"Insight"

Lone Chapter:

His brown eyes were poised down at the grave in front of him on that windy autumn day. Covered in respectful black attire, and wearing sunglasses to externally suppress the tears he wanted to conceal from view, Luis Lopez-Fitzgerald stood there motionlessly for a good ten minutes, staying behind even after the last mourner had bid a final goodbye.

His dark physical features grew darker in emotional comparison as he surveyed the scene around him from the corner of his eyes. The mood of the day was appropriately sad, marking the occasion of Beth Wallace's funeral.

He eyed the red rose he had placed on her grave a moment earlier. The rose was in full bloom and gave him a bittersweet feeling. How could two such beautiful things lie on such cold, harsh matter?!

The chilly weather seared through the thin fabric of his clothing, adding to the reverberating grief he felt wholly.

His hair got in his face but he didn't bother pushing the strands back. His eyes were so frozen in sight that only a loud voice in the nearby distance was able to break him away from the trance. "Coming, sweetie?"

That voice was so strangely familiar. He turned around slowly, his eyes connecting with those of his blonde wife. She stood there, a black shawl covering a red dress she wore. The dress Luis loved because it clung to her like a second skin, but was not very appropriate for such a situation as a friend's funeral.

She was gazing at him imploringly. She wanted to take away his pain, but knew she couldn't. Time was the only likely solution to this problem, but patience for it was something the woman did not possess as a quality.

Sheridan Crane Lopez-Fitzgerald couldn't see his eyes, but she could imagine the hot tears being eased out from them. His body language said enough about what he was thinking. Seeing him that way froze her soul in a cold sweat. She stood paralyzed in the despair that was a result of his own.

Offering no answer or sign of acknowledgment, he turned away from the woman, his eyes burning holes once again into the grave. Beth's grave.

He heard the frustrated blonde woman huff, puff and walk away angrily, muttering to herself. Here she was trying to help him in this trying time, but he wouldn't accept her any of her support. He showed no need for sympathy, the sadness he felt was never given up for sharing with her, and ultimately she could feel him pushing her away instead of drawing her closer.

But how could he not push her away? What was support anyway in a time of great tragedy and despair? A temporary solution to a problem he knew would never be erased from his heart. Or mind. This wasn't just a minute drawback on his life's journey, this was another life that had been ended much too soon and without much meaning.

Reaching down, Luis brought his hands over to the grave, letting his fingers feel the impression of her name on the tombstone. The cold, hard granite did no justice; he could not feel her through it no matter how hard he tried to. Her gardenia perfume was missing…. The only thing that remained was his consciousness of the woman he used to know. The one she used to be….

"Promise me we'll get married, someday?" she had asked him with hope shining in her eyes ten years ago. "Nothing would make me happier than for me to be your wife one day."

"Of course. You know nothing would make me happier, either," Luis had said reassuringly, leaning down to kiss her fully on the lips.

They were both 20 years old at that time, having finished their high school educations two years past. Luis had started supporting his family by taking a full-time job with the police force while Beth was working 25 hours a week at the local bookstore and going to Harmony University as an undergraduate majoring in Business Administration, something she hoped to utilize with the job she already had.

Life had seemed so easy and simple back then. Both were content with what they had and were planning for their future together. Neither would have claimed the possibility that would be their reality a decade later: that they would not end up marrying each other and one of them wouldn't even be alive to make their previous dreams come into fruition.

What happened to those days? Luis thought dejectedly to himself. When did I change and want different things from life? Things she couldn't and wouldn't offer me….

He recalled the day he had met Sheridan a few years ago:

"What is the matter with you?!" he had screamed coming out of his car in his officer uniform. She had inadvertently crashed his car into his as she was speeding on the Harmony roads.

"Nothing is the matter with me, thank you for caring!" she had yelled, stepping out of her BMW.

There stood a beautiful woman in her mid-twenties, with short blonde hair and gorgeous features. Her face was flushed red with the heat of the accident reeling in her emotionally and physically. Her hair was tousled from the car crash and it looked disheveled. The glow in her cheeks, which added to her charms, made her look only half-real as she continued to stand in front of him.

