CHAPTER 4

This is a rather long chapter dealing with some of Mark's withdrawal symptoms as he and Princess embark on a long night of discovery and awareness of each other. There's some coarse language, a brief mention of sex, and sexual innuendo but nothing out of the realm of good taste. I've also placed a "fluff scene" toward the end of this segment. Thanks to my friends for their support and thanks to all who've read so far. Again the characters don't belong to me!

Mark leaned into the corner of the nearest wall, relying on the support he knew his body required. In his weakened state, he could barely sit up on his own and he felt as if though he were on the verge of collapsing. His body aching, he motioned for Princess to give him room so he could stretch his long limbs before him.

Tears continued to coarse down Mark's flushed cheeks as he licked his dry, ashen lips to speak. His voice was raspy, as if though he had been swallowing gravel. "He didn't want me you know." It was a statement, not a question and Mark's shoulders shook with despair as he cried, "I …I was never any good…not good enough….that son of a bitch!"

A major spasm invaded Mark's body and he groaned as another painful wave swept through him. His gut was churning inward and he could feel bile rise to the back of his throat. Mark clutched desperately at his stomach hoping to keep the threat of nausea at bay.

Mark's misery was evident even in the darkness of the room and Princess didn't want to exacerbate the situation. Right now she was more concerned with Mark's physical well being. She could tell his body was a furnace simply by looking at him. Princess had maneuvered herself on his exposed side, opposite the wall. She noticed Mark's dark t-shirt was drenched with perspiration. Placing her right hand to Mark's shoulder, Princess raised her left wrist using the communicator to scan Mark's body to assess his vital signs. A tiny hologram appeared, relaying the pertinent information she needed.

Body temp-105, heart rate-122, respiratory rate-26, blood pressure-170/80.

Although the G-Force members were capable of withstanding certain elements against their physical well being, due largely in part to their cerebonic enhancements, immediate treatment was needed in this case. Mark was pushing his implant into overload. Princess quickly reached for Mark and looped an arm of his behind her neck while wrapping her arm behind his torso, forcing him off of the floor and onto the nearby bed. Mark landed on his back, writhing after being let go so abruptly.

Princess rushed toward the bathroom and turned on the bathtub's faucet. She placed a hand under the spray of water, gauging its temperature for tepid.

She returned to the bedroom and noticed Mark encasing his head in his hands. "God just make it all stop! I don't want this…I don't want this anymore!" he wailed.

Princess then took a deep breath for she knew what she had to do next. She had to undress Mark and get him into the tub. She sat on the edge of the bed and peered down into Mark's tortured face. His lids were partially closed, revealing a hint of those once incredible blue eyes, now tainted as a result of his abuse. A heavy pelt of hair was plastered to his forehead. He was all but heaving now, swallowing and expelling air forcibly from his lung field. Chills were now inhabiting his muscular body, his frame trembling in response to it.

Princess quickly reached for the hem of Mark's black t-shirt, peeling the now sweat soaked garment up and over his head. Mark was too weak to question her actions and lay upon the bed limp as any rag doll. Grateful that he decided not to fight her, Prin then moved toward the floor to continue with the rest of her task.

While on bended knee, Princess got as far as removing Mark's shoes from his feet when he suddenly summoned up enough strength to rise, leaning on his elbows. His face had turned an ominous shade of green.

"I'm…I'm…I'm gonna be sick!" Mark shouted. He had been successful fighting off the urge to vomit before, but not this time.

"Come on!" Princess shouted back, forcing Mark up from the bed and rushing him towards the bathroom, depositing him at the toilet.

Mark fell to his knees and placing a hand on either side of the toilet's lid, proceeded to vomit violently. Princess had gone toward the tub and turned off the faucet after supplying it with an adequate amount of lukewarm water filling it three quarters. Returning to Mark's side she placed her soft hands on his broad shoulders, leaning over slightly, massaging his taut muscles while he continued to dispose of what contents were left in his stomach.

Afterwards, Mark placed his face on the rim of the toilet's lid, thankful for its cool porcelain exterior. "Leave me…leave me alone!" he choked.

Princess spoke from behind him. "Come on Mark. We need to get you in the water."

"No…I can't…let me stay…too sick," he mumbled, hugging the commode.

Princess responded by placing her hands under his armpits and dragging him to the side of the bathtub. She then got on her knees and reached for the snap of his jeans.

Mark's hands snapped over her wrist. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, now appearing more alert than before.

