Seven Devils

Chapter 22 / Fathers and Sons

"I was afraid of looking into my heart...afraid of thinking seriously about anything...I did not want to know whether I was loved, and I did not want to admit to myself that I was not loved..."

— Ivan Turgenev

For the first time in a while, things seemed to be going alright. Yes, the Armageddon was still very much on schedule and they had nothing figured out, but there's always quiet in the eye of a hurricane, and Dean was going to enjoy every second of it while it lasted.

Unfortunately, it didn't last very long.

"So, how do you even become a hunter?" Marlene wondered from the backseat, "Is there, like, a school? Hogwarts but for bloodthirsty lumberjacks? Everyone wears flannels and instead of broomsticks, there're Chevvies."

She'd been asking these questions for the better part of their journey: "what was your first kill?", "what's your top-10 scariest monsters?", "what is your dream monster to kill?", "have you ever seen an alien?" The other part of the trip Marlene'd spent sleeping.

Dean cleared his throat, gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter. Sam's mouth twitched.

"You don't become a hunter. You just do what you gotta do," Dean droned.

Marlene leaned forward, "But what if you don't know how to do what you gotta do?"

"Then you die."

"You're not really selling this."

"I failed the marketing class at the hunter school."

Marley grinned, "I knew it." Dean shook his head, sighing. He was more willing to listen to Sam's sissy pop crap than bear another minute of this third degree torture, "How long till we get there?"

"About an hour," Sam replied.

"Oh. Can we — "

"No," Dean replied instantly.

Marley pouted, "But I need a bathroom."

"We stopped thirty minutes ago."

"I've had coffee."

"Which I told you not to get."

"That's not fair! I was sleepy — "

"And you would've been out now?"

Marley narrowed her eyes at him in the rear-view mirror. It was by pure miracle and thanks to that one semester she'd taken in rhetorics that she'd managed to talk herself out of the house arrest. That is, she'd all but begged Dean to let her come with them to Ohio, because she was going stir crazy and needed a breather. Marlene'd sworn she'd be on her best behaviour and wouldn't be a nuisance — the two things that had been quickly forgotten after an hour on the road. What? She had a small bladder.

"I say we stop at the next diner. I'd grab a bite," Sam suggested casually. Dean really wanted to veto the idea purely out of spite, but he was kind of starving too.

And so half an hour later they were sitting at a table in a small roadside diner. Neither Marlene nor Dean was particularly happy with the sitting arrangements, since they were stuck together on one side of the booth with Sam happily occupying the other. The bastard.

"You ready to order?" a waitress asked, taking out her notepad.

"Ah, yeah. I'll have a greek salad and lemon chicken."

Dean put down the menu, "Double bacon cheeseburger with some chilli fries."

The waitress scribbled down the orders and looked at Marley, brows raised. "Make that two, please, plus a side of onion rings, thank you," she gave the waitress a jovial smile and then returned to the menu to pick a dessert. Marley glanced up when she finally felt Sam and Dean's surprised stares on her, "What?"

"Nothing", they mumbled in unison and looked away.

Deciding on an apple pie, she set the menu aside, "So, a bear attack, huh? Any theories yet?"

"It could still be just a bear," Sam pointed out.

Dean snorted, "Yeah, right. The guy had his head ripped off in his bedroom. Don't know how well he and that bear knew each other, but it doesn't look like a crime of passion to me."

"Fine, then what's next? You're gonna waltz into the sheriff's office with your fake forest ranger badges?"

"We were thinking FBI," Dean told her importantly.

Marley frowned, "Why would the FBI be looking into a bear attack?"

"Because it's not a bear attack."

"They don't know that. It's gonna look weird."

"Weirder than a man killed by a bear in his bedroom?"

"Well maybe it wasn't a bear."

Sam watched their back and forth with with amused puzzlement.

"Then what was it?"

"Uh-huh!" Marley exclaimed triumphantly, "so you agree it was a bear?"

Dean sucked in an exasperatec breath, "I didn't say that — " he was interrupted by a loaded plate being placed on the table — the smell of the burger made him forget what he was going to say. Dean thanked the waitress lady with a charming smile and then looked at his food with pure adoration.

Meanwhile, Marlene picked up the juicy burger and took a sizeable bite, closing her eyes from ecstasy. She'd been craving something salty and greasy for ages — and it'd definitely hit the spot. Riding the bliss wave, she destroyed an entire onion ring and finished it off with a forkful of chilli fries. Marley was too busy inhaling her food to see that Dean was doing the same, but Sam had sure noticed.

