012: Two Babies In The Dark

He'd completely lost track of time. Again. After a couple sleepless nights followed by too much caffeine, he felt like he was burning at both ends – forget the candle. A few hours in the gym had turned into ten after an unplanned nap in the deserted sauna. The phone against his ear rang for the seventeenth time before Verizon's automated voice kicked in to tell him that his party wasn't answering. The days were getting longer but the sun had still set hours ago. Voicemail wasn't picking up – that was odd, felt like she was dismissing his calls the moment they popped up and that made him worry. He couldn't remember their landline number, realized he'd never put it in his phone. He rebooted the iPhone again, blaming the network. Maybe she was busy with Freddie, with Allegra and the mundane drudgery of being a mother that he'd bailed on today with his little walkabout. 

No calls. No messages.

No answer. Again. That unease made him drive like an asshole across town, the sound of honking horns and hurled epithets blending with the white noise roar of his pulse in his ears. He was thinking about the time Clay had shown up, had tied Hannah up and tried to hurt her. He was thinking of lines that shouldn't be crossed and he wasn't even aware that the worst things that could happen were still un-thought of. 

Everything tasted metallic and he wasn't sure if that was because he'd been grinding his teeth against that split in his lip again or if he was about to have a full-on panic attack.

She didn't ignore his calls. She hadn't done that in a very long time.

By the time he pulled into the driveway, he must have tried to dial her twenty times. His heart was racing, cold sweat turning to ice as he stepped out, feeling the chill in the air that hadn't been present when the sun was up. He shivered inside his thin hoodie, quickening his pace so that he took the back steps two at a time, and then had to search his pockets for the damned keys. He finally found the damned thing, and fed it into the lock with a hand that was shaking badly. He was still gasping as he reached for the doorknob, hesitating for a fraction of a second, suddenly overcome with a rush of vertigo as he stumbled across the threshold.

The house was as silent as a tomb, the kitchen was filled with darkness when he staggered inside, shaking off the cold. "Hey, Han? Allegra?" The words came out louder than he'd intended as he kicked off his running shoes. He closed the door, snapping the locks home without looking, his eyes roaming the room. He paused, hearing the sound of muffled voices as he ran down the hall, flinging himself up the stairs to the second floor. The master bedroom doorway was closed almost all the way, blue light spilling out into the hall and he absently flicked on the light as he passed the switch, feeling foolish at the need to banish the dark as though he was searching for monsters under the bed.

He expected something awful to be on the other side of the door, had steeled himself for the worst as he pushed it open. Hannah was seated on her side of the bed with Allegra laying in Lex's spot, furthest away from the door. Freddie was swaddled and held in her mother's arms. Their two dogs that were at the end of the bed had lifted their heads, alerted that someone was in the house. They were watching a Harry Potter movie and it was frozen in the middle of some foreboding dark wood. He tried to shake off the unease. He tried for a smile. 

Before she knew that it was Lex, Hannah had felt her chest tighten at the thought that someone uninvited was in their home. When her eyes settled on Lex's face, the panic she'd felt had dissipated, a welcome smile spreading across her face. Since the man who'd called himself Ken Valentine had visited, her anxiety had been strong. Years ago, she would have been on the phone constantly begging for Lex to get home. However, she was doing her best to manage on her own. She'd brought the girls and dogs into their bedroom after arming the alarm. It just felt safer.

"Hi," she greeted her husband with a tired smile. "Welcome home, handsome." Sleep had been difficult to achieve and she knew she looked just as ragged as he did.

Lex raked a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face as he took a few steps into the room. "Hey. I… kinda lost track of time. Didn't mean to be out this late. Tried to call your cell but it didn't go through."

"It's okay, babe." She was still smiling, half in relief that he was here, safe and sound. "I turned it off, didn't wanna be tempted to blow up your phone." The smile did fade a bit as she thought about the reason for that compulsion. "I shoulda sent you a text. I'm sorry if you were worried. "

"Nah, it's alright." He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching over to scratch Bismark's head. Something about the energy in the room was throwing him off. Hannah seemed on edge, more than she should have been over him being late. "Honestly, phone was in my locker most of the time anyhow. Wouldn't have gotten it right away. Probably should've kept it on me but…" he trailed off, glancing at Allegra where she was curled up against his pillow, looking as if she was about to nod off at any moment. "Hey, Princess Peanut. Missed you." She smiled, her eyes closing. 