"If you won't do it, then I will," she admonished him. "You need to get into the tub. Tepid water will aid in lowering your high body temperature since you aren't able to stomach any medicine to do so."

She then removed her wrist from his grasp and fingered the zipper of his jeans pulling it downward. Princess then placed her thumbs underneath Mark's waistband, pulling them past his hips.

"Ignore the obvious," Princess thought to herself as she worked his jeans past his thighs, mindful of his sinewy skin. She then commanded louder than necessary, "Lift your hips!"

"Damn it, I can…I hear you!" he mumbled and obliged by doing so.

Princess averted her eyes toward his legs while she worked his jeans off. She was then reminded of the reason Mark was with her at all. The sensor on his ankle was casting its reflection from the bathroom's light, almost blinding her.

Princess then assisted Mark into the lukewarm water, her eyes focused on his face while urging him down to sit. Once in the tub, Mark leaned back but had to bend his knees since he was much taller and larger than what the tub normally accommodated. She was kneeling next to the tub and, with washcloth in hand, began to sponge Mark's face. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, beginning to relax slightly under Princess' ministrations.

For the next few minutes, no words were exchanged between them. Princess continued to sponge Mark's forehead, his neck, and torso. Her own forehead was damp and a lock of dark hair was pasted above her brow. Just when she was about to wipe the annoying strand of hair aside, Mark reached up and did the deed for her. Her emerald green eyes returned to Mark's handsome face. His brows were stitched together and he was studying her with deep set blue eyes.

He found his voice though it was still hoarse as a result of the night's events so far.

"I didn't want you to get involved," Mark croaked. His hand burned after touching her and he extinguished the flame, returning it to his bathwater.

"I don't turn my back on my friends," Princess answered quietly. "I remember a time when you would've done the same."

Before Mark could retort, he grimaced as another bout of muscle spasms invaded his body. His eyelids shut tightly and his teeth clenched fiercely, as if though they were capable of grinding bones. Seeing his suffering, Princess immediately took his exposed hand, and braided her fingers through his. Mark clutched at Prin's hand as if though she were a single life preserver. When the spasm ended, he breathed an immense sigh of relief.

It was then Princess summoned the courage to ask, "How long have you been using Mark?"

Mark released her hand after this query. A few moments passed and at first Prin didn't believe he would answer her. His eyes were still firmly closed and he submerged his body even further into the water's depths.

"I'm not an addict," he spoke defensively, but in a low tone, never opening his eyes.

"Mark whatever that Spectran gave you managed to bypass your cerebonic implant. It's possible that you could have become dependent…"

Surprising the flustered young woman with his reflexes, Mark quickly grabbed Prin's wrist pulling her closer as he gave her a frosty blue glare.

He thundered angrily, "I'm not an addict!"

Mark was suddenly rewarded with a scathing throb at his temples and he instantly released his momentary captive. He grimaced again while the pain he had believed was diminishing in severity resurfaced.

The tub's water was turning cold as was the atmosphere between the two of them in the bathroom. Princess, still rooted to her spot near the tub, scanned Mark's features again with her communicator. The tiny hologram divulged its findings: Body temp-102, heart rate-110, respirations-22, blood pressure-160/80.

She then stood and reaching for a nearby towel commanded sharply, "Stand up!"

She spread the towel open and concentrated on the tiny designs imprinted on the bathroom's wallpaper. Princess suppressed the hurt she felt behind her jade green eyes at their recent exchange and decided, for now, to distance herself emotionally. She would be Mark's nursemaid, nothing more.

Mark grasped the base of the mounted soap dish on his right and the rim of the tub on his left. He managed to get one leg out of the tub but lost his footing. He almost slipped had it not been for Princess' quick reaction. She caught him at the waist wrapping her arms around his torso. Her hands were clutching the towel she managed to drape around his hips. Their faces were mere inches from each other and Princess could feel tremors coursing through him, his fingers digging deep into her shoulder blades.

"Mark are you…," she began.

"I'm fine!" he snapped. Mark pushed himself away from her and lowered his head, tucking in the folds of the towel around his waist. He seemed to be fumbling with what should have been a simple task and he continued to keep his eyes downcast, focusing on getting the job done.

Princess reached out to him. "Mark just let me..."

"Princess please!" Mark shouted backing away slightly. He couldn't bring himself to look at her, his focus still downcast.

"This is just too much…too much for me!" Mark then lifted his head and Princess glimpsed at his tortured soul. "My God, you just bathed me like I was some 90 year old invalid! I feel like shit right now! You shouldn't…you shouldn't be doing this!"

