The spear came again to my mouth, and I parted my lips to follow the tip with my tongue. As I did this I recalled that something warm and desirable controlled the other end—I could hear its labored breathing.
My hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of shirt, and I pulled him down onto me. “I need you right now.”
He pinned my wrists down to the bed, lowering his lips to my ear. “Response to stimuli confirms sufficient level of arousal.” I could hear the smile in his voice.
“I concur. Please proceed, doctor.”
His mouth came down on mine as he released my hands, and despite my trembling and fumbling I managed to work him free from his pants. He sank into me slowly, solidly, and our connection opened.
I gave a startled cry as sensation assailed me from every direction.
“Pace yourself, love,” murmured Murphy. “I’m thorough in my trials.”
Reunion
The honeymoon ended the next morning at precisely 8 A.M.
Murphy brought me a cup of tea and I pulled the blanket over my head. “When are they coming?” I groaned.
He bent and uncovered my face, kissing the tip of my nose. “Half an hour. Better get up if you want breakfast and a shower.”
“Hmm.” I considered a new tactic. I took hold of the blanket edge and pushed it slowly down past my breasts, my abdomen, and finally my hips. I raised my arms and stretched like a cat. “Ten minutes for shower. Ten minutes for breakfast. Ten minutes for…”
I glanced at him, grinning as I saw him unbuttoning his pants. “It’s not going to take ten minutes, love.” I squealed as he grabbed my legs and dragged me to the edge of the bed. “You exhausted all my reserves of self control last night.”
Unlike the drawn-out sensuality of the night before, this was instant gratification. Grunting and panting and clutching. I erupted with a ragged cry a single heartbeat before the first knock sounded.
“Someone’s early,” I grumbled.
“Fifty euro says it’s Ian,” Murphy whispered, nibbling my earlobe.
“And Julia,” I countered, pushing him up. “Take it easy on him, Murphy. He was hurt and confused. It was just a flirtation.”
Murphy’s eyes widened. “Ah ha, you admit it!”
I gave him a playful slap on his pale and perfect behind as he hopped up and zipped himself in. “I don’t think you get to be self-righteous about this, considering you were using your food-as-foreplay techniques on his wife.”
He turned slowly. “My what?”
He made a grab for my ankle and I slithered away, snatching up my clothes and seeking refuge in the bathroom.
“Answer the door, dear!” I called over my shoulder.
* * *
When I emerged I found Ian and Julia sitting on our small sofa—cozily holding hands. Murphy met me with a fresh cup of tea, one eyebrow arched in a perfect expression of You’re going to pay for that. I hoped it wouldn’t be by eating my own cooking.
I turned to greet our guests and Ian said, “You’re pink and fresh this morning.”
They would certainly have heard the tail end of my passionate exuberance from outside, but I’d hoped he’d take the high road.
“Pregnancy suits her,” added Julia, meaning to make up for Ian, I think, but deepening my embarrassment.
Murphy slipped an arm around my waist and kissed the back of my head. I nestled against him, and he stood holding me as we drank our tea. Maybe Ian would have said he was posturing—marking his territory. Maybe he was. But it didn’t feel that way to me. It just felt nice.
“Hank said she was going to be late,” said Ian. “There was a transport of food and supplies due in this morning.”
“Should we go and help her?” asked Murphy, his thumb rubbing little circles against my stomach.
“She said she had it covered.”
There was another knock at the door, and Murphy released me and let Gavin in.
“How was your night?” Murphy asked him.
“Okay,” he replied, scrubbing his fingers against his freshly trimmed beard. “I didn’t sleep much, but—”
I felt a light rush of air against my face, and an expectant tingling along my spine. Pinpoints of color multiplied and assembled before my eyes.
“Oh God,” I murmured. Murphy reached for my hand. The video at the counseling center had done little to prepare me for this real-life demonstration.
