As usual, I claim no ownership of the wonderful world of the Pendragon series and I promise I'm not making any money from this. D.J. MacHale is, though… Lucky bastard.
[So, here's the deal. I was going to make this a one-shot, but then this brilliant person, Radius Flame, suggested that I write this sequel. I did.]
Courtney threw the journal at Mark, eliciting a pained yelp from him. "I can't believe this!" She angrily kicked the cement wall of her basement.
Mark decided it would be better to remain silent and wait for Hurricane Courtney to calm down.
"He kissed me," she whined. "He wrote in his very first journal about being in love with me – me!"
"I told you it was shocking," said Mark softly. He dropped his head, watching an ant crawl across the carpet. The ant seemed to mirror his confusion, turning this way and that, but never finding closure.
"I just can't believe it," Courtney cried, curling up into a ball in the corner. "I don't believe it!"
After a strained silence, Mark said tentatively, "Is it really so far-fetched?" Courtney sat up quickly to glare at him and hit her head on a shelf in the process. "Do you think Bobby would make something like this up?" protested Mark. "He is undoubtedly the most mature person we know. Other guys can be as stupid as they want, but Bobby always had his head on straight."
Courtney seemed to have cooled off a bit. "If Bobby is… you know… gay…" she uncomfortably whispered the last word. "What does that mean for Halla?"
"Nothing," groaned Mark in apparent exasperation. "Bobby is still the same person he was before we found out he was gay."
"But can't he just ignore it?" Courtney moaned. "The entire universe is at stake here…"
"You didn't seem all that concerned about the universe when you were only thinking about how Bobby should have loved you," Mark retaliated.
Courtney kicked the wall again. "Why can't he just be normal?"
"He is." Mark's voice, once upon a time a pitiful stutter, was as clear and assertive as any voice Courtney had ever heard. "Love is love, Courtney, and you can't decide who you're going to fall for. I should know," he muttered quietly at the end. "Sometimes it sucks, but while you're having delusions of maybe getting to hold her hand someday, it feels great. It's like pain, but good pain. You can't tell me you could help falling head-over-heels for Saint Dane himself?"
Whitney Wilcox's dazzling smile flashed before Courtney's eyes before morphing into the twisted demon grin they knew all too well. For the first time since the hospital, tears welled in her eyes. "That was low, Mark," she whispered.
For a long time, she stared at her shoe, hardly daring to make eye contact for fear of completely breaking down in front of him. A pair of surprisingly strong, wiry arms swept her into an embrace and Mark's lips met hers in a possessive kiss. He gazed reverently into Courtney's eyes. "I promise I'm not gay," he assured her.
They collapsed onto the basement floor, overcome by giggles. Then, however, Courtney suddenly sobered as she realized something very, very wrong. "Wait," she gasped. "Bobby and I have both slept with Saint Dane."
Mark threw up.
