A/N- Tis the quickest update in the history of the Words of Love series! Happy Thanksgiving! I felt bad about taking so long last time, plus I kinda like this chapter. A lot. It fills in gaps.

H. Sibelus- It's a weird coincidental happening conceived during a particularly long English class during my freshman year. Yes, I've been writing the WOL series since I was in the eighth grade... Wow... Ficticious characters are the hottest kind! I have a thing for Montparnasse, and another for Edward Hyde.

Mlle Verity- Very good point... but if anyone does meet a Markish type guy and doesn't want him for herself, then you have to tell me. As for the deleted scenes, I actually considered posting them as another story so I wouldn't de-umph-ify the ending, but I wasn't sure how that would be perceived. Just something like "Words of Love Deleted Scenes" ... because there are quite a few.

nebulia- It's true, twenty-one days is much too long. How about this update, is it acceptable?

elenlaurelin- Thanks muchly. Unless making you cry is a bad thing, and in that case I'd apologize. Oh, my,I can make the line a pretty color! WOW!

Nina closed the door of the apartment and turned to speak to Jehan. The boy rushed out to the hallway; Nina heard his bedroom door slam and the lock click.

She glanced unsteadily about the room. The dozen roses Mark had left for her earlier were in a vase on the table, his jacket was tossed into a chair, and his reading glasses were sitting on the bookshelf. Nina went over to the chair and put on the jacket, pulling it tightly around her body until she felt the hem at the bottom digging into her sides. She dazedly went into their room. The bed was made neatly – Mark's doing – and his pajama shirt was hung on the doorknob of the closet. Nina tugged the jacket tighter, enjoying the pain it caused her. She leaned back against the wall and slid to the floor, letting her forehead rest against her knees. Something crinkled; she reached into her pocket and found the papers the nurse had given her. There were three of them, and each was labeled in Mark's neat hand – "Nina," "Jehan," and "Cosette." Nina put the children's on the floor and unfolded the letter addressed to her.

Dear Nina,

They can't do anything for me. You have no idea how terrible it is to hear those words. They tell me you're coming, and I'm praying you'll make it before it's too late. Every time a nurse comes in, I wonder if her face is the last I'll see, or if her voice is the last I'll hear. I don't want it to be, Nina. You know that. If you don't make it in time, at least keep this letter.

I keep thinking back about all the things we've done. I remember when I first saw you, and I think I made John find out who you were for me. Then when I asked you to go out to eat with me, and you said yes. I knew you didn't really love me, but I was hoping that maybe – well, exactly what happened, although your friend hitting you with the car was a bit unnecessary. When I thought you had died, Nina, I remember wishing she would back that car up over me, too. I love you, Nina.

If you ever meet someone else, don't worry about me. You have two beautiful kids to raise now, on your own, and you're still as gorgeous as the day we met. Someone else will fall in love with you, if they haven't already. I think every guy our age in the show wanted to marry you, but you chose me. You are my life, Nina.

I have one thing to ask of you. On the top shelf of our closet is a shoebox, which I'm not sure if you've noticed or not. In it are things that mean a lot to me. I stole the idea from Hugo, of course. It's like an inseparable. I'd like to be buried with the things in there, if that's possible.

I love you, Nina. Don't forget that. A doctor just told me to stop writing; I need to lie down. So I have to close the letter off. I love you. I could say it over and over and it would be impossible to express how much I feel for you. I love you. I adore you. Remember that.

Mark

Nina finished the letter and leaned her head back against the wall. Tears pricked at her eyes, but they did not fall.

She hoisted herself to her feet and pulled open the closet door, careful not to upset the shirt hanging from the doorknob. Standing on tiptoe and stretching her arm as high as she could, she could just reach the shoebox Mark had written about. With a bit of scooting and nudging, she finally brought the box down and set it on the floor. She took off the lid and began to lift things out.

The first thing she found was a clear plastic box with something white inside. She opened it and turned it upside-down; four baby booties fell out – two with pink bows and two with blue. Nina could not help but smile as she held these against her cheek. Jehan and Cosette's first booties… she never would have been able to keep up with them for this long. Nina put them back into the littler box and turned back to the inseparable.

She found two ticket stubs from the production of Les Misérables that she and Mark had seen in Paris, a program from the show they were in, and a soda can on a string that had been tied to their getaway car. Nina began to feel at peace as she lifted out these little reminders of the best times of her life.

And then she found an envelope. The word "Private" was scrawled across the front in what seemed to be a child's hand, but Nina opened it anyway. Inside was a yellowed clipping from a newspaper, an article titled "Philadelphia Woman Raped and Murdered by Gang." Nina read it, shocked. The article told of a woman who was out for a drive with her son when a gang accosted them at a rest station. The mother was raped, beaten, and killed right in front of the 9-year-old boy. Nina looked at the date; it was almost thirty years old. There was a small picture of the boy, and Nina squinted at it.

It was Mark.

"Your dad's really nice," Nina said as Mark started the car. "I can see where you get it."

Mark smiled.

"Where's your mom? Are they divorced?"

He was quiet for a moment, and Nina saw a muscle in his jaw twitching. "Should we go home before we visit your parents?" he asked stiffly.

"No, we'll just go," answered Nina. She watched Mark's face as they turned back onto the highway and was surprised at the coldness in his eyes. She had never seen him as steely and silent as he was now.

The clipping shook in Nina's hands, and she released it, letting it flutter softly to the floor. He had never told her…

There was one more item in the inseparable. It looked like a shirt, and upon removing it Nina found that that was exactly what it was. It was a white shirt, but as she laid it on the floor she realized it was covered in brownish stains. There was one large stain on the chest and another on the shoulder, and as Nina stared at the shirt she began to realize what it was. She put her hand over the shoulder stain. None of the brown showed; her hand was exactly the same size and shape. Nina gathered the shirt up and held it against her face. It smelt like burnt rubber, and she felt tears gather behind her eyes again. It was the shirt Mark had been wearing when she had been hit by the car.

She repacked the inseparable and leaned back against the wall, reflecting on all that had happened in one day.

Still Nina did not cry.