Staring at the new arrival, a film of sweat formed on my face and neck. Too strong a reminder of my status as a copy, and of the fact we could be there/not there at any given moment. Did I enjoy any protection from that, now that I was detached?
Blake took a step and stumbled, but quickly righted himself. He stared at each of us in turn, obviously confused. He looked heavier, and less tan. His eyes found Gavin, and I watched his bewildered expression give way to relief.
“I just had the worst fucking nightmare, brother. That same one about the avalanche.” He glanced around again. “What the hell did I drink last night? I don’t even remember where I am.”
Murphy squeezed my hand. “Stay here with Ian and Julia.”
“No, Murphy, I want to go with you. I need to understand what happens.”
“You do, love. You’ve lived it.” He bent closer, speaking softly as Blake’s questioning of Gavin grew more insistent. “I don’t mean to dismiss you. I don’t think you’re not up to it. It’s just the potential for conflict in this particular case. I want to focus on them and not be worrying about you.”
I felt more inclined to face it, conflict and all, in hopes of exorcising some of the demons Blake’s sudden appearance had let into my head. But I could see it was important to Murphy.
“Please be careful.”
He nodded and headed for the door. “Let’s go outside and have a chat, lads.”
“Who the fuck are you?” demanded Blake.
Murphy introduced himself as he herded them out, closing the door behind him.
I was still blinking at the door, feeling troubled, when Julia asked, “How’s your head, Elizabeth?”
She smiled as I looked at her. I was starting to like her in spite of myself. “My head?”
“Blake hit you hard enough to knock you down. I was just wondering if you’re feeling okay. Any dizziness or headaches? Nausea?”
“No, none at all.” That wasn’t exactly true. “A little nausea from time to time, but that started a few days ago.”
“That’s hormones.” She frowned in sympathy. “It might help to have a bite to eat when it happens. What about Murphy? Are you able to tell me why he’s suddenly over his injuries?”
I grabbed a chair and dragged it over to the sofa. “I have an idea why, but it requires some explanation.”
I told them about our discovery of the telepathic bond—about our memory sharing, and Murphy’s belief that I had healed him while he slept.
“Do you think this is something we can do too?” asked Julia. I was pleased to see Ian’s attention focused on her, not me.
“I suspect so. In fact, it may be what triggered our detachment.”
Julia shifted on the sofa, and Ian let go of her hand so he could slip his arm around her.
“How did you do it?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I don’t think it’s complicated. Be together. Talk. Touch each other. Same stuff you were doing back on Earth. I’m not suggesting…” I thought for a second about how to word the next part. “I doubt physical intimacy has to be part of it, unless you want it to be. I mean, obviously that’s not an option for all—”
“You’re both fucking nuts!” a male voice shouted just outside. We heard feet pounding down the stairs and I ran to the door.
I found Murphy and Gavin exiting the apartment across from ours. “Let me guess. He didn’t believe you.”
“He will soon enough,” replied Murphy, looking tired. Two nights of limited sleep were catching up with both of us. He glanced at Gavin. “When he comes back, try to
keep him calm. Talk to him and answer his questions, but don’t let him get to you. It’ll be harder for him to stay angry that way. Come find me if you need help.”
Gavin gave a weary nod. “You know, we could show him. Seeing the body might help him to—”
“No.” Murphy and I replied in the same breath. My heart lurched and Murphy’s hand came to my back.
“Be patient with him,” I said. “It’s not an easy thing to understand. He doesn’t feel any different than he did before.”
Gavin left us, and we were about to venture out into camp when Hank showed up. In soldierly fashion, she appeared to have accepted the change in camp leadership without question. She gave us an inventory of what had been on the transport and what they’d done with it all.
As we wrapped up talk about water filters and pinto beans, Hank said, “Garvey also brought a couple of new arrivals. Picked them up outside New Seattle. I guess Blake was expecting them.”
“Where are they?” I asked.
“Waiting downstairs. Blake always wanted to meet new people right away.”