He collected himself, bringing his mind back to where it belonged. "You were definitely not watching where you were going. Plus, you did that just as I was going to give you a ticket."

"What a great way to make my return to Harmony," she had replied sarcastically.

"License and registration," he demanded professionally, ignoring her personal words.

"Here," she sighed deeply, thrusting them in his direction after retrieving them from her glove compartment.

He went to his mangled car, and did his police work, writing up the ticket on the appropriate pad.

Momentarily surprised to find out her last name was Crane, he had briefly thought about his dilemma. Stepping against the Cranes, even in the way of a plain speeding ticket was a no-no. But he realized that his desire to see her reaction was something he didn't want to pass up since given the opportunity, despite the problems he could face with the mighty Cranes. Plus there was the unavoidable issue with the car wreck.

He handed her the ticket upon his return to her vehicle. She grabbed it quickly and rudely out of his hands, and he could feel his patience wear thin with her acts.

"Have a good day," she had replied sardonically, getting back into her car.

"Not so fast," he had said, placing his hand between the car door and the steering wheel.

"You crashed my police vehicle and we must get this matter resolved."

"I'm sure your boss will take care of it," she said mockingly. "I'm getting out of here."

"I don't think so," he said seriously. "You are to pay for the damages."

"Like hell I will," she had replied coldly.

"You're a Crane. Don't tell me you can't pay for it."

"Just tell your boss, and let me get on my way," she said impatiently.

"I will do no such thing. That's not how it works with the Harmony Police Department. Low funding prevents us from getting the vehicles fixed so easily," he retaliated, the lying words spilling out easily from his mouth.

"Look here," she had hissed. "I am not going to pay for anything!" She sent him a withering glare. "Officer Lopez-Fitzgerald," she added tartly before a realization hit her. "Wait, you're a Lopez-Fitzgerald?"

His momentary impatience was put aside as he answered her question, realizing the change that had come over her attitude. "Yeah," he replied slowly. "Why?"

"Is Pilar Lopez-Fitzgerald your mother?"

He nodded.

"Wow, what a small world. She's my family's housekeeper. I haven't seen her in years but I remember her. She's a very nice woman."

Aware of the Crane ways, he wouldn't let this momentary kindness towards a member of his family affect the situation she had brought him into.

"Thank you very much," he said. "But I still have to get you to pay for the damages."

"Oh, you ass," she had replied, her old venom returning as her pretty face contorted to an unattractive shape. "Don't you know who I am?"

He didn't then but he definitely would later.

She had given him a hard time but he had felt so flustered by her attitude and yet a bit intrigued, wondering what the reason was for her mind-set and anger. He soon realized for himself just how close she really was to the family, having been the child his mother had baby-sat all the years she had worked for the Crane family. Pilar had regarded Sheridan as one of her own children whenever she was at work. One meeting between Luis and Sheridan had turned to two and then to three, as he began to see more and more of Sheridan and could feel the wall she had around her come down.

His thoughts dispersed into the air, as he began to refocus on her gravestone. Beth would have hated this, he thought to himself disgustedly. Hated what they wrote on her grave: "Beloved daughter and friend." All she wanted to be was a beloved wife, but that was too great a desire for her to have. And it was all my fault.

For once in his life, he was shouldering the reluctant responsibilities, something only her death had made him do so. But her death was not truly in his hands, he had no cure for the cancer and was as helpless as her in that matter. But he had the will to love her and that was what she had wanted the most. Maybe if he had loved her just a bit more openly and unconditionally, she would have been alive to share his life now. She would have been more capable of fighting the cancer that had eaten her whole. But all he could do now was to say his last goodbyes before going back to the life he had chosen. The life, that ultimately hadn't included her, and now would never do so again.

