2 - What About Us?
She sits on the sofa, head in her hands, reeling from the day in court, the verdict, and with what she knows she must do now. A shift in weight and sharp intake of breath to her left brings her out of her tortured reverie. She says nothing, tears welling up in her soft brown eyes at the sight of him.
"So I heard from Adam that … things look good, for your promotion."
He watches as she knots her fingers tightly together with anxiety.
"Monica," he says gently, "don't be so hard on yourself. We're not fighting against flesh and blood here, we're fighting against evil - against the devil."
We.
Because of course, even though this is her assignment, her promotion hanging in the balance, he is here. As always, he is here to hold her up when all she wants to do is fall to her knees.
"But you and I both know that he's not gonna win the war," he continues, wishing that he could take some of the burden from her little shoulders and carry it himself, "but … sometimes he wins the battle."
She swallows hard, a painful lump forming in the back of her throat.
"They're going to file an appeal," she says, trying to put on a brave face, trying to hide the hopelessness in her voice.
"And he's being transferred tomorrow to the state prison," he replies, shaking his head sadly, "and a man who's been convicted of murdering forty-six children doesn't stand a chance in there. Monica … he's not gonna live long enough for an appeal."
He doesn't know why he says it, as if she can't comprehend the horror all on her own. She makes a sound of discontent, looks at him in abject despair.
"And I'm supposed to go back and get my nice promotion and leave Zack to be killed in prison?"
"I don't know," he says, breathing a heavy sigh.
"Well I do," she snaps back sharply, standing abruptly and grabbing her coat. He surges off the sofa after her, takes her by the arm before she can get to the door.
"No," he whispers, understanding what she means to do without the need for an explanation, "Please, no."
It is a selfish request, but one he cannot help but to express.
"Andrew," she says grievously, "I can't just leave him. He needs me."
He reaches for her, takes her face in his hands, presses his lips to hers in a fierce kiss. In that moment, it's the only thing he can think to do.
"I need you," he replies brokenly, "what about me? What about us?"
"It won't be forever," she says, voice hitching with emotion, something between a gasp and a sob.
"Every moment away from you feels like forever. I already feel like I'm losing you, please … don't."
Tears fall freely down her face at his words and she is struck by his honesty, by his anguish, by the intensity of his love for her in his eyes.
"I have to go, I'm sorry ..." she says, disentangling herself from his embrace, knowing that if she stays in his arms for a moment longer, she might not be able to find the strength to walk away.
He calls after her but she doesn't look back.