Okay, yeah, First, remember that warning I put about why this was seperate from the Never/Never story?
Second, I think there'll only be two more chapters to this! And the next one is going to have a big surprise! (don't worry, it's a very nice surprise! I promise!)
Hope you're still with me till then . . . thanks for the reviews so far--even if, well . . .
When her lips pulled from his, Mu stared back into fear-frozen eyes. Kara had set herself in the chair across from him, but her entire body was stiff and her hand was shaking as it went to cover her mouth. For a moment taken in by her reaction, Mu's mind started to work and the first thing he remembered—out of the corner of his eye, a swish of deep-red.
Murrue's dress!
His sense over the situation jogging his mind, in a moment Mu was on his feet and bolting out the kitchen door. The first person he came to, Cagalli, he asked the question he needed answered.
"Have you seen, Murrue?"
"She was looking for you . . . Hey! Is something wrong?" Mu hurriedly said his good-byes to her and without another word walked past a few people, landing himself before Kira. Kira sat unwillingly in the door way of a room. Inside you could see a few children all under his watchful eyes—the people were taking shifts for watching them since . . . Kara was in the kitchen. At the moment it must have been the boy's turn.
"Kid, have you seen, Murrue?"
"Ah, yeah. She said she didn't feel well and was going home. She took Evi and Matt too—said you wouldn't mind."
At the moment, Mu couldn't help but smile.
"Thanks, Kira." Mu smiled again, somehow laughing inside. "See you later," he said, making his way to the door. Under the cloak of the busy party, Mu slid out the door, seemingly unnoticed.
Mu, on his way away from the party could just make out Murrue stopped in front of their house. If he hurried, he could make it to her in time. Yet, when he came to the sidewalk, his feet turned him in the opposite direction even though he had no idea why. Later he realized how hard and fast he was walking—he had to blow off some steam first.
He couldn't believe it! She kissed him and he just sat there, too stunned to do anything. It was her fault. It was all her— . . . But . . . then why did he feel so . . .
Mu paused in his heated steps, realizing he was somehow on eth other side of the street facing where home was. Mu reached up and slowly pressed his fingers to his lips, eyes wide.
It was only for a moment, but . . . why did he kiss her back?
---
"Mama, why are we going home? Mama, why can't we stay? Mama, why are you so quiet? Mama, why aren't you answering me? Mama, answer me! Mama, say something! Mama!"
Murrue froze, stopping in her tracks. It was dark, and their breath clouded lightly around their mouths as they stood outside, only a few steps away from home. Evi, one hand held tightly in her mother's, stared pleadingly up at the figure who wasn't answering. Matthew was held in Murrue's other arm—he'd fallen asleep.
Still there was no answer.
"Mama!"
"Evi . . ." Murrue started, her voice trembling. "Inside, okay? . . . Now isn't . . . the best time . . ." A car passed by in the dark, lighting up Murrue's face for her daughter to see. Evi gasped at the forbidden streams silently carpeting Murrue's cheeks.
---
The door banged open into the large, empty house.
"Murrue!"
Mu froze as the front door slowly swung closed behind him. She sat on the steps, waiting, staring at him, not moving. "Evi . . . ?"
"You made Mama cry," was all the little girl said.
Mu's fist clenched as his head turned away. He couldn't even look his own daughter in the eye. "How come Mama's crying, Daddy?" She whimpered.
Mu's blue eyes widened. Evi was . . . "Mamas don't cry, so then . . . why . . . ?" She was scared. And she was crying over it. It was at those times Mu remembered just how young Evi was. Quickly he made his way to her side, the choked running from Kara's house to home had really worked up his leg, but he pushed the pain away to sit down beside her on the steps.
"Mamas do cry," he revealed quietly, wiping away the tiny buds of tears. "But Evis?" He smiled. "Now that's rare." She followed suit and smiled, but her russet eyes still watered.