"I shoulda—" he broke off when he saw those strange sunglasses sitting on top of the night stand on his side of the bed, their mirrored finish reflecting the light from the TV.  

Hannah studied him as he focused on the sunglasses. "Honey… you okay?"

"Where did those come from?" His voice sounded strained. 

The tension she felt mirrored what she heard in his voice, that anxiety rearing its ugly head all over again. "Oh. Someone you worked with dropped those off… made Allegra promise she'd give them to you. Seemed like a strange request but I didn't want to question it too much. There was something really off about him."

"He…" the words caught, anger welling up and it took all his effort to swallow it back. The last thing he wanted to do was rant and rage and lash out when both girls were sleeping. "Yeah," he tore his gaze away from those damned glasses and looked at Hannah, knowing she could see the hatred written all over his face. "You…" he struggled to sound normal as he felt the bed shift, heard the change in Allegra's breathing as she stirred before settling back to sleep, "you shoulda texted me. 'Specially about this."

Hannah took a moment away from her own anxiety and studied her husband. This was something they needed to talk about. There was more going on than just some person she didn't know dropping by unannounced.

Nodding in agreement with Lex, "you're right, I should have." Exhaling, Hannah moved Freddie so that the infant was laying vertical against her chest and her little head could rest on her mother's shoulder. "I'm sorry I didn't." Sliding off the bed, the first thing she did was put the baby in her bassinet. Turning to Lex, she stepped in his direction.  "Let's go talk about this." Her hand was held out in Lex's direction, hoping they would leave the room and the girls to sleep.

Wordlessly, he moved to his feet, glancing back at the girls before taking her hand. Nothing was going to happen when Bismark and Oz were in the room with them and all the doors were locked. He let her lead him down the hall, his guts churning in time with his racing thoughts.

They stopped outside of Allegra's bedroom. "Lex… who is this guy?"

"Same asshole who jumped me when I was gettin' that award. I…" he didn't really have a quick explanation. He didn't know the guy all that well and still couldn't work out the reason why Kintaru had come after him in the first place. "He's a fuckin' asshole. I dunno, Han. Tell me what he said. Tell me everything. I gotta make sense of this shit."

Hannah replayed the whole scenario in her head as she leaned against the door frame. "He... uh... he said his name was Ken Valentine and he worked with you. He said you needed to make sure that you didn't get on the bad side of the dangerous guys you work with…"

Lex's jaw clenched and he felt a twinge there, an old injury flaring up at the worst time. Idle threats were one thing, uttered into the void, spoken with cameras rolling but to come here, to his home and say shit like that in front— "Allegra heard that? Heard him talk about 'dangerous guys'?"

Hannah nodded, anxiety starting to overtake her. "She was there… she just came up behind my leg and he started talking to her. I tried to end the whole thing, but I had Freddie in my arms and I didn't want to startle her or Allegra. He gave her the sunglasses." Closing her eyes for a moment, Hannah took a deep breath, steeling herself before she looked up into the eyes of her husband. "He was talking to her like I wasn't even there."

"That fuckin' piece of shit." He nearly snarled the words, hands balling into fists. "I'm gonna…"

"Who is he, Lex?"

Half a dozen possible replied flashed through his mind but he shook his head, forcing himself to try and breathe normally as he turned to face the wall rather than look at the concern on her face. "I don't know… least not really. He's got history in the company, well before my time an' I just… I don't fuckin' how why he's out to fuck with me. Why I'm the guy he picked outta the bunch to harass an' you know what's fucked up? You know why I was gonna go to London in the first place? I was gonna lay the fucker out for pullin' the Kanye trip on me. I was gonna… an' then it didn't work out. Told myself it was the universe makin' sure I was here for the Queen's arrival, y'know? Now, I'm not so sure. Feels more like I was gettin' screwed again. If I showed… if I answered him back a few days ago, maybe he'd have stayed the fuck outta our business."

The fact that this person had been at their home and interacting with their daughter made her sick. Lex could see the worry in his wife's eyes. As she was about to say something, a high-pitched voice broke the silence.

"DADDY!"

He didn't think. He just reacted and a second later he was holding his trembling daughter, her tears soaking into the front of his tee.

"The bad men," she sobbed, "they came… took you away… took Mommy."

