Page 23 of Never Quite Gone

CHAPTER 22

Breaking Point

T he 47th floor of Rothschild Development felt different at midnight. Emptier, older somehow, like the modern veneer had worn thin enough to show the centuries beneath. I sat at my desk reviewing acquisition papers, but my mind kept drifting to last night – to jazz notes and gentle dancing and the perfect simplicity of Eli's kiss.

The memory made me smile despite the late hour and endless paperwork. My fingers touched my lips unconsciously, still feeling the echo of that moment outside the club. After centuries of searching, of finding and losing him, the tenderness of that kiss had felt like coming home.

Movement in my doorway snapped me back to the present. Will stood there, and something in my chest tightened at the sight of him. My brother's usually impeccable appearance was disheveled – tie loosened, hair wild like he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. But it was his eyes that made ancient warning signals fire in my mind. They held a manic energy I recognized from other lifetimes, other versions of this soul that had once been friend, then enemy, now brother.

“I've been having dreams,” Will said, stepping into my office without invitation. His movements were jerky, uncontrolled – nothing like his usual calculated grace. “Dreams about power. About immortality.” His voice cracked slightly. “About you.”

I rose slowly, recognizing the dangerous edge in his tone. This was what Marcus and I had feared – memories surfacing too fast, too violently, without context or understanding to temper them.

“Will,” I said carefully, keeping my voice steady. “You should sit down. We can talk about whatever's troubling you.”

“Talk?” He laughed, but the sound held no humor. “Like you talked about the hospital project? About Dr. Monroe? About all the lives you've lived while the rest of us just die?”

His hands shook as he moved closer to my desk, and for the first time in centuries, I felt real fear of this soul that had been bound to mine through lifetimes. Not for myself – I'd faced his rage before, had survived his betrayal in that first life that started all this. But this version of him, this brother I'd grown to love in this particular present... I couldn't bear to see him torn apart by memories he wasn't ready to understand.

“How many times?” Will demanded, closer now. “How many lives have you collected? How many chances have you had while I...” He stumbled slightly, catching himself on my desk. “While I remember things that can't be real. Lives that aren't mine. Power that should be mine.”

Moonlight caught something in his hand – my antique letter opener, silver blade gleaming with deadly purpose. The sight sent memories crashing through my mind: other blades, other confrontations, other times this soul's jealousy had turned violent.

“Will, listen to me.” I kept my voice gentle despite the tension thrumming through my body. “What you're remembering – it's complicated. Dangerous. You need to let the memories come naturally, not force them.”

“Naturally?” His laugh held edges sharp enough to cut. “Like you? Perfect Alex, who gets to remember everything? Who gets to live again and again while the rest of us stumble through one life at a time?”

He moved with unexpected speed, the letter opener slashing where my throat had been a second before. Training from countless lifetimes took over as I dodged, unwilling to hurt my brother but seeing no recognition in those familiar eyes.

“Why you?” Will screamed, grief and rage twisting his features into something ancient and terrible. “Why are you the one who gets to remember? Who gets to find him in every life while I...” His voice cracked on something between sob and snarl. “While I dream of power I can't reach, of knowledge that burns, of lives I should remember but can't?”

His next attack drove me back against the window, forty-seven floors of empty air at my back. The letter opener pressed against my throat, its blade colder than it should be, older than its apparent age.

“I should have this power,” Will growled, his free hand fisted in my shirt. “I should be the one who lives forever. In that first life, I was the one who found the scrolls, who understood what they meant. But you...” Tears tracked down his face, though he didn't seem to notice them. “You took it all.”

“No, brother.” I kept my voice soft, using the title deliberately. “I didn't take anything. The price was too high – is still too high. Every life, every memory... they're not gifts. They're punishment.”

“Liar!” The blade pressed harder, drawing a thin line of blood. “I see how you look at him. How you chase him through lifetimes. That's not punishment – that's power. Power that should be mine.”

Memory crashed over me – another blade, another confrontation, the moment in that first life when this soul's jealousy had destroyed everything. But this wasn't then. This wasn't just another iteration of ancient patterns. This was my brother, the boy who'd followed me around with hero-worship in his eyes, the man who'd built his own success alongside mine.

