From: Coucher de Soleil Subject: I was a Male War Bride (6/?) Date: Sun, 11 Apr 1999 21:40:17 -0400 (EDT) MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII I know this has been a long time coming, but I do intend to finish it ASAP. :) Bea. -------------------------------------------------- Please see part one for disclaimers, etc. My fanfic (including back parts to this story) can be found at: http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Orion/3539/index.html If you have any problems or anything, just let me know and I'll do my best to help you out! :) I would like to dedicate this part to all those who strive to make peace in this world -in particular those who help(ed) make and keep the tenuous peace in Northern Ireland, and to the innocents who died in the bombing of Omagh. On with the story now... **************************************************************************** The days after the terrorist incursion on Babylon 5 were pure chaos. Civilians, informed of the details of the situation, could not get off the station fast enough. The overloaded dockworkers were working as fast as they could. The medlabs were trying to prepare for any and all possibilities and tending to wounded from the previous attack simultaneously. Meanwhile, station security was on high alert, watching all critical areas of the station against further attacks. And for the command crew who were the station's administration, it was a nightmare -and one signed, sealed, delivered and detailed on sheets of paper in soothing pastel hues. Paperwork. Right there you had one thing about this situation that ticked Susan Ivanova off: the ones who got punished were not only the ones that blew things up. Several days after the terrorist attack she was still reeling from the paperwork of it. *Now there's an idea. Get criminals to process paperwork -don't even bother with mindwipe and all that... You'd probably see a sizeable reduction in crime rates as soon as people realized just what FUN that entails...* "Security to Commander Ivanova -" Her link cut into her thoughts. "Ivanova here." "Look, I know it's still kinda crazy around here Commander, but we can work you in now if you've got a minute." Work her in? She shrugged, then sighed. "What the hell, let's get it over with. I'll be right there." The 'working her in' meant that overworked station security had finally found the time to get up a lineup to see if she remembered the face of the man they said had to have stabbed her in Downbelow. As far as she was concerned, this was a waste of time seeing as she didn't remember anything from that night, but she had still agreed to give it a try. Security had been busy even before the terrorists had struck: tension had been high due to the Shadow/Vorlon threat and that had made keeping the peace difficult. *Peace? What peace?* She thought sarcastically. **** "Look, I *told* you before. I don't remember. I STILL don't remember, and staring at all these people is not going to help that any!" The security officer facing her held his hands out to stop her complaint, then sighed. "All right then, I understand, Commander. We've got the right guy, and we'll nail him anyways, the proof's all there. We didn't really need you to be able to pick him out anyway." The man moved away to dismiss the retinue of average height, dirty, nondescript men on the other side of the viewscreen. Ivanova turned to Garibaldi, who had insisted on being present for this. *Does everyone think I'm made of glass these days?* She asked herself, and sighed mentally. *Then again, can I blame them? I guess I shouldn't have yelled at the guy.* "Is he telling me the truth?" She asked him, looking him right in the eye. Garibaldi nodded. "I'd say there's enough physical evidence to convict him. Your testimony would have helped, but it isn't essential. And as for it being him who stabbed you, both my gut and the evidence say it is. I'd say that this one is relatively straightforward: he stabbed you when you were in Downbelow, and stole your credit chit. He was broke and he's addicted to some of the nastier drugs lurkers get hooked on -so he's got a motive. He had the credit chit in his pocket when we caught him. DNA scans confirm your blood was on his clothing, and his prints and DNA are on the weapon. There's other things that point to him too." She nodded. Michael knew she liked things told to her straight. "Thanks." She said simply and succinctly, and left. **** Her next few days were hectic, beginning early and ending late. She had no intention of letting her friends down again. In her mind, it was very simple: they needed her, and she was fine now. As for Marcus... She became very good at avoiding him. She didn't want to think on the why. He simply made her uncomfortable, that was all. As she stepped into her quarters on the fourth night after the terrorist attack and smelled a delicious smell coming from the vicinity of her kitchen, she saw that she apparently hadn't succeeded at avoiding him completely. *I knew you wouldn't take the time to eat.* The note said, *So I left you a little something I raided from Garibaldi's kitchen.