SPOILERS: through season three

NOTES: Thank you, PurpleYin, for the beta! With luck, I'll finish the epilog today. Please, no mention of season four spoilers in reviews.

DISCLAIMER: The 4400 and all things associated with it belong to other people.

DESK, PART 6

RECOVERY II

It had taken a great deal of persuasion. Her doctors had feared her feelings for Marco were still too conflicted to justify him visiting, but she had rationalized with them that she'd be seeing Marco at work, eventually, that she had to cross that bridge sometime. So, why not see him in a controlled environment? Once her doctors had agreed, it had taken more persuasion on the parts of Maia and April, but they were no modest force to contend with. Within days, he had agreed to their request on her behalf, arranging to see her on his way to pick up Maia from art club.

Instead of her room or the patient lobby, they met in a small, guest meeting room--a place that was private yet neutral ground. It surprised her how excited she felt about seeing him, again, how eager she was to hear his voice. She found herself fidgeting as she waited. She'd chosen to sit on the small sofa so she might gauge how comfortable he felt. If he sat next to her on the sofa, it would probably be an indication that he wanted to be close to her. There was also the option of the chair beside her, so he might be close yet separated from her. If he chose the chair at the far end of the sofa, well...

A knock on the door caused her pulse to race, and she chastised herself for her reaction. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she stood. "Come in."

Marco entered the room hesitantly--at first poking his head in to take a quick look before stepping through the door. "Um...hi, Diana."

Slipping a folder he was carrying under one arm, he held out his hand. It took her a second to figure out he was offering a handshake. She had promised her doctors and herself to do what was comfortable for both of them, but after all they'd been through, a handshake felt wrong. Stepping around the coffee table, she gave him a hug. She could feel him tense in response before the folder he dropped had even hit the floor. It was an awkward moment, to say the least, and she hastily let him go.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He chuckled uncomfortably and squatted down to gather up the items in the file. "I was just...surprised."

When he straightened, she just stood there, staring into his eyes, too overwhelmed with emotion to move. Maybe the doctors had been right--maybe she wasn't ready for this.

Glancing at the folder in his hands, Marco broke eye contact and cleared his throat.

"Sorry," she said, again, then moved back to her spot on the sofa. "What's in the file?"

Once she was seated, he settled into the chair beside her and spread out the folder on the coffee table. "Maia's class pictures came in yesterday."

Opening a white envelope, he slipped out a glossy four by six of Maia in her Carmichael Academy uniform. Her daughter's hair was hanging in beautiful, shining curls on either side of her face, and her smile was brighter than Diana had seen since the wedding. Yet, somehow, it didn't make her long for the happy illusion they'd been living in at the time.

She felt herself tearing up and laughed at herself. "Sorry."

"It's okay."

Glancing up at him, she saw he meant it.

"You're entitled to you feelings, Diana."

Even though it was something one of her doctors might say, she found herself too moved to speak, but this time, she was the one who broke their gaze. Reaching for the white envelope, she carefully slipped the photo back inside and set it in her lap so she'd have something to keep her hands still. "Thanks."

"Oh, it was an order from Maia that you get that." He nodded with mock solemnity, as though to counteract the previous moment of intensity. "She'll want to know what you think of it, so expect a call at..." Sliding up the sleeve of his jacket, he glanced at his watch. "...about four thirty."

"Got it." She smiled at him but tried to keep focused. "What else did you bring me?"

He proceeded to show her the contents of the folder, one item at a time. There was a copy of Maia's latest piece for art class--an image of animals and plants merged into a bright, complex pattern. After that were her latest essay and poem followed by her mid-term grades. As they worked through Maia's things, she asked him about her daughter and managed to weave in questions about him and Tom and April. He tried to keep the conversation focused on Maia, but she managed to tease bits of information out of him, including some of what was going on at NTAC. Eventually, he made a passing comment about the case that must have resulted in his scar, and she had a sudden revelation that the tragic mark was indirectly her fault. If she hadn't left for Spain, Marco would not have become Tom's partner and wouldn't have nearly lost an eye in the line of duty. But she knew that was the same flawed logic that caused Maia guilt over all of this, so she pushed the thought aside. Still, the scar was a testament to the hardships he'd endured. While she had never been a particularly tender soul, she was possessed with the almost irrepressible urge to reach out and touch his face, to see how different it felt with the scar and beard.

