Miserere Mei Deus
Part Two:
Good-bye, Love
Jewel Faulkner
jfaulkne@brynmawr.edu

        Welcome to part two of this little three-parter.  The first part, as you remember, was named "Donde lieta usci".  And the title of this one is actually related.  It's from Rent. Rent is based on La Bohème, and "Good-bye, Love" is the parallel song to "Donde lieta usci".  Besides, I had the idea for a scene in this while walking to a video store and singing "Good-bye, Love" to myself.  (Y'know, I wonder how many people thought I was nuts...ahh, well, too late now.)

         Legally covering my butt: Christine, Belinda, Julia, Hope, and Christian belong to me.  Mars and Mark Adams belong to Scott Iskow, Ares and Athena belong to Ryan Stout, Demona and Alexander Xanatos belongs to Buena Vista (Wow, more Gargoyles characters!  Will the trend continue?)  This is got a PG-13 rating, because of language and sexual situations (again, no, I *didn't* go hogwild with descriptions).

  ***  ***  ***  ***

        You don't want baggage without lifetime guarantees.
        ...I just came to say
        Good-bye, love
        Good-bye, love
        Came to say
        Good-bye love, goodbye
        ...Just came to say
        Good-bye, love, good-bye.

 -"Good-bye, Love," Rent

  ***

         "A stupid despot may constrain his slaves with iron chains; but a true politician binds them even more strongly by the chain of their own ideas; ...this link is all the stronger because we do not know of what it is made and believe it to be our own work."

-Servan, Idéologues

  ***  ***  ***  ***

         She glided for a while.  Not for long; not as long as she would have liked, but her wings gave in before she could.  She landed on the nearest building, not really caring or noticing which one it was.  She sat down on the edge of the roof, her hands resting against her.  She sighed.
         There was someone behind her.  Silent.  Christine raised her head but didn't turn around.
         "Hello, Demona."
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         Demona stared down at the hybrid.  She had no idea what to say.  But the old link snapped back into place.  She tightened her jaw--she remembered when she thought that Christine had 'died'--it had to have been one of the biggest shocks in her life, to feel her mind shattering as if it was Demona's own.  What did you say to someone whom you know like that?  Someone who, for better or worse, you knew better than any other person in the world--father, mother, sister, cousin, child, friend, lover --could ever pray to?
         "Hello...Christine." she said, staring at the woman's scarred back.  Old looking scars, twisted and outlined in darker skin than the rest of her back.  A child had received those scars.  She searched for something else to say, but not knowing what words; how to try.  "Are you...all right?"
         "I think you know the answer to that." Christine said flatly.
         Demona hesitated.  "Perhaps...I should go." she said, stumbling over the words.
         "No, wait..." Christine said, turning around.  "Please."
         Demona stopped.  Slowly, nervously, she walked over to the little hybrid who looked so much like Elisa Maza had so long ago.  And then she sat down next to her.
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         "So..."
         "So." Christine said flatly.  Demona felt out of her depth and had no idea why she was even sitting there.
         They remained silent.  Finally, Demona spoke.  "You're not dead."
         "No, I'm not.  I'm as immortal as you are."
         "How?"
         "Titania linked me as the Weird Sisters linked you.  Only I'm bound for all eternity to my sister."
         "Ahh.  So..."
         "So."
         "I...I don't know what I'm doing." Demona finally said, completely uncomfortable.
         "That makes two of us." Christine said, shaking her head. "So."
         "So."
         "I'm having an affair with Alexander Xanatos.  I'm currently in a relationship.  With a former Quarryman.  The Hunter."
         Demona let out a sudden breath.  "Nothing simple, no." she said with wide eyes.  "A Hunter...and a Xanatos."  She blinked several times.
         "Yeah.  In a nutshell.  And I care about both of them."
         "Love...or lust?" Demona asked uncomfortably.
         Christine laughed dryly.  "Damned good question.  No matter what, I broke it off with Alexander, and I'm going back to Mark.  I just don't know if I made the right choice."
         "Does...Mark...know?"
         "Not yet.  I'm going to tell him."
         "Why?  If he doesn't know, why tell him?"
         "I don't want to keep things from him.  I don't want to live a lie."
         "So instead you're going to tell him.  ...Christine, men have a nasty tendency of not wanting to know another man has been where they go.  And they tend to react badly to finding out that another man has been where they feel another shouldn't be."
         "I know.  I know.  But I can't lie.  I'm no good at it."
         "So you'll chose instead to ruin your relationship.  And it will."
         "I won't lie."
         "I'm not saying to lie, I'm just saying to...not tell him the truth.  There's a difference.  You don't have to tell him anything.  How else will he find out?  You've gotten away with it; let it quietly die and just forget about it."
         "I'd still feel as though I was lying to him."
         Demona stared at her.  "You are quite the goody-two-shoes, aren't you?"
         "I guess it's to offset you."
         Demona winced without intending to.  "So the little hybrid has talons after all."
         There was silence for a while.  Then Demona stood up.  "Do what you wish...Christine.  But...I warn you.  Don't tell your little Quarryman.  He may say he's not, but if he gets mad, what he *really* is will come out.  Live your little lie--that he's not going to hate you for being a...freak...a little longer.  Don't tell him."
         "Mark would never...!" Christine began angrily.  Demona fixed her with a cold stare.
         "Stop deluding yourself.  Once a Quarryman, always a Quarryman. He'll forget he's been otherwise when he sees you as no better than a whore...
         "If he doesn't see you as that way already."
         Demona disappeared into the night.
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         Christine had to think about the gargoyle's words--they hit really close to home and her own fears, and said so bluntly as to almost feel like an attack--but she knew one thing.  She had to come clean.  Tell Mark what had happened.  Shit if she knew *how* the hell she was going to tell him, but she knew that she had to.
         She was not looking forward to it.
         ~belinda!~ she sent out mid-flight.