"No, Peanut. No. We're here. Shhh… we're okay. I promise, we're never gonna leave."

"You did. They took you. The bad men… Daddy… you can't let them. You can't let them take you and Mommy away!"

"I won't." He lifted his head, his eyes meeting Hannah's where she stood in the doorway. There was an unspoken promise that passed between them and she nodded, permission granted. He sighed, kissing the top of Allegra's head, smoothing her hair. "We're safe," he said, hoping it wouldn't turn out to be a lie. 



"They look like strong hands, don't they?"

There's a soft chuckle at the blatantly ripped off line from an 80's movie and the darkness in the video fades away to reveal Lex himself. Half of his face is on the screen; the white Suicidal Tendencies tee he's wearing is soaked with sweat under the arms. He scoots his chair back, leaning forward to show his hands and the soiled cloth wraps that cover them.

"You know who I am. You got that advantage over me, all this fuckin' knowledge. So, you know what I'm about. You know what you're asking for, what your careless actions're gonna reap – still, you persist. Sadist or masochist. It's one extreme or another, ain't it? You want me to hurt you or you're excited at the prospect of hurtin' me."

He licks his lips, tilting his head back and forth to crack his neck.

"I feel like you already know my predilection – you just had to ask. Say the magic words, y'know – like I tell my daughter – manners're important. So many people these days've forgotten how to be… Jesusfuck, I don't even know. Human, I guess. Civil. So we regress. Push a back against a wall, push too many buttons an' the destruction sequence is triggered – lizard brain kicks in. I strike back. I don't think. I don't feel any fuckin' remorse 'cause these've been my best weapons for the better part of my life."

He flexes his fingers slowly, making sure the meaning's clear.

"My brain, my smarts, they tell me to walk away. They tell me this is a road I don't wanna go down, tell me it might be like stickin' with Olympus through the bitter end, of foolin' myself into thinking that good thing would ever come back. I'll lose something, maybe everything. My hands, though, they know the score. They tell me I can do this. They wanna do what they understand, make it whole again. They reach but my heart is making that happen, that hole inside me yawning wide, desperate to be filled with something again. Something shiny. An' my fists, they wanna sing. They wanna create beautiful music an' I trust in that 'cause they got me through a hell of a lot more scrapes than my mouth that don't know better. I know you think I'm dumb. Let's not split hairs here. I hear the whispers. I see the looks. I don't spin these wordy little diatribes like some do, an' while I might sprinkle in a few big words here an' there, it's more a tribute to Greg Graffin's extensive vocabulary than any kinda higher learning. I ain't about to regale with some friggin' tale about the old gods or whatever - still don't know what the fuck a NeoNordicist is."

There's bitterness creeping into his tone as he shakes his head, trying to stay on topic even though that devilish smirk crosses his lips for a second.

"An' let's be honest here: I get frustrated too easy. That's my trouble. I have a hell of a time with communication an' maybe that's more on me than any of you. Maybe I gotta try harder. Maybe I chose the wrong profession even though I'm damn good at what I do out there 'tween the ropes."

One shoulder twitches in a parody of an idle shrug as his eyes flick to the left, breaking contact.

"My head hurts all the goddamned time… I know that ain't your problem. It's just… I'm exhausted. I let that itch get in deep under my skin an' now I'm drawing blood like crazy. Fucked myself right outta that other belt - no offense to Vinnie, of course. Dude came in like a house on fire an' I…"

He breaks off, shaking his head, "I ain't gonna gloss over it: I fucked up a couple times lately. Spectacularly. I lost my step an' a huge part of me says this ain't the way to find my footing. This is the road to ruin – I can smell smoke already."

His eyes are dark and unreadable as he leans back, letting out a soft sigh. Slowly, he starts to unravel the wrap on his left hand, his eyes never leaving the camera.

"Spent a few hours hitting the bag tonight. I saw your face. For a while, anyhow. I heard your words, choked 'em down like a good boy. Never leave somethin' on the plate. Clean it up 'cause the illusion of control is that separates us from the animals, right? Sure. An' I gotta turn the other cheek, 'cause I'm not allowed to give into that urge – can't let that side of me win. Is it nature? Is it nurture? I don't even know anymore."

He blinks, shaking his head.

