*		*		*
     Snow falls lightly on the bleak landscape. It covers the ground, 
shining softly white as the twilight begins. Beautiful, peaceful white, 
broken only by indigo and red.
     The red is spread across the snow, still continues to spread, staining 
the falling snow with its color and warmth. The deeper colors, shades of 
indigo, purple and black, come clear as the shapes of two people, locked in 
a final embrace. Their lifeblood stains the snow. In one's hand, the gun 
that killed the other; in the other's, the knife that killed the one. The 
snow that lands on their still bodies melts with the remnants of their 
life's warmth.
     Another shape stands against the snow, approaching. Death is her 
enemy. She will do battle with it, no matter who its victims were. Now she 
bends to the two. Their hearts still beat. She could save them, and make 
them anew. She could take their gifts and turn them away from the path of 
destruction. She could heal the madness within them both, make them happy, 
normal.
     Later, when the searchers come, the snow has almost covered the blood, 
healing the rent in the peaceful white.
		*		*		*

Aite
(In Love and War)


     Kyla put her clothes back on and sat down in the doctor's office, 
waiting for the diagnosis. Absently her eyes fixed on a pencil. She took it 
and began to tap it nervously against the arm of her chair, balancing it 
between two well-bitten fingers. With the other hand, she played with her 
hair, running her finger through blonde strands and twisting them into 
spirals.
     The door opened. The pencil feel from Kyla's hand, and she looked up 
into Dr. Kymel's face. "What is it? What's wrong with me?"
    "Nothing bad," Kymel said, "just puzzling." She shut the door behind 
her, walked over and perched on the diagnosis table in a rather undignified 
pose. "You're pregnant, Kyla." 
    "Pregnant..?" Kyla stared at her. The word sounded wrong, somehow. She 
couldn't quite grasp it. In Kyla Samonetti's mind, the words "I" and 
"pregnant" seemed to be somehow incompatible. She hadn't even considered it 
as a possible cause of her stomach pains of late. "How..."
     Kymel regarded her with a raised eyebrow. "Kyla, I assume I don't have 
to explain the facts of life to you."
    "It's not that... I thought Jay was sterile. Or that I was. It just... 
maybe something else I don't quite remember."
    "Well, I think your instincts had some basis. I thought you would be 
sterile, too," Kymel said. "But you *are* pregnant-- and that proves I 
succeeded with you. Not only did I save your life, I managed to make you a 
healthy, normally functioning woman again. You know, that's quite an 
accomplishment." She began to smile, almost unconsciously,
the way she always did when she got full of herself regarding her victory 
over death. Kyla cut her off.
    "Can you give me an abortion?"
     Dr. Kymel lost the smile. "An abortion! *Why*?" she asked, horrifed.
     Kyla looked into her eyes evenly. "I don't want to be pregnant. I'd 
need to take leave from my job, maybe quit, and Jay doesn't make enough to 
support us both... and that would knock me off the fasttrack. I'd lose 
years off my career, plodding along with the other hausfraus. I think I 
make a much better PR person than I'd ever make a
mother... and I just don't feel ready." She was aware that her reasoning 
might sound callous, and tried to qualify it. "I hardly know who I am... I 
just don't feel like I would be a good mother. I'm too selfish. And Jay's 
worse than I am. There isn't a responsible bone in his body."
     "Now that's not true. I think Jay would make a loving father. He 
doesn't *need* to be responsible-- he has you supporting him. Wouldn't you 
consider discussing it with him?"
    "It's not his body. It's mine."
     Kymel sighed deeply. "Well, I'm sorry, Kyla. I'd do it if I could. 
Even though I don't approve at all, I'd have to respect your right to your 
own body. But in this case, it's out of the question. An abortion would 
kill you."
    "What? *Why*?"
    "Let me see if I can explain this... The supplements you take. You know 
your female reproductive system was damaged when you almost died. The 
supplements keep you feminine. The fact is, though, an insult to your 
sustem, such as an abortion, will very likely cause cancer and kill you."
    "What if I stop taking the supplements? I'll miscarry, won't I?"
    "Don't do that!" Dr. Kymel leapt off the table, horrified, and grasped 
Kyla's shoulders. "Kyla, more than *ever* you need to take your supplements 
now. If you miss even a day, you might do far worse than kill your baby. 
You might kill yourself as well. You *have* to take your supplements, Kyla, 
or I can almost guarantee you'll die."
    "That-- that doesn't make any sense."
