Part I: Bored to Death

Chapter: You know what killed me

The pain was an ocean of white fire, and he was floating in it.

It burnt, it ate him alive, and gripped him on its steel claws so that he couldn't breath. He tasted blood, iron on his lips, that were dry like sandpaper.

Where the hell am I? What happened?

He tried to open his eyes, but only managed to gasp of pain.

"Myers?" a low voice from the darkness. "Are you awake?"

"Red." he rasped, barely audible, forcing his eyes open.

A hospital room, dimly lit. Heart rate monitor, infusion bags. Flowers on the nightstand, pink and white carnations.

"How are you feeling?" Hellboy asked, hurrying to his bedside.

The room was spinning - or was it him? Myers tried to suppress the waves of nausea that washed through his weary body, by closing his eyes again.

"Like hell." he breathed. "What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

The sound of the submachine gun on a dark hallway, the pain, the fear. Dying. He had died, he was sure of it.

And Margot's voice in the darkness, calling his name.

"I got… I got shot." he managed. "I died."

"Nah." Hellboy grunted. "You're still alive and kicking. It was a close call though."

Myers couldn't reply. It took all he had, to stay conscious. He felt like he was floating in the air, on top of flames that were made of pure pain and torture. It burnt, God, it burnt like Hell.

"Is everyone ok?" he finally managed to breath through his teeth.

"Yeah, don't worry about it kid." Hellboy replied. "You're the one who got hit."

"Margot?"

A silence.

Myers forced his aching eyes open again, and looked straight at Red. "Is she alright?"

Hellboy didn't meet his eyes, and winced. "Yeah, kid. She's fine."

"She was here."

Another silence, a longer one this time.

"I heard her." Myers croaked, through the pain. "She said she was sorry. Why would she say that?"

"Are you in pain?" Hellboy asked, clearly trying to change the subject, but Myers felt too horrible to care.

"Yeah." he gasped. "A lot, actually."

"Damn, kid. You should've said so." Hellboy gave him an angry glance. "I'll get the doctor."

Myers heard how Red left, hurrying to the hallway calling for a doctor, or a nurse. But he couldn't hold on. It was too much, just breathing was exhausting. He felt sinking again, under the waves of pain and agony, and let the sweet unconsciousness carry him away.

When Myers woke up again, he was feeling somewhat better. The pain was still there, but it wasn't an all consuming fire, it was more like a dull ache that made him groggy and nauseous.

He felt bad, but not like he was going to die - again.

He opened his eyes. The same hospital room - he noticed again the heart rate monitor, and the various infusion bags, plus the cannula stuck to the back of his hand. He had no idea what time it was, or even what day, but he was too tired to care.

There was a man sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, not Red though. A human. It took a moment for Myers' tired brains to recognize the man, who still hadn't noticed he was awake.

"Marco." he croaked, his lips dry and chapped.

"Christ, you're awake!" Marco was in his feet in a heartbeat.

Myers tried to raise his hand to reach for a glass of water, but realized he couldn't for his right arm was plastered.

"Let me." Marco said, and raised the glass on Myers' dry sandpaper lips, and he took a careful sip. The cool water felt blissful on his mouth.

"How am I alive?" he asked then, resting his head back on the pillow. "I remember… dying."

Marco gave him a quizzical look. "You did. Well, for a short moment. Your heart stopped, but we managed to revive you with CPR."

"We?"

"Margot and me." Marco replied. "And we got you here in time. They've operated you three times now, to fix all that was broken."

"Christ." Myers cursed. "I was hit bad."

"Yeah. But you're gonna be fine, in time."

Myers didn't reply.

So, his heart had stopped. He'd thought as much. He remembered the the excruciating pain in his chest, the feeling of falling, going under the black veil of death, the overwhelming weakness that had taken him.

And he remembered Margot's face, the desperate look in her eyes, when he had said "I love you."

"Where is she?" he asked now, turning his eyes back to Marco.

Marco frowned, clearly uncomfortable. "Yeah, about that-"

"What?" Suddenly Myers was afraid. "She's fine, right?"

"Sure." Marco replied, a bit too quickly. "It's just… she had to leave."

"Leave? But… when? How long was I unconscious?"

"It's been three days since you were shot. Margot left yesterday."

Myers closed his eyes, suddenly weary and tired.

He remembered her voice in the darkness, calling his name. Calling him back from the dead, and he had followed her voice, the one thing worth living for.

"She left?" he managed to whisper. "Did she… did she say anything?"

Marco shook his head, not meeting Myers' eyes. "No. I'm sorry."

"I need to talk to her." he finally replied. "Can I… is there a phone?"

"Hear me out now, John." Marco said, and suddenly his voice was stern, resolute. "She left. She didn't even ask how you were doing, just packed her stuff and went back to Brussels. She didn't want to see you. You should take the hint."

A pain, that had nothing to do with the fact he'd been shot, pierced through Myers' heart.

Fine, take the hint. You've been dumped.

"Right." he said, and turned his gaze away. There was something in his throat, tears burning behind his eyes.