“Will, please.” I didn't try to hide the tears in my own voice. “This isn't you. Not really. The memories are too much, too fast. Let me help you understand. ”

Something flickered in his eyes – recognition warring with rage. His hand shook where it held the blade, and for a moment I saw my brother through the centuries of tangled destiny.

“I dream of temples,” he whispered, his voice suddenly young and lost. “Of scrolls written in languages I shouldn't know. Of power that burns and burns and burns...” His grip tightened on my shirt. “Make it stop. Please, Alex. Make it stop.”

“I can't.” The truth hurt more than the blade at my throat. “But I can help you through it. Like I should have done in that first life, before everything went wrong.”

“Wrong?” Will's laugh held hysteria's edge. “What went wrong was you getting everything while I got nothing. Life after life, chance after chance, while I...” The blade pressed harder. “While I just die and die and die.”

The letter opener never reached its target. Will froze mid-strike, his body suddenly rigid as Marcus stepped into my office. His hand was raised in a gesture I hadn't seen in centuries, power rippling through the air like heat waves over summer asphalt.

“That's enough,” Marcus said, his usual corporate calm replaced by something older, more potent. The voice that had commanded armies, that had shaped destinies, that had watched over my family through generations.

Will struggled against invisible bonds, confusion replacing rage in his eyes. “What... what's happening to me?” The letter opener clattered to the floor, silver catching moonlight as it spun. His voice sounded younger suddenly, almost like the boy who used to crawl into my bed during thunderstorms.

Marcus approached with measured steps, his other hand beginning to glow with subtle energy that looked wrong in this modern office of glass and steel. Power that belonged to temple walls and sacred groves, not quarterly reports and acquisition papers.

“His memories are breaking through faster than we anticipated,” Marcus said, placing his glowing hand on Will's forehead. My brother's eyes rolled back, his body going slack as Marcus eased him into one of my visitor chairs. “The barrier I placed in his mind years ago is failing.”

I watched my oldest friend work, ancient magic shimmering in the space between heartbeats. How many times had he done this? How many generations of my family had he watched over, protecting them from truths they weren't ready to face?

“How long have you known?” I asked quietly, though part of me already knew the answer. “About Will's memories?”

Marcus's smile was tired, worn smooth like river stones. “I've been protecting your family for generations, old friend. Since that first life, when everything went wrong.” His hand stayed steady on Will's forehead, power flowing in gentle waves. “Will's soul... it remembers things it shouldn't. Things from before the curse. Before the binding that tied all of us together.”

My brother slumped deeper into unconsciousness as Marcus worked, his face finally peaceful. I studied his features – so like mine in this life, when in others we'd been stranger, enemy, friend. Always connected, always reaching for something just beyond his grasp.

“The new barrier won't hold long,” Marcus warned, his voice heavy with centuries of keeping secrets. “A few days, maybe a week. His soul is too strong, too determined to remember.” He stepped back, power fading from his hands. “And growing stronger with each life.”

I knelt beside my brother, remembering summers in the Hamptons, board meetings where he'd had my back, family dinners full of inside jokes and shared understanding. “What triggered this?” I asked, though Marcus's expression suggested I already knew the answer.

“Eli.” Marcus settled into another chair, suddenly looking every one of his immortal years. “Seeing you two together, watching the pattern reassert itself... it's awakening something in him. Something dangerous.”

“He's my brother,” I said softly, brushing Will's hair back from his forehead. “Not just in this life. His soul has been bound to mine since the beginning.”

“Which makes him more vulnerable, not less.” Marcus leaned forward, his eyes holding weight of millennia. “Think, Alex. Why do you think I've stayed so close to your family through generations? Why I've watched over Will particularly?”

Understanding hit like physical pain. “Because he remembers the original binding. Not just what came after, but the moment itself. When everything changed.”

Marcus nodded slowly. “His soul carries echoes of power it wasn't meant to touch. Knowledge it wasn't meant to hold. Each life, the memories get stronger, harder to contain.”

“And seeing Eli and me together...”

“Accelerates the process. Reminds his soul of what it lost, what it tried to claim.” Marcus gestured at the letter opener still lying on my office floor. “Tonight wasn't just jealousy or confusion. It was centuries of buried power trying to break free.”