Luis recalled the events of their youth, how they had met, gotten closer, began dating and a few years later, talking of marriage. One selfish heart had found a new toy to play with and he had bidden Beth good riddance ever since. But in his heart he could not forget the passion they had for each other, the good times they had shared. After all, they were each other's youth. The joys, and the good memories they had created together that would never be forgotten.

But it was those very memories he shared with Beth that had made Sheridan his wife. He wanted to start life over, find the same qualities in Beth in another person. He hadn't been looking for another significant other, but when Sheridan came into his life, she swept in and stole from the brunette all that the latter thought stationary. All that Luis himself had thought the same.

The social folk of the town had not limited themselves in their so called respectful talk. Gossip had still ensued. They had said she died because she had stopped taking care of herself and thus became susceptible to the cancer, but he knew. He wouldn't believe it because they did not know Beth like he had. That was as big a lie as his wish for the reality around him to be a farce of some sort. She had been strong and resilient all of her life. All the years he had known her he never would have called her weak and pathetic. The cancer had spread all over her body and she had become frail and physically very different from her previous form, but the old Beth still remained entrenched somewhere in those scrawny bones and dwindling strength. Or maybe he was just saying that now because she was dead.

Beth's dead because of me, he told himself. She's lying here six feet under in the ground just because of me. Her cancer was bad enough, but for me reject her when she needed me most had been the domino that had tumbled all the others. Her live in nurse had called him, letting him know of her diminishing status in life and how she wanted him to visit her before her numbered days became no more. But he had refused somewhat unwillingly. He wanted to be there for her, to say his goodbyes, but being in the beginning stages of his marriage to his new wife, he wanted to delve into the possibilities she had to offer him. Possibilities that didn't even seem intriguing anymore….

Fresh tears fell from his eyes at the thought. Why couldn't he just be there for her when she needed him the most? Why couldn't he just be satisfied with her like he once was - did he really have to be with Sheridan who had been here just a few minutes ago? Couldn't he postpone his honeymoon for a week to bid Beth adieu for life? Was the blonde even worth pursuing as much as her? A week ago he would have said a definite yes. But a lot had happened the past seven days.

Her death had sent his life into a whirlwind. Everything he had established up until this stage in his life was tarnished. He was no longer interested in maintaining a close bond with his family. He saw it in their eyes, that he was being too dramatic about Beth's death. But they were just underestimating his love for her. Even when they attempted to sympathize, he wasn't willing to accept the help he so needed. Like a rabbit, he had dug himself a hole, and refused to come out, or let anyone else come in. His eating and sleeping habits were pretty much nonexistent. And lastly, his flame of love had died out. She was the candle, maybe not his candle, but the candle nonetheless and after her flicker was blown away, so was his passion for love. Beth's strength and purpose in life had been dodged by his rejection of her, but she had withstood the pain, growing stronger despite and because of it. He could do nothing short of respecting that, admiring her all the more because of it. Her strength of character gave him optimism and a renewed will of the capability of finding happiness after first loves. But once she had passed away, he no longer saw love as pleasant, capable of changing the world for the better. No, he saw the grotesque version of love, the one that would catapult people into latent depressions and the actual inability to not just move on but find joy and contentment again. The result of that deficiency which had caused Beth's eventual death.

"Love hurts," Luis whispered to her grave. "I regret hurting you the way I did. But, dammitt, Beth!" He punched his fist into the upper part of her grave. "You refused to move on with your life. You weren't interested in finding the same happiness that I found with Sheridan," his voice drifted slowly. "Instead you remained in the past, living alone. You had so much to offer and yet you guarded yourself from anyone and anything like it was your biggest possession. I know why you did that. You felt you couldn't find another person to love the way you loved me. But was I even that worth it? Was I?! Why couldn't you just settle for another, huh? Why were you so stubborn?" His voice escalated to the point of shouting.

He could hear the wind rustling through the trees. He leaned back, sniffling his tears away from the corner of his red-rimmed eyes. He felt her near, could almost picture her grinning face saying to him, "Of course you are worth it, silly." But it still did nothing to get rid of his confounding thoughts.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her name on the grave. "Beth Wallace: 1974-2004."

