A/N: First off, thanks so much for the favorites & follows! It makes me smile whenever I get an email that someone has followed this story, it's very dear to my heart. :) This marks the start of the second half of the story, and there's lots of action and romance awaiting so I hope that you'll stick along for the ride! Also, the song and full title for this chapter is "idontwannabeyouanymore" by Billie Eilish.
Trigger Warning!: Depictions of alcoholism and mentions of suicidal ideation.
As always, I don't own NatM or Moon Knight Characters, just Dara and the rest!
Chapter Sixteen - I Don't Wanna Be You Anymore
January
Steven awoke with a start after a particularly poignant nightmare. He couldn't remember all the details, but he thought they may be flashes of memory from Marc's mercenary past. They weren't good memories.
A muffled voice came from the pillow beside him. "You alright?" Dara peered up at him through sleep-crusted eyes.
Steven relaxed as he was brought back to the present. He shimmied closer to Dara and wrapped an arm around her to belay her worries. "I am now." She smiled sleepily and nestled her head in the crook of his arm.
Usually the two would sleep over at Dara's place, but this morning had been one of the rare times that they decided to crash in his apartment instead. It made him happy that she felt comfortable in his home. The winter storm that flurried outside made it all the cozier to sleep through the day.
Oftentimes Steven would wake up and go about his day while Dara slept. But today he was content to keep her warm and enjoy being close to her.
Eventually an alarm pulled her from her slumber. She lazily reached over to silence it, but missed a few times as she often did. Steven chuckled as he reached over and silenced it for her. "Good afternoon," Steven said as he planted a kiss on her head.
"Mmmmmm…" She pulled her head deeper under the covers. "No," she decided with a yawn.
Steven laughed. "What, not excited for work? You're usually so chipper about it."
Dara groaned. "Just tired. And cold."
"Well, I can't help much with the first one. But cold, I can fix," he said as he pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her back and pressing his face against her cheek. She giggled as he started to kiss her neck and shoulders.
"Steven, you've made me warm and awake," she laughed as he planted another ticklish peck just behind her ear. "I'm up, I'm up," she promised as she started to push the covers away. Once her feet were on the floor she started limping toward the loo. Steven found that her leg ached her the most after sleeping - at first it had worried him, but now he was more familiar and knew to only worry if it kept hurting after she had been awake awhile.
After washing up, she returned and ambled over to Steven going over his planner - he found it useful to schedule his time so that he could optimize his waking hours. (And to keep track to make sure that Marc was getting ample time fronting as well) She frowned as his pen hovered over his notes for the next day.
"Is that tomorrow's date?" She asked.
Steven looked at where his pen hovered. "January 17th? Yeah, that's tomorrow. Time flies, does'n'it?" Dara was strangely silent so Steven turned to look at her. She appeared as if she had a horrible realization, but then suddenly she had a bright smile on her face. It didn't reach her eyes.
"It does," she said as she turned away.
"Are you alright?" Steven asked instinctually. Something felt wrong.
"Yes! Yeah," Dara said as she grabbed her bag. "I just realized I need to stop by somewhere before work, so I should probably get going."
Steven felt a nervous knot form in his stomach. Something was definitely wrong, but she didn't want to talk about it. It seemed like she never wanted to talk about things that worried her, or made her sad. "Okay," Steven said hesitantly, "but you know you can tell me anything, yeah? I'm here for you."
And that caused a real smile to form on her face. Steven felt a small amount of relief. "I do. Thanks, Steven." She grabbed her bag. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Yeah," he said as he gave her a hug goodbye. She returned the gesture with a kiss on his cheek.
"Great. I love you," she said sweetly as she opened the door.
"I love you, too," he said with a little wave.
As she left, he couldn't get rid of the ball of anxiety that continued to roll around in his stomach. He wished that Dara would open up to him about her worries. And he made a note to do whatever he could to cheer her up after her shift.
Ahkmenrah had started the night by looking for Dara, but with no luck. Normally she would make a point to greet him but it had been nearly two hours since sunset.
Instead, he eventually came across Nicholas. "Good evening," Ahk said cheerfully.
"Hey Ahk," the young man greeted. "How's your research been going?"
"Not great," he admitted. "I was actually wondering if you've seen Dara. She offered to take me down to Storage where some of the additional artifacts from my tomb are kept - I'd like to take her up on it." Storage was typically off-limits for residents, primarily because most of the artifacts were not alive and therefore would not be healed during the day. Larry had learned that lesson the hard way after several priceless pieces were used as goalposts in a soccer match. (This had also led to the related rule of no-makeshift-sports-equipment.)