He was staring at them, his salad still untouched, "And now there's two of them," Sam mumbled and sent a measly piece of lettuce into his mouth.

𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐

Marley really was trying to help Sam and Dean with the research. She'd dug up Ohio's bear attack statistics for the last couple of years — the numbers were much higher than you would've expected — read a bunch of articles about Bill Randolph and his gruesome death, even scrolled through a lengthy reddit post by a group of very angry hunters who were recruiting men to catch the wild beast and save the town. After all, when a bear gets into your bedroom, you can never really be safe, can you?

But the TV was on and there was a , MD marathon, and Marlene had already missed ten episodes — it was a shame not to catch up. About two episodes in, though, the research was long forgotten and Marlene was sprawled on the bad, eyes glued to the screen where was telling that his wife had been offered a position in the hospital. Funny thing that — no one knew he had a wife, Marley included. That's why her face was twisted in shock and second hand betrayal when Dean and Sam came back.

"Marlene?" Sam walked into the room, worried. He took in her disturbed state, then looked at the TV. Just like that, concern became disappointment.

Marley glanced away from the screen for a brief second, "Oh, hey guys."

"What...are you doing?"

Clearly, it was the wrong question to ask. "You will never believe what happened," she exclaimed and turned fully to face them " 's had a wife the whole time and now she's back in Seattle!"

Dean's eyes went wide at the plot twist, "What? That bastard," he hissed, shaking his head, "I knew there was something wrong with him, no one can be so perfect."

"Oh, that's not all," Marley warned him, "Get this: she's a doctor."

"A doctor?"

Marlene gave him the look that said "uh-huh, can you believe it?", "And they made her head Obstetrician at the Seattle Mercy."

Dean whistled, "Ellen will be pissed — "

"Guys," Sam cut in, giving both of them an unimpressed stare.

Dean cleared his throat and assumed a very preoccupied expression. Marley pursed her lips in shame and turned off the TV, "Sorry," she mumbled, switching into a sitting position, "So, what'd the police say?"

"They're sticking to the bear crap."

"But we managed to talk to ."

"The widow?"

Sam nodded, "She's a little..."

"Loopy," Dean offered.

"Why?"

"She thinks the Incredible Hulk did it," Sam explained, "Swears she saw him blasting through the door and killing her husband."

Marley furrowed her brows, pensive, "Norton or Bana?"

"Neither. Lou Ferrigno," Dean told her.

"Ah, yikes."

"Whatever that thing was, we still have to investigate the house, see if there're any leads," Sam said and looked at his brother, "Dean?"

But he'd already cracked a bottle of bear and plumped into the chair by the laptop, "You go. I'll do some research on the Missus."

Sam nodded, grabbing the car keys from the table, "I won't be long," he turned to leave when, suddenly, Marlene called after him.

"I'll come with you," she said brightly, already donning her jacket.

Sam was taken surprised by the offer — the helpless look on his face was priceless. When he looked at Dean for some assistance, his brother offered him nothing but a shit-eating grin and a suggestive wink.

Dammit.

𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐

"Well," Marlene said slowly, staring at the ginormous hole in the house, "They sure didn't use the doorbell."

Sam inspected the rubble, "It's gotta be at least eight-feet tall."

"Would've never thought the Hulk was based on a true story," Marley followed him inside the house. God, it was a mess: floorboards covered with cavernous footprints, the stairs completely wrecked, one of the walls a loud sneeze away from crumbling down.

"Alright, I'll go up to the bedroom, you take the first floor," Sam instructed, "Look for anything out out of the ordinary, like plasma or sulphur."

"You think it could be a demon?" Marley asked, the hairs on her arms standing on end. The mere thought of the disfigured faces gave her a chill.

"No, the smell's not foul enough. But you can never be too careful," a corner of his mouth quirked into a brief smile. It was so warm and genuine, with a slight awkwardness that made it all the more endearing. Something fluttered deep in Marlene's chest — her cheeks flushed a pale pink. What the hell?

She shook off the strange feeling and chirped, "Got it," before skittering into the living room. It was relatively untouched — the creature'd made a clear beeline for the bedroom, as though it already knew where to find Billy Randolph. Perhaps, they were acquainted, friends, even. You never know if one of your pals has anger-management issues. It's always the quiet ones.