"But if Mamas do cry, then how come I haven't—"
"She hasn't wanted you to see," Mu told her. "So she hides it . . . But . . . it's always okay to cry."
"If it's so okay, then why does she hide?"
"I don't know . . . I don't know, Evi." They were quiet for a few moments, Evi and Mu both gathering themselves, for entirely different reasons.
"Daddy?"
"Hm?"
"I've seen Mama sad lots of times," Evi said, cocking her head, innocently. "So, does that mean she just hasn't been that sad or she's been that sad and she just hides it?"
"It's a little bit of both, Evi . . . Now, it's about time you go to bed," Mu told her, rising to his feet.
"Aw, but—!" With a bit of a laugh, Mu put his finger over Evi's mouth.
"No, 'buts,' Evi. It's late and you're tired—don't deny it." She was biting her lip to keep from yawning. "I have to talk to your mother anyway."
"Mama's upstairs in your room," Evi revealed, staring up at him from her unmoved spot on the steps. "She told me to go to bed too. Mattie's already asleep so he's sleeping upstairs with Mama . . ."
"Thanks," Mu smiled—he knew what Evi was doing—prolonging her 'awake-time.' Sure enough, when he helped her move off the stairs to her room: "Oh, and Daddy?" Mu laughed and smiled at her 'predictability' as Evi stood in the open doorway. She'd been in her pajamas since he came home as well so she was already for bed. "Tomorrow, when you go get Mama a sorry gift, can I come with you?"
Mu was stopped as he was on his way up the stairs. "It has to be red, you know—oh! And, one of those flowers Mama likes too."
"Sure," he told Evi as he heard the door close quickly behind him. He muttered to himself. ". . . But . . . It's going to take a lot more than a rose to get you to smile at me again, Murrue . . ."
---
He sat there, staring at the door from his spot in the kitchen. Mu couldn't recall how much time had passed since he had made his way upstairs, but, he had been staring at that door for a while—he knew that much.
Mu hadn't been able to bring himself to knock or anything on that white door. The silence behind it was stifling. He'd been trying to think . . . but at the moment, thinking just wasn't working for him. Shaking off any more 'thoughts,' Mu made his way over to the door and knocked before he could turn back.
". . . Murrue?" Her voice came slowly through.
". . . Mu . . . ?"
"Yeah—"
"JERK!" Something was thrown hard against the door. Mu couldn't hold back his grin—She had been waiting for him.
"Aw, come on, Murrue," he whined at the door.
"No way in hell," he heard her comment.
"Please open up. We need to talk face to face . . ." Mu jiggled the handle—locked.
"The door suits us just fine." The door was hit again right where his head was. Mu spoke to the door anyway.
"Didn't you see what happened?"
"Yeah!" Murrue's voice rose. "I saw you kissing my best friend." Mu struggled to keep his voice calm but quickly lost.
"She may be your best friend Murrue, but—God—I'm your husband! She kissed me!" Mu's eyes flashed towards the stairwell just incase Evi was there and he thanked fate she wasn't.
"Yeah right!" Murrue spat, voice turning nasty. "Blond hair, green eyes, short stature . . . Describes her quite perfectly."
"Describes who? Kara?"
"Your Miss Perfect. Remember?" Mu's blue eyes froze with realization. He couldn't believe Murrue was so . . .
"Oh, my—Murrue, you cannot be serious . . . That's what you're so hung up about? You believed me?"
"Why shouldn't I've?" When her voice rose even higher, Mu realized he's made a mistake.
"No, that's not what I meant!"
"Then what did you mean?" Murrue's voice leveled, trembling in anger. It made a bad taste come to the man's mouth as he regretfully spat out his words.