I picked up the letter opener, its silver warm against my palm. “I should have seen it coming. The way he's been watching us, asking questions about the hospital project.”

“You've been focused on Eli.” Marcus's voice held no judgment, just understanding. “On helping him remember naturally, safely. But Will... his memories were never going to surface gently. There's too much power tangled in them, too much ancient knowledge trying to break through.”

Will stirred slightly in his chair, face twitching like he was dreaming. I wondered what he saw behind his eyes – temple fires and sacred scrolls, power that burned and burned and burned.

“How do we help him?” I asked, though I feared I knew the answer. “There has to be a way to ease him into remembering, like we're doing with Eli.”

“There isn't.” Marcus's bluntness was almost kind. “The barrier in his mind – it's not just containing memories. It's containing power that was never meant for mortal souls. Power that nearly destroyed everything in that first life.”

I remembered that moment in the temple, when Will had tried to claim immortality for himself. When jealousy and ambition had twisted something sacred into weapon. “But he's different now,” I argued. “He's my brother. He's grown beyond that first life's mistakes.”

“Has he?” Marcus's question hung in the air between us. “Or has he just been protected from making them again? The barrier doesn't just block memories, Alex. It blocks the very thing his soul keeps reaching for – the power to transcend death itself.”

The implications settled like lead in my chest. Every life, every iteration, Will's soul had been drawn to that same forbidden knowledge. And every life, Marcus had been there, placing barriers, protecting him from truth that would destroy him.

“Vale knows, doesn't he?” I asked suddenly, pieces clicking into place.

“Vale remembers more than he should, less than he needs to.” Marcus stood, moving to the window where Manhattan glittered below. “His own memories are fragmenting, distorting. He thinks he's protecting everyone, but he's only making things worse.”

“By pushing too hard, too fast.” I joined him at the window, city lights painting patterns like temple fires. “Like he did in that first life.”

“History repeats itself,” Marcus agreed quietly. “Until we learn to break the pattern.”

Will made a small sound in his sleep, almost like a child having nightmares. I turned back to him, this brother who had been so many things across so many lives.

“The barrier,” I said carefully. “How many times have you had to renew it?”

“Every life.” Marcus's voice carried weight of centuries. “Sometimes more than once, when the memories start breaking through. But it's getting harder. His soul grows stronger with each incarnation, more determined to remember.”

“And eventually?”

“Eventually the barrier will fail completely.” Marcus met my eyes steadily. “And when it does, all that ancient power, all that forbidden knowledge – it will either destroy him or transform him into something beyond mortal understanding.”

Together we moved Will to my office couch, arranging him carefully to make it look like he'd simply fallen asleep during late work. His face was peaceful now, showing no sign of the violent memories that had nearly torn him apart.

“He won't remember this episode,” Marcus explained, methodically cleaning up evidence of the struggle. The letter opener disappeared into his pocket, papers were straightened, everything returning to corporate normalcy. “But the memories are still there, building pressure. Next time might be worse.”

I touched the spot on my throat where the blade had nearly found its mark. Not the first time Will had tried to kill me, but somehow this felt different. More desperate. More primal.

“He talked about immortality,” I said quietly. “About collecting lives.”

Marcus's expression darkened as he adjusted Will's collar, erasing signs of our confrontation. “He's piecing it together wrong. Seeing the pattern but misunderstanding its nature. That makes him more dangerous than Vale ever was.”

“This shouldn't be possible,” I said, watching my brother breathe peacefully. In sleep, he looked like the boy who used to build pillow forts in our family library, who cried when I left for college, who stood beside me at every major milestone of this life. “The spell was supposed to prevent anyone else from remembering. That's why Vale cast it in the first place.”

Marcus shook his head, ancient power still shimmering faintly around his hands. “Will's different. His soul...” He paused, choosing words with immortal care. “It's older than the curse. Older than the pattern itself. I've suspected for years, but tonight confirms it.”

Cold settled in my chest as understanding dawned. “What are you saying?”

“He's not just remembering your past lives.” Marcus straightened, power fading from his hands but weight remaining in his voice. “He's remembering what came before. What caused all of this.”

The implications hit like physical force. “Before the temple? Before Vale's curse?”

“Before everything.” Marcus moved to the window where pre-dawn light was just beginning to paint the sky. “His soul carries echoes of knowledge that was old when I was young. Power that should have been lost when the first temples fell.”