         Her sister answered back quickly.  ~whassup, sis?~
         ~i need you to do me a favor.  take hope and christian out for a while.  i need to have a talk with mark, and i don't think they should be there for this.~
         ~what, romantic rendezvous?~
         Christine snorted.  ~not by any stretch of the imagination.~
         ~tine, what's wrong?~
         ~don't ask.~
         ~sis, you've been a wreck for weeks.  did you and mark have a fight or something?  c'mon, you can talk to me!~
         ~not about this.~
         ~what did he do?~
         ~he didn't do anything.  this is my fault.  just...~ she heaved a sigh.  ~just let me handle this, ok?  take the kids over to athens or something.  you know how they like playing with athena's baby.~
         ~i don't want them over there that much.  i don't like how athena looks at christian.  she'd take him from me if she had the chance, i know it.~
         ~even if she tried, she couldn't.  and the boy needs his father, belinda.~
         ~i'm doing this for you.  you know that, don't you?~ Belinda sent after a long minute.  ~you better make this fast, because i want to spend as little time as humanly possible at athens.~
         ~thanks.~
         ~yeah, whatever.~
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         Everyone was gone when she got in, save for Mark.  He was sitting at a table, tapping his finger, his face troubled.  She sighed, and he turned.
         "Christine!  There you are.  Belinda said you wanted to talk to me, but she wouldn't say about what.  And she took Hope and Christian away.  What's...?" he began.
         Christine heaved a sigh again and resettled her wings nervously.  "Mark...Mark, this isn't easy for me to...to say, but..."  She rubbed her temples and sighed again.
         "Christine, just tell me, please.  This is killing me.  What's wrong?"  he said, standing up and starting to go over to her.
         She said it in a rush.  "I've been having an affair.  With Alexander Xanatos.  It's...it's been going on for a while, and..."
         Mark crashed back down into the chair, his jaw dropping.  "*WHAT*?!!?"  He blinked several times.  "Please, *please* tell me I heard you wrong."
         She bowed her head.  "I'm sorry.  Oh, God, am I sorry.  I wish that...it's over, though.  I ended it.  Things were too crazy."
         Mark jumped back to his feet.  "You...you little *bitch*!" he roared.
         She flinched.  She had expected him to be angry and all, but...
         "You...goddamn you!  I...I *loved* you!"
         "I'm sorry." she said again, her voice a whisper and bowing her head again.  "I know I can't even *begin* to..."
         "I should have expected it from some...*thing* like you!" he hissed.  Christine's head flew up.
         "Wh-what?"
         "Filthy gargoyle!  I should have known...I should have...that something as *perverted* as you are would do something like that!  But, no, I was stupid, and convinced myself that gargoyles weren't the freaks of nature I knew they were...I actually thought that...!  I was so *stupid*!"
         Christine's chest began to heave.  "Mark...!"
         "Shut up, you little freak!" he roared, slapping her.  Hard.  She wasn't expecting it and she fell.  She raised her hand to her face and touched her mouth.  Her fangs had cut the inside of her cheek when he had hit her, and she could taste blood.  She looked at Mark, in absolute shock, as he continued to roar epitaphs at her.
         She jumped to her feet.  "You...you *son* of a *bitch*!" she roared.  "How...how *dare* you say that crap!" she said angrily, ignoring the taste of blood in her mouth.  "You...I thought you had changed!  I actually managed to convinced myself that..." she began, furious.  Part of her felt relief--at last, she knew what he was.  He hadn't changed.  He was still the Hunter, and she was a fool for believing otherwise.  Now it was out in the open.  The part of her that had been afraid for so long was right--he was still a Hunter who saw her as a sick perversion.  "I thought...I thought you loved me.  But now...hell, why not finish out everything you've called me by just calling me a half-breed injun nigger, too!  Go on, insult me as much as *human*ly possible!" she roared, shaking, anger making her face redden.  "Dammit, Demona was *right*.  I...I *defended* you against her when I talked to her, and she was *right*!  You *are* still a Hunter!  Still!"
         "Demona?!!?" he roared suddenly.  "Oh, I should have known it!  In league with that monster!  You...freak of nature!" he roared again.  He raised his fist and hit her again.  She went down without a word, feeling her eye beginning to swell.
         No, goddamn it, no! part of her roared inside.  He went to hit her again, she suddenly lashed out to protect herself.  No!  She wouldn't let anyone *ever* hit her again!
         Her talons sliced his shirt and ran upwards on his chest in parallel gashes, not enough to seriously injure him, but enough to draw blood.  Her thumb didn't hit him, so he was left with four parallel, bloody gashes.  He staggered back, blinking suddenly.
         "Chr...Christine?" he whispered, and looked down at his chest.  He blinked several times, and then his eyes flew open.  "Christine....oh my God, Christine, I'm sor..."
         "Shut up!" she roared, jumping to her feet.  "God, I was so stupid!  Once a Hunter, always a Hunter!  How dare you hit me and say what you did?  I...I *loved* you!  Goddammit, I did it again, I made the wrong choice!  I gave up someone who *really* loves me!  Well, I'm going to fix it!  I'm going back to Alex and beg him to take me!  I hate you!" she roared.
         "Christine, please, wait!" he yelled.  She whirled on him.
         "Go to hell!" she said, and flew out.
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         "Mark, oh my *GOD*!" Belinda yelped the second she saw him.  She grabbed him and pulled off his shredded shirt.  "Oh, shit.  Come on, we need to get Ares to look at you!"
         "Screw it." he said, his breathing ragged.  "Belinda...god, Belinda!" he yelled, tears filling his eyes.
         Belinda narrowed her eyes.  Something about Mark seemed...weird.  She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something about him that wasn't at all *right*.  But what?  She damned again the loss of her magic.
         "We'll talk while you get patched up." she said, half-dragging him to the medical facilities in the building.  She got Ares quietly, not telling him what was wrong because the children were in the room with him.  Athena glared at her slightly when she got Ares, but Belinda ignored her.
         "What happened to you?" Ares asked as soon as he saw Mark.
         "Long story." he said.  He didn't want to discuss this with the man; he would wait for him to leave.  Mark looked down at the gashes Christine had made, and froze.
         "Oh my God."
         "What?" Belinda asked, frowning.
         "The...the cuts...they're....they're *exactly* over the scars I got when my...when my parents were killed." he said, his eyes huge.  Despite the fact that he had grown since those scars Demona had left him with had healed, so they were stretched and twisted, Christine's talons had exactly followed the path of the scars.  There was only one extra cut, now, from her fourth talon, and it was so fine that he knew it likely would leave only a faint scar, if it scarred at all.