". . . I lied, Murrue." His fist clenched as he went on. "There, you got me, I said it. I lied.—The reason: You weren't going to leave me alone even if I did push you away. . . . Want the truth . . . ? Here it is. I never really had any 'dream girl.' I-I never thought I'd live long enough to fall for anyone. I thought that I would be dead before my heart was taken . . . But I was wrong. That's where you come in, Murrue. Sure, maybe once I pictured someone, but those visions have been lost to me ever since. Let me assure you . . ."
There was silence on the other side of the door. Mu was positive she was listening to him and he was even surer she was just beyond the door. He glanced up at the top corners of the closed door. He could open it anytime he wanted, even though it was locked.
He didn't though, because, if she didn't open up the door for him . . .
No, he couldn't let that happen. Mu felt the anger bubbling up inside him again and he struggled to push it down, to keep himself calm.
"If you don't want to accept that . . . then take that picture you've got in your head and somehow think of that as my dreamed 'the One.' Then, after you've done that," he paused, "rip it in half."
Mu was sure he heard something beyond the door—maybe a rustle or a quick breath. He kept going.
"You're not at all what I was 'searching' for, Murrue . . . you're more . . . I didn't say anything before because I thought you knew . . . I've only ever, and always will only ever, love you, Murrue . . . why can't you see—"
The door opened, stopping Mu in his unanswered monologue. Murrue's face appeared from behind it.
". . . Why can't I believe you?" was all that came out of her moving lips. You could easily tell she'd been crying, her red amber eyes told no lies, her parched voice revealed no illusion. The tears started to come again. ". . . you could've pushed her away . . ." Murrue diverted her gaze as she pushed the door closed, but Mu wouldn't let it happen again. He easily kept the door open.
"What?" Mu couldn't believe it. "You're serious, aren't you?" Mu walked towards her into the room and Murrue walked back, keeping the few feet between them at all times. Mu folded his arms, seemingly fed-up. "How did you see me kiss her, Murrue?"
She didn't answer. Her amber eyes looked away from him, focusing on the silent baby cradle in the corner.
"Tell me," he almost 'ordered.' "For I would really like to know." Again, Murrue stayed silent. The 'anger' that had built itself up in Mu had expelled itself just as quickly. His hard stare softened immediately, his hands dropped to his side, his shoulders sagged and he sighed. He wasn't the type to stay mad for very long . . . and with Murrue—it was almost impossible for more than a minute or two.
She had that weakness on him and sometimes, Mu wondered if Murrue knew.
"That kiss . . ." He brought up again—slowly as he took a few steps forward. "Was it like this?"
Mu leaned over and his lips breathed across hers. Murrue had no time to move away, he was gone before that. He stared long and hard at Murrue's frozen face. It was obvious she didn't expect him to . . .
"—or—"
Mu pushed Murrue's body that short distance to the wall behind her so he could have easier access to her lips as he powerfully, yet carefully, took over her mouth.
He took his step back, regaining the distance between them as he tried to control his heavy breathing. Mu knew full well that what he just did could either save him or condemn him—he couldn't think of a middle option.
Murrue kept herself plastered to the wall, eyes shut tight. Her own breathing was light and quick. With a deep breath, Mu pressed on, a new sad emotion mingled with the care in his eyes.
"Or was it like that, Murrue? . . . You know full well I could easily do both."
Mu waited for an answer—until he sharply took in his breath. Murrue, still against the wall, eyes squeezed shut . . . was crying. He could just make it out, the tears forming at the corners of those beautiful eyes that still wouldn't give him the time of day. She shook her head, biting her lip so you couldn't hear her tears.
"Murrue . . ." Mu never thought his heart could drop any farther.
"I . . . can't . . ." He stiffened under her whispered words. Murrue's eyes opened a bit, but not enough for Mu to notice—he was too focused on the tear resting lightly on her left cheek, just waiting to fall. ". . . Just . . . go away . . . please . . ."
