Alright, so I'm not normally into AU stuff... I try to keep things as close to canon as I can with my own twists. But this little fic was the result of an incredibly vivid dream that I had back in March. I can't really even give myself credit for this story idea, because the imagery and dialogue were all the result of my subconscious. I never intended to share it with the world, but I figured why not? Especially now that the lovely Miss Del has drawn artwork for it. It's yours now, Tallowe fans.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

Kneeling in a filthy, London street with Talbot's limp body cradled in her arms, Marlowe could do nothing more than shake her head solemnly as the rain poured down around them.

This time, it was bad. A mission gone horribly awry, and a firefight that had no victories. Dead bodies were scattered around them as the water washed away the blood of their enemies, but it couldn't wash away the guilt that was currently drowning Marlowe.

All had been calm until the bullets started flying. Talbot had protected her admirably, but with the cost of a bullet through his chest. He dropped immediately, leaving Marlowe to finish off the rest of their assailants on her own until she could attend to him. Unfortunately, there simply wasn't much she could do but wait.

The wound was dangerously close to his heart. Any farther to the left, and he'd have been dead instantly. It didn't make the situation any less grievous, but at least he had a chance... a fleeting chance, but Marlowe was a believer in persistence even in the darkest of situations.

"Marlowe," Talbot gave a feeble cough, gurgling up blood as it dribbled down his chin. "I... can't..."

She tightened her hold on him, looking sternly into his glazed eyes as she wiped at his mouth.

"Don't you dare even think about giving up. I swear, if you leave me...I'll..."

She trailed off suddenly as her heart seemed to clench in her chest. What would she do without him? There was no punishment worse than death. In all her years, she'd never imagined Talbot going first. It was ridiculous, impossible. Although it was his duty to protect her, she always felt more than capable of returning the favor. He was young, talented and more than worthy of succeeding her. He should be the one outliving her, not the other way around. Situations such as this one simply never crossed her mind, because they weren't supposed to happen.

But as harsh reality set in and she held his body close to hers, Marlowe had no choice but to accept that sometimes, your worst nightmares could become a reality.

"I can't do this," Talbot gasped, his handsome features contorted in pain. "Leave me..."

"I'm not going anywhere."

He would have done the same for her, and had, in fact, remained by her side through many dire situations. Somehow, Marlowe preferred to be on the receiving end of comforting than the giving side of things. Talbot was so much better at it... and had always been, right from the start.

In many ways, Talbot's life had been carefully written. He had always been someone that she could control, something that she had mapped carefully. Marlowe had taken him in, trained him until he was polished, and shaped him into who he was supposed to be: the most capable agent and lieutenant a woman could ever hope for. In her eyes, he was perfect: a dream come true after years of betrayal and unhappiness.

But this was far from perfection and she was entirely helpless to sit back and watch as blood pooled beneath him and stained her clothes. This wasn't the ending she wanted. This wasn't the ending he deserved.

"God, it hurts..."

"I know. Shhh... shhh..."

Marlowe pressed her lips to his forehead, a warm contrast to his cool and clammy skin. She began rocking him gently as if she were lulling a small child to sleep, trying to offer any semblance of comfort until help arrived. They should have been here by now. If not for his delicate wound and their tenuous situation, she would have carried him to safety herself.

Talbot clutched at her sleeve, breaths coming in shallow, ragged wheezes as he struggled for air and fought through the pain.

"Marlowe-"

"Stay calm," she soothed. "Damn it, Talbot... stay with me."

She had never been one to beg, but Marlowe was wishing for a miracle. Some stroke of luck or magic or fate... something, anything. Her hand found his, palms slick with blood and rainwater as their fingers entwined.

"I can't do this without you," she whispered. "You can't leave me."

You're not allowed to.

Soaked to the bone, her own words chilled her more than the cold. How was she supposed to express years worth of sentiments that she had never uttered? How much he meant to her, how he was the best damn risk she ever took, how she was a better person because of him?

"Marlowe, I'm sorry..."

Her eyes searched his, watching as their brilliance faded and his grip on her hand went slack. Talbot inhaled sharply and then was still, body entirely limp as he closed his eyes and his head tilted backwards against her arm. Marlowe froze, with her heart pounding in her ears louder than the thunder rumbling in the distance. With trembling hands, she hesitantly reached out and placed a palm to his bloodied chest. There was no heartbeat.

It took a minute or two for her to realize that this wasn't a dream... something awful that she could simply deny and wake up from. This was real...and the depth of her devastation was not yet known in the loss of her protégé, the only man she'd ever truly loved, yet never told him.

The rain was masking Marlowe's tears as they fell freely, pressing her forehead against Talbot's cheek as sobs wracked her body. For the first time in her life, she felt completely and utterly alone.

Endings weren't supposed to happen this way.