xv.

"OKAY, I'M JUST wondering if we should get another opinion right now?" said Ross.

"The only thing I need another of is a drink," said Fifer. Wow, her speech was getting a little slurred, wasn't it? She didn't care. She wanted to be wasted. They were sitting in the garden at the Mecklenberg, all the way out at the last table next to the swing, which was a metal table with metal chairs, unlike the stone tables in front of it.

"Okay, sure, but the thing is…" Ross furrowed his brow. "I know I'm not really romantic, like I don't really understand romance, but this, uh, sounds romantic? It's not romantic?"

"Fuck no, it's not!"

"Okay," said Ross, nodding. "Okay." He got up from the table. "Well, I'm going to get you another drink, and I'm going to think about that while I'm gone."

"It's horrifying," she slurred.

"Right," said Ross, furrowing his brow.

She groaned, scooting back in her chair and staring up at the afternoon sky. Wow, she was really, really drunk, and it wasn't even dark. Also, it was very cold out here, but she couldn't have handled being inside the bar with all the chatter and people and light and warmth.

"I'll be right back," said Ross.

He was.

She snatched the drink from him—it was a tall cranberry and vodka. She sipped a long drink through the straw. "It's not romantic because he did it without talking to me. And because he just stole my mortality from me."

Ross nodded. "Yeah, but… who doesn't want to live forever? It's awesome, Fifer. It's really, really awesome."

"No, it's not," she said. "I don't want to live forever. Look at him. Does he look happy? He's miserable. If I stay with him, everyone I love dies and I have to watch. And then, it's just me and him, and time goes on and on and on, and we get bored with each other and bitter, and then I can't even leave him, because everyone I've ever known is dead, and I'm all alone except for him, and besides I depend on him for a place to live and money and everything. I become his kept woman for eternity. It's disgusting. He's… fuck him."

Ross nodded, taking a sip of his own drink. "Well, okay, from that perspective…"

"Do you see what I'm saying?"

"I mean…" Ross cleared his throat. "If it happened to me, I might feel differently?"

"You don't know that," said Fifer. She took another drink, sighing. "Also, I think I want babies. The idea of all of that being taken away from me, it's making me realize how much I want it. I want to live a normal life with my children, and I want us all to age, and I want to die first, and that's what I want. I don't want to live forever."

"Babies, huh?" said Ross.

"I know you don't get it."

"Are you kidding?" said Ross. "You don't remember the eighteen thousand times I've talked about how I'd be a great dad, how I want to be a dad, how I want to have children?"

She drew back. "Well… it was always in the context of that dumb deal of ours."

He laughed. "Yeah, I'm still serious about the deal, actually, just… we could have kids and you could have some other relationship, maybe? You know, lots of times, people don't stay together and parent together, so this could be like that."

She took another drink of her vodka concoction. "Seriously?"

"Sorry, not the time," he said. "Let's go back to your heartbreak?"

"Fuck you, Ross," she muttered, groaning. A long pause as she looked him over, and then she said, in a wondering voice, "You really want babies?"

"I do," he said. "And I get what you're saying. If that was off the table for me, it'd give me pause. And… I mean, yeah, I wouldn't want to live forever if my kids were going to die." He thought about it. "But, you know, if they're selkies, maybe he could just put their skins in Faerie too—"

"That won't be guaranteed unless I get inseminated with selkie sperm," she said. "Even so, sometimes, it pops up, some non-selkie in the bloodline and a family has a kid that can't shift, that has no skin. So, there's no guarantee. And anyway, how long does that go on? What about my grandchildren? I don't want them to die either. And what about my children's significant others?"

"No, good point, I see what you're saying," said Ross with a heavy sigh. "Yeah, living forever, it just opens up this whole can of worms."

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah."

"Oh," said Ross.

"What?" She didn't like whatever that tone of his was. "What?"

"Don't look now," said Ross, "but, uh, he's here."

She turned and looked to see that Hollis was walking through the garden, hoodie up, antlers peeking out, hands shoved in his pockets. "Damn it," she muttered.

HOLLIS KNEW HE'D fucked up, and he'd known since he'd conceived of the idea. He wasn't actually an idiot, all evidence to the contrary. He knew he shouldn't have done it. He knew it was a violation, he knew he should have asked for her consent, he knew…

He knew.

And he hadn't.