He then turned away from Princess, managing to make it to the bathroom's sink. He placed his hands on each side of the sink and took several deep breaths in an attempt to regain some composure.

Princess felt awful. Her purpose was to help, not embarrass him. She wanted to say so, but felt that would only make things worse. Regretfully, Princess turned on her bare feet and headed towards the bathroom's door.

"There's an extra toothbrush in the cabinet," she voiced over her shoulder. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me." Princess then closed the door behind her.

Mark watched Princess exit the bathroom and cursed at himself. "Damn it, it wasn't supposed to be this way! I shouldn't even be here! Why did she have to save me?"

Mark caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror and grimaced. His coffee brown hair was a few inches longer and it was in utter disarray. His coloring was dull and deficient, his blue eyes were lacking in their intensity, their depths were sunken. His cheekbones were slightly prominent; he'd lost a few pounds. In short, Mark was a shadow of his former self. He rubbed his cheek when he noticed the formation of stubble sprouting along his jaw line. "Funny. I didn't begin to grow facial hair until my father died…"

He stopped short, refusing to complete the thought. He reached for the spare toothbrush inside the cabinet. He turned on the sink's faucet…

After spending a few minutes brushing his teeth and gargling, Mark then cupped his hands under the faucet, allowing the cool water to pool inside his palms. He splashed the water on his weathered skin when suddenly a familiar authoritative voice spoke.

"You are so pathetic!"

Astonished, Mark looked up and saw his father's face staring back at him from the bathroom mirror. Mark looked frantically over each shoulder before returning to Ken Beckham's foreboding image. No longer was he in the red Rigan uniform Mark had been used to seeing him in, but he was the way Mark remembered him as a child. The senior Beckham was big, broad shouldered, and commanding attention with piercing brown eyes and a thin mustache sitting above his top lip. Mark's heart skipped a beat as he continued to stare at the man who abandoned him twice in his lifetime.

It was then Mark returned his father's scowl with one of his own.

"You maniacal son of a bitch! How dare you come back from the grave after the way you treated me! Don't you dare call me pathetic! What right…"

"I have every right!" Ken roared back at his son. "Look at what you're doing to yourself! If anything I hate worse than an idiot its an idiot with a purpose! Deliberately binge drinking, doing drugs, screwing around, and then finally a futile attempt at killing yourself! And with the assistance of a Spectran whore! What the fuck is your problem?"

"What's my problem?" Mark asked incredulously. "My problem is you! It's always been you! You were always near, always so close to me, and never once did you make an attempt to acknowledge your true presence to me! Yet you pushed me to do better every chance you got! And when I faltered you sure as hell never let me forget it! Everything you ever told me was a lie! A damned lie!" He placed his hands on either side of the mirror now, wishing he could pull his father out of it just so he could kick his ass.

"I was a soldier! My first priority was to the cause! Maria couldn't possibly understand the threat placed on my life and hers! When she gave birth to Matt and you, I swore that since I had done such a disservice to her by marrying her, I would at least see to it that you all were safe!"

"After mom and Matt died being my father should've been your first priority! The war with Spectra was just an excuse! You allowed it to change you!"

"You ungrateful bastard! Look at how it's changed you! Look at what you've become! You're a shell of the young man I knew! I told you never to allow your emotions to come into it! You're weak, you're a poor excuse…"

"Shut up!" Mark yelled as he rammed his right fist into the bathroom's mirror, silencing his father's menacing taunts.

The bathroom's door burst open and Princess was shocked to discover Mark's right arm extended into what was left of the mirror over the small sink. Blood was trickling from his hand and glass was shattered in varying directions surrounding his feet.

Mark's body was still quaking when Princess approached him and placed a hand to his right forearm.

"Did you see him?" he asked hoarsely. "He was right here."

Princess looked about the bathroom. "What are you talking about? Mark, who did you see?" she asked quietly.

"My father," he answered turning his anguished face to Prin's worried one. "He was right here," Mark repeated. "I saw him."

Princess had grabbed a towel and urged Mark to place his right hand into it while she inspected the damage. Fortunately it was only a minor laceration, given what could've been a trip to the hospital for stitches. Dreading what to say next, Princess then looked into Mark's bewildered face.

"Mark, there's no one here." She licked her lips before continuing. "No one except you and me."

She then wrapped Mark's injured hand in the towel and coaxed him out of the circle of glass surrounding them. Still holding Princess' hand, Mark followed her into the kitchen without protest, his thoughts centering on the recent occurrence.