Marlene found nothing strange in the living room aside from a strange painting of a very naked man in the cupid outfit. No disgusting smells or suspicious substances, not even a drop of blood — in fact, everything was perfectly in order.

Marley made her way to the sunlit kitchen but stopped in her tracks — she'd stepped on something crunchy. Frowning, she looked down and saw what looked to be a candy wrapper. Another was lying not far from it, and one more further down the hallway. Marlene followed the trail of wrappers to the kitchen and found a small mountain of them on the dining table.

"Sam!" Marlene called.

She could hear him hurrying down the stairs, "Marlene?"

"In the kitchen!"

In a couple of seconds, Sam was by her side, staring at the sugary installation, "Are these...candy wrappers?"

"Uh-huh. Seems like the Hulk got him quicker than diabetes."

Sam picked up a few wrappers, a pensive look on his face, then shoved a handful of them into his pocket. "Um...what are you doing?" Marley asked, eyeing him with confusion.

"Come on," Sam started walking to "door". Marlene tried to keep up with him, "I think I know who we're dealing with."

"Who, a tooth fairy?"

Sam turned to face her when they got into the car, "A couple of years back Dean and I had a run in with a creature in Springfield, it called itself the Trickster. A demigod with reality warping powers and a crappy sense of humour. He drove people mad, turning fiction into reality and getting off on it," he told her, "He also had a sweet tooth."

Something rang through Marlene's memory, a certain golden-haired archangel stuffing his face with chocolate cake on the orange couch from Friends and an annoying fake laugh track that filled the fake coffeeshop. "And you didn't kill him?"

"Uh..." Sam considered his answer, "It's...complicated."

Marley's brows knitted together into a slight frown, "So, what're you gonna do now?"

Sam sighed, shrugging, and started the car, "First, we find him."

𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐

Marlene thought Dean was way too excited to hear about the Trickster's grand return. Especially for the guy who'd been killed by him about a thousand times.

"Good. I've wanted to bank that mother since Mystery Spot," he gritted out, twisting one of the candy wrappers in his hand.

Sam went awfully quiet. Marley quirked a suspicious eyebrow at his scheming expression. "You sure?" he finally asked, hesitant.

Dean crumpled the wrapper and looked up at Sam like he was insane to even ask that question, "Yeah, I'm sure."

"No, I mean are you sure you wanna kill him?"

"Son of a bitch didn't think about icing me. A thousand times," Dean deadpanned.

"No, I know, I mean, I'm just saying — "

Dean raised his brows, "What are you saying?"

"Isn't killing him the only option?" Marlene asked, confused, "I mean, you guys failed to do it twice already, so..." she trailed off.

"He is not getting away this time," Dean growled.

"Okay, okay, but what if..." Sam began tentatively, "What if...we talk to him?"

Dean wasn't sure he'd heard that right, "What?"

"Why?"

"Just think about it," Sam told them, "He's one of the most powerful creatures we've ever met. He's a demigod. Maybe we can use him."

"For what?" Dean asked.

"Okay, so Trickster's like a...like a Hugh Hefner type, right?" Sam glanced from his brother to Marlene, who was trying desperately to follow his train of thought, "Wine, women, song — maybe he doesn't want the party to end. Maybe he hates this angels and demons stuff as much as we do. Maybe he'll help us."

Marley was unsettled by the description. It all sounded too familiar, too...

Dean stared at him, "You're serious."

"Yeah!"

"Ally with the Trickster?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, slightly less enthused.

"A bloody, violent monster, and you wanna be Facebook friends with him?" Dean asked with an accusatory squint, "Nice, Sammy."

"The world is gonna end, Dean," Sam said, resigned, "We don't have the luxury of a moral stand."

Marlene thought it sounded awfully like her father. That's probably what he'd told himself before giving the stone to Zachariah.

"Look, I'm just saying it's worth a shot. That's all. If it doesn't work, we'll kill him."

Dean sighed. Marley could tell that he'd already given in, "How are we gonna find the guy, anyway?"

"Well," Sam considered it for a moment, "He never takes just one victim, right? He'll show."

With a silent nod, Dean threw the candy wrapper away. Marlene didn't like this plan. Not one bit, "I hope you guys know what you're doing," she told them quietly and stalked into the kitchen to get herself a bear. It was going to be a long day.

𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐

After hours of staring at the police scanner, they'd finally got a lead. The report sounded weird enough to be right up their ally, so Sam and Dean were on their way to the old paper mill in a matter of minutes. Not before instructing Marley to stay inside until they'd dealt with the bastard and use the gun in case of an emergency, though. She'd lost count of how many times she said "Yes, fine," to make them finally go save the world.

When the door was closed, Marlene embraced the screaming quiet. She was back in the real world again, alone. The last time that happened —

"Ah, finally," a familiar voice whined behind, "I thought they'd never leave."

Marley didn't turn around. She stood with her back to him for a couple of seconds, breathing in and out to calm her nerves. It was futile, though. No matter how long she took to mentally prepare for the exchange to follow, he would still manage to piss her off.

And so she faced him.

"Come on, let's throw a party in here!" Gabriel grinned, perfectly oblivious to Marlene's glower, "The duds are out, we can have some fun."

"I knew it," she bit out, walking closer to him, "This entire circus had you written all over it."

The angel spread his arms and bowed, "Why, thank you."

"Trickster? Really?"

"Shh..." Gabriel brought an index finger to his lips, "I'm undercover," he whispered.

Marlene narrowed her eyes at him in disbelief. The audacity of this...this creature, "You can't be here."

He scoffed, "Sure I can."

"They will come back — "

"Oh, believe me, they aren't coming back any time soon," Gabriel told her casually and strolled into the small kitchen area. Marley followed his line of sight — he was going for the Milkybar Marley'd left unfinished on the table.

"What do you mean?"

The angel popped the rest of the chocolate bar into his mouth and smiled.

"What did you do, Gabriel?"

Too busy chewing to reply, he held up a hand. Marlene burned the angel with a murderous glare, tapping her foot impatiently. God, he was driving her mad. When the chocolate was finally done with, Gabriel said, "Okay, so I've sent them on a little adventure."

"Adventure?" Marley was losing it. No, she was hyperventilating. Sam and Dean weren't facing the Trickster — they were dealing with an archangel. It was so, so much worse. Sure, Marlene had told them about Gabriel, but only briefly and in passing, as a very distant mythical figure, the founder of her bloodline. A divine Alexander Hamilton who screwed everything that moved. She didn't think he was after them.

"Yes. It's pretty awesome, if I may say so myself," Gabriel said smugly.

"What...what do you want with them?"

"Nothing," he had an infuriatingly guileless look in his wide green eyes, "I just want them to play their roles. All of you to play your roles."

Marlene's frown deepened, "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Sammy and Dean-o starring as Lucy and Mike while you and your daddy are safely tucked away in Heaven."

"You...you what?" she whispered.

"Oh, come on, Marls. The deal your dad made with Zachariah was my idea," Gabriel confessed, not remorseful in the slightest. Marlene gaped at him in shock, "We knew what Zack was planning and needed a backup plan in case Mario and Luigi screwed up with the seals — and boy did they deliver," he chuckled, "And once we hopped on the Apocalypse train, all that's left to do was damage control."

She felt like the ground had fallen through under her feet and she was sent into a free fall. Nothing to grasp for, no way to slow down — Marlene was plummeting down with a staggering speed, and there was no way to stop the descent into the darkness. That was what utter helplessness felt like.

"W-what...what about Zachariah?" she managed to grasp that question out of the whirlwind of thoughts in her head.

"I'll deal with him when the time comes," Gabriel shrugged.

"But...but I don't understand. You could to stop it. Now...you — you could prevent all of that from happening," Marlene implored, "Why don't you?"

Gabriel's face hardened. She'd never seen such a dark, stormy look in his eyes before, "Because it's not my problem. Your little friends jumpstarted the Apocalypse and now they have to suck it up and deal with it. Now, you and your dad are my responsibility — the byproducts of the most unfortunate one night stand ever — so I'm gonna help you, Marlene. But this fight between my brothers? I'm not getting in the middle of it. I've watched them suffer for thousands of years, and I'm done. Heaven or Hell, Lucifer or Michael — I don't care who wins, it needs to end."

"But you could get through to them, they're your brothers. Family is complicated, Gabriel, I know it better than anyone, but that's the thing — it's family. No matter the differences, we can always work things out. If only you stopped hiding and finally found the courage to face them..."

A hearty, ringing laughter burst from his mouth, "Oh, Marls. Aren't you a little hypocrite?" Gabriel shook his head, still laughing, "But you know what? You're right. We're all family, we should be honest with each other!" Something about the manic excitement in his voice didn't sit right with Marlene. It made her wary, "So, do tell me how it goes, Marls."

