Constantine Ashe: Does anyone notice?

They got around a corner, then she yanked him into an alley and turned an angry expression on him. "This had better be an emergency," she hissed.

Confused and still a little frightened-- and still a little angry-- he shoved his gun away in the back of his jeans, trembling. He couldn't seem to get out a complete sentence. "It is! I wouldn't-- not for anything less-- I know you don't like me to-- there were four of them, and they-- they almost--"

Anastasia's anger drained out slowly, and she put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey. Hey, it's okay... you're okay."

"Can we go someplace? Someplace quiet? Just you and me? They stay away from you...."

She reached up and stroked his tangled hair soothingly. "Yeah... yeah, we can. I'll explain to Scott somehow, later...."

Before he could answer, close his eyes and let her calm him, another face stared at him from the darkness of the alley beyond, and another smiled at him from the street. They were watching him.... He didn't wait for her to lead the way; he grabbed her hand and ran. He heard her sudden yelp, surprise or pain, but it didn't really register. What registered were faces leering out of the crowd-- them, not them, threatening and uncaring and sometimes startled, as they actually laid eyes on him. Or just on Anastasia, running along and starting to protest.

"Connie-- calm down-- slow down, Connie-- Connie stop--"

But he couldn't, because as soon as he did, they'd be there again. This time the abandoned warehouses seemed safer than the crowded, busy streets, because he had Ana with him. With fewer faces, there would be fewer of them to stare out from those faces, fewer places for them to hide. There was a door ajar in one of the derelict buildings, and he barreled them through it, into a dark, mostly empty room. He finally let Ana go, and she promptly fell back against the nearest wall, rubbing her wrist. "Connie... Connie, calm down," she gasped, out of breath. "It's okay... nothing's gonna hurt you... promise."

Don't leave me alone. Connie, promise me?

"They want to-- take me away.... Ana, they're-- they're dead. They're-- ghosts-- or something! I tried to shoot one... went right through it! And they're so cold...." He shuddered, putting his arms around himself.

Ana didn't say anything. There was a little click, and the room lit up from the tiny flame on her lighter.

"They're getting worse-- more-- more insistent. But I can't leave. I don't want to go anywhere. Ana, why won't they leave me alone?"

"I don't know, Connie...."

"I promised you. They can't take me anywhere... I promised you."

She put a hand on his arm in the flickering light. "Connie... that was an unfair promise. I should never have asked you...."

With only the faint light, her eyes looked as black and deep as his: they looked like night. "But I still did. And I wanted to... why would I want to leave you?"

"Because you had to. Because-- there's gotta be something better for you than this." He looked at her, confused, and she continued. "Connie, I never should have had you make that promise. I was only twelve, I didn't know any better...."

He unwrapped his arms from himself to put his hands on her shoulders. "You're my sister, Ana. I didn't want to leave...."

Her eyes were dark and sad. "But you should have."

"What are you talking about?"

"Connie... you said those others were dead. Ghosts. You're right. That's why they won't leave you alone."

"Because they're-- dead?" She wasn't making any sense. What did that have to do with him?

"Connie." This time she put her hands on his shoulders, and shook him. Her hands were cold. The flame in her lighter went out, and all he could see was the black glitter of her eyes, starless in the darkness, and the faint reflection of moonlight on her silver earrings. "Connie, think about it. You were supposed to go with them. They weren't even supposed to have to come looking for you!"

Constantine pushed her back. "You, too? You want me to leave, get killed or mauled or whatever by those freaks?"

"They won't hurt you--"

"Yes, they will! They've been telling me they're going to for years! I thought you didn't want me to have anything to do with them!"

The glitter of her eyes slid away from his. "I grew up, Connie. I'm not the little girl who didn't understand what it meant to lose her brother. To be alone. I know better now."

He didn't know how it happened, but then he had his gun in his hands, pointed at her, but his hands were shaking so badly he didn't know what his aim would be like, even at point-blank range. "Ana-- I promised you-- and all this time, you-- you--"

Her voice was shaking. "Connie... it's not like that. You know it's not."

So was his. "--you wanted me to leave??"

She held up her hands, slowly and carefully, a shadow against more shadows. "Connie-- Connie, put that down. Please, you know it's not like that."

"You're my sister--"

"Connie, please."

"I looked out for you!"

"I know you did. I know. And I looked out for you, remember?"

"You've always been my best friend, my only friend!"

She was almost sobbing, now. "I know. And you're my brother, I love you, you know that."

"But now you think I should-- I should leave? I should go with those freaks? Let them make good on all those threats? Let them kill me?"

She all but screamed it: "Connie, you're already dead!"

The gun went off, bucking in his hands, even louder in the small room than it had been in the open street. There were no echoes, this time, though, and the room was very, very quiet in the shot's wake. It fell from his hands almost immediately, hitting the floor with a hollow thunk that, too, seemed louder than it should have against the silence.

" .... Ana?" he asked into the darkness.

No one answered.