"Right now, my hands hurt. They're tired an' they're fuckin' useless for anything – they're shakin' an' I'm starin' down at the scars across the knuckles thinkin' how these are a definition: the hands of a brawler. These are the hands of a fighter by circumstance more'n trade. My middle finger's," he wiggles the left one, "it's all crooked 'cause it's been broke a few too many times. Calcium buildup... bone spurs... whatever you wanna call it amounts to the same damn thing – I ain't soft. There's grease in the calluses from workin' on my bike as a way to reset myself. It's hard, man. I can't switch off, can't bring myself to let it go. I don't gotta tell you about the people in this industry. I didn't need a rude awakening – I know their goal is to fuck you up. That's putting it bluntly. Guys like Kintaru… guys like Dagvald Dipshit will try an' destroy you – call it a mission. They spin it like it's their God-given right, those silver spoon sadists want nothin' more than to cut a man down to size, try an' kill 'em – literally. That's gonna win some awards, surely."

The sarcasm is back, oozing thick.

"Most get paid to do that, sometimes even get bonuses for the more blood they draw with the attack. They'll try to break you, tear you down. Give 'em an inch, an' they'll steal miles. Every time, on every level. It's as automatic as breathing, pre-programmed at every sick little level of our human existence – we are bred to be conquerors. That's what the top of the food chain nets us. We call ourselves predators but we're worse. Some of us moreso than others. Some are scavengers, pickin' scraps. Some see themselves as alphas, pack leaders – dog-eat-dog for supremacy. I don't want that. I don't chase that notion but I'll throw bricks if you make me defend myself. Show my teeth if I have to."

There's a grim smile on his lips as he drops the soiled wrap on the floor. It's soaked through several layers with blood and his knuckles are a mess, raw and oozing.

"All the things that're rotten in this world, all the greasy fiends that go bump in the night wanna twist your balls. They wanna inflict pain just for shits an' giggles. Most times I let 'em. Not 'cause I'm some freak looking for a little sado-masochistic trip to get me off. It's a bit simpler. It's a validation of life an' these ain't the hands of a cowardly little fuck like Riddik. These are hands that know failure intimately. These fingers'll always be reachin', eventually fallin' short. I know I ain't the best, the fastest, the brightest. I know I ain't never gonna be an equal with Rob Riot – I like to fool myself, to pretend it was gonna happen for me. Don't get me wrong, this ain't some admission of guilt or nothin'. This is me bein' real… the shine's worn off. You see me for what I really am. For what I always was, maybe. I don't belong here. I ain't never gonna be a part of any clique, any kinda insider. See, this is why I say I don't want gold. Why I never make that the priority – gets inside my head too much, fucks me up. I don't do well with pride, with these little Pavlovian rewards, y'know? Fuck it. I understand a fair fight. I understand the crowd gettin' behind a good beating bein' laid down. I understand the circles intersecting just right. Give an' take. Simple physics. The equal an' opposite reaction."

He pulls a face, looking disgusted.

"Bein' somebody... havin' Kintaru bleed out after I'm through with him, well that ain't gonna ingratiate me much to the people who give a flyin' fuck about the past, about the history of this place. See, I care about the future…" he breaks off with a rueful chuckle and a shake of his head, "funny how that's the best damn motivation I got right now but it is what it is. I lost two belts. I lost my last few matches – it's happening again. It's… I gotta step up. Stand tall. Prove I ain't no wash-out chump."

Lex leans forward again, the picture growing grainier as the camera tries to compensate, failing in the low light. He drops the second soiled wrap to the floor at his feet, flexing his knuckles as the blood flows through the cracks, bright red and glittering in the sketchy light.

"These are my weapons an' I ain't layin' 'em aside for anyone, least of all some punk who thinks freakin' out a five-year-old makes him a badass.  Fuck that noise. Fuck you, man. Fuck you."

He rakes a hand through his hair, pulling in a deep breath and holding it. When he lets his hand fall back to his lap, his head drops as well, hair hiding his eyes.

"I don't wanna know you. Don't wanna watch tape, to study you. The more I see, the more I hate an' the more I feel the certainty in my guts. This is gonna change everything. There ain't no goin' back an' I know it 'cause I can't do things halfway. Every night I leave a piece of myself in that ring, each time in a different place. Everything you touch, everything you do leaves a mark on your soul – I didn't pen that line. I borrowed it – haven't had an original thought in years. You put these things in me, man. You pounded the clay until a shape emerged – looks like your own demise. Or it's mine. I dunno. Who's playin' who, really? Is this what I wanted all along? Do I want someone to finish what Finn Whelan started?"