    "When you're a medical doctor, Kyla, you can tell me it doesn't make 
any sense. Listen. I pulled you and Jay back from the brink of death. You 
were as close as doesn't matter. It was a miracle I was able to save either 
of you, let alone both. If there are a few things about your condition that 
don't seem to make sense, remember neither
of you are exactly normal anymore." She released Kyla's shoulders. "I do 
know how you feel, Kyla. When I first became pregnant, I thought it was 
then end of the world. But I felt differently after the baby was born. It 
doesn't have to mean the end of your career-- you and Jay can work 
something out, or you could hire some help. I could have David help. Don't 
worry. I don't want to see your career hurt either. I'll
do my best to make it easier on you. And afterward, if you want, I can help 
you prevent another pregnancy. Is that fair?"
    "I suppose it has to be," Kyla muttered. "I don't *want* to be 
pregnant.."
    "I'll help you."
     Kyla found that small comfort.

     Jay Samonetti was mostly buried under his car when his wife of a year 
and a half walked up to him and said, without preamble, "I'm pregnant, 
Jay."
    "You say something, Ky?" He didn't extricate himself from the car.
    "Yes. I'm pregnant."
    "*Preg*-- aah!" There was an audible thunk, and a fluent stream of 
curses in numerous languages, most of which Jay didn't remember how to do 
anything but swear in anymore. He slid out from under the car, still 
cursing and rubbing his head. "Jesus! You could have given me some 
warning!"
    "Not my fault you're under that car all the time."
    "You're fucking *pregnant*?"
    "That's usually how it happens, you know."
     He glared at her. "Fuck your word games, Kyla. Did Dr. Kymel tell you 
you were pregnant?"
    "Yes. And if you care, I did ask if I could get it aborted. She says it 
would kill me."
    "I didn't say anything about wanting you to get an abortion," Jay said 
hastily. He meant he wasn't *that* averse to the notion of her pregnancy, 
but she took it wrong, as usual.
    "Exactly when did I start needing your permission on what to do with my 
body, Jay Samonetti?"
    "I didn't--" Skip it. He wasn't going to be able to explain. "You sound 
like you don't like the idea. Of being pregnant."
    "No! I *love* the idea of carrying a parasite around in my body for 
nine months, and then going through torture to get it *out*!"
     Jay got to his feet. "I thought women were supposed to love their 
babies."
    "This isn't a baby. It's a random collection of cells. Maybe when it's 
a baby I'll love it." She sighed. "In any case, I can't abort it, so we're 
going to have a child whether we like it or not. We're going to have to 
adjust our lifestyles a lot."
     He nodded. "I understand. You're going to have to quit your job, 
aren't you?"
     She stared in disbelief. "Me, quit *my* job? Jay, I make six orseven 
times what you do. If I quit, we'll drop down into the poverty level. You 
can quit being a fireman and take care of the baby during the day instead 
of spending all your time on the racetrack or at the firehouse."
    "*I* can quit? You're the baby's *mother*!"
    "And you're the baby's father! You don't make any money, you might as 
*well* quit and take care of it!"
    "I save *lives*, Kyla! You make corrupt politicians look good to the 
sheep that vote for them!"
    "*I'm* supporting the two of us! If I was some helpless housewife, we'd 
be starving in a *ditch* somewhere!"
    "Only because you'd have *spent* all the money on your goddamn clothes 
and music!"
    "I suppose you'd rather we lived in some rathole closet and slept on 
the floor?"
    "I'm *not* quitting. You take maternity leave."
    "Why do I have to take maternity leave? Whose fucking *fault* is it 
that I'm pregnant?"
    "I never heard you complaining!"
    "No, and I imagine none of the others complained either!"
    "What others?" Jay asked, floored.
    "The other *women*, you bastard!"
    "What other women?" he stalled.
    "The one whose bloody damned *lipstick* I found in your car! It's not 
my brand, and Dr. Kymel doesn't wear lipstick!"
    "So it was one of Dave's girlfriends. He borrows my car."
    "Your racecar, Jay? The one you won't even let *me* drive?"
    "Hey, I have female racing partners..."
    "I imagine you do. I imagine they rev your engines just *wonderfully*."
    "That's not fair--"
    "Well, you know what they say, all's fair in love and war, right?" Kyla 
snarled.
    "Yeah, and sometimes I don't know which you think this is!" Jay 
exploded, grabbing the car door and wrenching it open as he fished his keys 
from his back pocket. "I don't have to take this crap from you, Kyla--"
    "Where are you going? Don't run out on me!"
     He got in, slammed the door, and started the engine without answering 
her.
    "Dammit, Jay, stop ignoring me!" Kyla was left behind in a squeal of 
tires and smoke. "JAY!!"
     But he was gone.
