Epilogue - Truth Hurts

Two Weeks Later...

January 5, 1994

"Packing up and going home," Henry's father was saying. "They're in big trouble over the way they stored those explosives."

Henry nodded as they watched a group of men rolling up a huge wire fence, and another taking down a sign, while an earth-mover was carefully loaded onto a flatbed.

Just past him and his father was what remained of the promontory, and the concrete barrier that now blocked it off.

"Janice will be happy," Henry replied. "Mostly."

"Eventually, I guess," Wallace said. "Hall's being taken to the cleaners, and now he has to restore the beach to help compensate the town."

Of course, they both knew that the space below would never truly be the same again.

"Come on – they'll be waiting for us," Wallace said, ushering Henry back in the direction of the van, where Connie and Richard waited with the doors open. They were silent.

Not ten minutes later, Henry stepped into Mark's room for one final look. It's transformation in the space of two weeks was nothing short of astounding.

The walls were bare white and the shelves totally empty and free of even dust, while the bunks had been stripped down and the mattresses wrapped in plastic dust covers. The workbench was empty as well, and was now nothing but bare, rough wood.

They were all a hollow shadow of their former selves.

Henry looked around, trying his best to understand why. It was all just so overwhelming.

He stepped over to the workbench and carefully ran his hands over the surface. Something lodged between the wood and the wall caught his attention, and Henry pried it free with little effort.

It was one of the bolts from Mark's crossbow device.

Henry studied it for a moment, and without ever really understanding why, he pocketed it.

The sound of footsteps drew his attention to the doorway, where Chloe stood, smiling at him. Henry smiled back and opened his arms to embrace her.

"Hey there, you..." he said, ruffling her hair a bit.

Chloe sighed and looked inside the now-empty room. Her voice echoed off the walls inside as she spoke.

"I still don't understand why," she said. "Why did he do it?"

Henry shook his head sadly. "That's one question no one really has the right answer for, 'Chlo."

"Henry!" a voice called from downstairs.

It was Jack.

Chloe looked back up at Henry.

"They sent me up here to get you," she said, her voice somber.

Henry nodded and walked with her down the stairs, right into Jack's huge embrace, which lifted him right off his feet.

"Now you take care of yourself and your sibs, you hear?" Jack said.

"Careful, honey," Janice said with a little laugh. "You'll break his ribs."

Once Jack had let Henry back onto the floor, Janice grimly nodded in the direction of the living room. There was one last thing Henry had to do.

Sitting in a wheelchair in the middle of the floor with a plaid rug across their lap, bathed in harsh morning sunlight, and looking very small in the large room was Mark, but he looked nothing like the Mark that Henry had once known. His eyes and the entire top of his head were wrapped in layers of white gauze bandages. The skin on his face and hands had been horribly scarred and burned.

Just like his room, Mark Jordan Evans was now a hollow shadow of his former self.

Henry stood at the far end of the room, silently staring at his cousin for a time. Then he turned and began moving toward the entry. He was hoping to leave now, and not have to speak with Mark.

But as fate would have it, Henry's foot collided with one of the end tables, rattling the lamp atop it and drawing Mark's unwanted attention.

"Who's there?" Mark asked. His voice was raspy and somewhat strained.

Henry stopped, but he could not speak.

"Is it Henry?"

"Yes," Henry replied somberly. "We're leaving now."

"Come here first," Mark said. "There's something I want to ask you."

Reluctantly, Henry turned and stood before Mark. Close, but not too close for comfort.

"Closer, please," Mark said, almost as if he could sense Henry's presence.

Henry pulled up a chair and complied. As he did so, he noticed that Mark's hands remained lifeless in his lap, and he got his first real look at the truly horrific damage done by the blast. Second and third-degree burns maimed almost every inch of Mark's exposed skin.

"You won," Mark said.

Henry shook his head, but remained silent, disturbed and appalled.

"You had some luck, but you were good, Henry..." Mark continued. "But I'm still alive. Now I'm giving you a chance to finish the job."

Henry recoiled slightly. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

"Down in the basement is some rat poison. I'll take it in a week or two. No one will ever connect it with you..."

Henry shook his head.

"No," he said firmly. "Sorry."

"Listen to me..."

Henry whispered his next words.

"Being alive is your poison."

But those obviously weren't the words Mark wanted to hear.

"Go and get it. Do it now," he hissed.