* The lasagna turned out to be delicious. His meddling in her life however, wasn't. **** During the following weeks things went from bad to worse. With everyone on the station keeping themselves forever ready for another attack, tension and fear began to create problems of their own. Between maintaining patrols against terrorist attempts and policing the increasingly restless population, station security was stretched to the limit. Tension also increased for Susan Ivanova. The temporary reinstatement she had obtained from Sheridan was subject to several conditions. He had pointed out sadly that he was already going against regulations in allowing her to return to her duties, and would not have done so if he had not needed her so badly, and were it not for the medlab shrink she had been assigned and required to visit who had been of the opinion that returning to duty for the time being was perhaps best, as she had to deal with "a certain level of guilt regarding desertion of her colleagues". As it was, the simple fact of the matter was that the no one else save Delenn had sufficient leadership experience, and Delenn did not have anywhere near the knowledge of day to day station operations that Ivanova did. Beyond that, Delenn was already busy dealing with the other situation on their hands: belligerent races who truly believed they possessed the exclusive right to explore and strip Z'ha'dum, the Vorlon homeworld and other worlds occupied until recently by the First Ones for any technology they could find. Therein lay another problem facing everyone. So far, apparently no one had succeeded in removing anything, and there was the very real chance of booby traps against looting which made many hesitate to undertake such ventures, but squabbling over the rights to this technology had already begun. Sheridan had the Whitestar fleet keep a close eye on the comings and goings near those worlds, still this was yet another potentially volatile situation facing them. The conditions Sheridan had imposed before allowing her to return to duty were to have a professional counsellor referred by Franklin (in other words, the aforementioned shrink) monitor her daily, and to have her blood alcohol levels checked twice daily. The temporary compromise was that as long as she stayed sober and worked on her problems, she could keep her job. As days and then weeks passed, memory of her attack receded somewhat in the minds of those around her, and she took on more responsibilities. She went faithfully every day, twice a day to have her blood tested, and managed to sit through the obligatory counseling sessions, useless though she believed those to be. Seeking help, especially professional, had always seemed like a display of weakness to her. Another paternal legacy, and one that told her that she would deal with what ailed her in her own time and in her own way, as she always had. Her days were long, and her nights even longer. Whenever she managed to see her bed, her sleep was visited by ghosts which her usual nightime remedy, now forbidden, could not dispel. And there was not always time for sleep. In fact, there was harly ever anytime to sleep. Her only consolation during this time was that Marcus was sent away on a mission for two weeks. When he was there she managed to avoid him -most of the time. Despite her best efforts he did catch up with her occasionally, and he always meddled. Or tried to. Such was the state of things when, three months after returning to duty, medlab personnel found her unconscious on the floor of her quarters and discovered a lethal mixture of alcohol and an illegal drug known as rhosaprine (known in the netherworlds as "the big O" for the extreme rush of pleasure it gave users) in her bloodstream. **** Consciousness came to her slowly, by soft yet clinging layers. Her first realization of the outside was that a hand was holding hers. She eventually managed to open her eyes. "Hello Susan." It was Marcus. "Oh. It's you." She croaked belligerently. And closed her eyes again. "Yes, unfortunately." *Yes, it's me, my dearest love. Did you think you could be rid of me so easily? Do you think I don't hear you screaming inside, screaming your silent pain the way I scream mine? I understand you. I can feel you as clearly as I feel my own beating heart, or my own breath. Because you are my breath, and my heart. Were I to die, I would stay here by you still. I will help you heal, despite yourself. I will do this without wishing for anything in return -and if you never feel for me and yet live a happy life I will feel blessed. And selfish, perhaps, for in helping you to happiness I will perhaps once again see the light of your smile.