     Kyla stared after him, her anger making her heart thud, and at the 
same time remorse starting to twist in her stomach. She had handled this 
all wrong. She had meant to bring up the lipstick when she was calm enough 
to control the argument that would result. Instead, the situation over the 
pregnancy-- something she *should* be happy with, something any normal 
woman would be jumping with joy over-- had upset her so much that she'd 
exploded. And now Jay had taken off for his precious racetrack, shutting 
her out again--
     She walked back into the house, into the bedroom she shared with Jay, 
and her eyes fell on their wedding picture. Things had seemed wonderful 
then. They had lost their pasts, but at least they still had each other-- 
they could replace the lives they'd almost lost, could build a new life 
together, a rosy future--
     Thinking of how it was changing, all the arguments of late, of the 
evidence she was losing Jay, she began to cry, falling to her knees by the 
bed and sobbing brokenly, clenching her hands in the fabric of the 
bedcovers in rage and grief. She was losing him, her love, the one person 
in the world she cared about, the only one who
cared about her-- losing him, and somehow it resonated with the emptiness 
in her past, so she knew, without any clear details, that she had lost 
before, had been lonely before, and she would rather die than lose again, 
than lose the person who gave her life meaning...
     She held a high-powered job in a public relations office, designing 
images, writing speeches, and it seemed natural, easy. She was good at it-- 
it, too, resonated with the past she no longer had, and she put a lot of 
work into it. But nobody at work knew her. She masked herself from them as 
effortlessly as she designed plastic
images for the political figures her company worked for, her facade as 
hollow as theirs. But Jay knew her from before she had put up her walls, 
from before she'd quite been a person yet. They had each helped to shape 
the other's personality, building on the blank slate they'd both been, 
after Dr. Kymel had saved them... Now she couldn't imagine letting down her 
defenses again, letting anybody in who hadn't been there from the 
beginning.
     If she lost Jay... she would never be able to be herself with anyone 
again. She would never have anyone else. She would be lonely forever. 
     Kyla Samonetti wept, knowing she was somehow driving her husband away, 
but unable to stop...

     Jay Samonetti tore down the road at 90 mph and counting, fuming to 
himself. *Damn* Kyla's paranoia. If she was going to bitch like that over a 
lousy lipstick, he might as *well* cheat. It wasn't like he hadn't been 
tempted, but he hadn't *done* anything. Well, he hadn't slept with anyone, 
at least. There'd been a little necking, all right.
He wouldn't deny that. But he hadn't *slept* with the girl. If Kyla was 
going to give him this kind of shit, though, he might as well sleep with 
the women he met-- it wouldn't get any worse, at least...
     Only that was wrong. It wasn't fair to Kyla to pull shit like that. He 
knew that. She was probably just upset over the baby. Not that she wasn't 
thoroughly capable of throwing fits for no apparent reason, though. God, if 
she was going to be like this all through the pregnancy he might just kill 
himself. Or her.
     He did love Kyla, although he wasn't sure exactly why. She was a 
violent, passionate woman, a lot like him in temperament, except that her 
rages tended to burn cold instead of hot, and that she was a lot smarter, 
and knew it. It seemed to him that a compliant, quiet woman might have 
suited him better. But it was too late now-- they'd all seem like plastic 
dolls compared to Kyla. He relied on her to keep his
balance. He needed someone to love and someone to love him, someone to 
support and someone to support him, or he'd go spinning off into a 
Never-Never-Land of meaningless excitement and lonely fun. He wouldn't 
cheat on her, really, no matter how much he was tempted, because he was 
responsible for her sanity, and that gave him the responsibility *he* 
needed to prevent from being bored out of his mind with life.
     Dr. Kymel had told him that. "Kyla has some extremely unstable 
tendencies. You're responsible for keeping her happy and balanced." Dr. 
Kymel was pretty smart. She knew Jay had to feel like he was doing somthing 
with his life, like he was helping somebody, or he'd feel like there was no 
point. At the same time, though, he needed excitement. That was why he'd 
become a firefighter, so he could help people and get the excitement he 
needed at the same time. It was also why he needed wild, unstable Kyla. And 
then, in some respects she was cooler and harder-headed than he was, more 
practical. And he needed her for that, too.
     So he wasn't going to cheat on her. But damn, she could be a bitch 
sometimes. And if she was going to be like this the whole nine months, or 
however much was left?...
     He was going to hang out at the racetrack. *She* was the responsible 
one; let her deal with it.           

     When he returned, she was contrite, and he was apologetic, and they 
both tacitly agreed not to bring the subject up. By a tremendous effort of 
will, Kyla refrained from mentioning the lipstick again. It didn't stop 
plaguing her, though. And since they went out of their way to be nice to 
each other for the next four days, and not mention
anything that would upset the other-- like the baby-- there was no other 
conflict to take her mind off it. She grew more and more convinced Jay was 
cheating on her, probably at his precious racetrack. So one day, she called 
in sick from a pay phone after leaving for work, and headed for the 
reacetrack.

     Jay did not quite know what drew him to the track. He suspected he'd 
been involved with racing in his former life, it seemed to fit him so well. 