"Ah, sorry my guy, she called out sick tonight. But I can take you down there if you'd like," Nicky said as he pulled out his key ring and began to search for the right one.
Ahk felt a familiar seed of worry root itself in his stomach. "Is she ill?" Dara did not often call out. In fact, the only time that Ahk could remember was the few sick days she took after the particularly frightening vision the tablet showed her of Takhara's death.
Nicky seemed to sense his worry and gave a comforting pat on the shoulder. "She said she had a stomach ache. Probably just something she ate. I'm sure she'll be fine." Ahk did not feel convinced, but let it drop all the same. "Let's get you down to Storage."
"Oh, I do not want to take any of your time - if you would unlock it for me, I can find my way to where my belongings are stored."
Nicky shook his head and wagged his index finger disapprovingly. "No can do, Ahk. Anyone that goes down to Storage goes with a buddy, no exceptions. Even the night guards don't go down there alone at night." The young guard started leading them toward the staff-only stairwell that led down to Storage. "It's really just for safety. You never know what kind of spooky shit might be hidden down there."
Ahk had never thought of it like that. "I see your point. It is wise to go together."
Nicky looked particularly pleased by that statement. "Well, I am pretty wise. Did I tell you about the time I tricked my dad into letting me go to an R-rated movie when I was like twelve? I was an evil genius."
Ahk smiled fondly - he remembered Nicky's rebellious years. "I recall hearing about that from Larry. The way he tells it, he knew what you were doing all along."
That made Nicky balk. "What? No way! There's no way he could've seen through the fake doctor's note! It took a long time to forge that…"
They continued to chat as they made their way down to Storage. Nicky unlocked several doors along the way until they finally stood in a spacious hallway that was filled to the brim with wooden boxes. Ahk could hear the noises of life coming from several of them.
"Nicholas, are there residents down here?" As they passed by a box, Ahk heard the sounds of tiny paws scraping against the wood. "They're trapped!" Ahk visualized the dark suffocation of his sarcophagus. The years spent wailing in hope that he would be freed. And with that thought in mind, he whipped the lid off the crate before Nicholas could say anything.
In the box were about a dozen mice, each looking up at him now with a questioning stare. "Yeah, I know," Nicky sighed. "Stuff down here changes more often than upstairs. It's hard to keep track. So we try to just keep the residents down here as happy as we can given the situation." Nicky pointed to something in the crate. It was a block of cheese that the mice had obviously been nibbling on.
"We have a deal with McPhee," Nicky explained as he put the lid back on the crate. The mice didn't seem to mind. "We get a budget for buying food or other things to give to the animals that end up down here. And no humans go to Storage - any new human residents go to the loading dock, even if they don't make it to an exhibit. So every afternoon we check to see if anything new has ended up in Storage or the loading dock, and McPhee tries to give us a heads-up when he can." Nicky scratched at his chin as he thought. "I don't really know how McPhee explains it to the higher-ups. I think the food we buy goes into a budget called 'Hospitality' or something like that."
Ahk had never thought about it before. It was impressive how much thought and care the night guard team gave their work. The pharaoh felt blessed to know such people.
Although he made a note to come down and take the lid off of the mice's crate every now and again. Just in case they got claustrophobic like he did.
They made their way down the aisles until Nicky stopped in front of an area with crates piled high. "Here you go," Nicky said. "Everything here is labeled as 'Tomb of Ahkmenrah', so should be what you're looking for. Actually, what are you looking for?"
Ahk shrugged as he began to take the lid off the first crate. "I am not sure. A few weeks ago, Dara gave me something that surprised me. I guess I was just curious to see what else was down here that I did not know about." Ahk brushed his fingers gently across the wooden bracelet on his wrist to ensure that it was still there.
Nicky nodded enthusiastically. "I get it, it's like when you clean your room and find an old toy, and then you play with it for like an hour and forget about actually cleaning your room."
Ahk laughed at his specificity. "Yes, I suppose it is something like that."
And so Nicholas and Ahk started digging delicately through the crates. Nicholas was fascinated by every piece, but most Ahk recognized as just knick-knacks that were added to the tomb to symbolize his family's wealth. Most had little meaning to him.
"What about this one? It's pretty neat," Nicholas asked as he pulled the next piece out. Ahk felt immediate childish wonder as he reached for it.