         "How'd you get them?" Ares asked, shocked himself--Mark was right.  It was eerie how the new cuts were exactly where the old ones were, never *once* straying outside of the boundaries of the old ones, following the same path for the same length.
         "The demon.  That's what Castaway called her, anyway.  I was thirteen."
         "The demon...Demona!" Belinda howled, her eyes flashing white for an instant.  "Shit, that explains it right there!  Red haired blue gargoyle, pure blown psycho?"
         Mark nodded.  "Yeah.  That's her.  Demona."
         "You know about Christine's link, right?"
         "No.   What does Christine have to do with..."
         "Don't you two talk?" Belinda said in surprise.  "When she was five, as a cosmic *joke*, she ended up with a psychic link with Demona.  We all thought it ended when she maimed Christine, but it didn't.  I daresay they'll have that link for eternity.  It'll never be as strong as it was, but it's still there.  It's no coincidence that...whoa, whoa, whoa, wait." Belinda said, her eyes flying open as what she knew from telepathy suddenly clicked.  "*Christine* did that to you?!!?"  Mark nodded, wincing slightly as Ares continued to clean up the cuts.
         Ares looked up.  "Wait...*Christine* did that?  What the hell *happened*?"
         Mark clamped his mouth shut.  Finally: "I'd rather just discuss this with Belinda."
         Ares snapped his head back slightly in surprise and blinked several times, then sighed.  "All right..."  He frowned again.  "It's going to take me a while to get this stitched up.  Really, it might not even need it--they aren't very deep.  You'd better be glad she wasn't trying to hurt you, or else she could have killed you.  I've seen her fight, and that was when she a human."
         "So have I." Mark said flatly.  "And if she had wanted to kill me, I'd be dead right now."
         Belinda frowned.  "Mark, what did you *do*?" she said.  She narrowed her eyes again.  Something felt really...*really* strange about him, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out what--it nagged at the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't figure it out.
         "Mark?  Do you want me to stitch these?" Ares asked.
         "No, don't bother." he said, shaking his head.  "Just bandage me up.  I'll be fine in a few days.  I've already got scars there, after all."
         Ares nodded and carefully bandaged the man's chest.  "Be careful and take it easy over the next few days--you do something stupid and you'll open them back up.  And I'll leave you two alone, all right?"
         Mark nodded.  As soon as Ares was gone, Belinda whirled.  "What did you *do*?!!?"
         Mark instantly began to shake.  He had been holding it in for the entire time Ares was there, but now he let go.  "God, Belinda!" he said, putting his face in his hands.  "I--I don't know what happened!  The words...they kept coming out and I couldn't stop them!  I could hear them, but I couldn't make myself stop!  And when I...I couldn't stop myself!  Part of me kept screaming to stop, but it was like something else had a hold of me!  And the things I said...and I hit her! I couldn't stop!  I didn't want to, but I couldn't stop!"
         He was shaking.  Badly.  Belinda put her hands on his shoulders.  "Buddy boy, you'd better start making sense right now or I interpret what I heard.  And that *won't* be good for you, because I think that you just said that you hit my sister."
         "I don't know what happened.  I couldn't stop myself!  I didn't want to hit her; I didn't want to say those things.  But something took control!" he yelled, agitated and a more than a little frightened.  He couldn't understand what had happened to him.  It hadn't really been him, had it?  No, it couldn't have been...  But how else...?  Oh, God...
         "Start from the beginning.  Now." she said, her voice full of the implicit certainty that she would be obeyed.
         "After you left with Hope and Christian, she came.  I was waiting.  Something felt really...weird...but I thought it was nerves.  I had no idea what she wanted to talk to me about."
         "What *did* she want to tell you?  She wouldn't tell me a damn thing."
         "You mean you didn't know?"
         "Know what?"
         "She's been...she's been...she's been sleeping with Alexander Xanatos."
         She stared a him for a moment before his words sunk in.  "Excuse me, I need to sit down." Belinda said a second before her legs gave out from under her and her butt hit the floor.  She blinked repeatedly, her jaw hanging open.  "OK.  Run that by me again.  Slower.  So I get it.  I think I misheard."
         "No, you heard right." Mark said, feeling as though his heart was being stomped on.  Or as if Christine's talons had gotten his heart and were shredding it to bits.  Part of him was dying inside, and he felt ready to just curl up and die.  How could she have...and how could he have....
         "My sister...has...been sleeping...with the son of David Xanatos.  I...heard you correctly?"
         Mark nodded, feeling something in his stomach tighten.
         Belinda had an expression on her face that Mark had never seen before.  Complete and utter disbelief.  Something had finally shocked the former mistress of Avalon.
         "Sister...*sex*...Xanatos?!!?" she yelped, losing the ability to form complete sentences.
         "Twist the knife deeper, why don't you?" Mark said flatly.
         "I-it was just a one-night stand type thing, right?  You know, something stupid, neither can believe it happened, it's over never with to happen again...*right*?  *Right*?"
         "Wrong.  She told me tonight.  She said she had broken it off with him...but the second she said it...something took over.  I don't know what.  Belinda, you *know* I would never hurt her again!  I can't...I can't explain what happened!" he said, completely agitated as he remembered the way he had seemed completely out of control of his own body.  It had truly been one of the most frightening experiences of his life--he'd been unable to gain control of himself, even though part of him had been screaming and struggling almost hysterically.  But it was as if something was controlling him like a puppet, and all he could do was watch helplessly.
         "So what happened?" she said, trying to take everything in.  She didn't think she could handle another shock.  Right now, the idea of her sister and Alexander Xanatos in a bed doing more than sleeping was definitely not computing in her mind as a possible reality.   She knew it was true, from the look on Mark's face and her telepathy, but it just wasn't computing.
 "I don't even want to repeat the things I called her.  It was bad." he said, his head lowering.  He looked up.  "I swear, Belinda, the things that were coming out of my mouth...it was like something else had taken control of me!  I can't explain...it wasn't me.  I felt like I was detached from it.  It was me but it wasn't me.  It was me just because it was coming out of my mouth, but it wasn't what I *felt*.  I can't even repeat the things I said to her--it was so bad that she yelled at me to...to call her a half-breed...injun nigger and insult her as much as 'human'ly possible while I was at it." he said, forcing the words out.  "And...I didn't snap out of whatever happened until she...she did this," he said, gesturing frantically at his bandaged chest, "to protect herself.  From me!  Christ, I really hit her!  Her mouth...she was bleeding.  And I think her eye, too...God.  I don't know what happened!" he said, tears filling his eyes.  "I...it wouldn't stop!"
