After. After Joel has argued himself blue, screamed himself hoarse, after he's taken another swing at Marlene and taken another beating for it, after all of that, Marlene still keeps her word to Ellie. They let him see her. One last time, but that part's unspoken. Marlene stops outside the familiar door. "They're prepping the OR now," she says, her voice held together with fraying twine, "We've given her a sleeping pill. It'll kick in within the hour, and then we'll induce anesthesia. You can stay with her until then. You're the only one she wanted to see."

Joel swallows. He forces all emotion down deep, so deep, like that pit he once dug in the Texas sand, shoves them down and buries them there. This is the hardest thing he's ever had to do, but he has to keep moving forward. He doesn't look at Marlene. The door swings open and he enters alone.

Ellie is curled in the bed, looking half her age, but still her face is ancient. The fluorescent lights add a goldish tinge to the red peach fuzz on her scalp. Her eyes are closed, but when he steps close, she opens them and scoots back. He tucks himself in beside her, dirt from his boots smudging the pristine sheets, and gathers her into his arms. "Hey, baby girl."

She's shaking, but she squeezes his hand tight. "Hey, jail bird." She swallows. "You heard about the surgery."

He tucks her closer to his chest. She's lost so much weight . . . "I heard you'd lost your damn mind. Came to see for myself."

Her laugh is a little shaky, but it's not weak. She sobers. Blinks a few times. "Tell Abs not to get dog ears all over my comic collection. That shit'll be worth something someday. And . . . if you ever find the last issue, can you get it to her? We both want to know how it ends."

"Ellie . . ."

"And don't . . ." she waves her hands at the whole barely-pieced-together mess of him, "You know. Like after Sarah. She wouldn't have wanted that for you. And I sure as fuck don't."

"Ellie, listen to me . . ."

"No. You listen." She pulls back and rolls onto her side, facing him. Her eyes are huge in her thin face. "Joel, I want this."

He feels like there's a knife in his throat. He swallows and buries it. Deep in the Texas sand . . . He makes his face grim and serious. "Ellie, you can talk me into a lot. But, you can never convince me that you want to die."

She turns onto her back, hands resting on her chest. "I want . . . I want it to end. Every day . . . every time, they take a little more of me and . . . it never fucking works. It never helps. I can't keep going through that."

"I told you, baby girl. Say the word, and no more doctors. Anderson can go fuck himself. We can go find someplace safe and . . . just live."

"No." Her voice is horrifyingly steady. "This could still work. I can still make it all worth it. And if it's not . . . at least I won't be let down again."

"Ellie . . ."

"It's not your decision, okay? And I don't want to fight with you anymore." She looks at him. Scared. Her voice is a plea. "Make this easy?"

Her eyes are starting to waver. That'll be the sedative kicking in. Well, he can't let her go to sleep still worrying about him. He forces everything down and nods. "Okay." Outside the door, Marlene and the four guards pretend not to watch them. "I think . . . it might be out of either one of our control now."

Her face relaxes. She even smiles a little. Her guitar sits in the corner, collecting dust. It's been weeks since she was strong enough to strum. She's staring at it. "I'm sorry I never got the hang of that thing."

"Don't be. Takes years."

"Play me something?"

"Okay." He retrieves it and settles it across his lap, staying close enough that he can feel the warmth of her body. He strums idly for a moment, then settles into the first melody that comes to his mind.

"And, you have to sing. You promised."

The world goes hazy for a moment and he has to blink hard and force a smile. "I promised no such thing."

"I know . . . But, you're gonna."

"Yep. I suppose I am."

She slides her arm around him, as if to comfort him. The lyrics float through his mind, like cotton on the wind, like dandelion seeds. If . . . I ever were to . . . No. He can't put that on her - not now. He lets his fingers go still for a moment, then chooses another tune - one he knows well, one that never failed to lull Sarah to sleep a lifetime ago, back when the scariest thing in his life was the family court judge. His voice is low and gruff - he never would've made it as a singer. But, he sings.

"Goodnight my angel, time to close your eyes

And save these questions for another day

I think I know what you've been asking me

I think you know what I've been trying to say,"

Her eyes drift close. She's smiling, and it takes years off her face.

"I promised I would never leave you

An' you should always know,

Wherever you may go, no matter where you are, I never will be far away,"

Her body is relaxing - releasing tension he hadn't even noticed. Marlene told him it'd be peaceful.

"Goodnight my angel, now it's time to sleep

And still so many things I want to say,

Remember all the songs you sang for me

When we went sailing on an emerald bay,"

She wouldn't suffer. That's what Marlene said. They could keep her from ever suffering again, if . . .

"And like a boat out on the ocean

I'm rocking you to sleep

The water's dark and deep, inside this ancient heart

You'll always be a part of me . . ."

He strums and hums wordlessly until he's sure she's asleep. Her face is slack and she snores softly. She won't be able to hold this last verse against him.

He drops his voice to a whisper, too low even for Marlene's secret microphones to pick up. She never struck him as a Billy Joel fan, anyway.

"Goodnight my angel, now it's time to dream

And dream how wonderful your life will be.

Someday your child may cry, and if you sing this lullaby

Then in your heart there will always be a part of me."

He draws a ragged breath. His fingers are hurting from the strings and the sand and gravel of a shallow grave outside Austin and he knows what he has to do.

"Someday we'll all be gone, but lullabies go on and on

They never die

That's how you and I will be . . ."

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

He doesn't react to the wetness on Marlene's cheeks. It's obscene. His own face is dry. He doesn't hear whatever words of comfort she tries to tell him, just stares flatly into the distance until she lets him go. She believes in his brokenness, after everything. She gives him his pack, with all his weapons, and an escort to the front door.

As he makes the long trek down the halls and out to the gate, it's clear that word of what's happening has spread like spores through the hospital. Everywhere he goes, voices hush. People - from the grunts who've roughed him up to the teenage kids to the self-styled Colonels and Generals - all of them rise to their feet as he passes and touch their caps or their foreheads in silent, makeshift salute. He doesn't look at any of them, just keeps moving forward until the gate rolls shut behind him and he can disappear down an anonymous alley.

When he's alone - really alone - his face slackens, like Ellie's had in sleep. Tension and emotion slip away. They don't matter anymore.

Endure and survive.

He mechanically straps his revolver into its holster and tucks the 9mm into the back of his trousers. Extra ammo goes in the side pockets, where it's easy to get to. Strings his bow for the first time in weeks and slides it over his shoulder along with his 12 gauge.

There's a half-empty bottle of moonshine tucked in the bag. Marlene's work, he's sure. She must've figured he'd want to drown his sorrows.

He rips a piece of a rag into a wick and stuffs it in the neck of the bottle. His sorrows can take care of themselves.

tbc