"I didn't even deserve you," he mumbled. "You were too good for me and now it's too late to make things right. But -" He felt the view before him dissolve as his tears clouded his vision and everything became blurry.

He wiped at the eyes, bringing his eyes back into focus. Looking through the scope of his sunglasses, the sight before him looked surreal. How he wished this all wasn't true. That it was all a bad nightmare he would wake up from soon.

He scowled, because he knew he would never wake up from this nightmare. After all, he had held her dying body in his arms the evening before she had passed away.

Taking out a cigarette from his jacket pocket, he lit it, letting his nervous habit take over. He clung to the small cigarette, blowing out rings of smoke tensely as he recalled the last time he had been with Beth.

He remembered that night so vividly. He had managed to retreat from his wife's side for a day, going up to visit her for an hour:

"Hello, Beth," he had said uncomfortably as he was lead into her bedroom where she lay on her death bed, with her live-in-nurse nearby.

"Luis," she smiled weakly, a faint shade of crimson luster rising in her cheeks. "I'm so glad you're here."

He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. "I'm glad I'm here, too, Beth." He paused as his opaque features creased into a sad shape. His eyes moistened with hot tears at the sight before him. "God, I wish you weren't in this condition!" he admitted, frustrated.

"I'm alright, Luis," she said softly, her voice unlike the one he knew. "My time is numbered but I have a week at the most left until -"

His face was a blank as he absorbed her words. His brown eyes stood staring at her straight ahead, his features hard as stone. "A week?" he asked faintly. "But -"

"Can you give us a minute please, Nancy?" Beth asked the nurse, sensing Luis's distress and how he had yet to come to grips with the inevitable truth.

"Of course, Miss Wallace," Nancy replied courteously.

"One week," Luis scratched his head, disbelieving her words. "It can't be. No, you're going to be alright. You have to be!"

"How's Sheridan? Tell her I say hi. I'm sorry I couldn't attend your wedding."

His eyes grew wide. "Beth, did you not hear anything I said?"

"Is she pregnant yet? That would be wonderful. I know how much you love kids."

"Don't change the subject, Beth!" he exclaimed in aggravation. "Don't you see what's going on here?!"

"Of course I see it," she hissed, acknowledging the truth dead on. "I'm know I'm dying. But what do you want me to do? Mope and cry? That isn't who I am, Luis and you know it."

"I know but…" he paused, reflecting on how correct she was. Not even an impending, doomed death could break down the Beth he knew. "God, Beth, what am I going to do when you're gone?"

"You're going to go back to your wife," she assured him, as he held her hand. "You're going to have many beautiful children and live a happy life and -"

"No," he shook his head. "That's not what I meant. You're so important to me, Beth. Oh, God. You're too young to die! You have so much left to experience. How could this be happening?"

The vision of zeal in his eyes touched her as she found him squeezing her clammy hands in a deeper gesture of gratitude. Her eyes began to moisten as well but before she would let them, she couldn't help but say the next words, despite her better judgment:

"Kiss me, Luis. One last time."

Perplexed at the bold move on her part, but quite aware of what it would mean for her, he had slowly climbed his way over to where she lay down on her death bed in her bedroom without question and given her a soul-shattering kiss, one which he could feel still lingering on his lips - it was that beautiful. He had pushed aside the bed sheet that was getting in the way and gently lay himself over her as they shared a tantalizing kiss, one he knew he would never forget. She was responding with an unmatched energy and fervor that he hadn't seen since the cancer had spread. At that moment when his lips had touched hers, it was as if all of humanity had paused on its pedestal. The cunning knowledge of her upcoming death was removed from both their minds as all they could do was savor the moment when his lips caressed hers and her hands stroked his back as only a lover could. A former lover. A lover wronged. But still a lover.

They had parted from their kiss a few minutes later, as he struggled to let go. He wanted to hold on to their passionate link, hold on to what he could of her. He had no words. He couldn't describe what they had just experienced together. Not like he needed to. She saw it in his brown, contented eyes.