         Belinda frowned.  Everything he was saying--it hadn't been him, he didn't mean to hit her--could have been a load of crap.  But he was upset...not over the bombshell Christine had dropped, but something else.  Some remnant, something foreign, something intangible that nagged at her and let her know more than a short, violent temper had come out.
         It was the only thing that saved Mark from her killing him on the spot.
         "Mommy?"
         "Christian?  Honey, what are you doing here?  Go back with Hope and...your father while Mark and I talk, OK?" Belinda said, plastering a fake smile on her face and whirling to face her son.
         "No, Mommy." he said, shaking his head slightly.  "I...I sensed something *weird*."
         She looked at her son and held her arms out to him.  "Tell me."
         Christian rushed to his mother and rested his head against her breast, his eyes wide.  Then he looked at Mark.  "Uncle Mark, something's not right about you." he said, his eyes darkening and unfocusing slightly.
         The man frowned.  "Yeah.  I know."
         "No, you don't.  Mommy, it's magic!" Christian said, knitting his brow. A strange, ancient look appeared on his face as he himself seemed to grow younger, clinging to his mother.
         "Of course!" Belinda said, slapping her forehead.  "I should have seen it myself.  I knew something was strange, but my...it's all muted, now." she said, a touch of sadness in her voice.  She was still bitter and doubtless would be for the rest of her life, but it had helped to slam everything back into perspective.  She remembered what she was and cringed--How many dead?  Destroyed?  Broken?  All of it solidified in her mind in the image of her niece dying.  Everything she was had slammed in on her then, when she had lost everything.
         Christian hugged his mother suddenly.  She relaxed and hugged him back.  Her son was a lot like Christine had been--just as open, but he had something hidden and secretive about him.  He was like she had been as well--too full of power.  But at least he was learning how to use it the right way.  Christine knew what she was doing.  She had trained to do just that, to teach him and Hope.
         "What kind of magic, honey?  Can you scan him for me?"
         "I...I'll try." Christian said.  "C-Can Hope help me?" he said.  He didn't know how to put into words that he didn't need her help, per se, but needed her to help him cope with the emotions he was reading from Mark.  It was all too intense, and he felt as if it would swallow him up.  Hope helped him, somehow.  He had no idea that what she did was buffer him--she naturally filtered his terrifying level of empathy so he didn't go insane when he picked up on all the emotions around him.  If it wasn't for Hope's natural buffer, he would have no idea where his emotions ended and the rest of the world began.  He knew he would have to search Mark emotionally, and he needed Hope to stabilize him, so he would know where he ended and Mark began, and be able to seperate himself afterwards.
         "If you need her." Belinda said, frowning.  She had some inkling of the complex relationship between her son and Erika's daughter, but she knew she would never know how deep it ran between them.  She frowned slightly.  She would have to talk to Christine about this.  It was fine, now, but one day, they would be older, adults, and have to go their separate ways.  If Christian grew too dependent on her, he would be crippled when he grew older.
         Bah.  That was years away.  Now isn't the time.
         ~hope!~
         ~christian?  what?  you ok?~
         ~umm-hmm.  i need you.  mark's got bad magic on him and we need to fix it!~
         ~be there in five minutes, kay?~
         ~'kay.~
         As good as her word, Hope ran into the room five minutes later.  "What's wrong with him?"
         "I don't know.  Bad magic." Christian said gravely.  He took Hope's hand.  "This is gonna feel weird, Uncle Mark..."
         The man shrugged.  "I trust you."
         Hope frowned.  "Aspetto.  Aspetto.  Christian, aspetto!" she said suddenly in Italian--Wait.
        "Hope?" Christian said, raising his eyebrows.  She was upset.  They had spoken English the whole time they were in this new time, but Italian had still been their first language--after all, they *had* lived in Renaissance Italy until recently.  Her switching back to Italian meant that something had jarred her.
         "Il mio padre!" she said.  She shook her head suddenly, as if to clear it.  "My father!" she said in English.  "I...my father's magic!  That's his signature!"
         Christian nodded.  "Yeah.  It's like yours."
         Belinda smacked her head again.  "D'oh!  No *wonder* I *definitely* couldn't put my finger on what was wrong!  It was like Hope's, so I didn't see it!"
         "So what is *wrong*?" Mark said, daring hope.  Maybe...maybe it wasn't him...
         Hope tilted her head.  "Shit if I know."
         "HOPE!" Belinda and Mark roared.
         "And that's my cue to go..." Hope said, smiling her dimpled grin and literally vanishing.
         "That girl..." Belinda grumbled.  "Good God, she's eight years old and turning into me!"
         "Um, hello!  Can we figure out what the hel-uh-heck happened to me!" Mark yelled, flicking his eyes at the boy in the room.  He wanted to know so he could get it undone, find Christine, and *beg* her to forgive him.  No matter what she had done, she didn't deserve what he had done.  Even if it had been a spell--by *Xanatos*--she didn't deserve that.  Even if she had...slept...with Alexander, she hadn't deserved to be hit.
         A thought made him go cold.  If Alexander Xanatos had no scruples in putting a spell on *him* to get what he wanted...what would he do to Christine?  Shit.  He had to find her, and *now*.  Get her away from him.  Even if she never forgave him--"I hate you!" rang in his ears--then at least she had to get away from Alexander.
         Christian frowned, then smiled.  "I can fix it." he said.  "He put a spell on you to make you...to make you mean." he said, trying to find the words in his limited vocabulary.  His eyes flashed white, and the psychic wind that was the tale-tell sign of the magic of his family, whipped around, causing his black hair to fly.  He said no words; he was so powerful he had only to think them--and the light from his hands enveloped Mark.  Mark could feel Christian's magic going against something in him; the thing that had felt alien.  He could feel the instant when Christian's magic defeated it.
         My God, he thought, if this boy is this powerful *now*, and he's only a *child*, what will he be when he's all grown up?
         The boy sagged.  "I did it.  And now...I wanna...voglio di...dormire.  Mommy..." he whispered, then slumped to the ground, fast asleep.  Mark's sudden, insane fear of the boy and his power vanished--he was only a child, a *child*.  He looks so fragile now--how can he be dangerous?  Belinda picked her son up and cradled the boy.