For another few seconds, they remained close, face-to-face, then Henry stood from his chair.

"What's good for rats is too good for you," he said with as much spite and venom as he could possibly muster.

"Henry, don't go. Please don't."

Mark was begging now, pleading even.

"I can't live like this..."

Henry paused for a beat before dropping a sheet of heavy paper into Mark's lap.

"What the hell...?"

"Riddle me that," Henry called out over his shoulder as he left the room.

Janice and Henry stepped out onto the sunlit front walk, side by side. Henry's siblings and their father sat waiting in the van, with the doors open and electric engine quietly idling.

"Well... now you've said goodbye," Janice said, her tone awkward and faltering.

Henry nodded. "He wanted me to get him –"

"I know," his aunt replied.

"Ah..." a grim look of recognition dawned on Henry's face.

"He asked me, too," Janice said.

She had to do her utmost to keep her voice under control. It now devolved into a whisper.

"I was very tempted to do something... to end it for him..."

As she took Henry's hands in hers, the feeling of awkwardness was replaced by somber sadness.

"I'm glad you haven't been here these past couple weeks..."

"Are you?" Henry asked.

His aunt's tone was sad and filled with a reluctant acceptance.

"I'll never forgive him... for what he did to Matthew, and for what he tried to do to Chloe... but he's still mine. He's still my child and I can't stop loving him. Do you understand that?"

"I think so."

"Mark needs us now more than ever, because he's more like a child than ever – completely helpless. The doctors say that he may never use his arms again, and his legs aren't far behind..."

Henry nodded.

Janice quickly collected herself and took Henry's hand in hers.

"You know why we have to be apart for a while, don't you, Henry?"

Her nephew nodded again, but hesitantly this time.

"I guess..."

"You're going to be busy settling into a life of responsibility, and I need time to think about Mark, and try to understand. Then... I guess we'll start fresh, maybe in a new town, a new house. And you'll all come and visit us."

Henry was staring down at the ground, and biting his lower lip. He was fighting back tears.

"Do you think you'll be all right?" Janice asked.

Henry nodded, and swallowed hard, forcing the tears away. Then he noticed that Janice was wearing her green dress. He touched it lightly.

"It doesn't mean anything really, does it, this dress?"

"What?" Janice asked, confused.

"It's not a sign. You're not really her. She's not inside you..."

Janice now looked even more confused than before.

"Henry, I don't..."

Slowly, and with some difficulty, Henry let his words out.

"She's not you... that makes it easier. I can think about Mom now, more... clearly. I feel sort of better. It's not so bad now..."

He was unable to explain himself any further.

"I mean, I think I'm going to be okay."

At that moment, Janice hugged him tightly.

"Oh, Henry!" she said, her voice trembling slightly.

As they separated from the embrace, Henry looked up to his aunt.

"Will you teach me some music next time I come?" he asked.

Janice nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak at the moment.

"Sure," she whispered.

Henry smiled. "Great! I'm gonna try and get in the school band this fall..."

With that, he gave Janice's hand one final squeeze, ran down to the waiting van, and then closed the door behind him.

He waved as the van pulled away.

Janice raised a hand, as did Jack and Chloe, both of whom were standing in the open front door.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Mark had used a foot to get his wheelchair over to one of the living room windows. With some painful effort, he raised one of the hands that no one thought he could use and waved as well.

Janice was touched by Henry's surprising optimism.

As she turned to go back to the house, she saw her son at the window, raising a hand to wave goodbye.

She was startled.

He shouldn't have been able to do that. The doctors...

Obviously, Mark had been hiding it from them.

Then Janice decided that, for now, she'd let her son have his one last secret.

The End.

A/N: Well, now the final bow has been taken. Were you expecting that? When I first read the 1991 draft, I certainly wasn't. For the time being, it ends here.

I'd like to thank all of my faithful readers and reviewers for giving me this opportunity to present the story of TGS in a whole new light. Special thanks to Comedy Monarchy, fear2breathe, and 90TheGeneral09.

For now, I'm going on a bit of a writing break, to help clear my head, and form new ideas for the next story, which, I have decided, will be the TGS/Fringe crossover. It will be titled 'A New Divide'. So, anytime in the next month or two, keep your eyes on the TGS 'crossovers' section. I hope you'll continue to follow that story as well.

Thank you all.

- phorosz