A/N KEEP READING!! I PROMISE I will give you guys a happy ending. Okay? Eventually. With Ryan and Marissa together. Even when it seems impossible. I have my ways of doing things. As I said, I wouldn't let you guys stay upset with me now would I? There's a such thing as Alternative Endings, people. Anyways, in order for the possible AE ending, you would have to continue reading the REAL story. About what REALLY happened with NO AE endings. But since this is fiction, and you guys are just so lovely with your reviews, I shall give you what you deserve. Which is not the tragic ending. Songs used: Heartbreak Hotel by Elvis Presley. I know this was quick, but I just had to get this chapter out here. I was so inspired to write it for some reason. R/R!
Ryan's POV
Even after all these months, I still couldn't quite grasp the fact that it was really over, that she really didn't love me anymore. I didn't understand how she could just open her eyes one day and decide that she didn't need me anymore, or think that this was all for the best. Sometimes it made me wonder if she ever did listen to a word that I said, or if she just nodded and smiled, pretending to care. And sometimes I convince myself that she had to have loved me at some time because there's no way you can fake the way she looked at me or the passion in her kisses. There's no faking the tenderness in the way she made love to me, and there sure as hell was no way she could've looked into my eyes for hours the way she did without ever feeling something about me.
It was now the beginning of May, meaning I have been around four months without her. If things had gone the way I'd hoped they would, I would've been counting down the days until I got home for good. I would write to her every single day, telling her about the horrors of the war. I'd tell her that I had seen a child dead in the street, that I constantly smelled nothing but the mix of blood and death in the air, and that sometimes when I was watching someone die, I envied them more than I'd ever envied anyone else in the world. Because they didn't have to pretend anymore. They didn't have to keep on going even though they knew things would never be okay again.
Things were okay during the day. Witnessing death and the brutality of it was a lot easier than actually dealing with the fact that she didn't love me. That she'd probably never loved me, no matter what I tried to convince myself. That I'd let myself live this huge lie for so long, and lived it and breathed it like it was the truth. Sometimes I didn't want to shoot, even though I knew I'd die if I didn't. Sometimes I just wanted to run out into the open and yell, "Shoot me! Kill me already! Just do it and let me fucking die already!" No one deserved the amount of pain I felt whenever my thoughts drifted to her.
Her hair had smelled of lavender the last time I made love to her. I remember entering her, feeling that overwhelming pleasure I received whenever I was inside of her, and I leaned down to kiss her when I smelled the lavender in my nostrils. It was such a great smell that I remembered it. But now when I thought about it, I wanted to hit something so hard, because I would never smell that lavender in her hair ever again as I moved inside of her. I would never smell anything in her hair again, because she was no longer mine. She now belonged to him.
I hated Steve with such a great passion, it made me lose my vision from rage. The searing hot anger that made its way through my blood actually caused my vision to blur, and my fists to clench so hard that my nails dug into my palm, sometimes even producing blood. But even then, I felt so much anger towards him that I didn't notice until afterwards, when I would settle down once again. I hated him so much because he was the reason for me feeling this way. It was his fault that she wasn't with me anymore because he impregnated her, and the minute she found out that it was his she knew that we would never end up together. I make myself believe this because if I don't then I'm left with the alternative; that she was just looking for an excuse to get rid of me. And him raping her was just so convenient, don't you think?
"Atwood, mail!" I hear one of the officers shout, throwing a few letters at me. I look at them, some part of me still hoping that she'd ask the Cohens for the address to reach me and write to me. Maybe there had been some reason why she hadn't flicked the lights. Maybe she'd been held back by Steve or something. But I knew as much as I would like to think that, it was just a big fat lie. Everything in my life was a lie. But now that the truth was out, I just wanted to be lied to again. At least that way I was happy. Now I don't even know how to feel anything other than anger and emptiness.
I ignore the letters from the Cohens and Seth, figuring they're just about trivial things like friends, parties, and family. The only person that I could think of that I would like to know what their life is like right now would be Marissa, because she's still the only person that I would gladly hear about the trivial things from. Instead of reading the letters, since I had a little downtime, I decide to write a letter of my own to my family. It's only after I start writing that I realize it wasn't really to my family, only someone that I wished I could've officially made part of my family. "Dear Marissa…"
"Atwood, the sergeant's looking for you. Something about that mission yesterday," Eric, one of the people on my unit, says to me. He looks at my hands and sees that I'm writing something and gives me a sympathetic smile. He's always been kind of like a father figure for me over here in Iraq since he already knows how to do all this. This was his fifth tour of Iraq, which meant he was really experienced in every area that had to do with war. He always promised that I'd get home safe, but in truth, that's what I was afraid of. Going home. Because now that she didn't want me anymore, I didn't really know what home was.
Well, since my baby left me,
I found a new place to dwell.