         "Sleep." she whispered in his ear.  "You deserve it."  She looked at Mark.  "We'll talk when I get back, OK?"
         "Yeah." he said distractedly, his thoughts miles away as the hybrid walked out with her exhausted child cradled in her arms.
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         Christine was in tears.  She could barely see as she flew, and she supposed she was lucky that she didn't crash into anything.  How could he?  What had happened?  She thought she'd known him?  Oh, God, was she ever wrong!  He had...and the things he had said!  They burned at her, and she knew she'd carry those words around with her for a long time, as well as the image of the disgust she had seen on his face.   She flew straight to the Eyrie and banged on Alexander's bedroom window.  She didn't know if he would answer her...after all, he did have to think for himself.  Here she was, jerking his emotions around...maybe he wouldn't want anything to do with her.  After all, he sure as hell wouldn't want to be her second choice...
         "Christine!  Oh my God, Christine, are you all right?" he said, throwing open the window.  She stumbled in blindly, shaking.
         She shook her head.  "N-no..."
         He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her.  She collapsed against him, still crying.  "Mark...he...it was bad...he...he..."
         "Ssssh.  Ssssh.  Calm down.  It's OK.  You're safe, now.  You're with me.  Ssssh.  Everything's going to be all right now, I promise.  Sssh."
         She managed to slowly get her sobs under control.  He held her until she did, letting her cry and get it out.  When her crying had slowed down to simply an occasion, shuddering sob, he asked her what had happened.  Stammering and haltingly, she told him.  She couldn't bring herself to say everything that Mark had, but it came across.  And she stumbled badly over telling Alexander about how Mark had hit her--she was still stunned over that, and a bit disbelieving that she had actually protected herself.  Another time, she was sure, she would be proud of this, but for right now, she felt horrible.
         "Why?" Alexander whispered.  "He might have killed you if you hadn't.  Oh, God, Christine...I'm sorry you had to go through that.  I am."
         "I was so *stupid*." she said, closing her eyes tiredly.  "I was going to go back to him!  I thought I'd figured it out...I thought I knew him.  But I didn't.  I didn't know him at all."
         He tightened his arms around her, and stroked her hair.  He hated that she had been through that and it was hurting her so badly--he'd had no idea that Mark would turn *violent*.  He wondered if the spell he'd used had been too strong.  It was too late now.  He hated seeing her cry like this, and hated seeing her face begin to puff up.  He knew it would be healed by the next night, but he hated it all the same.  Well, no matter...he doubted she'd ever go back to Mark.  Even if she left him, Alex knew Mark was likely out of her life.  He silently rejoiced that.
         "God, how could I have been so *stupid*?" Christine said, anger coming into her voice.  "I was *such* an idiot!  And you!  You...Alex, I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry for the way I acted.  I shouldn't have left you...I know this is asking a lot, but...can you forgive me?"
         He looked down at her and smiled.  "How could I not?" he whispered, and gently kissed her.  "Now...you get some sleep.  You've had a long night, and you need to rest.  You can stay here as long as you need to, all right?  I'm going to go get you something to drink, OK?"
         She nodded.  Alexander left and she sat down on the bed.  Tears were filling her eyes again.  She tried to hold them back, but gave up.  She threw herself face-first across the bed, and had cried herself to sleep by the time Alex returned with a glass of water for her.  He took off her shoes and tucked her into the bed, and left so she could get some rest.  The whimpers that she made--left over remnants of sobs--tore at him.  Damn Mark.  Ahh, well...the spell had been too strong, he supposed.  But it had worked--she knew what he was, now.
         And, more importantly...she was with him.
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         Owen said nothing at all.  Nothing.
         "Stop starring at me like that, Owen."
         "You did not tell me that the spell you wanted to learn was for..."
         "No.  I didn't." Alexander said shortly.  "But you taught it to me."
         "I never taught you magic for the purpose of hurting others.  It..."
         "I didn't hurt anyone."
         "Is that why Christine is crying?" Owen said flatly.
         "No one was hurt.  I probably helped her."
         Owen's face never changed.  "If you believe that," he said quietly, "Then I most certainly should not have taught you that spell."
         Then he left.
*** *** *** ***
          When Belinda got back, she fixed a look on Mark that could have frozen water.  It was as piercing a glance as he had ever seen her with, and it put him on edge...or rather, made him want to do nothing more than protect his nether regions from a look that was castrating.
          "I have one thing to ask you, just one.  And I want an answer.  Do you love my sister?" she said, punctuating each word.
         "Belinda!  You know how I feel about Christine."
         The look intensified.  "I...want...the words.  Not a "you know how I feel."  I don't wanna hear that *crap*.  You want her, you better fucking be ready to say you love her, not hide behind useless words.  And more than that, you'd better be ready to *prove* it.  Stammering like some little kid just ain't gonna cut it." Belinda said flatly.  "And if you can't say those three little words, then, dammit, I don't know if you *deserve* her."
         "I do." he said softly.
         "You what?" Belinda said, crossing her arms.
         "I...love her."
         "Prove it."
         "I said the words...and I *mean* them!  Isn't that enough for you?"
         "No." Belinda said flatly.  "You want my help, you *prove* to me you love her.  I told you, Mark--you can't hide around a bunch of superfluous words.  You are up against a determined man...more than that, a determined *Xanatos*.  I won't get in the middle of this and risk my relationship with her, unless I *know* you are what is best for her."
         "What, you think *Xanatos* is?"
         "He's about as good for her as the plague." Belinda said flatly. Mark relaxed, until she said her next words.  "But then, for all I know, you could be, too."  Belinda snorted.  "I'm sorry, but Christine's track record with men *stinks*.  *Prove* to me you're different from the others in her string of losers.  And know before you even *start* that you have a strike against you just because of what you did to her all those decades ago.  And another strike for the crap, spell or no, that you spewed out of your mouth at her.  And a *big* ol' strike against you for the fact that, again, spell or no, you *hit* her."
         She leaned in close, towering over him, always a formidable presence.  "Christine may be big on that whole 'forgiving' crap...but I am not."  Her eyes glowed their faint, strange glow on her last words.