Princess urged him into a chair at the kitchen's table, leaving him momentarily. She returned to sit opposite him, placing a small bowl, a bottle of antiseptic, and a first aid kit on the table.

"Place your hand over the bowl," she instructed while twisting the cap off of the antiseptic's bottle; Mark did as he was told. He was simply numb.

The cut bore into Mark's knuckle. It wasn't deep but did appear red and angry, like he was before. Princess proceeded to pour the bottle's contents over the wound. Surprisingly he sat across from her in silence while she tended to his injury. His mind was coming to the realization that he had been hallucinating.

A few minutes had passed before he spoke, his mind finally coming out of its recent fog.

"You think I've finally cracked haven't you? That I've lost my mind don't you?" Mark asked, his eyes fixated on the task she was performing.

Several seconds went by before Princess spoke. "Do you really want to know what I think?" Her focus was on the first aid she was administering.

Mark wasted no time in responding. "Yeah, I really want to know." He lifted his face to look directly at her.

Princess was holding his right hand now and dabbing an antibiotic ointment to his lacerated knuckle with a Q-tip. She then took a deep breath and looked at Mark with knowing green eyes.

"I think you're hurting very much. Discovering Cronus was your father the way you did, had to come as quite a shock. Particularly since Chief Anderson and your father went out of their way to make certain you wouldn't find out. I think you feel betrayed and you're acting out as a result of your rage. But I also feel as if though you're running from something; I'm just not certain what it is."

"You sound like one of those talk show psychologists," Mark answered but he didn't elaborate. She was almost on target with her assessment of his situation. "How did you find me?"

Princess was placing non-adhesive gauze to his knuckle and began wrapping his hand with a small ace bandage.

"It wasn't easy, but you did leave a trail, at least in my eyes. I was concerned about your mental state and what you might do. Finding you in Sector 9 was unexpected. Finding you with a prostitute…" Princess tried to appear indifferent though deep down she was very hurt by Mark's indiscretion.

Mark noticed Princess' nonchalance, and for some reason this bothered him. Still he felt as if he owed her an explanation.

"It wasn't planned Prin. I just needed a release. She was supposed to …after we…she gave me…it didn't even mean anything. I wasn't supposed to be around afterwards anyway." He sounded lame even to himself.

Princess had heard enough and her eyes flashed a brilliant burst of green. "Sex without love isn't impressive. It's bound to be unfulfilling and hollow if you're only there to perform the mechanics."

Mark had expected to embarrass her, not to hear a response from her. His blue eyes darkened.

"How would you know?" he asked, his voice deepening. Mark's demeanor had changed from bewildered young man to man on the hunt, his presence totally male.

Princess had just finished bandaging Mark's hand but she still held it within her palm. A current of electricity was being exchanged between them. She'd crossed the line and needed to end this. She was provoking a conversation she wasn't ready for; and with Mark clad only in a towel. Apart from the weight loss and disheveled appearance, he was still Mark; devastatingly handsome. Suddenly Princess was acutely aware of what she was wearing; the thin tank top and jersey shorts weren't exactly covering her very well either. The outfit only accentuated her curves and showed off her long legs.

"I've been told," she answered after noticing Mark's burning attentiveness towards her.

Princess stood up from the table and Mark eyed Princess appreciatively. Sometimes being around her made it hard for him to think.

He then winced as he remembered the callous words of his father: "Don't ever get too attached. Caring for someone only weakens you. You're a soldier!"

He then turned his attention to his bandaged hand, flexing his fingers at her handiwork. Princess had started to walk away to return the first aid kit to the kitchen's medicine cabinet when Mark reached out for her wrist. He looked up at her, his blue eyes reflecting a certain depth of sincerity.

"Thank you," Mark mouthed.

His shift of mood amazed her, but this person was the Mark she remembered. Princess wanted to embrace the moment for she didn't know how long it would last.

"You're welcome," she answered softly. "Do you feel strong enough to return to bed on your own? I can offer you some hot tea and crackers to help settle your stomach."

Mark stood to test his balance. "I can manage."

He turned to see Princess watching him worriedly. For a few minutes, they just stood staring at each other. Mark wanted to speak, but he knew Princess was expecting more from him, and right now he couldn't promise her anything. He headed toward his bedroom.

Princess walked in moments later with a small tray and found Mark lying supine underneath the sheets. He appeared to be asleep; his eyes were closed, his breathing even. She placed the tray aside to silently scan his body with her communicator.