* And so Marcus stayed, and thought all the things he could never say aloud. **** "I'm sorry Marcus, but I'm finding it hard to just put this behind me. Susan, my *friend*, almost died. Again." Sheridan repeated. Marcus looked down at the other man, seated at his office desk. "It wasn't your fault." Sheridan shook his head. "No. The regs were clear -I should never have let her back on duty. And the result demonstrates just how wrong I was." Marcus put his hands on the desk and faced him. "I disagree." He hesitated a moment before straightening again, and continued, "I know you lost a great many friends and people you cared about. If Susan were in this room now, I think she would be reminding you that not everything is your fault. You did what you could, in an essentially untenable situation." Sheridan looked at Marcus with some surprise, then, "You've been spending time with Susan Ivanova, that much's obvious." He said finally, smiling. Marcus nodded. "I love her." He said simply, and plowed through Sheridan's even greater surprise at this matter of fact admission. "I want to take care of her. More than anything, I want her to find joy again. Joy to fill the emptiness." Sheridan looked at him quietly for a moment. "And you think that'll help?" He asked. Marcus looked him straight in the eye. "It did for me." **** TO BE CONTINUED From: Coucher de Soleil Subject: I was a Male War Bride (7/?) Date: Sun, 11 Apr 1999 21:40:39 -0400 (EDT) Next part of "I was a Male War Bride" (in case anybody cares... :). My fanfic can be found at: http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Orion/3539/index.html I would like to thank my good friend Angela Brewer for beta reading, and dedicate this part to her. It's weird not to have you around to call every five minutes, girl!!! ;-) Please see part 1 for disclaimers etc. On with it now... *************************************************************************** *You really are hovering, you know.* Susan Ivanova thought to herself as she watched Marcus flutter about her room supposedly putting things to rights. *In two minutes, I'm going to do something really drastic. Maybe if I pulled your pants up over your head, tied them off and... Maybe if I used that damn pike you're so proud of? What if I sealed the whole thing up with magnetic clamps?* "Susan?" She sighed. "Yes Marcus?" Why couldn't he leave her the hell alone? The physical side of her condition had required her to stay only a few days in medlab (after which she had been deemed fully recovered physically), but everyone had apparently agreed that the emotional side of it required constant supervision and frequent counseling sessions -and those latter at least tended to be about as pleasant as a rectal exam. Since everyone on station including Medlab personnel was swamped by emergencies (often due to the tense situation on station), the person chosen to "oversee her recovery" was Marcus bloody Cole. She had been released from medlab two days ago, and had spent all her time so far in bed. *I really screwed things up this time, didn't I?* "Are you hungry?" Marcus cut into her thoughts. Susan shook her head and closed her eyes. If only she could sleep. "Is there anything special you'd like to do?" She shook her head again. There was silence for a moment, and then she started when she felt him take her hand in his. "Then maybe you'd like to talk." He said quietly, holding her hand. She shook her head, and his hand tightened about hers. "You have to talk about it sometime. When you're ready to do that, I want you to remember that I'm here to listen. You're not alone." He paused for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice had a pleading note to it. "I care about you. I'm your friend. Please remember that." He stood and went back to the chair he had recently vacated, by her bedside. Refusing to even argue with him over the need to watch over her while she slept, Susan closed her eyes. Ghosts visited her sleep, as usual. **** "Susan?" The figure standing before her in the mist called to her. Her face was an accusation. "Talia? How can you be here? You're... I must be..." The other lifted a finger, and pointed it at her silently. Accusingly? "What?" Susan asked. There was no answer. The dream shifted and she found herself gazing at her brother, proud in his Earthforce pilot's uniform. He looked at her silently and walked away to his ship. The ship rose into space and exploded. Another shift. She found herself staring at her brother, proud in his Earthforce pilot's uniform. He looked at her silently and walked away towards his ship. "Ganja!" She began running. Shift. She was still running, because she needed to save someone. Or was it more than one? No, that wasn't it. She began running away from darkness, a hideous monster which pursued her relentlessly. Through an endless maze of corridors, hidden doors, and secret passageways she ran, but still that other seemed to always find her. **** When she awoke, her sheets were wet with her own sweat. Turning her head, she noticed that Marcus had fallen asleep in his chair. The darkness that had pursued her through dream mazes seemed to be all around her: in the shadows clothing the ceiling, the further shadows frilling the edges of her bed, and ethereal fingers seemed to be touching Marcus, obscenely caressing his face as he slept. Her heart pounded in her chest. *Calm down, you idiot.* She told herself harshly. Remembrance that she was an adult and that there were no monsters hiding under her bed made the darkness fade into a simple and rational absence of light. Absence of light and noise and purpose in her immediate life, however, put her face to face with her soul. And a wounded one it was. *I know Sheridan and the others all wondered how I did this to myself a second time. How did I do it? The funniest part of the whole thing is that I don't even remember.* In truth, all she remembered was needing some air, a few nights ago. *In truth, I remember more than that, don't I?