The Lightning that Jumps Between

Twenty One

Karl was still stroking Donna's brow with his thumb. She circled once again back to the conversation related to his upcoming departure.

"Are you sure it's a good idea? To..taunt her, even if she isn't here." Donna shuddered.

"I'll be fine," he answered with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Donna's long dark hair was actually down, a rarity in its own right. He played with the strands thoughtfully. "What about you, gonna try to get some sleep?"

He was seated beside her bed, and had been speaking to her for some time now. It felt like hours. Karl was content to just see her face like this. There was no more cadou covering her eye, and she wasn't hidden behind a veil. Her eyes were puffy and her skin pale, but she looked more alive than she had in years. He was almost envious of the life that seemed to radiate from her.

"I...Alina is bringing in the TV and...movie player? You and Ethan gave her, and she is going to show me movies tonight. Though I don't know if watching them from bed is appropriate."

"It's appropriate," he said with a snicker, and then slowly moved his hand, sitting upright. "I'm jealous. Sounds fun." He wasn't actually jealous, but Heisenberg knew that Donna could never, would never, fathom his love of confrontation, especially a Miranda confrontation. For her, it would be horror. He was hoping it was cathartic. Miranda been pretty quiet since their ritual, which had only been a few months ago, and he was aching to learn more about his brother. Even if, like Eva warned, he might not like what he learned.

"I am jealous, too," she said hesitantly. Karl tilted his head indicating he was listening. "...of Ethan," Donna confessed, and Karl raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"You seem to love him so much. I have never known you to love a human so much."

"You know that's not true," he said quietly, taking off his hat and rolling it between his fumbling hands. "Wasn't always that way."

"I know," she said in a tone just as quiet. "I know why a rift grew between us, and I accept it. But it still made me sad to lose you."

"Well, here we are," he said in a forced, sing-song voice. Bitterly, he added, one big happy family, just like the Mold wants.

"It isn't the same," she protested, drawing the blankets up, staring at the ceiling. "I meant us. It's all right," she added, when he looked uncomfortable. Donna held out a slender hand to him, which he took, shoving the hat into his coat.

She smiled. "I am happy to see you happy. Truly."

"That's uh, pushin' it," Karl attempted to joke, with a chuckle, and then Donna pressed with another question. "You really care about him, don't you? In a way few must know or understand."

Karl's nervous hand moved toward his pockets, and he abruptly stood. Confessing how he felt was not easy, but he and Donna had been speaking seriously-and honestly-most of the day. He couldn't stop now. Karl felt closer to her than he had in years. As he dug through the pockets he gave her a pointed look.

"I've cared about people," he defended again, "but he...Ethan. He's." Karl paused, lingering on words as his fingers tapped on his lighter. "He's the last."

She smiled, remembering the quote; it was from one of many books they'd read together as children in boarding school. How Karl had abhorred every character, griping about their decisions and motivation, and how she'd loved the tragic love story. She finished the quote with a smile on her face. "The last dream of your soul."