched in her chest as she held back a sob; the tears falling as freely as his were now.

“Everytime I think I have it figured out, that everything is just as it should be, shit like this happens and the doubts come right back.” She turned a little more frantic, her free hand combing through her hair, tugging at it. “They are just always there in my head and I can’t get them out. I can’t say anything, I can’t tell anyone because if I do I…” She trailed off; neither needed to be reminded what would happen. “So the doubts just stay there and grow and I, I don’t know what to do, Killian. I feel so trapped. Like they–” An image of those higher ups sitting on their marbled thrones flashed in her mind. “-- are just waiting for me - or, fuck, anyone else here - to slip so they can throw us in that damned chair and I’m so scared that…” Her voice lowered into a whisper. “That someday you’ll think I deserve it.”

---

He sat upright as she snapped, red rimmed eyes puffy, widened. “If you’re having doubts…” he bit back what he wanted to say, “…even after that I —“ his breathing became a bit ragged. “I’m sorry. I never should have encouraged you, us, to come here.” His chest felt tight, stomach knotting in agony. He’d wanted to come here - made Kennedy come here - and now she couldn’t get out.

…throw us in that damned chair. A large tear slid down his face. That some day you’ll think I deserve it.

“Run, Kennedy. Get out. Find a way to leave and don’t look back,” it hurt more than he wanted to let onto but either way, she was lost. At least if she got to the other side she could stay alive, stay with the enemy and thrive there with their protection. She wouldn’t have doubts that might get her killed, doubts that made her a walking target no matter what she did.

“There’s got to be a way to get you to the school. To the safety of the grounds.” Oren said war was coming. If Kennedy flipped before then, maybe she could lay low.

---

Her head whipped around to face him with wide eyes filled with horror. “No!” Kennedy practically screeched. He wanted her to leave? To run away and leave him behind? Because that was exactly what he was implying. A stabbing pain hit her chest that nearly took the breath out of her at the realization he felt that they needed to part to keep her from dying. He wanted her gone to keep her from dying in that fucking chair.

Anger swelled, pushing against the despair that had her wallowing in self-pity all morning. It was that chair that was threatening to tear her away from the only person she had ever cared about in the world. The chair that the powers that be made sure they all knew existed and were well aware resulted in a slow, painful death if they were crossed. Never had she been so sure her doubts were warranted than at that moment. Those in power didn’t care about them at all. All of these people that followed them, trusted them, and they didn’t give a single shit about any of them. They couldn’t care less if they died on the battlefield, in a torture ritual, or by choking on a piece of goddamn food. As long as there was death. Because she wasn’t sure it was about the cause for them at all but the power it gave them.

Which was fucked up because it was the cause that all of these people under them were there for. Kennedy had her reservations about joining but she had always genuinely believed in the dream of a world where their kind could thrive and live without fear of persecution and that it was a cause worth fighting for. If they were going to die, and people would die, it shouldn’t be because of faceless persons masquerading as some gods of fate wanting to keep them in line, it should be for the cause they signed up to fight for. The cause she and her brother signed up for.

Kennedy grabbed his shoulders and stared into his eyes, displaying a strength within them she hadn’t shown in a long time. “I will never leave you. Ever.”

Suddenly she wasn’t afraid anymore. She was angry and, most of all, determined. She was going to stay with her brother, she was going to fight for all of her kind along with everyone else there, and she was going to make damn certain that chair would never hold another person again. She wasn’t going to let them win. “We are in this together. Always have been and always will be. This is a cause I feel is worth fighting for, Killian, believe me when I say that.” She squeezed his shoulders gently to emphasize her declaration. She had her doubts about the organization but the cause was never something she had wavered on. “And I would never think of abandoning it or you.” She took him into an embrace, digging her face into his shoulder. “Never you.”

---

That loud call ricocheted through their room. Likely could have been heard by anyone in the rooms connecting to theirs by walls. It snapped him into place, Killian stared at her with wide eyes, moisture still sliding down his cheeks and dripping down from his jaw. No. That made him so happy. She wanted to fight, to live, to be. She didn’t want to run. As foolish as it might be, he felt so proud to be her brother.

“Good.” He let her shake him, to squeeze his shoulders, and when she fell in against him, Kill clutched her and squeezed. He’d never be as strong as she was. “Good.” He whispered into her hair. The loss would have hit him hard, even knowing she was out there alive, and the grief insurmountable. Either way, they’d have problems but together maybe they could minimize the impact.

“I can’t survive without you, Kiki.” Anders knew it. He’d called it last night when they’d talked about this. Talked about getting Kennedy back on track because the Swede knew that if one twin went, the other would follow and they’d be down two instead of only one.

---

Kennedy turned her head to kiss his hair. “And I will do every damned thing I can to make sure you never have to.” It would be hard with a war on the horizon, she knew that, but they had faced poor odds before and managed to come out of it. She just had to believe they would again. “I promise.”