* She had stopped at some Downbelow bar, and had ordered a drink. *Just one drink, yes sir.* She remembered the one turning to two, three, to many. She also remembered pain, her pain, bright as if floodgates had opened in her heart. In truth, she remembered nothing much after that, except a feeling of desperately wanting the pain to stop. All she could figure was that she must have gotten pretty damn drunk to be stupid enough to try some of the stronger stuff that had ended up in her system. What the hell was wrong with her? Pain. "Marcus?" She said quickly. He jerked awake at the sound of her voice. "Yes Susan?" He rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry, I guess I must have fallen asleep. Can I do something for you?" "Talk to me, Marcus." "Of what?" He asked. "Of anything." She leaned her head on her elbow as she half turned toward him. "Talk to me so I don't go crazy from listening to my own thoughts." She added softly. Understanding filled his eyes, and he began talking. He talked to her of joy and sadness, but mostly of joy. He related to her various epic stories from many worlds, interspersed with some of the silliest stories she had ever heard, and she laughed. He was still talking when she fell asleep. **** In the morning things were much the same, and she awoke from dreams she blessedly did not remember. "Hello Susan. I thought you might like breakfast." Already awake? Didn't the man ever sleep? She studied the food he had put before her and leaned back against her pillows. "I'm sorry Marcus, I'm just not..." "...not hungry. Well, won't you even try?" He reclaimed his seat by her bedside, and gazed at her for a moment. "Please?" He asked gently. Looking at him, she was forcefully reminded of one thing: she owed him. Looking away, she began to eat. She spent the rest of the day in her quarters -she had no wish to go out. Not yet. Somehow though, when she could have gone insane from seeing the same walls and ceiling and more so from staring at her own thoughts, she was kept from it: she had never known her faithful companion could be so inventive. The instant her thoughts drifted and threatened to become dreary, he seemed to find some riveting book to read to her or story to tell, or managed to invent some silly game that left her laughing one moment, and the next wondering that she still remembered how. That night he slept on the floor of her room rather than in her chair, and she could not help wondering at him. Her dreams were once again filled with pain. **** The next days followed a simple pattern: waking or sleeping, Marcus somehow never left her side. When she wanted to be alone, he simply went to the other room of her quarters and remained there until she called him back. She was never truly alone. Days passed, and then some few weeks. Except for brief calls or visits from friends such as Sheridan, Delenn and the others, and brief yet excrutiating visits to her 'counsellor', it was almost as if the outside world had somehow ceased to exist, or at least stopped for the time being. She asked Sheridan once how things stood on the station and elsewhere, but he shook his head. "When you're ready to come back, you'll come back. Now is the time for you to do other things." It appeared they had all given themselves the word, as they all carefully avoided any mention of work around her. And so time passed. **** She awoke. The nightmarish visitations of sleep ceased tormenting her then, but the pain did not relent. It was always present, her pain, waking or sleeping, a deep blood red ocean tinged with brown disgust. *Once I stop running I fall apart. Is that how it is?* She turned her head. Marcus was once again sitting by her bedside, asleep now. *I wonder why you stay.* She said mutely, then paused for a moment. *Or do I? Deep down... I know why you stay. Still, I wonder why you do. I've done everything except make things easy or pleasant for you.* There was a heavy sense of guilt in that last, a feeling that fell like a drop into the ocean, making it overflow in powerful waves. She began to cry -softly, as she hated weepy displays, most of all coming from herself. The ocean grew tumultuous and swept over her as she began to sob her agony. Something touched her shoulder. The world moved, and she realized she was sitting up, and being held. By this point she couldn't halt her tears, and held on to him as a fellow human presence in the night. After some time, she understood with a start that he was crying as well. She held him harder. She wept until she no longer had the strength to weep, and then stayed where she was, trembling, unable to move for a time. Finally, she pulled herself away. The darkness still enveloped them, yet even it could not hide the deep sadness and pain in his eyes. Thinking of comfort, she leaned forward, and kissed him. And found herself swept up again. She held on to him with all her strength as she pressed her body to his. After a slight moment's hesitation, she felt his arms surround her and hold her to him. Their breathing quickened. She kissed him again, and again, and he brought a hand to her hair. Drawing away slightly, she brought her lips to below his ear, and began slowly, softly, to work her way down his neck. She felt him draw in a breath -a