Part twenty-one:
For the second night in a row, Penelope tossed wearily in bed, unable to get comfortable or feel like she could actually fall asleep. She wanted to tell herself that it was just because she'd been relatively inactive all day – just playing games with everyone and helping Sam make dinner – but that was a lie. It was because the bed was too big for one person and too lonely. Not to mention, it was hard to keep warm – she'd been losing weight steadily between the treatments and being ill, so even in sweats and heavy socks, she was freezing beneath her blankets.
It hit her hard, like a punch to the sternum, that no matter what else happened, she was really rather alone in all of this. Whether she died or lived was not so much the issue – because, either way, she was alone to face the worst days ahead. Derek couldn't face the wall with her; she had to do it herself. She'd made the choice to attempt to fight, and she knew that the road would be hard and long – but she'd never expected him to suddenly just turn his back on her.
Her heart clenched and she bit back a sudden, broken sob. God, she wanted Dave back so badly – she needed him. He'd grounded her, kept her focused and moving along the path… A clawing, nagging fear gripped her in its icy cold grasp – she wasn't enough by herself to fight this, and she was just putting off the inevitable. She would stare Death in the face and lose herself.
But to go to Derek, to admit that she was scared, weak, full of panic and grief – it was too much for her to contemplate. And he deserved so much better than to be saddled with her – sick, dying, broken in ways she couldn't even begin to understand, let alone articulate. She'd been fighting with the pain all day, both physical and psychological, and she finally felt in the dark hours of the night like she could really give up.
And all the tears in the world could not banish that feeling.
She got out of bed and began to pace, muttering in broken words of English, Italian, and French that made no sense to anyone but her. Her heart was shattering, her soul was crushed in this black mass of emotions she could no more understand than explain and every part of her cried to just give in – give up, stop fighting, breathe in the last breath of desolation and despair and reach out to whatever fate awaited her. Why was she still alive? She was ill – so very ill. Why hadn't the cancer taken her already? It had had enough chances…
She'd done so many things wrong – handled them badly. Luca was right to be angry; she'd been so selfish. And Derek just up and moving everyone…
The dam burst – she ran to the bathroom and barely made it before she was sick. Her retching echoed in the room, caught up with her sobs and a tiny, whispered plea: "Make it stop."
It was incredibly, painfully real now – every mistake of her past was riding the train into the station and threatening to run over everything in their path. And she was powerless to stop it. Would she even try if it meant hurting everyone else that much more?
It hurt like hell.
She started shaking as the realization settled in that she was less important than she'd thought to everyone around her. Why else would she be alone? She slid to the floor, bending her knees and burying her face in her knees. She'd been subject to every humiliating side effect of this disease and its treatment – hair loss, weight loss, sallowness in her skin, nausea, horrendous headaches, secondary infection – and she was at her breaking point. She was alone and so tired of fighting a good fight when she wondered if anyone would care if she was gone.
The track marks on her arms hurt less than the thought that she was replaceable.
Penelope shot to her feet unsteadily, looking at her sad, pathetic self in the mirror. She had once been beautiful, vibrant – she had mattered. But now? Who cared?
The mirror mocked her and she screamed – a low keening wail that grew in intensity as she pounded on the glass with her fists. She ignored the pain and the fear and everything but the release of the poison inside her. Her well of despair was overflowing everywhere and she couldn't stop it. The mirror cracked and splintered around her clenched hand, but she didn't stop – until she was pulled away from the shattered glass.
Blood dripped down her arms, splattering bright redness on the white tiles. Christina stared at her in horror, a hand over her lips to hold in whatever might have been said. Penelope struggled against her captor, sobbing miserably. "Let go of me!" she choked.
"No," Derek said firmly. "No, Penelope."
She fought him, remembering as much of her FBI training as she could, but he was just that much stronger. "Leave me alone!" she shrieked as Reid and Emily ran into the room, followed by Wanda and Sam. "Get out – all of you, get out! You don't care – you can't wait for me to die –"
"Stop it," Christina begged. "Mama – "
Derek squeezed her harder around the middle until she went limp. "Penelope, take a deep breath, baby," he whispered. "Please – it's going to be okay, I promise…"
"Don't make promises you can't keep," she growled, her voice low and dangerous. "Nothing about me is all right – and where have you been? What do you care? You have your free room now, so forget me. Pretend that you will care when I'm gone, okay? Because I know –"
He turned her around in his arms, holding her wrists, ignoring the blood. "Penelope, where is this coming from?" Derek asked, the hurt on his face echoing the pain in her heart. "Baby Girl, talk to me – please…"
"I'm done talking!" Penelope cried, trying again futilely to escape his grasp. "I'm done with everything – all of it – I just want to die in peace! I'm not going to get better, Derek, and the sooner you realize that, the sooner you can go home."
"I'm not going anywhere," he argued stubbornly, dodging one of her kicks. "Penelope, ENOUGH," he finally said, his voice rising to a roar. "You've hurt yourself –"
"I don't care," she hissed. "Let me go."
Wanda took a step forward and said, "You need to go to the hospital. You might have broken something –"
"Derek, let her go so I can look at her," Emily ordered. "PG –"
"Stop fussing over me," Penelope pleaded, her voice cracking. "Nothing's broken, I'm just bleeding. Go back to bed."
"Mama, please," Christina whispered, "why are you –"
"It was a mistake," Penelope said, finally wresting her hands from Derek's grasp. "All of this was a mistake – fighting the cancer, going to the doctor in the first place, fighting with Dave… You coming here," she whispered, looking at Derek with hard, hot tears in her eyes. "All of it. I should be dead now. Everything would be better if I was."