“I suppose we should meet them,” said Murphy. “And figure out if we’ve a place to put them.”
Ian and Julia followed Hank out, leaving us alone again. Murphy had just pulled me into his arms, murmuring tantalizing promises about the punishment I was to expect for my earlier snarkiness, when the door opened.
The mother of all landmines detonated right in my face.
“Rose? Holy shit, Rose?”
* * *
I didn’t have time to think. I didn’t have time to breathe.
One moment I was in Murphy’s arms. The next I was in Peter’s.
He hugged me fiercely and his lips came down on mine. His smell washed over me, reviving memories and dormant emotions. It was both familiar and surreal—I felt like I’d transported home. And yet …
I planted my palms against his chest, breaking free from the kiss.
“Oh my God, Rose! I was afraid to hope.”
“Hey!” Murphy gripped his arm. “Let her go!”
“Back off,” snapped Peter.
“Peter—Jesus—what are you doing here? Are you here?” I seriously questioned my sanity. How was this possible?
“Peter?” Murphy stared at him, dropping his arm. His eyes moved back to me. “Who is Rose?”
I swallowed. “It’s a nickname.”
My eyes moved over Peter’s face. He was the same as ever. Lanky and good looking. Not as tall as Murphy, but similar in ways that had never occurred to me before. Dark hair, though Peter’s was coarser, wavy, and shoulder-length. Fair skin that burned easily. High cheekbones and a square jaw. But Peter’s eyes were smaller, and brown, with a slight upward cast that I always teased gave him an elfish look.
“What are you doing here?” I repeated.
“I came for you,” he breathed, hugging me close. “I can’t believe this, Rose.”
My gaze moved to Murphy’s face, and the strain and confusion I saw there helped me to focus. “Peter, let go of me for a minute. I need to sit down.”
He drew back, studying me, and he loosened his grip. Murphy pulled out one of the chairs and I sank down. Peter glanced around and found the other one, dragging it over to sit across from me. He reached for my hands.
My heart was beating too fast. I felt dizzy. “I don’t think you understand—I’m not Rose, Peter. Rose died in a transport accident.” My stomach twisted in anticipation of his reaction. “I’m a ghost.”
He gave me a puzzled smile. “I know that. It almost killed me. God, I was furious with you. But I read all your research on this hellhole you insisted on running to, and I went to visit that training facility. At that point I’d made up my mind to come here and do an investigative piece. But then one of my sources got hold of a message from the woman who runs the Symbiont Research Institute. That’s when I learned you were alive.”
I stared at Peter, dumbfounded. He bent closer, pressing my hands between his. “That message you sent saying you loved me—it came after you died, and at the time I assumed it had been delayed. But it wasn’t. You sent it. I knew I had to find you and help you.”
Oh God. The message I’d decided not to send. I must have done it in the process of smashing the display.
He continued to study my face. “Are you all right? You look so pale. Are you glad to see me?”
My stomach and my brain were in knots. I looked at Murphy and he picked up on my silent plea for help.
“I think you’ve given her a bit of a shock,” he said. “Why don’t you let her have a minute to think? Introduce us to your friend.” Murphy nodded toward a girl lurking shyly in the doorway.
Peter’s gaze fixed on Murphy, taking him in for the first time. “I understand how things work here, and I know who you are. But this has nothing to do with you.”
I cleared my throat to steady my voice. “That’s not true, Peter. Murphy is…” The love of my life? The father of my child?
Murphy came to my rescue, filling in the gap with, “Good to meet you, Peter.”
Then he did something that at the time seemed accidental, but later I wondered. He reached out a hand to Peter, and as they stiffly shook hands, Murphy’s other hand came to my shoulder. The moment he touched me I felt a surge of emotion from Peter, as I had when I shook hands with Hank.
Excitement. Relief. Desire. Love.
Confusion. Jealousy. A sprouting seed of anger.
Murphy’s hand fell away, cutting off the flow.
“How do you know Elizabeth?” Peter’s voice was tight. Quietly threatening.