"I can finally have some closure," she whispered. "I can finally have some closure..…"

His eyes marked on hers, reading in the features of happiness on her countenance. Never had her radiance shined brighter than it did that moment. Despite the paling of her skin, she was as alive as could be, a rosy shine filling up her cheeks from the intensity of that kiss.

His momentary awe was interrupted by the closing of her eyes and how her words began to trail off.

He shook her lightly, fear in his bones as she became limp in his arms. "Beth, Beth!" he cried frantically.

"I'm here, Luis," she replied, her eyes still closed. "But I'm feeling tired. Can you call Nancy back in please?"

"Sure," he said unsurely, relief flowing in his veins that she was still alive as he gently pried his hands away from her body and got out of the bed.

They exchanged a few more words before Beth went to sleep and Nancy led him out of the house.

He stepped outdoors to meet the bitter winds of the fall. That kiss had left his lips aroused and he licked them fully, wanting a prolonged, sensual familiarity to the pleasure that would always remain in his heart.

He didn't want that kiss to end. Because it was more than just a smooch between two people who loved each other. It was all the memories, all the love, the defining matter between their lives that had linked them together before letting them go their separate ways.

"It wasn't supposed to end up this way," he muttered, speaking to his dead friend's spirit. "We were supposed to get married...." He kneeled down on one knee. Closing his eyes, he tried to remove the feelings of unrest from his soul. "Why did I become so greedy? What made me actually think she was my one true love? I don't even know anymore. God, Beth. I thought I was strong and sure of what I wanted. But maybe I didn't make the right decision. Maybe if I had married you instead, you would still be alive. I don't know. There's no answer for that now, because you're gone. All I know is I'm never going to forget you, living or dead."

With that, he stood up, wiping the stray tears away from his eyes. Stroking the imprint of her name on the grave one last time, he turned to go, but not before blowing a kiss to her. The fierce wind seemed to carry his kiss to deeper places. He smiled sadly before leaving the cemetery.

He walked through the dark alleyways and streets of the town, his hands in his jacket pockets, trying to find refuge from the cold, but more so from the ache in his heart. He had never felt more accountable for someone else's life than he did with Beth's. She had been a great ally, a wonderful girlfriend in the early stages of his life. He remembered the times they shared before and after high school, memories that were tarnished now with the emotion of regret he felt cutting into his heart so severely.

He finally reached the house he had lived in most of his life, the house he knew he could have made a home with her.

He recalled the fond memories of his teenage birthdays spent with her at his side. The first time they had connected physically in the privacy of his bedroom at age 17, and how it had felt so right that he had promised himself he would buy her an engagement ring as soon as he could afford one. But all he could focus on now was how none of those dreams had come true or would ever become a future memory in his or her life.

"Dammit," he hissed to himself. "These self-destructive thoughts have to end, or else it's going to be the end of me."

Aware of his debilitating emotional processes and mental breakdown, he figured that this was the first step to improving his life, but knew that now he could find no other alternative for his neurotic obsessions.

Going inside, he walked into his bedroom without a word. It was only nine thirty p.m. or so, but he was emotionally drained from the events of the day, and so he decided to try to get some sleep. Something that had not come naturally to him for a while now.

As soon as his head hit the pillow, he knew it was a lost cause. He had too much on his mind to be able to sleep restfully. Thinking, he got out of the bed, and made his way over to the closet. Perched at the very top, next to some hats and Sheridan's purses were a few shoeboxes of pictures of their lives over the years. He took out the one marked with his name and the years 1980-1995 written on it and brought it with him back to his bedside where he would go over them one by one, look for pictures of Beth that would set his mind to some ease.

Pictures brought him back to his youth, including hers but it did nothing to set him at ease like he had hoped. Instead, it frustrated him into fondly desiring the memories he would never again share with Beth. Never again remember them with her.