"This was one of my toys!" He said gleefully. Nicholas handed him the hand-carved boat. It looked as if it had seen better days, but Ahk remembered it fondly all the same.
"Wow, it's fancy," Nicholas noted as they examined the details. He was not wrong - there were golden embellishments, although they had certainly experienced the wear of time, and there were figures of tiny people placed throughout the ship's upper deck. "What's that part?" Nicholas asked, pointing to the tiny representation of a scale in the middle of the ship.
"Ah, those are the scales on which your heart is measured when you die. This boat is meant to represent the journey to the afterlife." The words practically fell out of Ahk's mouth as he continued to fuss over the toy. Nicky looked at him with a mixture of wonder and distress.
"You… Had a toy that's basically the Egyptian version of a hearse?" Ahk wracked his brain - he knew that word. He thought it had to do with modern funerary processions.
"Yes, essentially." Nicky did not look too surprised, although he seemed to feel uneasy about the idea. "It was important to my parents that I learn the path through the afterlife so that we may meet again." Ahk started to point to the relevant pieces of the ship as he explained. "Our people believe that when you die, you'll be taken by ship to the afterlife. If your heart is light and good, you will be taken to the Field of Reeds. But if your heart weighs poorly, you are sentenced to eternity in the sands of the Duat."
A spark of recognition flickered in Nicholas' eyes. "Isn't that where my dad sent Kahmunrah?" And then he put a hand over his mouth and cursed something inaudibly. "I'm sorry dude, I didn't mean-"
"Yes, you are correct." It was no secret. Even in life, most people he knew were sure that Kahmunrah's tyrannical attitude would end with him in the sands of the Duat. Maybe that was why he had always been so obsessed with finding everlasting life. "And it is fine - it is what he deserved after what he tried to do to your father."
The two perused the remainder of the artifacts in relative silence. Until Ahkmenrah found one wrapped in paper - he didn't recognize the shape. Whatever it was, it seemed to have a handle that fit perfectly in his grip.
"What is this?" Ahk asked aloud as he unwrapped the paper. But when the paper was off, he dropped the offending artifact as if it had burned him. It clattered noisily to the ground.
"You okay? What is it?" Nicholas asked, but Ahk barely heard him. He was seething with rage.
Below him sat the bejeweled dagger that Takhara used when she… The moon-like opal in its hilt shone tauntingly up at him. Undamaged. As if it hadn't aged a day from the day Takhara…
Ahk saw red. "I ordered it to be destroyed!" He yelled as he stomped on the dagger. When he lifted his foot, it looked just as perfect as the night she killed herself. He picked it up roughly and started banging it blade-first into anything hard he could find. The wall. A metal post. He didn't care. Something to damage it beyond all recognition.
"Woah, woah, take it easy Ahk!" Nicholas pleaded, but Ahk knew he just did not understand. This thing, this monstrosity was the cause of the worst day of his life, and the cause of his nightly sorrow in his everlasting existence. And he didn't even know who had made it or where it came from.
He eventually fell to his knees and resorted to bashing the offending blade against the concrete floor. "This dagger ruined my life! It took her from us! I told them to burn it! To destroy it! How dare they disobey me!" He practically roared the words. And as Ahk looked down at his hands, bloody from his misuse of the blade, he realized that he had started to sound like his brother.
He dropped the dagger and fell wordlessly to his knees. Nicholas was by his side in an instant. "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're safe here. You're safe," Nicholas promised as Ahk stared listlessly at the dagger.
And then the words tumbled out. "She was my everything. I wanted to be with her, to marry her, I just… I never found the words." Silent tears fell effortlessly. "Every night I wonder if I had just done something different… If I had just told her… Maybe she wouldn't…" Ahk choked on the words. "Maybe she wouldn't have killed herself."
Nicholas pulled his arms tighter around Ahk as if reassuring him that the pain would pass. But Ahk knew better. "Every morning I would hope to die and see her again. And every night I would wake without her here. Did you know that we can't die, my parents and I, even if we want to? I've tried," Ahk laughed shakily. "I walked right into the sunrise one morning. I turned to dust and then the next night woke with my lungs full, coughing it all up." It was all too cruel. It had always been too cruel. He tried to keep appearances up for the museum residents, to try to be the proud keeper of the tablet, but really he would be happy if the damned thing just melted one day.
Suddenly Ahk felt a tear on his cheek that wasn't his own. He looked up to see Nicholas biting his lip and struggling to contain his quiet whimpers.
