"There is the great lesson of 'Beauty and the Beast,' that a thing must be loved before it is lovable."

- G.K. Chesterton

Uncountable grains of sand flowed down the side of the cliff like a waterfall of dusts, falling neatly into a swirling basin below. Surrounded by a thriving forest with cawing of crows and growls of animals, Timothy stood by the bay of the sand basin, entranced as he watched the grains spiralled towards the centre, vanishing into an invisible drain below.

“How is that happening?” he asked Sister.

The girl in the white dress replied, “How is what happening?” from her seat on a fallen log behind him, her white dress resting in an impossibly long spiral around her.

“The sand. How does it keep going like that?”

“Aren't you a curious one,” she got to her feet and walked to his side, staring down the same phenomenon as he did. “Truth is, I don't know how it works. I don't really know how much of anything here works. They just sort of happens, as if they were always there.”

“Then what about you?” he asked, turning to her. “How do you work?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, baffled.

“Your powers. Your abilities. How you get me all...um...”

“Sexually aroused?”

He could feel his cheeks heating up at the statement, but did not deny it. “Yeah. How do you do that?”

She smiled playfully, putting her arms around and getting physically closer than he was capable of stopping his heart from beating. “I knew you thought I was pretty,” and kissed him on the cheek.

Embarrassed, he asked annoyed, “So are you going to tell me or not?”

“Well, it's not that hard to understand,” she danced away from him, spinning on her feet in glee. “I just multiply your arousal for me.”

“Multiply? So...if a person has no attraction to you-”

“Which you do,” she interrupted.

Defensively, Tim corrected, “Which I don't!” he shot her an irritated stare only for her to laugh giddily back. “As I was saying, if a person doesn't have attraction to you, at all...”

“Then the power would not work! Which means you like me!”

He just stared back wide eyed, his deduction having backfired on him. Surrendering to the better wit of his opponent, he took a seat on the sandy shore. Sister followed, taking her place beside him all whilst grinning from ear to ear.

As he watched the whirlpool of sand spiral into the earth, he calmly asked, “What if, hypothetically of course, I had feelings for you. How would that work?”

“Well,” Sister replied, with a tone more solemn than what he would expect from her personality. “If it happens, I would ask you to put your hypothetical feelings aside. Since we are separated by dimensions and life and all that.”

“But hypothetically, would you return those feelings?”

Sister remained quiet to that question. He remained unwavering, keeping his eyes forward despite an overwhelming wish to turn to her to see her reaction. But a part of him felt that his life would be endangered for viewing her at a vulnerable moment.

Then, Sister replied, “I will...tell you, hypothetically...yes. But...I can't leave here.”

Without thinking, he replied, “I can save you.”

“Hah!” she let out, “I don't need you to save me. I can take care of myself.”

“I know that,” he turned to face her, their eyes crossing in earnest. “But I can still save you.”

“Look, Tim, you are amazing,” she replied with a gentle smile, one that nearly melted him. “But there's only so much that even you can do. And you have to save Stella. She comes first.”

“I'll save both of you,” he replied seriously. “I can do it.”

She chuckled. “You're surprisingly optimistic today.”

“Yes,” he said softly, remembering the last sleep he had. The final image of Clay on the pier and his final request for Tim and the resulting promise. He then thought of his father, and how he was once again sleeping beside his father's room, though the man was no longer and will never again be there. “I guess I'm just sick of losing by now.”

They sat together in silence, a short moment of peace for Tim that was needed as much as every single others that came before. The brief reliefs had become both bliss and torture for him, as he not only had the time to rest, but also to think of everything that led up to that point.

“If,” Sister began with the hypothetical, “I could have a wish, I would like to go with you.”

“Then-”

“But,” Sister cut in. “You have to focus on saving Stella first. Right now, you have more than enough on your plate,” she paused and took his one good hand, wrapping her fingers around it gently. “And you have to, most importantly, save yourself. I am a monster Tim. I am one of them. And I have killed...a lot of people. And I do not deserve you saving me.”

“But you saved me. That counts for something in my book.”

She sighed sadly, getting to her feet. “I wonder if your feelings are because of my powers. After all, we barely know each other,” she turned to him with a forlorn smile. “I bet even you can't figure out where one line ends and the other begin. Even with your power of deduction.”

“It's real, I'm sure of it,” he replied without hesitation. “Whether you believe it or not, you are funny, and kind, and full of life. Especially for a girl who claims to be dead,” he stood up purposefully. “What I feel for you, be it romantic or not, is good. I am absolutely sure of that.”

“Are you?” her smile slipped, just slightly in thoughts of disappointment. “I can feel it in me that soon, I will have to do something that you won't like. And when that time comes, I hope you can forgive me.”

XXX

9:22 a.m

5 days earlier

He woke to the chirping of jackhammer going off outside. Tim stirred groggily on the couch, having given up his bed for Stella to sleep. However, he found the girl steadily working at the table, surrounded by store brought chemicals, carefully cleaning off her fifth photograph from Vashmir's album.

“Morning,” she greeted without looking his way.

“Hey. Morning,” he rubbed his eyes in a futile but very human and natural attempt to gain clarity. “I didn't see you in my dreams last night-” he paused, realizing his mistake, but too late.

“Aw...” she replied sarcastically, “I love you too Timmy boy. Wanna make out now that you're awake?”

“Shut up...” he got up, finally gaining some lucidity. “You know what I meant.”

“I know,” she said playfully. “Sister said she wanted to talk to you privately when she got the chance, so I took some Somnidin.”

“Wait, you sure about that? They are addictive, remember?”

“It's just one pill dad,” she smiled slyly. “I'm fine. So, what did you and Sister talk about?”

He was suddenly struck by anger for the fact that humans are unable to see their own faces, for he felt his was red again and wanted to tell it to cut it out. “Nothing!” he stood defensively, rushing to his bathroom to wash his face. “Just, you know, stuff about...you know...stuff.”

“Mmm hmm,” he could hear her even from his room. Though it was no surprise considering how small the apartment was. “Well, what are you going to do today? Sticking around to clean these photos?”

“I don't think so,” Tim walked out with a towel around his shoulders, his messy hair seemingly neater despite being slightly wet, a contradiction for the ages. “There's something I want to check out. And we need more leads than these photos. Right now, they're quite a long shot.”

“Good. Cause if you said you were staying, I would have said it was a waste of your time,” Stella replied, finally taking her focus off the restoration work. “But be careful, you are wanted now. There will be people out specifically looking for you.”

“I'm not too worried about that,” he replied, returning to his room, throwing the towel unceremoniously on his bed. Grabbing a fresh change of clothes, a white shirt and black cargo pants, he even managed to uncover a clean pair of socks hiding under his bed. “We haven't seen anyone on the streets lately, I doubt that's about to change.”

“Still, watch out.”

“You should listen to yourself, Miss Gunshot Wound. You're not exactly in a good position either,” he said part in jest and part in sincere worry.

“Don't worry honey. I can take care of myself.”

I can take care of myself. Was what Sister said to him earlier. And he wondered if there was even a need to be overly worried about the two girls in his life. Both were fierce in their own rights, and had aided him a lot more than anything he had done for them.

He put on the holster and checked the revolver he kept from the police station, making sure it was still loaded. He found his rarely used black hooded jacket and slipped into it, completing his ensemble of looking like the world's tiniest and least imposing grim reaper, the weapon hidden beneath his jacket. He headed for the door.

“I'll be back soon,” he turned back to say, slipping into his one good pair of shoes.

“Sure. You'll be back before I know it.”