---
---(by the way, I was a big fan of ending this chapter here, but I thought that would have been too mean of me)---
---
Murrue was startled. Mu left, just like she had asked, but he didn't say a thing. Mu was a fighter—he never gave up so easily. She had spent—who knows how long in her room. It was still dark outside so it wasn't that long. She literally sat on her bed, mulling over Mu's words—and his kiss—waiting, just waiting—or rather hoping he'd burst through the door, a smile on his face again being insanely childish, like he always was. But he didn't open the door, he didn't come back.
". . . Mu?" Quietly, Murrue peeked through the door. He wasn't in the kitchen either. Her heart started racing again. Even though she couldn't think of a single tangible reason to care, Murrue wanted Mu back.—Even after all the hell he'd put her through. But, then again, she realized, I've put him through hell as well . . .
She went to call his name again, but froze, gaze drifting down the staircase to the rooms below. There Mu was, collapsed on the sofa there, completely wiped out. Evi was awake—Murrue had to hold herself back from marching down there and make sure her daughter finally went to sleep.
That was before Evi started poking Mu, trying to get him to wake up. She had a small bear in her arms and had just pushed the sleeping cat off of him so she could sit herself down on his stomach to wake him up.
"Daddy!"
"What is it, Evi," he almost groaned from the weight she wouldn't let up.
"Daddy?" she whimpered again. "I had a nightmare . . ." Mu covered his eyes so the little girl wouldn't see how he rolled them.
"What was it about?" He sighed.
"Tyler said that to die means to go away and never come back," Mu tried to straighten up, but she kept him pinned down. Her voice started to trembled a bit, but she didn't cry—yet. "—and you said Mama was going to die . . . does that mean she'll go away and I'll never—" Mu pat down his daughter's hair in the dark.
"That's what 'die' means, yes," he revealed quietly. ". . . but that's not going to happen . . . because I won't let it—I will never let your Mother go." He smiled. "Don't worry."
"But you're—"
"I said never, Evi. I promise.—And I've never broken a promise to you have I?"
"But you said you'd come back," she challenged.
"And I did, didn't I?" He muttered before pulling her towards him. "I've just been up . . . for so long . . . I'm so tired . . ."
Murrue watched as Mu shifted over on the couch to make room for Evi before he finally gave into the sleep that had been attacking him for hours.
Murrue didn't know, but she smiled.
---
Days went by, a week passed. Things were as thick in the air as ever, yet with each moment, each out-there smile or misplaced laugh, it thinned. Mu and Murrue talked—about everything other than what was really on their minds. They kept an arms distance away from each other always, and Mu slept in a different spot each night to keep Evi from getting worried . . . But, even so, with the awkward wall between them, Mu was always testing their boundaries.
Matthew said his first word during that week and they had a 'heated' argument over what he had actually said. Mu insisted that Matt had muttered 'Murrue' yet Murrue insisted upon 'Mu.' Evi, rarely fed up with their 'fighting' even finally announced her little brother had said his own name, 'Matthew' instead of 'Mu' or 'Murrue.' That shut her parents up . . . for that moment, anyway.
In the heat of that joyous occasion, though, they had somehow found themselves in each other's arms. Murrue had fixed the awkward moment by reminding Mu that, "I still hate you—this doesn't change anything."
"Yay!" Mu grinned, not letting her push away. "It's Opposite Day! I still hate you too!"
"You are way too immature . . ."
That earned a laugh from everybody—even when Mu tried to steal a kiss and Murrue threw the joke right back in his face.
"I still love you too much to kiss you yet." She plastered a fake surgary-sweet smile to her own face, grinning up at his bewildered one. "Happy Opposite Day, Mu."
He left her alone a bit after that.
One day, when Murrue was out—she never really told Mu where—Evi was looking up at her father with a pensive look to her face, russet eyes never straying from his blue ones as they dashed around with what he was doing.
"Daddy . . . ?" He made a sound to show he was listening, his other concentration stolen by the crying Matthew—the boy had cut his finger and to a little toddler, a paper cut could feel 'deadly' . . . "Daddy . . . are you and Mama okay . . . ?"
