No matter how bad things got - no matter how much he hated the mess his life had become, he'd always wanted to contain the misery. No one deserved to hurt as much as he did. He had tried to save them all from the cancer he'd known he would become in their lives. After losing Lara, he'd been content to stay in Germany, to wallow in the misery he'd been thrust into and somehow, some way she'd found him and brought him back home.
"Home." He whispered the word out loud into the darkness as he stumbled through the gravel on the side of the road. A word that once brought something akin to comfort now felt almost bitter as it fell off his tongue. She'd convinced him that there was something worth living for, something worth staying for, a life, happiness, a future. For a time, he'd almost believed she'd been right, because he had been happy. He had believed in a future and a life, but it had all been wrapped up in her. Now that she was gone, all of the hope and the dreams and the light he'd found had disappeared again and he found himself staring into the same sobering reality he'd stared into so many times before. All he could offer anyone around him was pain. All his presence brought was more misery and the kindest thing he could do for all of them, and even for himself, was to just leave.
The lights of the approaching car were so bright as he turned to face the road and leaned toward it. His hand seemed to raise on a delay as he tried to flag the driver down, hoping they would at least stop and take him somewhere, anywhere that was far away from here.
Marina drew in a tired breath as she closed her eyes and took a sip of the hot, black coffee. Henry's eyes were drooping again as he lay on the couch beside her, his eyes following the slow blades of the ceiling fan, his fist curled around the fray of his favorite blanket. The phone would ring soon. It always did. It was only the callers that changed. Sometimes it would be the police station, a former co-worker calling to give her a heads up, letting her know he'd been brought in for public intoxication. Sometimes it would be a bartender, most of whom had come to know her by name. Once she'd explained the situation to them, almost all were willing to call her before the cops. Occasionally, it would be him, calling in a rare moment of clarity, asking her to pick him up from somewhere and bring him to the one place he knew he'd always be able to come. He never drove while he was drinking, claiming he didn't want to put anyone else at risk, asserting no one else deserved to hurt because of him.
But what the hell did he think this was, she wondered. How was this sparing her from anything? This purgatory of sorts that she found herself in almost every night was agony. She'd spend these hours staring at her little boy and imagining how she'd explain to him why his father wasn't here anymore. He'd already lost one man in his life, and now she'd have to tell him why he'd lost another. Would he blame himself? Would he think it was something he'd done wrong? How would she explain this to him? How would she explain the fact that he wasn't enough for them to stay - especially when she couldn't explain it to herself.
The sound of the phone's ring made her heart sink while somehow also filling her with a strange sense of relief. At least now she didn't have to wonder. She'd know where he'd gone and how much trouble she'd have to go through to get him out of whatever it was he'd done.
"Hello," she breathed, trying to keep her voice even to avoid rousing the now sleeping little boy.
"Marina Cooper, please?"
She sat up a little straighter now, a chill moving up her spine at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. "This is Marina Cooper," she managed, her own voice sounding foreign as it rang out in the silence.
The words she heard were eerily similar to those she'd imagined in her darkest moments, when she'd allowed her mind to consider some of the worst case scenarios. There had been an inevitability to this, a sense that this had always been coming, that unless she'd been able to drastically change his course, this would have always been the ending. But still, hearing it, processing it, knowing that this wasn't some horrific imagining, but real, honest, truth - it was almost more than she could stand.
"Is he -" Her voice broke as Henry shifted a bit under the blanket, his tiny hand shifting into a tightened fist. She couldn't bring herself to continue. As terrible as purgatory was, it was better than this potential reality.
Mallet shifted in his chair as he glanced out the window one more time. Working with the agency had afforded him a great deal of flexibility in assignments, and with Dinah needing him here, he'd been able to shift to admin duty for the foreseeable future. While it certainly wasn't his professional dream, being here with her more than made up for any career sacrifices he'd made or have to make.
She was here. She was safe, and soon enough there would be a baby, a baby that might not share his blood, but that already had his heart. Before he could stop himself, his eyes drifted over to the window again. It was mid morning, and stunningly mild for early winter. She'd been determined to take advantage of the downright balminess of the day and was now curled up on the outdoor chaise with a blanket and a book. She looked happy and relaxed, and with everything in him, he wanted to believe that was true, but still, the words she'd said the night before still echoed in his mind.
"I mean, if I can't be with …" She'd stopped herself before finishing the sentence, but he'd known what she meant, and even as she apologized, which somehow made it worse, he'd known he couldn't be angry with her. She wasn't trying to hurt him. She was simply being honest. If she could have things the way she wanted them, if she could somehow write her own story, her own ending. If the world were perfect, she'd be living this dream with Shayne.
As if on cue, his phone began to shimmy across the table, the soft vibration alerting him to an incoming call. His jaw tightened as he saw Marina's name. Part of him wanted to ignore it, to pretend it didn't exist, but it did, and as long as the woman he loved still loved someone else, it always would.
With another quick glance outside, he brought the phone to his ear. "Hey Marina," he breathed. "What's going on?"