I studied my brother's sleeping face, seeing him with new eyes. How many times had we played this pattern out? How many lives had his soul chased echoes of power it was never meant to touch?

“The dreams he mentioned,” I said slowly, pieces clicking into terrible place. “They're not just about our shared lives, are they?”

“No.” Marcus's reflection in the window looked ancient and tired. “He dreams of things that should be forgotten. Things that Vale's curse was meant to bury forever.”

Dawn approached as we finished making everything appear normal. My office returned to its usual corporate efficiency, all signs of ancient power and violent confrontation erased. But nothing could erase the nature of what I'd learned, the terrifying implications of Will's true nature.

“Protect Eli,” Marcus warned as we prepared to wake Will. “Your brother's obsession with immortality, his ability to remember what should be forgotten – it makes him unpredictable. Dangerous.”

I thought of Eli's steady hands, of last night's perfect kiss, of all the lives we'd lost to violence and fate. “How long do we have?”

Marcus's expression was grim as he began the spell to wake Will. “Not long enough. The pattern is accelerating. Everything's coming to a head, and this time...” He paused, ancient power shimmering around his hands one final time. “This time, Will might be strong enough to break more than just your curse.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it.” Marcus's voice dropped lower, though Will showed no signs of stirring yet. “If his soul really does remember what came before – if he's accessing knowledge from before the temples, before the binding that created this pattern... He could unravel everything. Not just the curse that keeps you and Eli finding each other, but the very foundations of power that maintain balance between life and death.”

The sun began to rise over Manhattan, painting my office in shades of gold and promise. But all I could see was Will's face twisted with desperate rage, his hands reaching for power he didn't understand.

Will stirred slightly, Marcus's awakening spell beginning to take effect. Soon he would open his eyes, innocent of the night's violence, unaware of the terrible knowledge building in his soul.

“What do we do?” I asked, though I feared I knew the answer.

“We watch. We wait. We try to protect him from himself.” Marcus's hand hovered over Will's forehead one last time. “But most importantly – we prepare for what happens when the barriers finally fail. When all that ancient knowledge breaks free.”

“And Eli?”

“Keep him close, but be careful.” Marcus said. “The stronger your connection grows, the more Will's soul will fight to remember. To reclaim power it lost before recorded history began.”

The sun rose fully, morning light transforming my office back into its usual corporate self. Will's eyelids flickered as Marcus's spell completed its work. Soon he would wake, return to being my brilliant, ambitious younger brother who built his own success alongside mine.

But I would remember. Would see the ancient soul beneath modern polish, the desperate reach for power that had shaped our pattern since before the first temples rose.

“Alex?” Will's voice was drowsy, confused. “Did I fall asleep during the merger review?”

“You've been working too hard,” I said, the lie tasting like protection. “Let me call you a car home. ”

He sat up slowly, rubbing his neck. “Weird dreams,” he muttered. “Something about temples and scrolls...”

Marcus and I exchanged glances over his head. “Work stress,” Marcus said smoothly. “You should take tomorrow off.”

Will nodded, gathering himself with his usual efficiency. But as he headed for the door, something made him pause. “Alex?”

“Yes?”

“Do you ever feel like...” He hesitated, struggling with words that shouldn't mean anything. “Like you're remembering things that haven't happened yet? Or happened so long ago they couldn't be real?”

My heart ached at the lost note in his voice. “Get some rest, brother. Everything will make more sense after sleep.”

He smiled, the expression pure Will – my brother, my supporter, my friend in this life. “You're probably right. Goodnight, Alex. Marcus.”

We watched him go, waited until the elevator doors closed behind him. Only then did Marcus speak.

“The greatest threat to your love story has never been Vale's curse,” he said quietly. “It's always been Will. His soul remembering what it lost, what it never should have known in the first place.”

The sun painted Manhattan in shades of possibility, but all I could see was my brother's face twisted with ancient knowledge, his hands reaching for power that could destroy everything.

“Watch over him,” I said, though I didn't need to. Marcus had been doing exactly that for longer than either of us could remember.

“Always.”

I touched my throat where the letter opener had drawn blood, thinking of Eli's kiss and Will's rage and the pattern that bound us all together.