"Is that why you grew a beard?" She hadn't planned on asking anything so personal, but she had wondered about it for some time.

One of his hands reached up for his chin but halted in mid-gesture and settled back to his knee. "I..." He shrugged. "One of the NTAC therapists suggested 4400s might relate to me better if I did. You know...because Collier has a beard."

She hadn't really considered the possibility that he'd had therapy, but she'd never really found out what had happened while she was away. Tom was always so tightlipped about it. Still, it made sense.

"Does it help?"

"Yeah." He nodded with a self-conscious smile. "I think it does."

"I'm not sure it suits you, though."

"That's what my grandmother says," he laughed, but there was little humor behind it.

Although she tried to smile at his attempt, they ended up sharing a long, thoughtful gaze. She could see he was trying to hold something back, so she helped him out by looking back at the papers on the table. "So...anything else for me?"

"Oh, yeah. I almost forgot." Looking over, she saw him dig into a pocket. "Maia started crochet."

He pulled out a handful of yarn and accidentally dropped it. They both reached for it, nearly bumping their heads together then laughing at each other. For that moment, they were comfortable, like they used to be before Blink. Usually so careful about watching the eyes of the person he was talking to, his gaze betrayed him by slipping briefly to her lips.

She leaned forward, intent on his mouth, but he pulled back, brow furrowing. "Diana, what are you doing?"

Tilting her head, she couldn't help but grin. "Was I not obvious enough?"

"No." He shook his head. "I mean yes. But...why?"

Why? "Because I want to."

"Because you want to?" It was a quiet mixture of awe, trepidation and disbelief.

"You don't?"

He leaned further away and raised a hand in a resigned gesture. "When has what I want ever entered into anything?" He spoke as though it were a fact he thought she should be aware of, but there was no bitterness, just amused curiosity tinged with hurt.

She'd never really thought about it that way. Sadly, he wasn't wrong, but how could he find it amusing? "Marco..."

"I'm sorry, Diana, but I can't do this."

"It would've been just a kiss..." But she knew it was a lie as soon as she'd said it.

"For you, maybe, but...not for me." He said it with a shrug and a smile that didn't go past his lips. "It's tough enough balancing caring for Maia and about you without...getting tangled in how things were and might have been. Adding friendship with benefits into the mix..." Shaking his head, again, he looked away, but she thought she caught a glimpse of dread in his eyes.

"Why would we have to be just friends?"

That got her wide-eyed shock, all attempts at false humor and careful handling forgotten. "How can you expect me to invest any part of myself in something you've determined has no future? I barely made it through the end of our last relationship. I can't be your rebound guy." His watch beeped and he gave it a quick glance while shutting it off. "I have to pick up Maia." Standing, he didn't meet her gaze as he headed toward the door. Whether he was ashamed of his outburst, afraid to see her reaction or simply desperate to be away from her, she couldn't tell. "Goodbye, Diana."

There was nothing she could do, and that sense of helplessness twisted in her gut. Helplessness had never been something she'd handled well, but now it was like a sudden fever running through her, making her weak and pitiful. Why would anyone want to be with someone like that? Feeling tears stinging the corners of her eyes, she looked down, unable to watch him walk out of her life. She was so very tired of regret and loss and tears.

"Marry me."

It took a heartbeat to realize the words were her own. With her gaze focused on her tightly clenched fists, she couldn't see his response. All she could hear above her suddenly loud pulse was the sound of the door closing. Shutting her eyes, defeat washed over her, leaving her trembling.

"Why would you say a thing like that to me?"

Snapping her head up, she found he was still in the room. His back was to her, shoulders hunched, a white-knuckled grip on the doorknob, but his voice held only the subtlest hint of the internal turmoil his body expressed. She was so amazed and relieved he was there that it took her a moment to react. "I..." Sounding pathetic, she cleared her throat and tried again. "While I've been...recovering, I've had a lot of time to think about everything." Snorting at the understatement, she clarified, "And I think I finally understand what happened to me while I was on Blink."

He remained with his back to her, but his head shifted at the mention of the dreaded drug that had brought an end to their relationship.