Mu dropped the band-aid in his hand to the floor in his surprise. Bending down to get it, he laughed.
"Why do you say that?"
"Just that! Right there! You and Mama don't talk and I haven't had to cover my eyes . . . and you're always laughing at really weird times . . . and you always stare at each other in the middle of a talk, then you look at me and then you start talking about something completely different!"
"And why do you think that's bad, Evi?" Mu had gone back to fixing up the now quieted Matthew.
"When you're just Daddy, you're sad . . . and when Mama's just Mama, she's sad . . . But, when you're 'Mama and Daddy,' you're happy and I'm happy. But you're sad, I'm sad. And I've been never been sad this long before while you both were here . . ."
Mu stared hard into his little girl's face. She sat, waiting on the counter beside Matthew, her legs kicking out seeing as how she had nothing to rest them on. One of her braids had fallen apart and there was hair all in her face. Mu tried to sift through her simplistic words and was surprised at what he found hidden behind an innocent child's methodology.
Evi's face screwed up for a moment. She went to slide herself off the counter but Mu caught her around the middle last moment and helped lower her gently to the floor.
"Come on Daddy," she urged, pulling his wrist. Confused, Mu went along, only after bringing Matthew along too. Evi brought him out the kitchen and into their bedroom, round to the corner and the closet door right before it. Cocking his head, Mu watched as Evi slid open the door and pointed to the inner most corner of the closet, shadowed from view.
"What?"
"Here," she pointed again.
"What?"
"Mama's place," she replied like it was the most obvious thing. She easily saw he still didn't understand. "It's here. I found it one day, when I was playing in your closet. She keeps things there. Many odd things. She told me that I could look whenever I wanted as long as I didn't break anything. She told me never to show you unless it was the right time. And the right time . . . was when she would never show you. Well, Mama's not talking . . . and it's time to show you Daddy, just what it is Mama's kept away."
Mu was battling with himself. Part of him wanted to back away and the other half wanted to drive right in. He couldn't even begin to guess which side would win—Murrue came home.
"Where is everybody?"
"Here Mama!" Evi called, running out of the room. Mu had no choice but to follow suit. When Mu emerged unacknowledged from the bed room, Evi had started to go to work on Murrue. "Mama, I want to go to Tyler's. Can I?—Oh, and Mattie too! Mattie comes!"
"Sure," Murrue smiled without any hesitation. "Let me walk you."
"I can do it myself, Mama," Evi whined. "He's right down the street."
"Down and across, Evi. I'm walking you." With a huff that meant Evi hadn't really expected her mother to ever say yes, Evi started her way down the stairs to get her jacket and everything.
"Wait," Mu spoke up for the first time. "You're letting Evi over there after what happened?"
"Tyler didn't kiss you, did he? His mother did and besides, I will not take away our daughter's closest friend because of a little spat between us, Mu," his wife countered.
"'Little spat'?"
"Besides," Murrue's amber eyes softened as they rested their gaze off his face. "I can sort of see her side. It's understandable . . . I would've done the same thing—probably." Mu stood there, stunned, for a moment before he suddenly found her hidden what was hopefully humor.
"Wait . . . did you just say that if Daniel lived and I died, you'd kiss him because he's just like me?"
"No, Mu! How could you even think that?" Murrue 'smiled,' revealing her thoughts. "He's only like you a little bit."
For once Mu was speechless.
Evi came bounding up the stairs ready, even carrying Mattie's things. Murrue took the little boy from Mu's arms easily. Within moments, Mu watched as the three of them just left without him saying another word.
---
Murrue knocked lightly on the door. It slowly opened, revealing Kara on the other side.
"Murrue . . ."
"Kara," she replied stiffly. Her friend's eyes traveled down to the kids on Murrue's arms and then to the children huddled up behind her.