The pharaoh sobered up instantly at his little brother's despair. "Oh, Nicholas, I'm so sorry," he said as he wrapped his arm around the night guard.
Nicholas shook his head. "No, it's okay, I just… I want to help you so bad. I don't want you to feel like that," he said as he swiped quickly at his tear tracks.
"You do help, Nicholas. You all do. I promise." He hugged his little brother harder. And although Ahk still felt grief, he knew that it would come in waves as it always had. The dagger had been a bitter reminder of the past but the pain would ease again with time.
"And that is in the past. I do not feel that way every night. Sometimes it feels like it has felt that way every night. But there have been so many nights that I have been happy to be alive for." Ahk laughed as he recalled, "Like that time we raced Rexy and Aslan. Or the first night you showed me how to DJ." Ahk could tell that Nicholas was starting to settle. And honestly, he felt more settled, too.
The two of them sat for a while and reminisced about good times while the dagger remained on the floor, ignored and unharmed.
Marc stared at the apartment ceiling for a long time.
He still had trouble figuring out what to do when he was fronting. He didn't have any hobbies like Steven. And Steven took care of earning a living for them. He liked spending time with Dara, but she was at work.
But he did like NYC, and Queens in particular. He enjoyed just walking around and watching people live their lives. It might be nice to get outside for a while, even if it was fucking freezing.
With that in mind, he got out of bed and made his way toward the front door to grab his coat. As he reached for it, though, he realized something. "Dara left her coat here," he said aloud. Steven wasn't around to hear him - although they'd often watch each others' lives through the reflection, they also tried to give each other space so Steven had decided to retreat to the recesses of their mind space for the night.
But that left Marc with a dilemma. It was fucking freezing out, and this was Dara's warmest coat. Marc hated the idea of her having to commute in this weather without it.
He wasn't sure how she managed to leave without putting it on - maybe she just didn't want to bother Steven by needing to come back in. But she'd definitely need it in the morning when she was on her way back from the museum. So he grabbed both his coat and hers, then started to give her a call to let her know that he'd be dropping it off.
But after a few rings, her phone went to voicemail. Not too surprising - she was at work, after all. He didn't want to surprise her so he decided to call the museum directly. It wasn't too hard to find the number for the front desk after a quick web search.
After a few rings, a confused voice answered. "Hello?" It was Nicky, although it sounded like there were a lot of other voices in the background. Was there an event going on?
"Hey, I was trying to reach Dara. Can you put her on?"
"…Who is this?"
Right. Nicky didn't know Marc - he knew Steven. After quickly thinking of some options, Marc decided to say, "I'm in the same class as her." Sort of true. "She left something behind after a study group." Not true, but not unbelievable. "I thought I'd drop it off for her."
Nicky seemed to accept this explanation. "Sorry, she's not here tonight."
What? That didn't make sense. "Really? She was on her way there last I saw her."
"Yeah, she called out sick." There was a clattering sound on the other end of the line. "Oh geeze, I'm sorry, I've got to go!"
"No worries, thank-" The line went silent. "-you."
Marc didn't like this. She had seemed fine when she was home with Steven. But it was really none of his business - she could call out sick without telling them. So he tried not to worry about that.
But she would still need her coat, so Marc decided to just stop by her apartment to drop it off. If she was there, great. If not, then he had a spare key and would just drop it off for her. He hoped that it wasn't too forward of him to drop by.
The elevator stopped on the sixth floor of the apartment building. Marc stepped out and readied himself to knock. But when he approached the door it was already open, hanging ajar ever so slightly.
His mercenary instincts kicked in instantly. A hundred scenarios ran through his mind, most involving someone breaking and entering her apartment. Had she been coerced to call in sick? Had she been robbed? Or worse…
Marc opened the door as stealthily as he could and began to scan the apartment. The TV was on. Nothing looked broken. It smelled strongly of alcohol.
And Dara was unmoving on the floor.
Marc was by her side in an instant. His field medic training took over as he reached to take Dara's pulse. He didn't note any immediate signs of trauma - no blood, no bruising. It could be something internal. "Dara, can you hear me?"
He released the tension that he didn't know he was holding when Dara rolled over to fix a confused eye on him. "…Steven?" She asked tiredly. After a second of scrutinizing his face, she corrected, "No, Marc." She giggled. "I could tell because your eyebrows are more like," and then she made an exaggerated show of furrowing her eyebrows, "and your hair is more like fwooom. Steven's is more like fwaaah." Her arms flailed around her head as she tried to demonstrate, and she giggled again.