This was just sort of who he was in some way. Also, he knew it was more likely she would give in this way. If he brought the idea up to her, she would have probably acquiesced to it nominally, he thought. Not right away. At first, she would have gone back and forth and thought about it a lot, but eventually, she would have said, Yes, I want eternity with you , because it was romantic.

And then she would have dithered about when she wanted eternity to start.

Because it was a big thing to decide.

While she was dithering, time would start passing, and the longer time passed, the more things would change between them. She'd grow more and more resentful of him even as she grew more and more dependent upon him. The dependency would frighten her, leading her to put off the decision longer and longer.

Years would pass.

He'd bring it up.

She'd say, "Later, later."

And then it would be a thing they argued about, and then…

It might sound as if he'd done this before, but he hadn't. He'd been in relationships, though, long relationships with mortals, and he knew how things would work. He could predict it. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it wouldn't have gone that way. He didn't know.

But he predicted that this way, it was soon enough that it had a better chance of being successful. She'd be angry, yeah, but he'd just convince her she still had a choice.

I can always get it for you and give you the skin back, he'd say, and it was true. He'd just convince her that since she could undo it, it was the same as having the choice to initiate it. It wasn't, of course, not even remotely the same, but it seemed the same, anyway, if it could be undone at any time.

It was different psychologically to undo something already done, though.

This way, she had to give up her immortality.

She wouldn't.

She'd keep it.

They'd stay together.

The fallout would be bad, he thought, and she might fight it, but in the end, she'd agree, and it would all work out.

And he'd get to keep her.

Because he needed her, and he wasn't letting her go, and he would do anything on earth to keep her.

Now, he stood over the table, and she seethed up at him, drunk and angry. He wondered if she was going to toss that drink on him. "Can we talk?" he said.

Ross stood up. "Maybe I'll leave you two—"

"No," said Fifer. "No, you won't leave. You will stay. Because if you go away, it implies we're going to work this out, and we are not going to work it out."

"We're not?" said Hollis. She was angry. He'd predicted she would be angry. He could handle the anger. He could be patient. She wouldn't be angry forever.

"I don't think we are," she said, shaking her head at him. "It proves something to me, is the thing."

"What does it prove to you?"

"It's like you said at the beginning," she said. "We can't be equal. You don't see me as an equal. You see me as a… I don't know… but you don't have any regard for my feelings or choices or preferences. You said that thing to me the other day, about sex, about men and sex…" She shook her head. "I'm just so fucking stupid, is the thing."

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Hollis. "I'm getting that I messed up here. I'm getting that I made a mistake, and I just want you to understand, I can undo it. I can get the skin back."

"Good," she said. "I want it back."

"Well, once I do that, it's undone forever," he said. This was a lie. He could get it back in there easily enough. He could create a thousand pockets into Faerie any time he wanted. Well, as long as he had the help of someone like Kevin and a full moon and a number of various ingredients to make a potion. "So, why don't you just think about it before you say that, all right?"

She let out a disbelieving laugh. "You manipulative jackass."

He bowed his head. He did hate hurting her, really. He had spun the options as many ways as he could think, and this was the best way. It made them both the happiest in the end. And besides, he couldn't live without her, so that had to mean something. That had to count. All of this time, all of these generations, and she was so entirely different than anyone he'd met. He didn't know if he believed in soul mates, but maybe he'd been waiting for her, biding his time, and now… now, his life could begin.

"Do you remember saying how you were going to try not to be a jackass to me?" she demanded.

He did remember that. He lifted his head to look her over. "I did this because I want us to be together."

"You did this because you want to possess me," she said.

He tilted back his head. "No, that's not at all it. I'll get it back for you, if you want."

"I do want that."

"Well, just… give it some time," he said.

"Dude," said Ross in a low voice.

Hollis turned on the sphinx. "If you don't mind—"

"She's told you what she wants you to do more than once," said Ross. "So, I can't help but think, if you're not listening to her, she's kind of got a point about the way you feel about her."

Hollis let out an annoyed breath. "Fifer, can you and I talk alone?"

She shook her head. "No, right now. Bring back the skin. Then, maybe, we can talk. But until then, just… go away. I don't want to be around you."

Well.

He could be patient.

He had nothing but time.

He gave her a slow nod. "All right, I'll give you some space."

Tears were forming in her eyes.

"Hey, Fifer, I really am sorry. I don't like hurting you." He meant it. He wished this hadn't been the best way. He really did.

She tilted down her chin, lower lip trembling.

He left.