He climbed into bed, his hands behind his head on the pillow. He closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would come to him. It didn't. Even when his eyes were shut, the image of her dead body and grave kept haunting his sight, making him toss and turn as he sought comfort in his sleep.

He stayed in that horizontal position for a lengthy juncture; so long that he lost touch with the time. All he could hear was the tick tock of the clock on the wall behind his bed, equally synonymous with the one in his brain.

He heard his bedroom door open, and someone come inside. His eyes popped visibly open.

"Glad to see you're awake, handsome," he heard his blonde lover say.

"Why are you glad?" he blinked emotionlessly, not really wanting to hear an answer.

"Because," Sheridan replied, as if stating the obvious. She took off her robe, to reveal a skimpy nightgown. The vision of flesh that was noticeable in so many places on her body would have been tempting but it only made him restless and apprehensive of the encounter that was to follow.

She got inside the sheets next to him, stroking his arm as a means to show him something she felt both wanted. Comfort sex. Snuggling next to him, she rained kisses down his back and neck, the motion making him cringe rather than give in.

His whole body stiffened at her delicate touch. "I'm not in the mood," he sighed, knowing full well what her intentions and desires were. He didn't want to deal with her advances right now. Not when another woman was invading his mind. He continued to keep his back to her.

"Come on," she coaxed. The skin on his back became shaped according to the massage she placed on them with her fingers in circular form. "I love you. And I want to make love to you."

"What's love?" he asked slowly, having lost all previous knowledge of the word.

"Love is what we have," she replied.

He didn't respond.

"Love is what makes the world go round!" She motioned with her hands, exasperation evident in her voice. Why was she explaining this to him when he already knew it so well?

"Is that why Beth's dead?" he asked, his tone not meaning to hold contempt or bitterness, but his words nevertheless giving out that effect.

She sat up straight on the bed, staring at him with bulging eyes, horrified that he'd say such a thing. This wasn't the man she knew. Where was the man she had fallen in love with? She needed that man back. But what did he need? She thought she knew so she spoke.

"Darling," she coaxed, blinking back her tears, "Come here, I'll take care of you." She put a suggestive hand on his warm shoulder.

"Do I look like I'm in the mood to make love?" he blurted out angrily, turning to face her. "This isn't like the movies where the upset man gets comforted through love making, ok? Just leave me alone." His tone was harsh, but only because he felt no one, not even himself, could help overcome this problem. And he didn't want to anyone to bother trying to support him.

The woman sighed fully. He had never once refused her sexual advances before. Lately he had shut her out in every category; she had thought that it wouldn't be the same with lovemaking.

"All she wanted in the whole world was for me to love her!" Luis exclaimed, breaking down emotionally. "I couldn't even do that. I wouldn't even -"

"There was nothing you could do!" Sheridan insisted angrily.

"I could have loved her. Loved her the way she deserved to be loved. I could have given her more than just a kiss before she died!"

She stopped stroking his arm with that revelation. How dare he say such a thing! To insinuate such a preposterous statement was beyond her comprehension. He was clearly admitting that he had kissed her, and to top it off, he felt bad that their rendezvous had been limited to such. She fumed lightly, as he sobbed the pillow wet.

But she loved him. She knew that if Luis loved anyone, her loved them with all his might. And much to her dismay, there was no denying his love for Beth Wallace. He wanted to offer so much, but had yet to realize which one of the two women received what. Sheridan may have had his ring on her finger and his last name, but she had her own qualms about this situation. Was Luis regretting his decision to marry her instead of hanging on to his romantic relationship with Beth?

No, she thought, shaking her head. He had married her, knowing full well that his connection to Beth would be coming to a close. He may have deceived her but her love for him rang louder in her ears and she felt her hand enclose his in a gesture of sympathy. He had willingly married her….

But at the moment all he would do was avoid her. Turning back to his side, he closed his eyes, and refused to open them until sleep finally took over his being.

It's going to be like this every time, the woman thought to herself. I know him well enough to know that this behavior isn't temporary. Her death really changed him, and it always will.

