While his drugged body slept on the operating table, Rowan's unconscious mind journeyed to a lifeless place without definite color or substance. In self defense against the death of the other that was also a death inside himself, he traveled back into the dark night of long ago, back to a time when he and the Siamese twin who was dying were as one.

And Rowan heard voices.

...

It was always awkward, being Siamese twins. Awake or asleep, it was hard to be comfortable.

Of course, the corpse of the woman made it even more awkward. The twin's voices were the only thing alive in the blackness of the night. Three bodies sprawled on the bed. The bed was large enough for three and seemed peculiarly suited to its occupants.

A match flared in the dark. A candle caught and cast its shadow, banishing some of the gloom but not dispelling it. Rowan had lit the candle and he now peered through the darkness down at the corpse. How like Rowan to light a candle. As if the feeble light made anything better.

Martin regarded the corpse in the dimly lit room.

"Think of it, Rowan. She staggers into our room, late at night! Who knows what's in her mind! She falls across our legs, naked. Naked! Mustn't forget that. She heaves herself across us with either her last bit of strength or nonchalance and stops breathing. Curious is it not? Perhaps she was thinking of sex at the last moment, though why she would have that kind of thought in our direction is beyond me."

Martin waved the bottle for emphasis.

"Maybe it's some form of weird kamikaze sex? Do you think that is what she had in mind? She's quite ugly enough to want sex with us, I suppose. But death does her no favors. That stuff she takes with a needle. Too much, I would guess."

Rowan was at end of his tether.

He almost screamed.

"I'll hit you in the face! I swear I'll mark you for life if you don't put that bottle down! I can feel it! I'm getting drunk! We're both getting drunk!"