Marc frowned as he smelled the alcohol on her breath. "Dara, have you been drinking?"
Dara shook her head. "In general? No. Tonight?… Yeah," she said as she rolled lazily away from him. She was definitely drunk.
Marc had never seen her like this. Hell, he didn't even know that she drank. He looked up at the coffee table that she was laying beside and saw a near-empty bottle of Whiskey. "Dara, how much of that did you drink tonight?"
She looked up at the bottle as if she hadn't noticed it there. "Uhhh… I bought it a few hours ago, so… All of it?"
"Shit, Dara, that bottle is huge for someone your size, you're not supposed to drink it all at once!" Marc felt panic rising in his chest. He had half a mind to take her to the ER right now in case she had alcohol poisoning.
But she didn't seem to notice his alarm as she sat up grumpily. "'M fine! Can handle it. Done it before," she grumbled as she slumped against the edge of the couch.
Heat rose to Marc's face as his worry started to spill over into anger. "What the hell were you thinking?" He asked as he snatched the bottle off of the table.
"Hey! 'M not finished with that!" Dara's voice slurred as she tried to jump up to grab it from him. But her balance was terrible and she started collapsing to the floor. Luckily for her, Marc was there to catch her.
"Yes, you are," he said tersely as he set her down on the couch. He put the whiskey far out of her stumbling reach and returned with a bottle of water. "Drink this." His instruction was more of a command.
She glared at him as if she had been betrayed, but took the water and started gulping it down anyway. As she drank he sat beside her and started checking her vitals, her response times, and anything that might be off enough to justify a hospital visit. "Ow, ssstopit!" She complained as he shined his phone flashlight on her eye to test her pupil dilation. "Why're you so grumpy?"
And the restraint he'd managed to keep on his anger boiled over. "Why am I grumpy? Maybe because you called out sick from work to drink enough whiskey to knock someone your size into a coma! What were you thinking? Why didn't you tell anyone? If you had kept going, you could've died! Do you have a death wish-"
"I fell!" She yelled, as if it explained everything.
"Yeah, I saw that, you were on the floor when I came in, you could've seriously hurt yourself-"
"Not then," she said. Her eyes grew distant. She looked around for the whiskey as if she intended to take another drink to reverse the pain of what she'd just said, but she sighed as she saw that it was out of her reach. "A year ago," she admitted. "The accident. Was a year ago tomorrow."
Marc blinked. He'd never thought to ask when it was.
"So that's why… Need 'nother drink. Could y'hand it to me?" She pointed vaguely toward the whiskey.
His anger deflated like a burst balloon. The worry had returned, this time accompanied by pity. "Dara, why do you need to drink because of that?"
"Because I fell," she repeated angrily. She made a move to stand but Marc pushed her gently back down - she fell like a rock onto the couch cushion.
"Dara… Talk to me. Please. Help me understand."
"Because I don't want to think 'bout it, mmkay?" She glared daggers at him and hiccuped. She grumbled something unintelligible under her breath. And then she suddenly shouted, "You just don't get it! I'm a - I was a nobody. My parents didn't even want me so they left me on a stranger's doorstep. I was never good at much, at school or… I dunno. Anything."
She seemed to sober for a moment as she said quietly, "But Ma always saw the best in me. And I was so thankful. I just wanted to make her proud… To feel like a somebody… And I was so close… The one thing I could do was run… I almost got the Dooley name in the history books…"
The words started to tumble out loudly again, "And then I disappeared. I really was a nobody. For five years. Just like that," she said as she snapped her fingers clumsily. But Marc understood - Thanos. Dara's five years of just… not existing.
"And then I was back. But Ma never left. She mourned me, she thought I was gone." Dara started to breathe faster. Harder. "And I realized I almost lost the chance to get her name in history books. But then when I went back to the team, I found out that they'd replaced me." She was starting to hyperventilate. Marc put steadying hands on her shoulders but it didn't seem to work.
"Dara, it's okay-"
"-So I had to get back on the team. So I ran every day. Every night. All weather. Even when it was freezing and everythin' was icy-" her teeth caught on the word as if she could feel the cold. "And I didn't- I just didn't see it! I'd been runnin' for hours and I could barely keep my eyes open and it just, the black ice, it came out of nowhere and-" she gasped and struggled to finish. Marc tried again to snap her out of it, he put a desperate hand on her cheek.