         He swallowed.  With or without mind-numbing powers, Belinda Maza was damned intimidating when she put her mind to it, and she was even more so when she switched into hyper-protective mode like she did when something involved her son, her grand-niece, or her sister.
         "You want me to prove I love Christine." he finally said.  He sighed.  "How?  How do you prove something like that when all you have to express yourself are...'superfluous words'?   How can I say what I feel about her?  What I feel when I see her smile?  How much it hurts when I see her so lost?  The way my throat catches whenever I see her play piano?  The way I can't breathe when I hear her sing?  The way I wake up sometimes and look down at her sleeping next to me, and think 'God, what did I do right?  I messed up so much, especially with her, and she's here with me despite the fact that what I did was unforgivable?'  How do I explain the way I feel when I see her rolling a pencil in her mouth when she's trying to decide what marking to put in her sheet music?  The way I love how delicate her wings are, and how her hair falls around them?   The way that, finally, for once, my life actually seemed to make sense when I was with her; that for once I was actually *happy*?  Put into words what I feel about the way she yawns, when she covers her mouth with the back of her hand?  The way I don't think I can *ever* forgive myself for what I said and did to her?  The way *her* voice was the conscious that rankled at me and would never leave me in peace for what I was?  What do you want me to say?  What?  How can I say it?" he said, angry and frustrated, his fingernails digging into his hands as he tried to express himself.
         Belinda was silent for a moment.  "Buddy-boy," she said, sighing.  "You just did."
         She grinned suddenly, the big, beautiful double-dimpled grin that had once enthralled gods and terrorized thousands.  "Let's kick some Xanatos ass, shall we?"
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         Demona watched from outside the window when Christine went to Xanatos.  So.  Things had come to pass exactly as she had told the little hybrid they would.  Demona frowned, wondering to herself why exactly she was there--this wasn't her life and it wasn't her business.  She'd been following Christine all night.  She had seen the little confrontation with the Quarryman, and had only restrained herself from killing him then because she had seen and...and *felt* the state Christine had been in--she followed Christine to  make sure the girl didn't do something stupid.  Now Christine was with Xanatos, and Demona thought about leaving--but she didn't.  She wanted to hear how this played out.  She could hear their conversation.  When Alexander had left and Christine had cried herself to sleep, she sat quietly, thinking.  She thought again about killing human--after all, one dead Quarryman was one less pain in her tail.  And he was obviously *still* a Quarryman, for what he had said.  And for daring to hit Christine--the girl should have killed him.  But she hadn't.  And, with as much as it would please Demona to no end to kill him, she knew she shouldn't--Christine still, stupidly, felt something for him, and if he was killed, she'd come for Demona--that was something she certainly didn't want, *another* person persecuting her across time.  Part of the girl didn't believe what he had done, and still stupidly held on to the hope that it was just a misunderstanding.  Xanatos didn't know it, but Demona did--she knew Christine and how she thought and how she felt.
         Demona smiled suddenly.   She owed the girl--she needed to make up for what she had done, and here was the perfect way.  Prove once and for all what the Quarryman was and get the human out of her life.  Her eyes began to glow as she laughed quietly to herself.
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         Alexander sighed heavily--crap, this was bad.  He hadn't anticipated what had happened.  God, poor Christine--how had this happened?  Was Owen right? What had he done wrong?  Well, it was too late to worry over it now--it was over.
         He tried to tell himself that, but it didn't help.  What had happened stung at him.  He frowned again.  He hadn't liked resorting to using magic.  But he'd reasoned it out and told himself he had to, to make sure that everything was out in the open.  But I never expected...
         What?, a sarcastic voice argued with him.  You expected him to just hand her over to you?  A nice-nice ending.  Oh, come *on*.  You *knew* what that spell would do.
         I tired to soften it, he though angrily.
         Oh, bull crap, the sarcastic little voice said.  There *is* no softening a spell like that, and you know it.  Stop deluding yourself.  Christine is in your bed crying in her sleep because of *you*.  If you hadn't put that spell on him, she'd probably be with him right now.
         Oh, that's *shit*, he thought back angrily.  Her little Quarryman might have done the *same* *damned* *thing* if I hadn't...
         No, he wouldn't have, and you know it.  That's why you put that spell on him.
         Alexander heaved a sigh and began rubbing the bridge of his nose.  Damn it all...what am I doing?  Using *magic* to manipulate people?  Christ, if Christine knew what I had done, she'd be out of here so fast *my* heard would spin.  This is my fault.  I shouldn't have done this...that 'all's fair in love and war' is *crap*.  What I did was just *wrong*.  He shook his head.  He didn't want to live a lie, and if he let this go, he would be.  How could he lie to that woman?  He had done what he did not out of some noble desire to make sure she was OK, but to drive her straight into his arms and into his bed!
         "God *damn* it!" he yelled angrily.  He was no better than Erika had been.  Here he was, still angry at her for that, and what was he doing?  The same fucking thing.  Manipulating people's emotions for his own good.  And what the hell was *his* excuse?  He angrily fought back tears he felt burning in his eyes.  What was he doing?  What was he turning into?  How could he do this to her?
         "Is there a problem, little Xanatos?" a voice said from the window.
         Alexander looked up.  "D-Demona!"
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         Demona looked at Alexander Xanatos carefully.  It seemed every day, he looked more like his father.  She wondered what the hybrid saw in him--all right, he was attractive, for a human, but still... She sighed to herself--humans had a way of growing on you, and there was something about the way he seemed that made her think of Macbeth.
         "What do you want, Demona?"
         "The *question* is what do *you* want?" she said, examining her talons.  "It seems you already have it...but you're not very happy looking for someone who does."
         He frowned.  "What are you talking about?"
         Demona tilted her jaw upwards.  "Christine."
         His eyes widened.  "How do you...?"
         Demona grinned.  It wasn't a very comforting smile, Alexander had to admit.  "I'm linked with her.  A...cosmic joke, if you will."
         "The sacred and the profane, eh?" Alexander said flatly with a sardonic smile.  Demona's smile vanished.
         "Do not annoy me, human.  Rich or not, you'll die the same as all the others."
         Alexander raised an eyebrow.  "Oh, I doubt that very much, Demona."
         "Want to find out?"
         They glared at each other for a minute, then backed down at the same time.
         "Why are you here?"
         "Simple.  The girl.  Christine."
         "She's not a girl, Demona."
