Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

When Warren was finally tied up, hands and feet bound tight, Sylvia could finally let herself believe she was safe.

By then, she was already drenched in cold sweat, her whole body limp and heavy.

As she collapsed, strong arms caught her. Someone scooped her up and carried her out the door.

It was just like the last time-except this time, they both made it out okay.

Sylvia kept thinking this had to be a dream. She reached up and touched the man's face.

His stubble prickled her palm.

"Ouch. That's scratchy."

"I'll shave in a bit." Rupert's voice, always so tense, finally sounded a little lighter.

"Rupert," Sylvia whispered, running her hand gently over his brow.

He paused mid-step.

"Yeah?"

Just hearing his answer made her relax; it was like her whole body gave in to the darkness.

She slept hard, as if the whole world faded away.

In her dreams, old memories came flooding back-memories she'd tried so hard to lock away.

Everything felt upside down.

Even though she'd avoided disaster in this life, she still couldn't accept the truth of what happened. What had she, Stella, and the baby who never made it out meant, really, in everyone else's games?

Knock knock knock.

Someone rapped at the door again.

After coming back to the States, Rupert had taken her straight to the Garcia family home.

Naomi and Edwin would check on her every so often, knocking and asking if she was okay.

She never answered.

She had no idea how to face the world outside her door.

Outside, Naomi's voice rang with worry. "What do we do? She still won't talk to us."

"I'll try," Edwin said quietly, turning and leaving the porch.

When the sounds outside faded, Sylvia curled up tighter under the comforter, hugging her stomach. She still felt cold, even wrapped up so snug.

A little while later, the blankets suddenly got warmer.

Sylvia opened her eyes, and the instant she shifted, she realized there was annoveldrama

arm around her waist. Startled, she tried to squirm away.

"Let go!"

"It's me."

Rupert's low voice drifted through the dim room.

But Sylvia struggled harder. Her mind was full of memories from

before, and she couldn't from et

not the

facing any of it-not Rup herself.

baby they'd lost, not even herself.

"Let go," she said coldly.

Rupert let her tug at his arm, but only held her tighter.

Sylvia was weak from not eating and soon ran out of strength. She finally gave

up, out of breath, just lying there as he held her.

"Turn around so I can see you," Rupert said, his voice softer than she'd ever heard it.

Sylvia clenched her jaw, clutching the covers and refusing to budge.

She heard faint rustling behind her, and before she realized it, Rupert had rolled over so he was facing her.

Their eyes met. Instinctively, Sylvia tried to pull the blanket over her face, but he caught her hand.

He gently tipped her chin up. "You know, with that kick of yours, I doubt Warren's gonna walk right for the rest of his life."

Sylvia didn't get why he brought that up.

Rupert shifted closer on the pillow, his face just inches from hers.

Their breaths mingled, eyes locked.

His eyes, usually so cold and sharp, were warm and golden in the soft glow of her bedside lamp. The light made him look almost tender, and even his voice seemed to carry warmth.

"Sylvia, this isn't your fault."

It hit her right in the chest. Her voice came out raw: "Isn't it?"

Rupert brushed his thumb along her cheek, his tone fierce and certain "No. Don't punish yourself for what others did. And don't let things that never happened ruin you."

As soon as he said it, tears slipped down Sylvia's cheeks.