Its down at the end of lonely street
At heartbreak hotel.
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Some days I walk around like a ghost. Everyone looks at me and stares, but no one can really see me. I'm told that I look worse than most of the dead people they find, but I just shrug and say those dead people are the lucky ones cause they're dead. Eric always shakes his head and tells me things like, "Don't let it get to you. There will be other girls," or, "She isn't worth it, no one is worth that much pain." But no one knew Marissa, because if they did, then they'd understand.
If they knew that when she's talking about something deeply important to her that her eyes are a mix of blue and green that you can see the storm brewing inside of her, or that when she laughed, it was bubbly and energetic, they would understand why I am the way I am. Because if they knew that her skin was softer than silk, or that if you nibbled just below her ear her moans were low and deep, they'd know how impossible it is not to fall in love with her. If anyone ever met her, they'd realize that the second they saw her, they were a goner.
Some nights when I was lonely, I'd pull out a picture of her and trace my finger over it gently, pretending that I was really touching her face. I would pretend to have her wonderfully smooth skin beneath my fingertips, right there whenever I wanted it, or that I was connecting the adorable little freckles on her face. Sometimes I'd close my eyes and dream of leaning in to kiss her, taking her by surprise. I imagined the light in her eyes, and the way her smile completely melted my heart. Sometimes I worried that if she continued to melt me the way she did, I would just be a mess of goo on the floor. Sometimes I would imagine gently peeling her clothes off, leaving her completely bare for me to look at. But rather than excite me like it did when I was actually there, I take my time to remember the way her body looked when it belonged to me and only me.
One day I was eating my dinner when Eric came to sit beside me. He put a hand on my shoulder, waking me from my daze. I had just been remembering Marissa on Christmas, when we were together and she first leaned in to kiss me. I remember the magic of the moment, the realization that she had to have loved me too the minute her lips touched mine. It was the best first kiss I could've ever asked for, and the best one I'd received from anyone. It made me wonder how someone three years younger could have such an effect on someone like me. Sometimes I just wondered why she even chose me to lend her heart to. "Tell me about her," Eric says, his voice deep and somewhat soothing.
Suddenly I remember Marissa's voice as she whispered into my ear that she loved me; deep and somewhat musical, at least to my ears. I could listen to her speak for hours on end and never get bored because hearing her words or listening to her laugh was like music to my ears, almost like my favorite song. You could listen to it a million times over and still never get bored, but rather thrilled that you memorized every single thing about it. "About who?" I ask, feigning innocence. I realize that Marissa did that with me a lot when she felt like teasing me. I miss her teasing me.
Eric's warm brown eyes look into my blank blue ones and he raises his eyebrows. "The girl, the one that you carry around with you but won't speak about. Tell me about her. I'm curious to know how great she was, because she was obviously great, but I also think that you need to talk about her. So tell me about her. What was she like?"
I thought about saying she was like your favorite book. How you could read it a million times and still find something intriguing in it. Or maybe she reminded me of a sunset because her eyes were always so light and she was so beautiful and captivating that you couldn't help but stare at her. That there was never anything the same about her, she was always changing and becoming more and more beautiful. The more you got of her, the more you longed for just a bit more. I wondered how you could describe someone that was so breathtakingly beautiful that she made you lose your breath yet so gentle and fragile that you treated her like a newborn baby. I wondered how you could possibly talk about her when she was indescribable.
So I told him that she was the first girl I ever loved, and that she was the only girl I could ever imagine spending my life with. I told him that she pretended to love me, but I wasn't sure if she ever really did. I told him that no matter what I tell myself about her in my head, my heart tells me an entirely different story. And he listened curiously, only nodding, not speaking, knowing that the only words needed were my own. And then when I was finished he nods and says, "She sounds like quite the girl."
I nod and say, "She was 'the' girl."
"Was being the operative word there," He says, and then pats my shoulder and walks away. I watch his retreating form and sigh.
She would always be 'the' girl to me, no matter what anyone says.
You make me so lonely baby,
I get so lonely,
I get so lonely I could die.
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"I remember when I first saw you. You were looking down and I just wanted you to look up. I know I shouldn't have done it, but I walked into you on purpose that day. You looked so troubled and I wanted to get your mind off of those troubles of yours. I'd never seen anyone quite like you before, but I don't know what it was that set you apart from everyone else. It couldn't have been your beauty, because I'd seen a number of beautiful girls before, though none that looked just as beautiful as you. Maybe it was a look in your eye that I'd never seen before; emptiness. I didn't get how someone could let themselves become empty inside, until now." I rest my hand for a second.
"Hey man, we're supposed to leave early tomorrow. Shut off that light and get to bed!" I hear one of the guys in the room shout. I sigh and switch off the light, erasing my words to Marissa in the process.