I raised my fingers to my throbbing temples. “We both met Murphy in Ireland, Peter. He was our tour guide at Trinity College.”
“What?” He stared hard at Murphy, his face red with anger. “I’ve been making myself crazy over this, Rose. I thought maybe you knew him from school, or had a fling you never told me about. Why are you the ghost of a man you spoke to once?”
Murphy had made a lasting impression on me. Apparently not on Peter.
“I don’t know, but I’m not his ghost anymore.” I felt Murphy’s eyes on me. “I’ve detached.” This was somewhat misleading, and I worried about what Murphy might read into me saying it at this particular moment. But I needed to defuse Peter’s temper and get him out of the apartment.
“I didn’t know that was possible,” Peter replied, his smile slowly returning. “That—that’s great news, Rose.”
I glanced again at Murphy. He had his arms crossed, thumb on his chin, and he was watching me closely, his own expression carefully guarded.
“Peter, I need to ask you to go,” I said. “I do want to talk to you and explain better. And I want to hear the rest of your story. But I need some time to take this in. You have to understand—I never expected to see any of my old connections again. I believed I was dead to all of you.”
He scooted his chair toward me, leaning close. “I know it’s a shock. I can hardly get my own head around it. But, God, I can’t help it—I love you, Rose, and I’m so happy to see you. Let me walk you back to wherever you live. We can talk in private. Or not talk. I won’t pressure you about anything. Just give me a few minutes alone with you.”
How many times had the two of us been down this road?
“This is where I live, Peter,” I said. “With Murphy.”
His smile dissolved. “I thought you said—”
“I did, but it’s more complicated than that.”
Peter’s expression darkened. “Cut the psychologist bullshit, Rose. What you mean is you’re sleeping with him. That’s not complicated.”
Murphy stepped forward, looming over Peter. “Ease off, now. You’ve no cause to be angry with her. Why don’t you give her the time she’s asked for?”
Peter’s eyes bored into Murphy, but his face softened as he looked at me again. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have said that. If you want me to go, I’ll go.”
“I’ll come find you later.
I promise.”
Peter got up slowly and bent to kiss my cheek. Then he joined the young girl at the door, glancing back once before he left us.
Murphy sat down in the chair Peter had vacated.
I sighed, dropping my face in my hands. His hand caressed the back of my head.
“You all right? You looked like maybe you were going to be sick.”
“I come all this way to get away from him, ride to my death in a transport, get reincarnated as an alien, and he follows me because he thinks I need to be rescued.” I laughed as a tear slipped onto my hand. “Who would do such a thing?”
“It’s unbelievably romantic.”
“It’s unbelievably insane. And just like him too.” I raised my head. “But he doesn’t understand. It’s not me he’s in love with.”
Now Murphy laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “You have to stop doing that, Elizabeth. It’s become like a defense mechanism for you. You’re afraid it’s what people will think, so you try to beat them to it.” My face grew warm. Was that what I was doing? “You are her,” he continued. “You may be in a new body, but for all practical purposes, you are her. She’s you. And he’s still very much in love with you.”
I stared down at my folded hands. “This is completely nuts. He’s completely nuts.”
“Is that your professional assessment, love?” I glanced up again to find him smiling. “Why in God’s name does he call you Rose?”
“Rose is my middle name. His mother’s name is Elizabeth. He finds it creepy, especially when we—um…”
“I see.” Murphy squeezed my knee and stood up. “I’ll go out and make the rounds. You take some time for yourself. Or if you like I’ll fetch him again so you can talk alone. I only stayed to make sure you were okay.” I gave him a dubious look and he chuckled. “Maybe it wasn’t the only reason.”
I got up and moved close to him. “Murphy…”
He put his arms around my waist. “You couldn’t have foreseen this. I don’t want you to say anything right now. I know you’re going to need to work though it.”
“What I really need is for you to kiss me. Is that a possibility?”
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