"You four," Kara smiled, "it's a beautiful day—why don't you play outside today?" Both Tyler and Donnie seemed ecstatic about the idea. They were ready within moments and outside with Evi and Mattie.
"Oh Tyler, you'll never guess what Mattie did!"
"Just stay within the fence," Kara called. Their yard was fenced in.
Murrue smiled at her laughing children as she followed Kara into the home. Once the door closed behind them, Kara quickly made her way to the side of the small hallway.
"'Scuse me for a moment . . ." She told Murrue before picking up the phone and punching in a few numbers. "Hello, Jennie, yes, it's Kara. Look, the 'Quartet' is in yard, yes, them. Could you keep an eye on 'em for me? I'm a bit busy inside . . . Thank you." Kara set the phone back down and she quietly made her way to kitchen, Murrue following her. "Would you like something to drink? I was just making something hot for the boys . . ."
"Oh, I'm fine."
"Okay," Kara smiled, sliding a mug of coffee into the woman's hands. Murrue smiled at the gesture. Kara knew her too.
"Kara . . ." Murrue started after finally swallowing down the somehow overlooked awkwardness. "We need to—"
"No, I need to, Murrue," Kara smiled, sitting herself down in one of the kitchen chairs. It was harder than she thought to say it. "Murrue . . . we're moving."
"What?" Murrue dropped down to the chair beside her 'friend.' It was like with Mu . . . she couldn't be as angry as she should have been—not faced with that situation.
"Yes, my job thinks I'm better suited somewhere else." She shrugged, blond hair resting limply on her shoulders. "I was going to tell you at the party, but . . . it didn't work out like either of us had planned." Both Murrue and Kara couldn't hold back small hints of a smile at the irony of it.
"But . . ."
"Yes, I know," Kara finally looked Murrue somewhat in the eye. "Evi and Tyler might suffer a bit. But we won't be that far away . . . they could meet up easily once, maybe twice, a month? With a bit more planning than now, of course." Murrue blinked. She'd been there for a while and yet all they'd talked about were the kids and Kara's moving. It was like with Mu—they avoided the topic altogether, getting nowhere in how to solve it.
Kara looked hard into Murrue eyes and sadly smiled, understanding what was on her friend's mind.
"You still haven't forgiven him . . . have you?"
"Kara!" Murrue couldn't believe it.
"Well that's just stupid," the woman breathed, setting her coffee down harder than she meant. "Get a grip, Murrue!—In this past week, where has Mu been? By your side or off gallivanting somewhere? The answer you get is what you need to realize. I won't let you come here and . . . torture yourself by avoiding him. Not you two." Kara couldn't take it—not with them.
Murrue stared blankly back at her, trying to process it while all the while the conversation she had with Evi on the way to Kara's went over and over in her mind.
'I showed him your place Mama—I'm sorry but you're welcome, okay?'
'Wait—'my place'?'
'Yeah, Mama. Your place . . . '
"Oh, God, I have to go," Murrue realized. She could just see Kara's weak smile. As she went to leave, Murrue stopped. "Wait, Kara, when are you—?" Her smile broadened at the question.
"Oh, six months or so . . . We saw the house—It's beautiful." It was quiet for a moment. "Oh, and it's only a walk to Daniel's grave from there, so Donnie and Tyler can see him again . . ."
"Before you go, Kara, you've got to make us dinner again."
"How rude," Kara laughed, getting the message Murrue sent to her as the brunette quickly left the house.
Kara's green eyes drifted to a picture in her kitchen—one of her favorites. It was the four of them—Mu, Murrue, Daniel and herself. It brought back memories.
Mu . . . I didn't kiss only because you remind me of Daniel . . . I always liked you . . . But Murrue's got you now and if I know her, she'll never truly let you go. Like me with Daniel.
