Title:

Better or Worse

Disclaimer:

Not mine…

General Info:

Rated M

Angst/Romance

Author's Note:

PLEASE read and review. I love to hear your opinions. As always, thank you for taking time to read my story.

To those who have reviewed:

Wow! Nominated for best original plot…I'm speechless. Thank you! I am truly honored. I hope I do the nomination justice as my story continues. I know the last chapter was sad, and this one probably won't be considered much better (with one huge exception). I promise to put some lighter moments in soon.

Chapter 11


"Life is a comedy for those who think… and a tragedy for those who feel." – Horace Walpole


She walked through the halls in a trance, completely oblivious to her surroundings. Nothing fazed her anymore. Not the blood, not the bodies, not the sounds of their mingled footsteps. She had only one purpose at the moment… bury her mother.

When they reached the main foyer just before the large, ornately carved, wooden doors, she turned back to the men behind her keeping her eyes up and away from the body they carried.

"I'm going to the storage room." Her voice sounded gravelly in her ears, like it had gone unused for a century. "I need to find… a shovel and…" that was all she could force past her lips at the moment.

The men nodded in response as they walked out the door and down the steps to Fran and Del, and Ahamo.

Living in this place for a month left her plenty of time to explore, a means to get her thoughts off her problems and feelings of loss. She spent many a day in the bowels of the castle wandering the dark and dingy corridors, finding the kitchens, the laundry, the supply room. DG was currently on autopilot, not realizing she was making turns or descending stairs until she was face to face with the door she sought.

Pushing it open she found shelves filled with items, most of which would never be used. After a half hour of searching – or what felt like a half hour, who knew how long she was fumbling through the materials – she had a small stack of items by the door to take back to the group. A white sheet and a small sewing kit to be used to cover her mother's body, and a box of food stuffs, canteens, weapons and munitions were among the pile. The more she searched the more she found. The only piece missing was the one she had initially come for, the shovel.

Going back to pouring through the shelves she tried to empty her head of everything, fearing the emotions lurking beneath the surface. But one single object brought all those crashing back down around her ears. It was nothing extravagant or costly, nothing out of the ordinary, just a simple block of clay.

DG's brain went into overdrive when her eyes fell on the artist's medium, knowing her entire life went topsy-turvy, and not for the first time.

Her mind shot back to when she was eight. A simple trip into the woods and she managed to release an unparalleled evil. The result? Her own death, however brief, and subsequent relocation to an alien culture.

Then, when she had become accustomed to the new civilization, having forgotten the old, she was thrust once again into the world of her youth where she had to defeat her childhood mistake and see firsthand all the atrocities it caused. The death, destruction and loss DG observed would never vanish from her memories no matter what spell might be put in place.

Discovering the people she knew emotionally as her parents were programmed to love her and losing the few friends she made on the journey across the unfamiliar terrain -- in one form or another -- she thought would be the worst of the pain. But oh was she ever wrong.

Leaving behind her newfound family for the plains of Kansas was supposed to make her life easier. A wayward tornado extracting her from the blissful ignorance of that life shot it all to hell. Now her mother was dead, her father could soon follow, and her sister and Glitch could be fighting for their very existence at that moment. And none of them knew how much they truly meant to her.

DG wanted to scream, to tear the hair out of her head, anything to get the images of the catastrophe she called her life out of her head.

The block of clay, a substance which should have brought back fond memories of the time she spent with her father and Az but only served as a reminder of all she missed out on, mocked her. Picking up the block DG threw it with all her might out the door and watched with satisfaction as it slammed forcefully into the opposing wall. It made a dull thunk sound before it fell heavily to the floor.

Turning away from the misshapen mass she focused her attention back on the shelves and the objects as she pushed aside. Soon, she was so immersed in the task at hand even the panicked and strained shouts emanating from somewhere in the adjacent corridor went unnoticed by the young woman.

"DG!" the voice rang out, echoing off the marble walls, sheer terror in the vibrations. "DG!" She was unfazed, never wavering from her goal. "DG!"

Turning into the room at a dead run and looking frazzled beyond belief, was Wyatt Cain. His usual stoic mask torn off, his face full of emotions… urgency, anxiety, stress, horror and fear. When Cain saw her, his body shuddered slightly as if uncertain in its movement. He chose to move faster, less careful in his steps, eyes fixed on the profile of the young princess who only gazed sightlessly ahead. She was seriously pale, eyes gray and empty, like the dead men a few floors above.