Before she could ask what the hell he was talking about, Gabriel snapped his fingers and Marley was no longer in the cheap motel room in Wellington, Ohio. No, she was freaking blinded. And who the hell was screaming?

When her eyes finally got used to the light, Marlene saw dozens of people. They were clapping, whistling and chanting something from their seats. Marley was in the freaking spotlight, both figuratively and literally, and all of those people were staring at her. It looked like...oh no.

Marlene whirled around and sure enough, there was a stage with a couch and an armchair — a setup for a talkshow. She knew what it was before the ominous voice started speaking, "Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan was a college student with her entire life laid before her. Free, ambitious and hopeful for the future, she could never suspect what life had in store for her," a dark music started playing. Marlene looked up at the big screen above the stage and saw pictures and videos of her that she didn't even remember taking. How?... "She could never know that the only family she had — her father — would soon betray her. Arthur Ter-Gabrielyan manipulated and lied to his only daughter, giving the girl a false life with a false promise of happiness," there were a couple of gasps and murmurs in the audience, "He struck a deadly deal with a bloodthirsty angel Zachariah behind her back and doomed half of humanity to a gruesome death. All in exchange for a place in Heaven and salvation from an eternity in the darkness. Now the question is..." The audience stilled with anticipation, "Can they forgive?"

The stage lit up with bright colours, the show's title "CAN THEY FOGIVE?" shining in yellow neon in the background. The last phrase of the dramatic introduction was spoken by the host: a middle-aged man in a smart suit and a dashing smile of an old-time Hollywood dandy, his greying black hair sleeked back.

The audience was raving and clapping and whistling so loud, Marlene thought she'd not only go blind, but deaf, too.

"Welcome, welcome!" the man waved as he took his marked place on the stage, "I am Dr. Bill and you're watching "Can they forgive?" he introduced the name with the same theatrical mystery.

"Now, tell me: is there anyone in the audience who has been betrayed by their family? Please stand up," Dr. Bill swept his eyes over the seats, "So almost everyone," he concluded gravely, "Because the people whom we love the most have the most power to hurt us the worst." The people hummed in agreement, bobbing their heads.

"Hey," someone whispered from behind — it was the stage manager, "You have to take your spot." Marlene blinked at him, confused. The young neurotic man with a huge headpiece sighed. He grabbed her by the arm and led her to the place marked with a red cross on the floor, "Stand here until you're announced, got it?"

"Wait, I don't — " but he already left. Marley tipped her head back, sighing, "Goddammit."

"...please welcome our today's guest, the girl who had it all and was left with nothing, the betrayed, they lied to, the girl with the angel blood..." there was a drumroll, "Marlene...Ter...Gabrielyan!"

A catchy melody that would definitely get stuck in Marley's head for at least a weak started playing, and a very annoyed assistant thrust her onto the stage and back into the spotlight.

"And there she is!" Dr. Bill exclaimed, spreading his arms. Marlene eyed the offered embrace with disgust and stopped a safe distance from the macho man. She never did like doctors, "Marlene, how are you feeling?"

"Uh — " Marley turned to the audience and squinted, blinded by the lights again.

"Oh, she's overwhelmed," Dr. Bill laughed. The viewers joined him, endeared by her shyness, "Come, take a seat on the couch."

Indeed overwhelmed — with fury — Marley stumbled over to the couch and sat down on the very edge, ready to bolt at any given moment. There were cameras all around them, one pointing right into her face. She frowned into it — was this shit being aired?

"So, Marlene, when did you first realise your father was lying to you?" Dr. Bill asked from the armchair, his face full of sympathy.

"Gabriel, stop this right now," Marley gritted out under her breath.

"What was that?" the host asked.

"Look, Dr. Bill, there's been a mistake. I must go — "

"Uh, running away from your problems?" Dr. Bill exchanged a meaningful look with his audience, "We know all about it, don't we? But —" he turned to Marlene, his baby blue eyes disturbingly searching. She felt an urge to squirm under such scrutiny, "— we also know that no matter how fast you think you're running, sooner or later, they will catch up."

Marlene caught herself thinking that he was right. It was slightly unsettling.

"Was Arthur a good father to you?"

"Of course he was," she replied defensively. No one could fault Arthur for being absent or uncaring, it's his multiple personalities Marley had trouble with.

"How about that time he left you with your nanny for an entire year?" The audience gasped.