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Dear Ryan,
Seth should come home soon. He calls every once in a while, but not nearly enough. You have no idea how hard it is for me and Sandy to be without you two boys. You guys are our whole life, so don't go and get yourself hurt you hear? I want you to come back in one whole big piece, breathing and with a smile on your face. Okay, so maybe a smile is a far stretch, but you can make an effort right?
Speaking of smiles and stuff, I saw Marissa today. I know that you probably shouldn't hear about her, but I know that at the same time you're dying to know how she's doing, so I'll tell you. She had her baby. I haven't seen him, nor will I ever see him unless you're showing him to me, but I know it is a boy. It's all anyone can talk about in this town. Everyone says it's not yours, but I don't understand how that could happen. You never wanted to talk about her, is that the reason? Did she cheat on you while you were away?
Okay, back onto happy things. Sandy says that when you come home in January, we'll have a big party for you. We'll invite the whole town because everyone would love to know how you're doing. You're Newport's hero, did you know that? Aside from Marissa's illegitimate child, you're the talk of the town. I can't tell you how many people tell me that they're praying you'll come home safe. Just so you know, I'm doing the same thing. I want my boys back home. Is that so much to ask?
Love,
Kirsten
And although its always crowded,
You still can find some room.
Where broken hearted lovers
Do cry away their gloom
I set aside the letter and stare off into space. Marissa had her baby. His baby. What could've been our baby. I run a hand over the top of my head, feeling the soft fuzz of my hair. I decided to keep it short, though we could technically let it grow out a little more than when were in training. Marissa was now officially a mom, and I was out here killing people and trying but failing to get killed. I pick up a pen and the paper I've already started the letter on and continue to write.
"When we first held hands, I knew that we were going to end up together. Our hands were perfect for each other. They still are. If you put your hand over mine and we laced our fingers together like we always used to, you would know that we were just made to be together. You can't deny it because you know it's true. You've always known it was true. I don't know why you're trying to convince yourself otherwise because it's a lost cause. Someday you're going to close your eyes and see me there, my hand outstretched, and you're going to want to take it only to realize that really, me being there is an illusion and you lost your only chance because you decided to listen to him."
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You make me so lonely baby,
I get so lonely,
I get so lonely I could die.
"Hello?" I hear on the other line.
"Kirsten, it's me," I say into the phone, my tone completely wiped of the emotion it used to have when I called home, back when I was only in training. Back when I believed there was a such thing as true love that never died.
"Ryan!" She yells into the phone, making me go half deaf. I roll my eyes and she asks, "How are you?"
"Stupid question," I mumble into the phone.
She ignores my comment and says, "I didn't know you could call us!"
"I can only call occasionally. You can never call here though," I inform her.
"Oh," Is her reply. She starts chatting about something, but I can't stand it anymore. There was real reason for me calling her, and it had nothing to do with their family or Newport's latest gossip. It had to do with one person and one person only. The only person that I ever thought about, even if I didn't want to.
"How is she?" I ask, cutting her in mid sentence as she talked about something Seth said the other day while she spoke to him on the phone.
She sighs and says, "Ryan, it doesn't really matter."
"You know it does," I say, my voice still devoid of emotion.
"She's fine," Kirsten says, sighing once again. "At least that's what I hear."
"Have you seen her at all?" I ask, needing to know just how fine 'fine' is.
"Yeah, I saw her at the grocery store. I didn't say hello though, just walked past her as she spoke to her son. I don't think she saw me. Anyways, I heard her say something to him, using the name, Larry. So I guess that's what her son's name is," She says, obviously not pleased with the conversation.
"Larry," I repeat, trying the name out. "Larry Cooper," I murmur. A part of me wonders what it would've been if there had been an Atwood on the end of that. And while we're there, let's pretend that Marissa Cooper was no longer Cooper but Marissa Atwood as well. It almost made me smile. Almost.
"Yeah…"
"Look, Kirsten, I really have to go," I say, which is actually true. One of the officers is calling for me and giving me 'the look,'
"Okay, I love you."
"You too," And then I hand up the phone.
Well, the bell hops tears keep flowin,
And the desk clerks dressed in black.
Well they been so long on lonely street
They aint ever gonna look back.
That night I go back to my bed and continue my letter.
"When we first kissed under that mistletoe, I knew that what we had wasn't fake or something that could be replaced. What we had was true love, Marissa, even if you didn't see it at the time. Because I knew from the moment your lips touched mine, you were and would always be the girl for me. Call me corny, cheesy, or even plain old stupid…but you completed me in every way. When we first made love I thought that the whole universe was rooting for us to be together. Because I loved you so much, and the way your body moved with mine told me that you loved me too. But maybe I let myself believe the lie that you told me, that we really might have a happy ever after. Or maybe all those times you doubted our love, you were really being truthful. Maybe you never did believe that we were destined.