An instant later he grabbed her by the shoulders, enveloping her in his tight embrace. Pressing her face against his chest he held it firmly with one hand fixed to her cheek, his chin resting on the top of her head. The other was wrapped securely around her slim waist, fingers digging into the muscles of her injured hip, though DG took no notice. Ragged breaths began to ease for the first time since meeting up with his son and hearing the horror they found.

"What were you thinking?" his voice hoarse from calling out to her in rapid succession as he sprinted through the long corridors. "You should've brought someone with you."

Cain moved the hand on her face enough to run his fingers soothingly through the part of her hair not encased in the bandage. She had yet to return the hug, her arms hanging limply at her sides, eyes unfocused and body saggy.

His voice sounded far away even though it was right next to her ear. DG could tell Cain was angry by the strained inflection of his words. She screwed up yet again, going off on her own. The more she thought about it, the more she realized how right he was to be angry. How foolish to walk through the corridors of a battle ground with no backup. And she thought she was smart. HA! But she needed time alone, time away from the pitying looks of her friends.

Swallowing thickly, her throat closing in on itself, her breathing became labored due to the sudden constriction. A tremble ran through her body, from head to foot.

Then, suddenly he was all that was keeping her upright as her body went completely limp. She heard her name fall from his lips once more just before everything shifted to black.

--

Light began to seep in through her closed lids, feeling more like pins and needles than anything else. Her head throbbed. Her hip throbbed. Frankly, every single muscle in her body throbbed. DG felt like she had been run over by a semi, had the semi shift into reverse and plow over her again only to repeat the process a few more times. She probably would have felt better if that had been the case.

Slowly she opened her eyes to take in her surroundings. The sky was clear blue as if nothing horrible ever happened… telling the world it should be cheery. Both suns were high in the sky, either about to cross paths or having just done so making it near midday. Since they entered Finaqua only an hour after dawn, there was quite a bit of time unaccounted for.

A groan slipped from her lips as she shifted her position to try to sit upright. No sooner had the noise been released than there was a hand on her back steadying her rise. Tilting her head to the side she saw Cain, his stoic expression back in place as he helped her out of her prone pose.

Situating himself behind her, he eased her back to rest against his chest, one hand wrapped firmly about her waist while the other rested on his knee. His breath tickled her right ear and if it weren't for the earlier traumatic experiences she might have allowed the butterflies in her stomach to begin to flutter. However, the memories pervaded her mind and DG was suddenly even tenser as she hesitantly looked to either side.

A large hole and mound of dirt were off to her right with a bundle wrapped in a sheet directly beside the opening. DG shuddered as her eyes focused on the pure white sheet knowing it was the shroud covering her mother. Someone took it upon themselves to find the shovel and sew her mother into her burial cloth, and to be honest she was somewhat relieved. It would have been too much if she had to do the sewing herself.

Swiveling her head around to the opposite direction, fast enough to elicit a hideous crack, DG focused on finding her father. He lay in a bed roll – who's, well, who cares – bundled up to the neck. The perspiration visible on his forehead was busily being wiped away by an attentive Fran.

DG rocked forward attempting to get up and go to her ailing father only to rock backwards once more. Cain's hands went under her elbows as he guided her to her feet, and they remained there for the walk over to the injured man.

When she knelt down by his side she reached out a tentative hand, running it along his forehead and cheek. "Oh, Daddy," she whispered, biting back a sob, she had cried enough for one day – hell, one lifetime.

The knots in her stomach began to dissipate when DG saw his eyes flutter open at her words.

"DG?" his voice was muffled and dry. Blinking a few times he tried to focus his vision on those around him but the suns directly above made his eyes water.

"I'm here, Daddy," she responding, pushing a few curls off his face and pressing her cheek against his.

"Your mother?" he whispered into her ear. When she didn't respond right away she felt more than heard the sob that tore through his chest.

"I'm sorry!" And she truly was. They spent fifteen years apart to keep her safe, now he would have to live without her for the rest of his life, no matter how long it might be. "I'm so sorry! For everything!"


AN: Hit Me! Hit Me! Hit Me!