Chapter Seven
His Failure
He was swimming through a murky sea toward consciousness, his determination unwilling to let him succumb to the blankness once more. His senses slowly began to return, but his mind lagged behind, still wanting to emerge him back into his coma. Struggling desperately, he finally managed to break loose and felt his eyes painfully cracking open. A stream of blinding light caused him to snap his lids closed.
"John," he heard a muddled whisper, but the voice was soothing and urging him to respond. "John, love, please…please open your eyes."
He knew that voice. Slowly his eyes fluttered open, but only halfway. He glanced around him and his hazy vision settled on the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. "Mar-guer-ite," he croaked, sending a swift rub of sandpaper down his throat. He raked his weary eyes over her thin body, taking in the remote changes. Her hair was unkempt, her weight dangerously low, and there were dark circles painted under her eyes.
"Oh, John, oh my love," Marguerite caressed a soothing hand over his face, her eyes brimming with salty tears. "I've missed you so much. Do you need anything? A glass of water?"
He feebly nodded his head. When she returned with one, she lifted the cup to his mouth and gently poured the water onto his dry lips. The water was cool and refreshing, but slid down his unused throat with effort. Coughing, he pulled his head away and peered up his wife. "Adam," he mumbled.
Marguerite's heart caught in her throat as she quickly bowed her head. "No," she murmured. "It was a ridiculous attempt anyway. You can't bring someone back from the dead. It just can't be done." She set the cup on the bedside table, refusing to meet his eyes. "But you'll get better and we still have each other."
"Do we?" He was still a bit sluggish, but his voice was stronger.
Marguerite swallowed the lump that was rapidly forming in her throat. She brought her hand out as if to smooth away the grief that etched his brow, but drew it back slowly, allowing it to drop lifelessly onto her lap. "I'm sorry, John. I'm sorry about the things I said."
"Why," he snapped, turning a bitter look her way. "You meant them didn't you? You blame me for Adam's death. And you even said I killed my brother. And you meant it. I know you did." He bit the inside of cheeks to keep from crying. "You left me, Marguerite, long before I walked out that door."
Her tears slipped from her liquid hazel eyes, seeping into her shirt. "Oh, John, I'm so sorry. I know the void between us was mostly my fault. And you didn't kill William. You were trying to safe him. I know that. Yet, so help me God, in a partial way I did blame you for Adam. You should have had him in his car seat, damn it!" She whirled away from him and heaved a heavy sigh before whispering, "Yet, I still love you."
Roxton looked away, staring out at something that caught his attention on the wall. He was silent a mournful moment, collecting his thoughts. "Marguerite, sometimes that just isn't enough. I love you, too. I loved you after Adam died, but did that mean anything?"
"I'm here aren't I," she reasoned. "I couldn't possibly go back to the empty mansion alone."
"Is that what held you back," he spat bitterly. "I'm sure you could have found some poor chap to take you home!"
"That's not what I meant and you know it!"
"Where's Dr. Burns?"
"Oh, changing the subjecting! Fine, he's left. The bastard vanished three days after the procedure; not even having the decency to remove Adam from the cave. Malone retrieved his body and buried him inside the fence. Veronica furnished him a tombstone. And I wept for weeks! But not that any of that matters to you!"
"Damn it, Marguerite! You damn well bloody know that it matters to me!" He suddenly drew in a sharp breath, his eyes squeezing shut from the pain. "Go away, Marguerite," he whispered pleadingly. "I need a moment…alone."
"Fine," she huffed and stormed from the room, blinded by her own agony.
After she had finally left, Roxton's damn burst and he sobbed openly, his heart shattering with every breath. He had failed his son…twice. He remembered the first time so vividly and his soul ached, crying out for death. Why couldn't it have been me?
End Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight, Angels Turned Away, coming soon! It will be a flashback sequence. So be warned. If you are a very sensitive person, you may want a box of Kleenex. (That is, if I'm able to do my job as a writer. I hope to get the emotions across.).
Velma-Kelly-online: What would I do without you? You're reviews brighten my day and often amuse me. I love your little addition of Dr. Burns and your mad giggling. Fab: Yeah, I did leap across the procedure. I just didn't know how to go about it. /smiles/ I hope it didn't bother you too much. Steffi: That was a very sweet review. Thank you a million. I'm touched that you enjoyed it so much. Zeusfluff: Sorry. I didn't mean to make anyone cry! I'm glad you're ok with it, though. Everyone: I know I'm missing 2 reviews because on my Stat page it says there are 23, but on the Review Page there are only 21. FORGIVE ME!