He snorts laughter through his nose, eyes slits as he looks up.

"I'm Dante – not even supposed to be here. It's borrowed time. It's runnin' on fumes, on fuckin' empty an' maybe when I was spinnin' that Sisyphean tale, that never-ending struggle, I was pullin' wool over your eyes. Maybe instead I'm the guy chained to the rock instead, vultures pecking out my insides over an' over – maybe those scavengers are the fans, the ones I wanted to impress the most. Maybe this is the most tragic tale of them all – I'm Greek, after all. Heart grows back. Passion never runs dry. The parts grow back an' I got them in plentiful supply so the night after I just do it again 'cause that's what I know. I bleed... I sweat... I fuckin' exist 'cause of them. This business changes you in little ways, at first. For better, or worse, it does. I know I've said this a million times. I know I repeat myself too much. I get hit in the head for a living. It's bound to happen. Even more likely when all this shit keeps repeating, when all the assholes who think they got somethin' to prove keep steppin' all over my toes, shittin' on my fuckin' lawn. What matters is this: history's 'bout as useful as advanced calculus in these parts. It don't mean shit when the blows are coming – that's fact."

He chuckles, that half-smile there and gone in an instant. "If you think I hate the guy, you're right. Ten years in the big leagues an' this is the first time I can actually say that. Congratulations. It's your first an' only win where I'm concerned, sunshine. You dig?"

He turns his left hand over in the light, showing the streaks and whorls of blood that have trailed down around his wrists.

"This is what I know. I fight. I bleed. I break. I get back up an' do it again an' I keep gettin' up until the other guy stays the fuck down. That's what it's all about."

He pauses and stares into the camera in silence for a few seconds. "My feet're planted firmly, y'know? Line drawn. Pistols at dawn – fifty paces, man. My head's screwed on straight an' I know. I fuckin' know who I am an' who I'm not. What I'm not. Ain't no pushover, ain't no steppin' stone, alright? Yeah. Wrap your fuckin' head around that notion, why don'tcha?"

He leans back again, looking off-screen. "I ain't no son of rage an' love, come to deliver the world from evil. Nope. Much as I wish I could apply that, we both know my calling ain't that noble. I'm not some crusader, hidin' behind a mask or a cape or some self-righteous bullshit. No masks. No games. No, man. No. If tryna come at me is some sideways play to take over the place… if this is your way of takin' out who you see as the biggest hero? No. That ain't me. 'Bout as far from Boy Scout squeaky-clean than it gets."

He leans forward, folding his arms across his chest so that the word 'suicidal' is all that's visible other than his face from the nose-down. "Not gonna play Jesus for the lepers – I'm too tired of all this shit. Ain't got more life in me to give. No more blood to bleed an' with all these pounds of flesh given, I ain't got more to spare. Too lean already. Eventually the well runs dry 'cause there ain't nothin' infinite – stars are already dead by the time our eyes can even register 'em, remember?"

He shakes his head sadly.  

"I'm dead. Just an echo, ephemeral – I'm a ghost. A fragment. You can't destroy what you helped create. You can only watch the story play out to its natural end. Am I a hero in the making? A walking legend? Superstar, main event, world fuckin' savior is my domain, right? That's where this golden ticket gets me, right? I get to be the big dog. I get to be in the big leagues – put me in coach. There's no more time for dickin' around. We've had that – playtime's over. The words've been said. The empty threats've spilled out an' the wagers are all placed. Which one of us is the underdog? Which one is the easy bet? Famous last words an' here I am, waitin', laughin' my ass off while you play at some cowboy sinner-saint coward fantasy bullshit – make a proclamation. Strike a match. Say the place will look better when you an' the rest of the new-old blood gets done redecoratin'. I have to fire back, to say you won't be around to see it 'cause I got the solution, I got the flip-side counter. I'm ready for whatever comes down the pipe."

He huffs, scoffing.

"I'm an angel, I'm a demon. I'm a soldier. I'm a civilian. I'm on a mission. It's not holy. No one knows but me how motivated I am. I am ANGRY. I'm gonna end this shit with you."

He squeezes his fists tight, oblivious to the blood that flows from new cracks as he stares forward.