         The gargoyle shrugged.  "She will always be a child, Xanatos.  A child who must be led by the hand.  Always.  And if you lose sight of that, you lose her."
         "What do you want from her?"
         "To make sure she doesn't do something stupid.  Like go back to her little Quarryman."
         Alexander bristled.  "She might.  She might not.  I'm going to go wake her up and let her make her choice."
         "Are you an *idiot*?!!?" Demona said, disbelief on her face.
         "The only reason she's here is because I used magic on Mark.  It's my fault he hit her.  All of this...  Good God, look what I'm becoming!"
         "Oh, get off your high horse." Demona said, her hands on her hips.  "Foolish human, what are you trying to do?  Get her killed?  We both know what he is!  He may say he changed, but that's crap!   Magic or no, you can only make someone go against the grain for so long!  If he was *really* so loving and dead-set against ever hurting another gargoyle, then think...would he *really* have given in to the spell placed by someone who is only *one-fourth* fey?  And worse, given in so violently?  You saw what he did to her!  Do you want to send her *back* to that?"
         Alexander's eyes narrowed as he clutched at her explanation.  "You...you're right...he wouldn't have reacted like that..."
         "Unless he felt that way." Demona finished.  She tossed her head.  "Now.  As I said, she's a child.  Play your cards right, and she's yours for good."
         "Why are you helping me?"
         "Fool!  I'm not helping you, I'm doing this for her!  I'd rather see her dead than with that Quarryman scum!" Demona hissed.  "And even I have made mistakes that I regret."
         "Fair enough." Alexander said, nodding his head once.
         "Now that that's settled," Demona said, her smile returning, "Let's get down to business, shall we?"
         Alexander smiled.
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         "Mark, you are the biggest idiot I have ever met in my life." Belinda said flatly.
         "Belinda, I have to do this." Mark said, a grim note in his voice.
         "Bull shit.  Let me talk to her.  She's scared.  She's hurt.  And she's angry.  I don't blame her.  You're lucky she didn't rip your goddamned balls off.  Give her time to cool down and be rational.  She knows magic; I'm sure she'll starting thinking and realize that what happened was *nuts*!"
         "I can't let this go, Belinda.  I can't leave her there.  I can't worry like this.  I'll go crazy.  She has to know what Alexander did.  I have to make sure she's OK."
         Belinda cursed under her breath.  "Let *me* go!  I'm leaving Hope and Christian here for a few days--against my better judgment, can I just say; you owe me *big* for this--I already asked Ares and he said it's fine.  Until this shit is settled, I'm keeping those kids as far from this as possible.  I know my sister, Mark.  Let me handle this.  Let me talk to her.  Please.  If you go, now, she'll be a wreck.   She can't see you now.  Just trust me to tell her."
         "I can't." Mark whispered, shaking his head.  "I have to see her, Belinda....I just do.  I can't just sit back and pray.  I have to talk to her...let her see how I feel."
         "Umm-hmm." Belinda said, raising her eyebrow.  "How's this, buddy-boy?  You just found out my sister's been, to put it bluntly, fucking another man."  She watched Mark wince, then continued.  "You say you just want to talk to her, but this *ain't* the time." she said flatly.  "You're hurt, she's hurt, and Alexander Xanatos has magicks a-plenty.  Both of you are more vulnerable than ever to it!"
         "*I* have to do this."
         "Look, let me contact her first.  Talk to her.  I can talk to her telepathically right now!"
         "Belinda." Mark said flatly.  "*I* have to do this."
         The woman threw up her hands.  "I give up!"  she yelled.  "Fine.  Go.  Screw yourself over.  Be my guest.  But when you fail, and you *will*, I'm gonna be the one picking up the pieces.  So sue me for trying to save myself the trouble and make everything straight now.  Christ."  She shook her head.  "Well, one thing--I'm not letting you go in there *alone*.  You're hurt, and you'd get your fool self *killed*, and damned if I'm going to explain that to Hope."
         She picked the man up.  "I was wrong, Mark.  You *aren't* the biggest idiot I've ever met.  I am."
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         Demona sat down.  "In a nutshell, you haven't got long.  I saw what happened--after Christine and I talked, I followed her.  You work fast, Xanatos...I'm impressed."
         "I do what I have to.  Wasting time would have been counterproductive."
         Demona continued.  "Regardless--after she slashed his chest, he more or less snapped out of it.  I'm thinking it was shock that did that.  Since he didn't immediately come after Christine, I daresay he went to find someone who would be willing to help him--possibly her sister.  Belinda." Demona said with a faint sneer.  "So you're working on borrowed time.  Sooner rather than later, you're going to have a pissed-off ex-Quarryman and a pissed-off hybrid knocking down your door."
         "Guess what, folks?" a voice said snidely.  Alexander and Demona looked up to see Mark and Belinda in the window.  "'Sooner' has arrived."
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         That night, she lay in Alexander's arms, but her thoughts were a thousand miles away.  She couldn't stop thinking about him.  She sighed.  She had made her choice, after all, especially after that ugly confrontation...
         She had never felt so alone before.  She didn't love Alex.  Well, no, that wasn't quite right.  She did, in her way.  But more than she cared for Alex...she loved Mark.  Insane as it was or not, she didn't care.  She frowned slightly.  It didn't matter.  It didn't matter if she loved him or not, she wasn't going back.  She had made too much progress to go backwards like that, to risk letting him hurt her.  She didn't understand why he had acted the way her had, but that was beside the point.  He had hurt her.  He had hit her.  More than the bruise hurt, what he said had hurt.  She didn't think she'd ever be able to forget what he had said or the look on his face.  He hated her, now.  That had been pretty obvious.
         Well, she wasn't going to cry.  I'm not, she thought.  I'm just not.  I've cried too much.  I can't let myself go through this anymore.  I won't.  I was strong enough when I was younger to leave when I was hurt...I won't let myself be hit again.  I won't.  And I won't let Hope grow up around something like that...
         So where do I go from here?, she wondered.  I may care about Alex, but...I don't love him.  It wouldn't be fair to stay with him, in that case...not to him, and not to me.  I could stay, and probably find a way to be happy...but it would all be fake; a pretty little bubble that could break at any second.  I can't go backwards...So where do I go from here?