"Damn you," she whispered sacrilegiously to the dead woman's spirit. "Your death just had to affect him, didn't it? Not your presence, not your love, not even you. Just your death!" She shook her head at the irony of it all.

"Did you say something?" he asked sleepily, his eyes still shut.

"Not a thing," she scoffed, turning to her side.

With her death, Beth had stolen something away from Sheridan. The passion that had been strong and alive in Luis. The very passion that should officially have been hers after their "I dos."

A tear fell down her cheek, knowing that the love she shared with this man next to her was never going to be the same again. What was ironic was that they were in the first stages of their marriage and already having problems that seemed to offer no solution. Hell, she didn't even think she could call what she shared with Luis love anymore. He had lost all faith in the word and emotion. How would she ever help him regain it when he couldn't do it on his own?

The next morning, bright and early at 8:00 am, the man's eyes popped wide open. Maybe it was the dawn that catapulted him out of R.E.M. sleep but he woke up with a start, nevertheless. He turned to see his wife sleeping soundly next to him. He recalled how not to long ago, when he had woken up late one night and saw her sleeping form, he couldn't help but just watch her delicate being be in slumber. But he had lost his passion for a lot of things ever since a certain brunette had died, that included.

Removing the covers from over his body, he got out of the bed quietly, so as not to wake her. The last thing he needed was her questions about where he was bound and why.

In the barely illuminated room, he put on a jacket and a pair of shoes over his pajamas, heading out of the house, as if in a robotic state, his mind leading him to where his heart wanted to be. The cemetery.

He drove through the animate streets in a matter of minutes. The intensity with which he had to see her was boundless, affective also on his driving habits.

Parking the car, he made his way to her grave. The sun was shining somewhat, despite the autumn season. However, the streets looked haunting as the leaves rustled on the trees, casting shadows that only added to his fright. Quickening his pace, he tried not to let the seemingly dead town get to him. But how could he not? If the town wasn't eerie enough, maybe it was his going out to his ex-lover's grave in the middle of the night. Whatever it was, it made him tighten his jacket around his body more, hoping for some sense of relief.

He reached her grave for the second time in 24 hours. "You don't belong here," he whispered to her spirit as the wind brushed through his hair and face. "I miss you so much. I guess it is true what they say - you don't know what you've got until it's gone. I lost the greatest thing in my life, only I couldn't see it until it was too late." The hot tears escaped through his eyes, falling down his face in a frenzy. He was a broken man and he knew it.

The leaves kept rustling nearby and the faint sound of a dog barking in the distance could be heard. Nothing spoke more volume though like the voices in his head, constantly blaming him for her death. He had to make them stop. They were eating him alive.

This couldn't go on any longer… if it were to, he would be finding himself in a fashion similar to Beth's. But how was he to stop an emotion he couldn't help but feel?

Staring at the letters that bared her name, he began to speak to her again. "All you wanted was my heart wasn't it?" he whispered to her grave. There was no real response, but he knew how she would have replied. "And I was too selfish to give it to you. How could I do that to you after everything you've done for me? But I did, Beth. I did and -"

He felt himself falling to his knees right in front of her grave. Then came forth the darkness as he shut his eyes momentarily, finding peace with this admission. And a sudden realization that for the first time he felt more free than he had before. Beth had gotten her personal closure with their kiss, and now Luis could feel a small portion of that same feeling himself as he spoke to Beth's spirit, finding solace in the silence of the words he knew she would have replied with.

His special revelation came to a halt with a kind voice calling out to him.

"Excuse me, sir?"

He opened his eyes to see Nancy, Beth's former personal nurse.

"Yes?"
"I'm sorry to disturb you. I was just on my way to see you, but I figured I'd stop here on the way to say goodbye to Miss Wallace. The thing is, I never did get the chance to give this to you, sir," she said, handing him some folded papers. "It was from Miss Wallace herself. She wanted you to read these after she passed away."