short gasp for air. Raising her head, she looked in his eyes, into his soul, and stopped. He stared back at her as she shook her head. "I can't do this to you Marcus." She whispered to him, before pushing him away from her, off the bed and towards the chair. "I'm sorry." She said finally. She knew he didn't understand, and that she had hurt him. Explaining, though, would have been worse. Turning her back on him, she laid down again. Sleep didn't come, but the pain, ah yes, the pain did come. *********** TO BE CONTINUED From: Coucher de Soleil Subject: I was a Male War Bride (8/?) Date: Sun, 11 Apr 1999 21:41:07 -0400 (EDT) Thanks go again to my ever faithful friend and beta reader Angela Brewer. :-) My stories can be found at: http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Orion/3539/index.html in case anyone is interested. :-) Please see part 1 for disclaimers, etc. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Come morning her room was even drearier looking than usual. *Oh wow, it really is morning now, isn't it.* Thought Susan dryly. It had been one heck of a long night. With morning come, and with daylight lighting her thoughts and actions, she felt the pressure in her chest increase. Her pain. Marcus was still sleeping, on her floor this time. She waited for him to wake. Looking up at her, he ran a hand through his hair. At that moment, having only just awakened, his heart beat on his face. Quickly, he stood and left the room. *Am I alone now?* She wondered, looking at the door. Fear grabbed at her heart. He did take a bit longer than usual before -- "Susan? Are you ready to eat?" He asked, coming into the bedroom. "I --" She began, before he interrupted her. "Eat. It's all right." He said gently. There was something in his voice at those last words which sounded rather like reassurance. His face showed nothing. *Sometimes masks reveal as much as they hide, you know.* She thought sadly, and began eating. She wasn't alone: the day unfolded much like the last. That night was also uneventful, as was the next day, and the one after that. What had happened that other night was never referred to. Marcus stayed with her, always. **** Several mornings later, she found herself enduring that most dreaded of rituals: her counselling session. Marcus had by exception left the duty of escorting her to others this morning, having left for one of his meetings with Delenn some time before. *She isn't so bad, really.* Her counsellor was Dr. Mayfair, a pretty blond haired woman about her age, with a friendly smile to boot. *I still hate this.* What it was she hated, she couldn't put her finger on exactly, except that a discussion with Lisa, as Dr. Mayfair preferred to be addressed, felt like having her gums extracted. Or her bleeding innards scooped out and put on the table for forensic scientist to examine with the most sophisticated of microscopes and the most primitive of digging instruments. Or... "Susan?" "Dr. Mayfair?" The other woman sighed softly, rubbing her temples. The door chime sounded, and both jumped. The session was not even halfway through. "Come in." Mayfair said finally. Stephen Franklin stepped through the door, looking to Ivanova. "Susan, there's trouble." **** Some days before, Sheridan had left Babylon 5 to mediate in a dispute between the Drazi and the Centauri Republic. Longtime competitors for trade, the two already belligerent races had collided once too often in their "explorations" of Shadow space. After the First Ones left, the main concern at first had been to ensure that they were indeed gone. However as fears slowly began to fade, simple greed had manifested itself (as well as the idea, present in so many sentient races' minds, that if there was anything to find they should not risk others getting there first), and the previously cautious explorations of the concerned sectors of space by various frightened 'younger' races gave way to something else. Disputes began to be more concerned with rights to whatever was present, Sheridan and Delenn had therefore agreed (since, among other things, Whitestar vessels had been there first) to allow full access to the planets formerly occupied by the First Ones. Full access, so that everyone could see they were not merely concerned with their own interests. Fully supervised access, so that war did not break out over any potential spoils. Supervision meant a heavy Whitestar and Ranger presence in the areas of space in question, forces which had as mandate to ensure that discoveries were shared, and disputes avoided if possible, settled if necessary. Rangers, for example, were required to be present during any and all planetary expeditions. All in all, no easy task. As it turned out, Sheridan's aforementioned departure had the unintended consequence of encouraging other elements to act. **** "What happened?" Ivanova asked Franklin after they had left Dr. Mayfair. The latter had offered her help -and Stephen had gotten a good look at Susan's face before gently telling Dr. Mayfair that he would handle this himself. Ivanova now heard a tremor in her voice, and felt a premonitory something clutch at her heart. "You know that the anti-alien and other groups that were causing trouble back home are on the run now that the interim government has