Body temp-100, heart rate-86, respiration rate-20, blood pressure-136/86.

"Much better," she thought. Princess continued to stand near the bed and cast another worried glance over this troubled young man, her mind going over what happened in the past several hours. Whatever the Spectran had given Mark managed to infiltrate his implant's defense mechanism. No common street drug could do that. Mark, even in his depressed state, couldn't get high enough off of them to experience the affects. This derivative was different and Princess couldn't help wondering if the drug were specifically designed with G-Force in mind. She prayed that Mark would be able to overcome the drug's physical and psychological hold.

Mark shifted slightly in bed, his body outlined against the sheet, arching his back in a fluid-like motion as if though he were about to take flight. Princess' eyes devoured his sleeping figure.

"You seem so at peace now. I wish with all of my heart that you find the peace you're so desperately seeking. I just pray that it won't happen through self destruction."

Mark's head then turned in Princess' direction as if though he heard her and rewarded her by moaning "Princess," his full lips curving into a sensual smile. Princess flushed at this, somewhat embarrassed, but delightfully thrilled that she was a participant in Mark's dream.

Princess slowly descended to the side of the bed Mark left unoccupied, not that there was much. He'd taken up the majority of space in the double bed and this knowledge was something Princess wanted to keep for herself. Her back slid from the bed's headboard and she maneuvered herself into the crook of his right arm, placing her dark head on Mark's well defined chest. Princess remained outside of the sheet, believing she'd only be in this position for a moment. Her arm curled around Mark's torso, her elbow resting on his abdomen. Princess savored this nearness with him, for tomorrow his anger might return, and she hugged him fiercely to her. She stifled a yawn.

"Just a few more minutes," she promised herself sleepily. Princess' eyes were heavy with the promise of sleep and finally, exhausted after tonight's long ordeal, succumbed to it.

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The rays from the midmorning sun filtered into the bedroom, its warmth dancing off of the young couple who were oblivious of its arrival. Princess snuggled deeper into the groove of Mark's body, one shapely leg thrown over an unsuspecting thigh. Mark had thrown his arm around her during the night, his bandaged hand resting on her shoulder. His chin had been resting on top of Princess' head, taking in the sweet scent of her hair. "Strawberries," Mark murmured and shifted closer to its source, his body was on the verge of wakefulness.

He opened his eyes slowly, and discovered the woman who had captivated his dreams many a lonesome night. Princess was in 'his' arms, or rather, 'he' was in 'hers.' Mark drank in the sight of her, wanting to imprint her lovely features at this moment, into that corner of his mind that would always be with him, no matter what.

It was at this time that Princess began to awaken. She was purring with the satisfaction of a kitten after having had a restful sleep. She lifted her head slightly, her lips coming into contact with Mark's throat and he groaned in response to her touch. Princess' long lashes fluttered open, providing Mark with the spectacular view of her large, luminous green eyes. He raised his left hand to her cheek, caressing her smooth and flawless skin.

Mark allowed his thumb to graze Princess' bottom lip and he watched in fascination when she parted her lips as a result of his tender assault. That delicious ache began to flood both of them; and one of them had to stop. Princess, reluctantly, started to pull away.

"Uh, uh," Mark whispered, shifting his weight to lie on his back, pulling Princess to lie on top of him. His hands had moved from Princess' shoulders to her throat, leaving a trail of heat, placing her body on high alert.

His blue eyes blackened before saying hungrily, "I've been waiting five years to do this."

Mark's mouth parted Princess' lips, his tongue performing a sensual probing of the sweetness he always knew existed. His hands sifted through her jet tresses, his fingers drifting toward the nape of her neck, coaxing her body even more towards his. For the first time, Mark was allowing this beautiful young woman to feel the secrets his body had been withholding from hers for what seemed like an eternity. Moaning softly, Princess answered in kind, her soft lips flowering under Mark's insistent mouth, her tongue dueling erotically with his. Her arms curled around his neck, pressing her pliant body against his muscular frame. Mark's hands migrated slowly down her back and cupped her hips into his. The only barriers were the sheet and Princess' clothes, and Mark's hands were eagerly working at casting them aside. He didn't want to be denied any longer, and Princess' responsiveness seemed only to confirm his decision. When her hand traveled to that distinctive part of Mark's anatomy that made him male, he sucked in his breath sharply. The knowledge that Princess wanted him just as much thrilled him beyond conscious thought.