"That isn't true and you know it!" Christina yelped.
"Then where's your brother?" Penelope challenged. "Where is my son?"
"Mama," Christina began to argue, but then stopped. "You shouldn't base anything on Luca – he's in a rough place, too, right now, okay? You have to do what's right for you, and he has to do his own thing. And right now, you're bleeding all over the carpet and you're going to bitch about the cleaning bill and just order new carpet in a couple of days."
Penelope rounded on Derek and smacked him hard. "And you – you – how could you?" she whispered, feeling a sudden pang of dismay at the bloody print on his chest. "How could you just… move in and not even – If you loved me even a little bit, why would you leave me alone?"
"Oh, I think it's time for us to leave now," Reid commented with a little cough.
"No, stay," Derek ordered.
"You guys having relationship issues is not my idea of a good family fun time," Reid said firmly.
"You told her you love her?" Wanda asked in disgust. "What about Mom?" Sam clearly agreed with Reid and they left in a hurry.
"Your mother is dead, Wanda," Derek said, his voice low and ragged. "I can't have her back anymore than Penelope can have Dave back, okay? And I love Penelope – I never stopped loving Penelope. And even if she dies before me, I won't stop loving her –"
She hit him again, this time with the waning force of a dying storm. "Don't lie to me anymore, you bastard – don't you dare – don't –" The words became a twisted, choking sob.
He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. "Baby, I'm not lying to you – do you really think I'd lie to you and ask you to marry me every day?" he whispered. "God, Penelope, I don't want you to die and I don't want you to give up – you hear me?"
"Why weren't you here?" she sobbed, pushing him with her bloody fist. "Why weren't you here when I needed you?"
"Because that's your room," he whispered. "I didn't think you wanted me in there."
"I hate you," she whispered. "I hate you because I've been alone and you promised –"
"I know," he breathed. "I know, Baby Girl… I know."
"No, you don't – you don't –"
"I do," he murmured. "Come on, put some shoes on and we'll go to the ER and get you looked at –"
"Stop treating me like I can't take care of myself!" she ordered, pulling away from him, then realizing the irony of the words that had left her mouth. "Fuck – Derek, fuck you. Just – go to hell. Go away. Go to the dogs, go to the toilet – just leave me…" Her shoulders drooped as the fight left her completely. "Don't leave me," Penelope begged, the words barely audible.
"I'm not going anywhere," he promised, pulling her back into his arms and holding her gently. "I'm going to be right here, sweetheart – it's okay. It's okay, I promise. Christina, can you get your mom's jacket and shoes? And maybe drive to the hospital?"
"I'm coming, too," Wanda insisted.
"No," Derek said firmly, "you're going back to bed. You've already done enough damage the last few days, young lady."
"But –"
"Just go back to bed," Christina said. "Whatever you want to say can wait till tomorrow. Mama's bleeding a lot and she's probably got glass in the cuts, so it's going to be a while."
Penelope sighed and slumped against Derek, so tired from her emotional flailing that she couldn't begin to focus again. "I thought – I thought you didn't love me anymore," she whispered.
"Lies," Derek said firmly. "No more lies, Baby Girl. I love the hell out of you and I was trying to spare you my tossing and turning and not sleeping."
She sagged against him, boneless, her despair overcoming her again, the tears starting anew. Christina brought a jacket and shoes and Derek helped her into them, then scooped Penelope into his arms. She felt so ashamed of the ideas that had been tumbling through her mind, each worse than the last, culminating in preferring death to the hell she thought she was living.
The nurse in the ER picked the slivers of glass out of her hands and stitched her up, and Derek was there with her the whole time, explaining her medical history and making sure that she was taken care of. When it was all over, Christina drove them home. Derek carried her up the stairs and their daughter walked closely behind them. Penelope was half-awake, half-asleep, but she heard her daughter's voice loud and clear like a knife through fog. "Derek, if you hurt her one more time, I will end you," Christina threatened softly. "But she needs you – more than she will ever admit. Don't hurt her and don't leave her."
"Does this mean I have your blessing?" Derek asked, his voice a low rumble in his chest.
"No," Christina said, "but I'm not important, am I? Mama loves you. That's all that matters."
"That isn't all that matters," Derek said.
"Don't try to push your luck, Mr. Morgan," Christina said. "I don't need a dad. I already had one and he was the best dad I could have had, okay? You take care of my mother and your kids and leave me out of it."
"You won't even give me a chance to –"
"I said that I'm not important," Christina said. "Just take care of her."
She felt him shift, then he nodded. "Always," he said firmly. "I wouldn't like you to crush me like a bug."
"Mmm…" Penelope moaned, starting to shift more toward wakefulness.
"I better put her back to bed," Derek said softly. "You should go rest, too –"
She heard the door close behind them, then felt the bed rise to meet her. She groaned and reached for him, but the open air met her. "Derek –"
"Shh, just a minute," he said. The bed dipped and she settled back into his arms, holding him as tightly as she could. "How could you even think for a moment that I didn't love you, Baby?"
"I was stupid," she breathed, listening to the sound of his beating heart as she was lulled into sleep. This time, her dreams weren't fucked up and hurtful. They were softer, gentler, so much better.
And when she woke up in the morning, all of the hateful poison had deserted her – but save the grief for losing Dave… and Luca. She bent over Derek, who was still sleeping, and whispered, "I love you." And for the first time, she knew she meant the words – they were not just empty words leaving her lips.