started hunting them down." It wasn't a question, and yet she nodded: that had been all over the newsnets. The groups in question had used the chaos following Clark's sudden removal from office as well as elaborate terror tactics to gain influence back home, and public pressure had been increasing exponentially to have something done about them. Stephen suddenly stopped and turned towards her, taking her hands gently, as if trying to prepare her. "With what's been happening back home, our buddies have been on the run. They obviously wanted to go out in a blaze of glory." "What?" She asked. He sighed. "Their reasoning isn't difficult to follow and I imagine that was the point. They hit us once before. This place is associated with Sheridan, and he took Clark out of power. Many of these guys were friendly with Clark. They also pretty much all think that we're really tight with aliens. Way too tight: among other things, Sheridan's even married to one of them now. They already hit us once, and this time, it was supposed to be their last act. Their blaze of glory, for the loyal little goddamned crazies they are." There was anger in his voice. "They picked their target. It was going to be Delenn: she was the perfect representation of everything they wanted to say. It would've also caused some blame to be put on Sheridan -happening on his station. And what with Sheridan away and everyone here more or less distracted, they figured now might be the time to move." Suddenly he paused. "So what happened?" She asked him. He didn't answer for a moment. "They meant to kidnap her and hold her, I think. Probably drag it out for as long as they could, and then kill her. It wouldn't have been all that difficult to do: she still does everything low key, and so does Sheridan." "She was walking alone with Marcus in Green sector this morning. Just outside her quarters. About ten of them came up and tried to make a grab for her then. She and Marcus managed to fight them off, but... Marcus was wounded, Susan. Badly." She heard him through a world suddenly become gray. Everything was gray. She heard the thundering rhythm of her blood in her veins. "Is he going to live?" She heard herself ask. Franklin looked at her. He still held her hands. "I honestly don't know Susan. I had some time, and I thought you should hear it from me. We've done everything we can for him." "I want to see him." She said. He nodded. "I'll take you there." **** Stephen had taken her to his bedside, and left her there. She had barely heard his explanation of Marcus' condition. Everything was quiet, which gave her ample room to feel. *I haven't really felt anything in a long time.* She felt, now. She couldn't help it anymore. Pain. So blazingly bright she could hardly breathe. Years upon years of it, years she had not allowed herself to feel, that she had run from that feeling. Running. Yes. She had run for years. She sat numbly by Marcus' bedside, and listened to it, and to all the dead voices from her somber past. Her hand clutched his in a grip her mind had now forgotten. Unconscious still, he clutched hers in return. Startled, she looked down at him. *I am not giving up.* His touch had somehow seemed to say, *And I am not giving you up.* Tears filled her eyes, and a sudden realization made her gasp as she brought his hand to her cheek. *I love you, Marcus Cole.* **** Her heart was a conflicting mass of emotions, a pattern of such variegated bright colors that she became lost in that brightness, no matter where she gazed. It had been almost five days, and Marcus' condition -deep stab wounds, PPG burns and blood loss were all she could recall of Stephen's reports- had not changed. She had sat by his bedside, unrelenting despite the gentle pressures from Stephen Franklin and other medlab personnel who tried to get her to rest. Delenn and a few others had dropped in a few times to see Marcus. *To see both of us, perhaps?* She shrugged. *Oh well.* She remembered well what she had promised him when she sat with him during that first night... "I know you can't hear me Marcus, but I'm going to tell you anyways. I should have told you this before. I should've realized it before, too, but I didn't. I love you." She had paused for a moment at that point. "I love you, and I pray you'll wake up so I can tell you everything I should have told you before. That I love your kindness, your gentleness, the way you manage to find humor in so many things. The way your eyes look at me when you think I don't see you." She shook her head and continued in an even softer tone. "I've never met anyone quite like you. You truly are one of the finest and most selfless people I have ever known." "I've been angry and cold with you when you asked for so little in return for all you gave me. The truth is that I was afraid. Afraid of what might happen if I loved you and lost you. Afraid to feel anything at all, because it would bring me pain. Afraid to lose control, except when I'd drunk enough that it didn't matter to me anymore." "All I can say is that I'm sorry, and that I'll do everything I can to make it up to you." She remembered, and now added something else as she held his hand. "You've got to come back to me Marcus. Because if you die, I will too." ******************* TO BE CONTINUED