"I spent six whole months wondering what had happened to you. Six months of my life worrying about you, only to find that you didn't really love me anymore. Only to find you pregnant with his baby. Only to find that you didn't want to marry me like I thought you had wanted. Do you remember that talk we had that one day? You asked me if I wanted a big or small wedding, and then we agreed on a wedding at the beach. What happened to that plan?
"Those six months were pure hell for me. At first I thought that maybe your letters were getting lost in the mail, or maybe mine were. But then the Cohens started writing me back and I knew that you weren't returning my letters. So then I figured, maybe you were just busy, then months went by and you still hadn't written me. Seth wrote and said you had bruises on your face, and I knew right away that me leaving you was the biggest mistake of my life. Because the minute I left you, so did me protecting you. I was stupid to have never seen that before. And then Kirsten told me you were pregnant and all that went through my head was that we were going to have a baby. And the craziest thing was that I was looking forward to it.
"We may be young, you especially, but I don't think that matters in the grand scheme of things. Because when we're a hundred years old with tons of children and grandchildren, who would really care that we had kids so young? Because then we could tell them that we fell in love and found our perfect someone at such a small age, and maybe they'd feel inspired or something for when they'd find that right person. But when I came home, you were different, and I don't know why I didn't realize what you being pregnant would do to us. I guess I was so wrapped up with the good, I didn't realize the bad.
"I always knew in the back of my mind that if you were getting beaten, you would also probably get raped. I just didn't want to think about it. But when you told me it wasn't mine, I knew it was his. And I didn't freak out the way you probably thought I would because I was just so upset that it wasn't mine and we wouldn't have that perfect family. It was only a minor setback to me though, because I would've raised Larry as my own. Yes, I know his name. Anyways, in my eyes, he would've been mine. Because we could've told the Cohens that he was mine and they would've believed us without a doubt. We could explain why he doesn't look like me by saying he looked like you and an old relative of yours. That happens all the time, you know. It would've worked if you let it."
I'm interrupted by Eric coming to my bed and handing me a bottle of beer. "I don't want to drink," I say, my eyes looking at him blankly.
"This is war, and while at war, we drink!" he says, obviously already drunk. I look at the beer and figure, why not? What have I got to lose?
Everything but the one thing I wanted would be the answer to that.
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Three hours and five beers later I'm drunk to say the least. Drunk and playing cards, which is a very difficult thing to do. I look at my cards and then around at the people I'm playing. There's Eric, a girl named Josephina, and another guy named John. "All in," I slur, pushing my chips into the center of the table. We're not really betting anything, considering I don't have much money and no one else is willing to lose all their own. So we just played to play. As I'm leaning in, Josephina pushes her chips into the center, and that's when I smell it. Lavender.
And that's when I remember her. The way her hair fell into her eyes as she slept, or the way her eyes fluttered when she dreamt. The way when her eyes were always fluttering, I hoped she was dreaming about me. The smile on her face when she looked into my eyes and told me that she loved me, the warmth in her touch when she held me. The way when she was ready to make love, her eyes were green, but when we were done, they were blue. The way when she was feeling lost or upset, her eyes turned a dark shade of grey. The way her hands trembled as she undressed me, looking at me with that look of uncertainty as if she was afraid she would drive me away at any second. I remember her and every single thing good about our relationship, and suddenly I can't take not being with her anymore.
My hands start to shake and I feel tears spring to my eyes for some reason. Everyone looks at me and I throw my cards down and storm away. I grab the papers that I used to write to her and a pen, then my equipment I usually took with me when I went on a mission and headed into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I suddenly knew what I needed to do to stop this pain. This breathtaking horrible bitterness and overwhelming pain.
"I tried to live without you, I really did. And I just don't know how to. War is a difficult thing, and even more difficult when you don't have someone you love back home to keep you motivated. Well, when you don't have someone that loves you back home to keep you motivated. I'm not perfect, and maybe someday you'll understand why I had to do this, just like I understand why you had to do what you did to me. I can't wait for a day I know won't come, because I know that if you loved me, that's what you'd want me to do. But if you don't love me, then maybe I'm doing you a favor.
"I know you don't want me to write to you anymore, but this is my last letter. I needed to say goodbye, and now I finally have. Never doubt that I loved you, Marissa.
"I'll love you until the day I die.
"Forever Yours,
"Ryan Atwood."
I tucked the letter into the envelope and looked at what was in front of me. A gun, a knife, a few grenades, and my uniform. I locked the door to the bathroom and then fingered every single deadly weapon, wondering which hurt most. Wondering which would be quickest. Wondering which would be cleaner. Wondering until I made my decision, and then didn't have to wonder anymore.
You make me so lonely baby,
I get so lonely,
I get so lonely I could die.
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There aren't many reviews, so I'll do the individual reviews next chapter, assuming I wait long enough again for you guys to actually review, lol. Anyways…400 reviews! YAY!! That made my day. : )