"It ends at Masquerade, Kintaru. One way or another. No matter what it takes. It ends."



His worst nightmare stared him in the face, the silence around him almost deafening. The nursery was empty. The bassinet was overturned, the blankets strewn everywhere and somehow, he knew that it was his fault. He went to Allegra's room next, saw the blood splattered all over the wall. Saw the torn sheets, the open window and the curtains blowing in the wind.

The scream caught in his throat, burning in agony but he couldn't find the air to push it out. Instead he sank to the floor with his back against the wall. Those sunglasses sat in the middle of Allegra's pillow.

"No," he rasped, lifting his hand up to cover his mouth. "Please, no. Not this."

Clay was dead and buried.

There were no more monsters under the bed, in the closet.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean—"

"Lex?" Hannah knelt in front of her husband, watching him twitch and shudder as he cowered against the wall, muttering apologies that she could only make out a few words from. His right hand was still bound, the wrap stained as red as the wall he leaned against. She felt a twinge of sadness at that, that mothering instinct kicking into overdrive. She wondered how he was going to even manage to lace his boots, let alone actually wrestle in a couple weeks. He was falling apart, completely consumed with the idea of getting revenge on Kintaru for reasons she barely understood. "Baby? Can you hear me?"

He flinched with each syllable. Visibly.

"Lex," Hannah's voice was soft, "what did you do to yourself this time?" Glancing up at his computer, she saw that he'd finished recording a video a few hours ago. His editing software was showing the final screen with the upload preview. With a running time of over seven minutes, she wondered just what he'd gotten off his chest. If he'd talked that long, it couldn't be anything good. "Baby... wake up." Gently, she touched his shoulder and he jerked as though she'd stabbed him. She started to unravel that cloth from his hand, trying to be gentle but it was stuck to his skin. When it pulled free, he made a strangled sound and for a moment she thought he might hit her as his fingers flexed, trying to tighten. She held his hand, stroking the back of it. 

His eyes flew open, bloodshot and glazed even though they fixed on her with recognition. "Han? Wh—"

"I think you fell asleep, finally." She cupped his cheeks, staring into his eyes, "you were having a bad dream."

"You're right," he muttered, "I need to let it go. I... I'm gonna lose my fuckin' mind if I don't."

"What?" She stared at him in confusion, "honey, focus on me for a second." She waited until his eyes met hers, a little clearer now, "that's better. Now what're you talking about?"

He returned her stare, his eyes filled with pain. "I'm not crazy, Han. I know you think I am, but I'm not, okay? I know what's going to happen, no matter how hard I try I can't see any other way—"

"Don't—" he opened his mouth to interject again, but she put her hand gently over his lips, leaning in closer to him. "Whatever you think it is that I said, I didn't. You were dreaming, Lex. Whatever happened to you tonight... that wasn't real, okay? You haven't slept right since…" she paused, unwilling to bring up Kintaru's name. "In at least a month. You need to stop pushing so hard." 

"I'm okay."

The words sounded hollow. Hannah shook her head, "stop it. Stop lying to yourself – to us. We're not going anywhere. You're not in this alone, okay? I'm right here. Allegra's right here and we both love you so very much," her voice broke as she lowered her hand, replacing it with her lips for a gentle kiss. She expected him to pull away but he didn't. Instead he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair against her neck. "Shhh, baby. It's okay – you're good," her hands stroked down his back, feeling him tremble and it broke her heart, knowing that he was legitimately terrified of whatever he'd been facing in that dream of his. She knew him well enough to guess. "You're going to win this. And afterwards, if you want to walk away, I'll support it. If you want to stay, to wage war on them… if you want to-"

"Should I stay," the words came out softly, muffled, "or should I go?"

"End it." She replied, cupping his cheeks when he pulled back slightly. Her gaze bored into him and he drew strength from that look, knowing she could see right through to the core, past all the bullshit. "On your terms – that's all you need to do, Lex. No matter what it takes. No matter what you have to do, we'll be right here no matter what. Always. Okay? The rest doesn't matter. Not right now. Not ever. You can do this. I know you can."

"I'll finish it." He replied, his eyes open now, raw passion in those simple words. "Put him down. Keep him down. Walk away under my own power. All I gotta do."

"You got this." That unshakable faith of hers was enough to make him believe it was possible. It had to be. The alternative was too awful to even ponder.