Damn it, I'm not gonna cry. Not in front of this guy.

"I'm gonna get the doctor to check you, ok?" Marco said. "You might want another dose of painkillers soon."

Myers gave a small nod. "Yeah, sure. Thanks."

But he knew it would do no good. There were no painkillers to cure a broken heart, and his wasn't just broken. It was burnt to ashes.

Some 500 miles to west, Margot stood on her father's office, looking down at her feet, and every inch of her posture told Dr. Heinemann just how miserable she was feeling.

She was wearing ripped jeans, a hoodie (with a picture of Cthulhu in it) and gloves, her hands stuck deep into the pockets of her jeans. Her face was pale, almost white and there were dark shadows under her red rimmed eyes. She looked like she'd seen a ghost, which was of course a possibility - she saw them all the time. But Dr. Heinemann knew his daughter well enough to know, that it took more than just a ghost to scare her.

"What happened?" he asked, with a gentle voice.

"You read the report." Margot replied, not meeting his eyes. She was restlessly shifting from foot to foot, and her legs were trembling slightly.

"Yes, I read it. But I'm asking you, daughter. What happened?"

She was silent for a few moments, before she finally decided to sit down on a chair her father had pulled out for her.

"You were right." she said with a faint voice. "I shouldn't have gone."

"You lost your temper."

"Yeah."

"And people died." he stated.

Margot nodded, hiding her face behind her hair and the hood.

"But what's worse, I almost got John killed, too."

"Agent Myers?" Dr. Heinemann asked. "Marco says in his report, that you saved his life."

"After almost getting him killed. So it doesn't really count." There was an edge to her voice, a sharp edge he knew well enough to know he shouldn't push her.

"He'll live." Dr. Heinemann replied. "And he'll recover from his injuries, that's all that matters now. It isn't your fault that he got hit."

"Dad, don't." Margot breathed. "I failed, I know it. You can't change what happen, by trying to be nice to me."

"Then tell me what happened."

"I did."

"Not everything." he replied. "There is something else, something you're not telling me."

Margot was silent for a long time, such a long time that her father was already beginning to suspect that she wouldn't answer at all.

It was painful to see her like this, though it wasn't the first time. For 11 years now, she had been his daughter, and he had seen her facing far worse things than taking 8 lives on a mission.

But he knew, there were just two moods in her. The overwhelming ADHD happy happy joy joy, and then this: dark depression. Most of the time both of them were present, the other one lurking just under the surface when the other dominated. But there had been times, when Margot had lost her will to live for months, and her father wished to God, it wouldn't come to that this time.

"What will happen to me now?" Margot finally broke the silence, and his worried thoughts.

"What would you want to happen?"

"They want me locked up again, don't they?" she looked up to his eyes, and he noticed the fear in them.

"It won't come to that."

"But I'm off the field."

Dr. Heinemann nodded. "Yes, for now. I know it's not what you want, but-"

"No, it's fine." Margot said, and stood up. "I know I'm not fit for work. In the matter of fact, I was going to ask you, if I could take some time off."

Dr. Heinemann took a concerned look of his only daughter.

There was definitely something weird going on. In all these years he'd known Margot she had never wanted to take time off. On the contrary - she had always buried herself, with all her spunk, in whatever she was doing. As Thomasson had said, she was their best agent, and it wasn't just because of her special abilities and her upbringing. It was the fact that she'd worked harder than anyone else, to achieve her goals. Perhaps it was the fact, that she knew there was no other place for her, no other occupation - she'd have to succeed in fighting the paranormal, for if she didn't, then what would there be for her?

Hearing her asking for a time off, felt surreal. It scared him more than he liked to admit.

"Why? What are you going to do?"

Margot turned to face him again. "I want to go home."

"To Hamburg?"

She nodded.

Well, that was a relief.

"Fine. But you'll have to see someone."

Margot frowned. "A shrink?"

"A counselor. It is the procedure." he stated. "You killed people, and almost lost one of your own agents. You need to help to process it."

"Fine." Margot shrugged. "Can I do it in Hamburg?"

"Sure. I'll arrange it."

He saw that Margot wasn't happy, but she didn't argue, which was just another sign to make him worried. It was a good thing though, that she wanted to go home. Their Hamburg home, their one and only permanent residence while moving from country to country for his work.

"Dad?" Margot asked, already at the door. She looked back at him, over her shoulder.

"Yes?"

"Do you ever regret it?"

"Regret what?" he asked.

"For taking me in?"

Dr. Heinemann was silent for a moment.

Had it been easy for him, to raise this girl? He'd been in his forties already, when he'd adopted Margot, and she had been 14, a messed up teen aged girl with powers she didn't understand, and the worst temper. These years with her had been an endless struggle, always fearing for her, being concerned about her future.

But wasn't that the case with all parents and their children?

He gave her a gentle smile. "You know I don't."

"Yeah, I know." Margot said. "I just wanted to hear you say it."

There was a smallest of smiles in her sad eyes, as she opened the door and left.