Of course, he wasn't professional now, if he'd ever been. When he competed 
now, it was in amateur tournaments that sometimes involved money prizes but 
more often didn't do anything but show off one's skills.
     He was tuning up his race car once again-- after all, it might have 
been damaged in the drive here-- when he heard a woman's voice behind him, 
speaking Japanese. "Joe! Joe ne? Joe ja nai no?"
     Jay turned, startled. A Japanese girl of about 19 had accosted him. "I 
don't speak Japanese," he said, although he'd understood perfectly what 
she'd said. *Aren't you Joe?* Yet another thing to chalk up to his past-- 
he'd spoken Japanese once.
     "You-- you must be Joe! Joe, don't you remember me? It's Jun!" She 
switched into English and grabbed his arms.
     "Uh-- no, I don't--" He tried to extricate himself. 
     A poisonously sweet voice from behind inquired, "Is this one of your 
female `racing partners', Jay?" Jay turned, heart sinking. Kyla stood 
behind him in full bitch mode-- drawn up to her full considerable height, 
blonde hair pulled into a bun, catching fire in the bright sunlight. He 
heard the woman clutching his shoulders gasp.
     "Anta wa..." The girl stepped back from Jay, as he automatically 
translated. *You!
*     Kyla stepped forward and rested a possessive hand on Jay's
shoulder, smiling like a cat. "I see he neglected to tell you he had a
wife. Don't look so shocked, little girl-- did you truly think *you* could 
claim him?"
     "Wife?.." The words sounded as if the girl's tongue was numb. "You're 
his *wife*?"
     "For the past year and a half," Jay interjected, trying to save the 
situation. "Kyla, it's not what you think. She just came up and grabbed 
me-- she thinks I'm some guy named Joe."
     "But you are! Aren't you? Joe, it's me!"
     Kyla frowned at the girl. "Who's Joe? Your boyfriend, perhaps?"
     "No, my-- my friend. My foster brother. You-- are you *sure* you're 
not Joe? You look so much like him..."
     "No, I'm not sure..." Jay muttered. "Why do you think I'm him?"
     "He disappeared two years ago. We-- we thought he was dead, but... you 
look like him, you sound like him.. and he was a racer, too."
     "Two years ago.." Jay turned to Kyla. "Ky, it's possible. That's when 
Dr. Kymel saved us. This girl might know who I was!"
     "But what about me?" Kyla asked. "If we were lovers before, shouldn't 
she know about me, too?"
     "Lovers..." the girl whispered disbelievingly. Jay turned back to her.
     "Look. You might be right. Two years ago Kyla and I both nearly died, 
and we lost our memories. I could be your friend Joe, maybe. But Kyla and I 
were lovers before the accident. You don't recognize her, too?"
     "How do you know you were lovers if you don't remember?"
     It was Kyla who answered, one arm twined around Jay's. "The doctor who 
saved us found us dying in each other's arms. We were obviously not total 
strangers."
     "I... see." The girl looked like she either didn't believe it, or she 
didn't want to. "Anyway, my name's Jun. Would you, uh.. be willing to go 
with me to see the rest of the family? They all throught you-- uh, Joe-- 
was dead, and they'd be thrilled to see you, even if you don't remember..."
     "You didn't answer Jay's question," Kyla said.
     "What-- do I recognize you? No, I don't. But Joe had a lot of 
girlfriends." She was a lousy liar. Even Jay could tell that Jun thought 
she knew who Kyla was, and didn't like it. For Kyla, who was somewhat 
paranoid and an expert on lies, it must be clear as day.
     "Hey. Don't lie to us. Kyla *does* remind you of someone. Who?"
     Jun swallowed. "Okay... but she can't be who she looks like. You say 
you've been married a year and a half?"
     "Yeah."
     "The person she reminds me of... well, you wouldn't have stayed 
married for a year and a half. So I don't really recognize your wife. It's 
just she reminds me of someone she can't *possibly* be." 
     "Why can't I?" Kyla asked.
     "Have you killed anyone lately?"
     Kyla flushed with rage. "*No*!" Jay knew why she was so furious-- Kyla 
was pacifistic to the point where she was squeamish about killing bugs. 
"What do you mean by asking me a thing like that?"
     "The person I'm thinking of was an insane killer. You're not. And Joe 
hated... her."
     "Oh." Kyla sounded slightly mollified. "I suppose I'm something of a 
type. anyway. I've seen a million European models who look like me."
     "Mm." Jun nodded her head quickly. "Anyway, will the two of you come 
with me?"
     Kyla and Jay looked at each other. "I really want to know," he said in 
a low voice.
     "All right," Kyla said. She turned, automatically speaking for the two 
of them. "We'll go with you."