Their passionate interlude was interrupted by the familiar and persistent beep of the Swan's communicator.

"Ignore it! Please Prin, baby, just this once ignore it!" Mark's mind screamed.

His lips had just discovered that certain spot behind Princess' left ear that was driving her wild, her hands clutching at the sheet which was draped just below that chiseled six pack of his. But the constant beeping of Princess' communicator had the same effect as being doused with ice water. Frantically, Princess tore herself from Mark's arms and scrambled from the bed. Mark's body had been hot with anticipation, cooling off was going to take a while, give or take a few hours.

Princess raked nervous hands through her tangled hair and reassembled her clothes. Her tank top had been worked upwards to expose her bare midriff and her shorts were barely sitting on her hips. Still trembling, she managed to raise her left wrist to speak through kiss swollen lips into her communicator.

"G-3 here!" Princess responded breathlessly.

Mark turned away, not wanting to see or hear her switch from the woman he had begun making love to, to G-Force officer.

"Princess, I was worried," came the voice from the other end; it was her father, Chief Anderson. "Is everything alright? Did anything happen with Mark that we need to be aware of?" Her surrogate father was genuinely concerned.

Princess observed Mark, now sitting on the edge of the bed with his back toward her. She began to chew her bottom lip and winced, her lips were still sore reminding her of what had just taken place between them. His bare back was rigid, and she could sense the anger simmering within him.

Leaning with his elbows on his knees, Mark could just imagine what type of trouble Chief Anderson and Dr. Baxter believed he might have been capable of during the night. Mark then sobered, for he didn't remember much of the evening after eating dinner and before entering that tepid bath. He remembered Princess being with him through it all. Mark lowered his gaze to the sensor on his left ankle, the device reminding him of his lost independence, the ability to make his own choices. In that moment, he hated Anderson and Baxter for what they had done to him. And now Princess was obligated to tell them everything that happened, it was her duty. She was a soldier; Mark's face contorted with this knowledge.

"Last night…last night was uneventful Chief. Nothing happened. Nothing at all" Princess lied.

Mark's back straightened and he turned to look directly at Princess. Princess had responded with closed eyes not wanting Mark to see what lying to her father had cost her.

"Really?" Chief Anderson questioned skeptically. There was a brief pause before he asked another question. "Princess, is Mark there with you?"

"No sir. As a matter of fact, Mark's still asleep. I imagine he's still quite tired given all that he's been through." Princess' voice projected a calm sincerity.

Chief Anderson was pleased with her answer. "Well…you're probably right. Dr. Baxter thinks we should give Mark another day before meeting with the recommended psychologist. Have him here first thing in the morning."

The communicator gave the sign-off signal. Princess dropped her left wrist to her side.

"Princess, you didn't have to…," Mark started but Princess intervened.

"Please don't…don't…OK? I just felt that you needed more time. If they discovered what happened last night, they'd make a guinea pig out of you at Center Neptune. I just couldn't allow that to happen."

Princess walked towards the bedroom door to leave but stopped short. "Mark just promise me that you will at least try. That you will come to me if a craving for that stuff the Spectrans gave you should occur. Otherwise I can't help you."

Mark lowered his head at this. He knew he shouldn't be promising her anything, but after what she just did, he would make an honest effort.

"I'll do what I can," he said quietly and then turned away from her once more.

Princess accepted this. She took a deep breath before she continued.

"What happened between us this morning…I promise you it won't happen again. Too much is at stake. And quite frankly, I deserve something more than a casual roll in the sack."

She then left the room.

"Is that what she thought that was?" Mark asked himself. "Just a casual roll in the sack?"

Princess was the one who told him that sex without love was unfulfilling and hollow. She had proved that to him this morning. There was nothing unimpressive about it. He could never forget what happened between them; their relationship didn't border on casual.

Now he had the monumental task of deciding whether or not life could be worth living again. His father's life and death had caused him so much grief. Ken Beckham's betrayal still stung but not as much as the secret Mark had been concealing for the past several years. A factor that may have played a role in his father's decision to board that rocket ship and sacrifice himself for planet Earth. A secret that Mark had buried long ago, and now, with the threat of exposure, was eating away at his existence.

Author's note: I remember an episode in which Mark briefly mentioned he had a brother. He was kneeling at a tombstone with the marking of an airplane on it. I don't recall Mark's brother ever being mentioned again in the series, but decided to create one for the story's purpose. A special thanks goes out to my "heavenly friend" who beta-read this chapter for me. I owe you one!