He nodded slowly, as his heart grew numb. His goodbye to Beth was not over yet. There was still the matter of the letter he held in his hands. Moving aside so as to give the older woman some time to talk to Beth's grave, he thanked her as he walked away, giving himself the necessary distance to read Beth's letter on a bench alone where he could calmly read her one last time.

This was it. If the bits and pieces of closure he felt by being here, talking to Beth's grave was affecting him, he knew the letter he held in his hands could be the thing that would get him to reach the decisive level on his quest to closure. He would hear Beth instead of talk to her….

He ripped open the sheets, scanning the two pages with his eyes. Breathing fresh air into his lungs, he began to read her words:

Dear Luis,

How do you start off a letter to the only man you loved regarding such as an impending death and the matter of never seeing him again? I suppose this is how. Oh, Luis, I know that by the time you read this, I am already gone. I'm sorry I wasn't able to resist this disease and become a cancer survivor but it was too strong and too late. It was Fate, the word that describes it all and gives everything meaning.

Thank you for visiting me that day before my death. I know I promised that I'd see you the day after, "tomorrow" like I had said, but I guess we both knew that it wasn't going to happen. Luis, I know you love me. I know your love for me was different years ago from what it is today, but I'm glad to have a portion of your heart nonetheless.

I felt that with the kiss you gave me, which you knew moved me deeply, I was ready to die. I was truly ready to go into the next life, with my last motion as a human having been kissing you and feeling you so close to me on a level above physicality. I was in heaven, here on Earth and I know that somewhere deep in your heart, you knew of this truth.

Please don't be sad about my death. I didn't die in vain. I had a good life, a meaningful one. I loved a man with all my heart and saw the beauty and promises life had to offer. I may not have had my dreams come true in the end, but your kiss was enough for me.

I want to thank you for being you. No one has made me happier in life, and no one will make me happier as I look down on you from Heaven and see you living your life until you join me up here and we get the chance to continue with our relationship. You are more than a friend, Luis. You're not my husband, nor I your wife, but you're my life partner and I feel an unshakable bond with you.

I hope you remember me as the woman I used to be, not the cancer-infected, bed-ridden person I was at the close of my life. Don't forget me, but then again, don't forget who you are, and the responsibilities you have.

Take care of yourself.

Do I have to tell you I love you? I'm sure you know, but the depths of it you will never fully comprehend, because unlike us, it is Forever.

Love,

Beth.

Luis reread the letter again two more times before putting it aside and thinking about what she had written. Beth had taken great pains to write this letter, and her love for him had been the reason behind the writing of it. Despite the wonderful kiss they had shared a few days ago, Beth knew that Luis had not gotten the same closure as she had had. So she had hoped that a letter like the one Luis had just read would get him to finally come to grips with who she was and what she meant to the man.

Luis thought over her words, which were imprinted in his mind now after reading them three times. He interpreted her words in his own way:

Remember me as the woman I used to be.

She only wanted him to recall her as the way she once was. Vibrant and bright, but just as importantly, alive.

Don't forget me, but then again, don't forget who you are….

Keep me in your heart as a memory, but don't let it affect who you are and what kind of man you will be. In other words, focus on the fact that you are now Sheridan's husband and be aware of what that role entails.

Unlike us, it is Forever.

She truly loved him. Her love was eternal even though they wouldn't be. Oh, God. With that, he could feel tears rising from his eyes.

And lastly, the words, "Your kiss was enough for me," really affected him. The depth of her dilemma had been overshadowed by his alluring kiss, and now her letter was having a similar effect on him.

He inhaled a batch of fresh air into his lungs, the letter still clung to. He looked up. The clouds were slowly forming together; the sky looked gray. But he felt himself stand up and nod at the woman near Beth's grave before he began to walk away. He didn't look back at Beth's tombstone - he didn't need to. His strides soon became a sprint as he ran his way home.

He didn't want to fall victim to the rain. He didn't want the letter to get wet, he wanted to hold on to it as a token to influence him in his darkest days for as long as possible. Today had started off as one of those days but the power of this letter had altered things completely. Changed him on his quest back to normalcy….

The End