---
Mu sat on the corner of his bed, windows of his room open—he enjoyed the semi-crisp air occasionally blowing through. It was quiet as heck in his house, with only himself in it. He kept looking over at the closet door. Evi hadn't closed it all the way—it was open a bit and it was beckoning him. It took all his common sense to stay put in his spot on the bed. But what Evi had said before taunted him to no end.
Gladly ridding himself of all common sense, Mu succumbed to his overwhelming curiosity, stood up and stiffly made the short walk from the bed to the closet. Peeling open the door, Mu rested down on to his knees for a better reach inside that hidden place Evi had showed him before.
He remembered how he'd put that tiny alcove there and seemingly forgot. As his hand dug in there and pulled out lost trinket after memory, photo after letter, his eyes lit up with each item.
Murrue's necklace . . . The engagement ring box . . . the dried flowers they both wore at their wedding . . . they were all in there. His hand finally gripped a large cloth. Pulling it out, it was his Military jacket—from all that time ago. He had always wondered where it went. They had sent it home after he was pronounced MIA and then POW . . .
After staring at the stiff fabric for a few minutes, memories running through his mind faster than before, Mu blinked himself back to reality and quickly re-folded the jacket.
A thin paper slipped out of the pocket, catching his eye. Picking it up and carefully unfolding it, Mu read over the letter's contents. It was in his messy handwriting—a blue pen too.
His hands kept shaking, not believing his eyes. It must have been a trick . . . It had been years and yet . . .
He remembered—every bit of this paper.
Every thought, every feeling, every slip of his pen that made his writing even more harder to bear.
He could remember it all. But it wasn't what he knew, it what he didn't know that scared the hell out of him. Why would Murrue still have this? Why did she have to get it? She wasn't supposed to read it—she was never supposed to read any of my letters . . . But, that can't be helped now, can it? What happened that day cannot be changed.
"But—she kept it . . . ? Why . . . ?" He murmured aloud to himself.
"Because she couldn't bring herself to throw it away . . ." Her trembling voice came soft from behind him. Tense, Mu spun his upper body around to see her standing in the doorway, light shadowing her face. She looked down at him, with his scared little boy of a face, while he crouched before the closet, items strewn across the floor in front of him.
"Murrue . . ." Mu pushed himself to his feet, eyes never once losing her shadowed ones. Her gaze swept the room as she moved closer to his stunned form, frozen stiff.
"It also served as a reminder for me . . ." Her shoulders sagged and her head fell as she gripped Mu and brought herself into him. ". . . of how I never want to feel that way again.—Even if I still 'hate' you, I never . . ."
Taken aback by her gently falling tears, Mu's body let go of all the grip he had: in his hands, on his heart, in his sense . . .
As he held Murrue closer, enjoying the warmth he had lately come to miss so greatly, the letter which had once become the reason for all their sorrows fell neatly from his hand, already serving its purpose.
It was dated the day before he became dead to the world.
Dearest Murrue,
If you're getting this then, well, I'm sorry.
Rest assured that if I came back, this scrap of paper would have gone straight to the fire . . . You're angry with me, I know, because I didn't write or call or anything for the past three weeks, right? I bet you are! . . . The truth is, if I could call, I wouldn't be able to take hearing you so close and yet you being so far . . . And I have been writing you letters like I said I would. Two—maybe five a day, but they all get thrown to the fire because I can't think of the right things to say. How do you word a letter that means more than 'Yep, we had some more training today . . . I'll write tomorrow—maybe' while still not letting it be a romantic love letter? I can't write love letters—In fact, I probably could . . . but not to you. No words could describe and, to me, nothing could be sweet enough for you.
The whole reason I was called out here is going down tomorrow. So, I've taken my time to write this much (which is a lot, let me assure you, compared to what I've thrown away before . . .)
Give Evi a kiss good-night for me and save one for yourself and I'll replace it when I get back, okay? Remember that I'll always be with you.
I love you, Murrue. This might be my last attempt at a letter.
Always there and in love with you,
Mu
"There might be hope for us yet, Murrue," he laughed.