18 WEEKS before E-DAY

[Halvo Bay, 0030 hours]

Sharon's breath was hot on the side of his neck. He could tell from the hitch in her breathing that she was getting close to crying, which she only did when someone had died.

She had her arms locked uncomfortably tight around his neck, but he couldn't complain because he was probably cracking her ribcage from crushing her to him so tightly. He wished desperately that there were a way to weld her to himself so they couldn't be separated. A ceremonial quote floated to the top of his mind, and he pushed it away violently, but not before some of it got through: '...and the two shall become one flesh.' But it sounded like Sharon wasn't going to agree to that. She wasn't going to keep her end of their deal.

"I have to go with him tomorrow to apply for the marriage license," she said.

Damon wobbled a little, tightening his arms around her until her ribs creaked. The lawn felt like it was tilting underneath him.

"So that's it, then? You're just going to give up on us?" he demanded.

"I have to," she whispered miserably, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. "My family needs me to."

"Sharon—" Her titanium necklace was cold even through his shirt, but it still felt like it was burning into his flesh.

"Even if your parents gave you your inheritance right this minute, it wouldn't be enough to save us. It wouldn't even come close."

"Six million dollars isn't enough? Exactly how much did your father lose?" Sharon pushed free of his embrace, but he kept a grip on her upper arms.

"It wasn't just his money that was stolen. His brothers and uncles invested most of their stock with that firm, too."

"Shit. Your entire family tree is flat broke?"

Her cheeks burned with shame. She stared at the grass. "We ... we ran out of food yesterday. Tomorrow they're going to cut off the electricity to the estate. Our friends have given us as much as they could afford without hurting their own families. And nobody wants to buy an eight million dollar house with cash, which still wouldn't be enough even if we could sell it."

"So instead they're going to sell you, like you're a frigging cow or something?" Sharon didn't deny this, and she wouldn't look at him. "You should have told me about the food, I could have—"

She squirmed free of his hands and wrapped her arms around herself as if she were cold. "That's not the point, Damon. Your help would be a temporary solution. There's no other way. I'm sorry." She started to cry, and her voice quavered like the playback from a warped vinyl record. "I waited as long as I could. Too long. We've run out of time."

He couldn't believe it. It couldn't be over. They'd been together for ten years. They were going to get married and build things that changed the world and have scary-smart kids and become grumpy old prunes together. "Sharon—"

She sobbed once, violently. "I'm sorry, Damon. I'm so sorry." Then she took off running for the rear gate.

"Sharon, wait!" He sprinted after her, but she'd always been faster. She made it to the people-door in the huge gate long before him and slammed it behind her. It had an automatic lock that clicked shut when she closed it. There was no keypad on either side of the gate; everything was on remote, which he hadn't brought with him because DENIS had bypassed the system. Now the robot was up in his bedroom suite, out of earshot.

"Sharon, please." He thrust his arm through the wrought-iron bars, extending his hand toward her. He had the irrational thought that if he could just get her to touch him one more time, she wouldn't be able to go through with it. Apparently she thought so too, because she stayed carefully out of his reach. "Sharon, come here. Talk to me. We can still find a way to fix this."

She shook her head, and the weeping started in earnest. "It can't be fixed. Nothing can be fixed. Everything is broken." She sucked in a noisy breath that sounded just as terrible as the sobs, pressing a hand against her stomach like it was hurting her.

"Don't forget me," she said. "Don't forget that I loved you."

It felt like he was being pulled into a meat grinder by his arms.

She turned and walked haltingly toward the wooded path to her estate, still pressing her hand to her stomach.

"Sharon, wait! Sharon! Sharon, come back!" There was no way to climb over the gate, or he would have. His parents had strung razor wire all around the estate walls once they'd learned he and Sharon been sneaking around. Even if he were willing to rip himself to shreds—and in another minute he might be—he would get hopelessly tangled in the spirals and never reach her before she got home, where her goddamned parents would hold him off at gunpoint if necessary. He could run up three flights and get DENIS, but he still wouldn't get to her in time. "Sharon! Don't leave! Come back here!" She kept going, faltering over non-existent obstacles.

His hands seized the iron bars and he shook the gate on its massive hinges. "GOD DAMN YOU, SHARON, COME BACK HERE RIGHT FRAKKING NOW!"

She was almost to the trees, tripping and making awful sounds that reminded him of a dying animal. "I'm sorry, Damon! I'm so sorry!" Not turning around, she covered her ears with both hands and let out a horrifying scream of frustration and loss that made every muscle in his body seize up.

Sharon stumbled away into the dark.

Damon fell asleep sitting upright against the gate, waiting just in case she came back. He woke up at dawn and had a bit of trouble turning the handle on the back door because the cuts from an attempt at the razor wire had scabbed over, making his fingers stiff.

When he got up to his room, DENIS was gone.

# # #

Okay, so maybe I did spill a little bit of soap [opera] on my keyboard, but that's where the story went and I just wrote it down.

Brace yourselves for a little more Baird-related soapiness in the future. Leave a comment if you think it's too out of character.