*** Your Title Here ***

      I wrote this after today's episode (6/5/01) wondering what
      was going through Sheridan's mind.

      SPOILERS FOR TODAY'S EP BELOW:

      HELL HATH NO FURY
      by Sherluis
      *~*~*~*~*~*

      He was still beautiful.

      She didn't want him to be, she wanted his betrayal to shine
      through, the ugliness and cruelty to mark him like so many
      scars against his flesh. A man's face should show what
      lurked inside, the monster that lived there, happy and
      content beneath its filthy depths in true communion
      with all that was evil and wrong.

      But when Sheridan looked at Luis' face, the evil just wasn't there.

      How could that be, she thought wildly, torn between running
      into his arms and hitting him with all her might. A trick,
      that's what it was. Harmony's night air, the dull fog that
      shrouded what should have been her special night, clung to
      him, tricking her into loving him still.

      Long after the fact.

      Long after the deed was witnessed and done.

      Her brother stood by her side, surprisingly silent. Julian
      was never at a loss for words, could Luis have shocked him as
      well? Wouldn't that be a laugh, Sheridan though, hysteria
      bubbling up, repressed only with a huge effort of will.
      Julian, her foul, reprobate brother, shocked and appalled.

      Who would have guessed?

      Who would have thought it?

      Luis stood in the doorway, surveying the scene with what
      looked like honest confusion filling his eyes. "Sweetheart?"
      he queried and Sheridan saw him pale at her silent response.

      What does he see in my eyes, she wondered? What's written on
      my face? Could it actually mirror what's in my heart?

      Could it truly reflect the pieces of what was once my soul?

      Sheridan didn't think so, nothing could have done justice to
      her feelings at that moment. Being buried alive, what was
      that in comparison to this?

      This was the true living death -- she walked, she talked, she
      breathed, and yet, she was no more alive than the stones that
      made up her father's mansion or the shale Luis had for a
      heart.

      A heart? Monsters don't have hearts, do they?

      "Honey." Again, his voice, and Sheridan wanted to cover her
      ears and scream. Her beloved's voice, so sweet before, it
      was pure torture now and her control was slipping inch by
      inch. "What's wrong, angel?"

      Her mouth was perfectly dry, she suddenly wanted a drink.
      "Julian," she said thickly, two simple syllables sticking to
      the roof of her mouth, her rage so hot she could feel
      droplets of sweat trickle down her back. "Make him leave."

      There. Oh, look at his face, she thought, dull triumph
      roaring through her, leaving her weak enough to feel faint.
      Yes, two can play the game of hearts and something black and
      frightening filled Sheridan's being at the sight of her
      fiancee's face turning white, white as salt.

      "Of course, darling," Julian replied, drawing himself up like
      a snake stretching out to meet its victim.

      But Luis wasn't giving up without a fight. "What the hell is
      going on here?" Julian shrank back at his snarl, turning
      tiny and weak at the mere sound of Luis' voice.

      Sheridan reeled as well, but from familiarity, not contempt.
      She'd heard that tone before, standing proudly at Luis' side,
      heard him swear his love to her just as vehemently. So, he
      lied in that voice as well, she thought, enraged.

      "Julian!" she shouted, sounding more like her father than she
      ever dreamed she could. "Will you let him stand here and
      insult me like this? Are you my brother, a Crane, or just a
      coward?"

      It was Julian's turn to pale, and Sheridan saw his cheek
      twitch with energetic fury. "As you wish, my dear."

      The older man's charge was ineffectual. Luis held Julian off
      with one arm, with little or no effort. Julian grunted and
      tried harder to shove but to no avail. Luis turned his dark
      eyes his to his finance's. "Sheridan, do you really want me
      to leave?"

      Such pain in his voice, and she swore he could have fooled
      the devil. "Yes," she said, looking up defiantly. "Get out.
      Leave and don't come back. I don't want to see you again."

      Life's joy left his eyes and to Sheridan's horror she felt
      her soul shrink at the sight. But the fury ... the rage ...
      it masked the agony so very well, like a drug. "Don't you
      dare come back, ever."

      Luis blinked and suddenly looked lost, like a child abandoned
      on a train platform. "All right," he whispered, his lips
      trembling, his eyes overbright with tears. "But I'm telling
      you, I don't understand."

      Oh God, so beautiful and she nearly gave in. Forgiveness was
      so close, any explanation would do but ...

      Julian straightened himself up and dramatically pointed to
      the door. "You heard my sister. Remove yourself from this
      house."

      Luis looked at him narrowly, as if examining a very small,
      very ugly insect. He turned back toward Sheridan. "I'll go,
      but only because you ask me to. But if you think this
      is over ... think again."

      He turned and suddenly was gone as what was left of
      Sheridan's soul. She waited for the tears to come, but they
      didn't. Instead a horrible weight settled immediately within,
      as heavy as the universe itself, crushing all other emotions,
      dooming her to a life without feeling -- without happiness ...

      Without love.

      Her brother turned to her with a smug smile. "There, I took
      care of him for you."

      Sheridan glanced at him, every disdainful emotion surfacing,
      like so many worms burrowing their way through a dead
      creature's bones. "Yes," she whispered, and Julian blanched
      at the horror that must have been shining through her eyes,
      ever the windows to the soul. "Thank you so much, dearest
      brother."

      Sarcasm dripping and she lowered herself to the couch,
      everything around her suddenly meaningless. Hell hath no
      fury like a woman scorned, and heaven ...

      Heaven hath no rage like love to hatred turned.

      No matter how beautiful that love once was.

      *~*~*~*~*~*~*~
      end

      This is my first Passions fic so all feedback is really
      appreciated. :-D