"I think the reason Josh appeared to me was because, deep down, I was afraid of having the same thing happen to me again."

At last, he turned with a furrowed brow and a wounded tone. "You think I could-"

"No." Shaking her head, she resisted the urge to stand and reach for his hand, choosing to smile at him, instead. "Of course not, but it's not as though people react rationally to the exposure of their deepest scars."

"Tom did all right."

It was a painful observation for her to hear, but she could see in his eyes he had switched from personal to scientific, that he was puzzling it out.

"Tom was dealing with something he'd done to someone else, not something someone had done to him. Recall what happened to Erica Lungren." Waving the tangent away, she continued, "The point is, I was afraid, and Blink exploited that fear. Then when Maia said I'd marry Ben..." Even from eight feet away, she could see Marco's pupils contract at the mention of his name. "It was as though I had a way around all that doubt, a guarantee."

He nodded in thoughtful consideration, and some part of her reveled in the fact that the man she'd always run her theories past seemed to agree with her logic. "But you can't try to fix the past, Diana. We all have to move forward." Again, he echoed one of the sentiments of her doctors, but this time it was slightly vexing.

"I know that." The agitation in her voice bothered her, so she took a breath. "But why can't we move forward together? I still need you."

His smile was consoling. "You don't need anyone, except Maia."

"Fine, I want you, then."

"No, you just want the idea of me, the convenience of me." Shrugging, he stuck his hands in his pockets, the way he did when he was distancing himself from something uncomfortable. "You prefer men who have qualities you feel you lack, older men who validate you. I'm too young, and we're too much alike." As he spoke, it was as though a gauzy film were being lifted from her perception of their relationship. He'd spent a lot of time thinking about it, too, but his insights seemed to offer more clarity than hers. "Plus, you don't perceive me as sophisticated or mature, so I can't give you the approval you're looking for." He shook his head with a sad, self-conscious smile. "You've never wanted me for who I am, and I doubt you ever will."

"I'm sorry." It wasn't the response she'd intended; it just came out automatically. There were a great many things she was sorry about when it came to Marco.

He shrugged, again, as though there was no need. "Thanks to you, I've realized that one-sided relationships don't work and that I deserve to have my feelings reciprocated."

"But...we're not those people anymore." She couldn't help but try to convince him. The need to do so was incessant and all but instinctive, and it made her wonder at herself. "Things have changed..."

"Not enough, not where this is concerned."

When she'd given him up, it had been like ripping off a band-aid--it had stung a bit, but she hadn't considered she might ever want him back. So it bothered her that, when faced with the idea she couldn't get him back, some subconscious, feminine sensibility was offended. "What can I say to convince you?"

"Look at yourself, Diana--look at where you are." His raised hands encompassed her gilded cage. "How would you react to this conversation if our roles were reversed?"

The answer was inescapable. "I'd question your judgment."

Stopping himself from defensively crossing them, he let his arms fall to his sides. "You need to concentrate on getting your life back in order."

"This is a part of my life," she insisted.

For a long moment, they just stared at each other, then he gave her a resigned smile. "Look, how about this? After you've been out of here for a while, if you still feel the same way, we can talk about it then."

"Really?"

He gave her a nod. "I'm not going anywhere." Glancing at his watch, he added. "...except to pick up Maia."

He turned to leave, and she felt too drained to get up and see him out the door. But she had the strength to say one, last, necessary thing, something she'd never really said to him, not with any conviction, anyway. "Thank you."

There was a hint of surprise in his eyes as he glanced back at her.

She held the photo of Maia against her chest. "For everything."

A myriad of subtle emotions crossed his face, but all he said was, "Sure." This time, his smile reached his eyes.

After her whirlwind romance with Ben and her intense addiction to his influence, a smile was a small thing in comparison. But as she sat there, gazing at her daughter's school picture, she began to feel the tiniest bit of normal. Thanking Marco had been like some hidden psychic hurdle, and his acceptance felt like a salve on the still raw wounds of her heart and mind. He was right. No matter how much the chemicals in her brain were telling her she needed a replacement for Ben, she didn't need a man in her life, but having people she could lean on...that was what really mattered. Accepting and appreciating she had such people...that was what would see her through.