"Dara it's okay, you're safe now-"
"And I fell!" She yelled the word as she closed her eyes tight. "And I fell the worst way you can fall - have you ever seen a bone sticking out of your body? 'Cause I have," she grasped her knee as if she was shoving the bone back in place.
"And it was over. I fell and it was over. My chance to make it right, to prove I was a somebody. And my Ma came to me in the hospital and she cried and cried. I never ever want to make my Ma cry. And I can never make it up to her, I failed. It would've been easier for everyone if I had never come back from the Snap, if I was just dead-"
"Dara, please," Marc begged as he pulled her trembling body close. He wished he didn't understand how she felt, but he did. He knew too well what it felt like to think everyone would be better off without you. Fuck, he still thought that a lot. But he needed her to know that it wasn't true. "Please," he whispered as her breathing started to calm. "Just breathe with me."
She didn't say anything, and she didn't look at him. But she seemed to put an effort to match her breathing pattern to his. So he kept a hand on her cheek and pressed his forehead to hers while he breathed deeply and slowly.
Eventually he noticed the panic fade from her eyes. It was replaced by an emptiness that was almost worse. He backed away just enough for her to see his whole face. "Why haven't you told Steven that you feel this way?" Marc knew that she hadn't known him for as long, but Steven and Dara were so close. It would kill Steven to know that she'd been going through something like this alone.
She shrugged as her empty eyes stared blankly into the distance. "Didn't want to bug him. He doesn't need to see this side of me. 'S depressing." Marc gripped her shoulder a little tighter - God, why did she have to be so like him? Marc always hid these kinds of feelings from Steven, too.
"He would want to know," Marc said to Dara, and himself. "He loves you, Dara."
"I want him to be happy," she said.
"Being with you makes him happy. All of you. Not just the happy parts."
She looked at Marc, unshed tears trapped in her eyes. He wanted so badly for her to just let them fall. "I want you to be happy, too… I'm sorry that I scared you," she murmured.
Marc smiled. "It's okay. You didn't mean to. But will you promise me something?" Dara just gave him a questioning look. "Don't bottle it up with me. I want to know what you're going through. I want to help. But I can't help if I don't know what the problem is." God, he sounded like Steven. Maybe the kid was on to something.
Dara nodded meekly. Marc hoped that she meant it, and that she would remember this conversation once she sobered up.
"Thank you," he said earnestly. He kissed her forehead as if it would seal the promise. "So what do you want to do tonight?"
Dara looked surprised. "You don't have to stay."
"You just downed most of a fifth in a couple of hours. I'm staying until I'm sure you're okay." Her eyes rolled in exasperation, but she leaned into his side anyway. He turned his attention to the TV. "What were you watching before I got here?"
"Oh, it was nothing…" Dara said as she started to reach for the remote, but they both stopped as the screen showed Dara waiting at the starting line of a race. She smiled fondly and sadly.
They sat in silence as they watched her run. She really was fast. She got fourth in the end, and she seemed ecstatic about it back then.
"…Can I have a drink?" She asked weakly. Marc pulled her closer to him.
"Why do you think you need a drink?"
"Because if I don't drink, I might cry." Marc fought against his own memories. Too many nights spent drowning his sorrows in a bottle. He'd never touch a drink again if it would make Dara stop doing this to herself.
"It's okay to cry," he soothed as he kissed the top of her hair. First he heard sniffling, then her body began to tremble as she fought against the tears. But he just held her there until she broke down into full-out sobs. He held her like he wished someone had held him in his darkest moments.
They stayed that way for almost an hour. It was as if Dara had never mourned her loss and was only now allowing herself to be sad about it. Eventually she told Marc weakly between shuddering sobs, "Marc, I-I don't feel so good… You should prob'ly move…"
He knew what that meant, so he grabbed the nearest trash can and held her hair back while she lost her stomach contents. His steady arm helped to keep her upright since she had trouble staying up on her own.
When she was finished, she cleaned herself off as best she could with some help from Marc. She looked at him through red, puffy eyes. "I'm sorry," she said with a now-hoarse voice, "I'm gross. You don't have to stay for this."
Marc shook his head. "I want to stay for this."
"Why?"
"Because I love you." He hadn't meant to say it like this. It was the truth, so he'd just said it plainly. But it was the first time he'd said it aloud to her and he worried that this wasn't the most romantic situation for it.
But she graced him with a smile and a surprised laugh. "…I love you, too."
Marc wrapped her gently in his arms and held her until she fell asleep.