Marlene knew she owed them no explanation, but still felt she had to say it, "He was away in England, working on his PhD in Oxford."

"A smart man," Dr. Bill nodded in understanding, "And that time he left you alone for a week? How old were you, eleven?" Marlene squirmed in her seat, nervously picking at the beady bracelet on her wrist, "One of his friends brought him home. He had to bail him out of prison in New-York."

"It's none of your business," Marley said sharply.

"What was he charged with, Marlene?"

"I said — "

"It was assault, wasn't it?" Dr. Bill replied for her, no malice in his voice, "He'd beat up a man half to death in a bar brawl. All swept under the rug, of course with so many friends in higher places."

Many things about her father were starting to make sense now. But even before, she'd never questioned them. He was her hero, her idol. In Marlene's eyes, he could do no wrong.

"My father was a broken man. But he did all he could to give me a normal childhood," her voice was trembling with emotion, "I will be forever thankful for that."

Apparently, that was the answer Dr. Bill needed, "And that's the problem, isn't it? That admiration, that...gratitude. When you put people on pedestals, they tend to fall down. The higher the pedestal, the harder the fall."

"What — listen, I can't be here, alright? Gabriel!" Marlene stood up and yelled, "Get me out of here, you son of a bitch!"

Neither the audience nor Dr Bill was disturbed by her outburst, "We can all see you're hurting, Marlene. Let us help you," he told her, the kindness in his words genuine. It made Marlene simmer down a little and return to her seat.

"Now tell us, why are you hurting?"

"This is ridiculous," she huffed out a humourless laugh.

"No feeling is 'ridiculous'," Dr. Bill chided gently, "They are all valid and allowed to be felt."

Marlene was feeling nervous. But not because she was in a fake reality, on a fake talk show with a fake host, but because it was actually making sense. And hitting all the right notes. Only she didn't care for the song. Didn't want to care. Marley wanted to laugh about it, make sarcastic jokes in the best self-deprecating fashion. She didn't want to admit how much it actually bothered her. Because then...then it was real.

"I'm hurting because..." she began, staring at her fingers sprawled on the faded jeans, "because he lied to me. Not about who I am, not even about what he'd done, but about who he was. See, my father he...he was an exceptional people's person. He made conversation a form of art, and he was the artist, and the world was his stage — as cliched as it may sound," Marlene worried the frayed sleeve of her red sweater, "It amazed me, watching him work the crowd. I always thought, 'Wow, he got all those suckers wrapped around his finger'. People...they were his audience, you know? He lived off their praise, their admiration, their attention. He was the Houdini and I...well, I was backstage, watching the magic happen. In on the trick," she chuckled bitterly and wet her chapped lips, "I guess it just never occurred to me that I was actually one of the clueless spectators, entranced by his magic. And so...he had me tricked, too."

The entire set went quiet, not a single whisper in the audience. Marlene felt her eyes prickle and quickly blinked the tears away — she hated when people cried on television. They usually became ugly memes, which...there was no greater honour, if she were completely honest.

"Marlene," Dr. Bill said after a prolonged, pregnant pause, "What would you tell your father if he was here right now?"

Oh, she'd been thinking about it for months, "I'd tell him that he's a self-important, stuck up narcissistic snob with disturbing sociopathic tendencies and that I'd rather end up in the deepest pits of hell and become Lucifer's personal jester than have to share eternity with him in Heaven, enjoying carefree, five-star afterlife bought with millions of innocent lives," and she could finally take a breather.

Dr. Bill smiled, "And what would you say if I told you he was here?"

Marlene snorted, "I'd tell you you needed to see a doctor."

The audience exploded with laughter, and so did the gracious host, his white teeth as blinding as the spotlights.

"Well, Marlene, on this show, we make the impossible happen. So please welcome..." the smile slipped off Marley's face when the drum started rolling, "Arthur..." her eyes were darting around the set in panic, like tennis balls on Wimbledon, "Ter..." it couldn't be — "...Gabrielyan!"

As the catchy tune started playing again and the wave of clapping took over the live audience, someone appeared from backstage. Someone wearing a perfectly pressed navy shirt and a pair of expensive charcoal trousers. Someone with the same hazel eyes as her own. Someone who was lost and disoriented until he spotted her.

"Marlene?"

"Now, the question is," Dr. Bill held a suspenseful pause even though everyone knew what would come next, "Can they forgive?"