 She settled her jaw suddenly.  Damn it, I'm doing what Alex says I always do...I'm thinking too damned much.  Look at where I am now...I'm in the arms of a man who loves me.  Who won't ever hit me.  Who can and will provide for his daughter.  Who doesn't care what I am...What am I doing, thinking myself out of this place?
         Alexander's arm tightened around her in his sleep, and she stared out into space.  Well, I have a choice.  I can either keep making myself miserable over a man who obviously doesn't love me anymore--and how can I blame him for that, after what I did?--or I can try to make myself happy here.  Life goes on.  And I have to let my life go on without...without him.  I knew it would happen one day.  I knew it.  But I never imagined like this...  Nevermind.  I'll build my life without him.  I'll try to create it here.
         But God help me...what if I can't?
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         Mark looked at Belinda.  He sighed.  "That went well."
         Belinda snorted.  "I thought I was the sarcastic one of this outfit." she said dryly.  "Damn, what a night..."
         Mark sighed again.
         "Penny for your thoughts, Hunter." Belinda said, raising an eyebrow.
         "Why not just read them yourself, freak?" he said with a faint smile that didn't reach his eyes.  He and Belinda constantly insulted each other like that--once he had been able to accept the fact that Belinda wasn't calling him Hunter to be mean, but rather as a weird way of endearment, he found he could 'roll with the punches' and had started calling her names right back in the same way.  He supposed it was a good thing Belinda Maza was friendly enough with him for that--stripped of magic or no, she was *not* someone you wanted for an enemy.
         "Too simple.  Articulate." she said, poking him in the chest with a talon and looking down at him.
         "I have no idea how." he said flatly.  Everything was swimming around in his head.  Everything.
         "Want me to enlighten you?" Belinda said, perching on the table.
         "Please."
         "Fine." she said, and rubbed the back of her neck.  It was getting sore.  She missed her magic, but she'd taken on that wretched Demona *just* fine without it.  Magic was easier though, but oh, well.  "She betrayed you.  Your trust.  It took you forever to gain her trust--what was it that it took, three months of constant contact?--but anywho, it took forever, and then  'Tine went and fucked everything up by fucking Alex."
         "You have such a way with words, Belinda." he said, making a face.
         "It's a gift.  But to get back to my point...you're hurt.  It's only just hitting you right now that she's with another man.  You didn't see it coming.  And you're only just now wondering if you even *want* to get her back."
         Mark blinked.  "Yeah." he said after a long minute.
         "Well?"
         "Well, what?"
         "Is she worth it to you?  She just pissed all over your trust.  She just told you to get out of her life and that she hated you.  Mind you, she was seeing you in a rather bad light at the time, but still, that had to sting."
         He nodded.
         "So.  Now you're wondering if you should just cut and run while you can."
         "I wouldn't put it like..."
         "Oh, don't even waste my time with semantics." she said, rolling her eyes and shutting him up before he even began.  "That's it and you know it."  Belinda jumped off the table and glared at him.  "You want to cut and run.  She hurt you.  You want to run away, right?"
         "I..." he started, frowning.
         "Never mind I could tell that there is something truly wacky with my sister's head right now.  Something is influencing her.  And it's not magic, I can tell you that.  But what, I have no idea.  I love 'Tine, but that girl's always been a wee bit off." Belinda said, sighing.  "It's something I can't place my finger on, exactly--I'm not as powerful as I used to be with anything." she said, sounding a little sad for an instant, then continuing.  "The idiot still loves you, you know that?  Though God only knows what she sees in you." Belinda said with a faint, playful smile.  "I don't know what she feels about Alex.  I'm not a strong empath--hell, I suck as an empath--and I can only catch a few emotions.  But I did catch that she cares about you.  Even if she is so mad at you right now that she'd cut off your balls and stuff 'em up your butt if given the chance."
         He turned a strange shade of green just then.  "Lovely imagery there, Lin."
         Her eyebrows quirked up and a shadow of the grin that had enthralled gods appeared. "I try.  See, Mark, if you were going to wash your hands of her, this would be the time.  Give into the hurt that's only about to start hitting you and leave Christine to whatever the hell happens to her at Eyrie.  No one would blame you, really--after all, she made her bed and she should have to lie in it, right?" she said, tilting her head to one side.
         "Why are you guilt tripping me?"
         "I'm not guilt tripping you."
         "Yes, you are.  You're better than my mother was."
         "Mark, if I was guilt tripping you, I'd be talking about the little girl all but ready to call *you* 'Daddy' and not Alexander Xanatos." Belinda said, cocking an eyebrow.  "Now, if I was guilt tripping you, I'd be telling you that if you left, that little girl'd be crushed and she'd never forgive you, Christine, or Alex.  That you'd never get to see her again because you'd never see Christine and it would make no sense for you to have a relationship with her when Christine's shacking up with Hope's father, and Hope would lose the guy she more or less bonded with as a father.  Now if I was guilt tripping you, I'd pull a low blow like that.  But I didn't, so I'm not."
         He winced.  "Belinda, you are evil."
         "No shit.  And all I'm saying now is that you have to ask yourself if you really and truly love my sister.  Can you really leave her right now.  Do you really think she's acting completely of her own free will.  And no matter what, you have to think about why she might have left to begin with.  And whether or not you can ever trust her again."
         "I don't know." he said angrily.  "She...she *slept* with him!"
         "I know."
         "How can I forgive that?  Hunh?  What am I supposed to do, continue to be the cuckolded *idiot*?  She betrayed me!"
         "Yeah, Mr. High and Mighty, and you fucked with her head."
         "I was a stupid kid, for God's sake!"
         "And she's a stupid grown-up with forces neither of us knows about completely screwing with her.  None of us knows all of the programming she's got running around in her head."
         "You're guilt tripping me again."
         "And you're being a schmoe." Belinda snapped angrily.  "Get off your high horse and get your head from up your ass.  Go home.  Go to bed.  Go to sleep.  And you spend the next few days thinking this out.  And don't bother me again until you figured out whether you want to try and get my sister back--to take her for what she is, flaws and all--or whether you want to get out while you can and save yourself a lot of pain."
         Mark stayed silent.
         "It's your call, Hunter.  I'll support whatever you do--my sister has screwed herself over royally this time, and goddammit, when the girl fucks up, she always fucks up in the biggest way--and so you'll be justified in anything you do.  So get out.  So long.  It's been real.  You've got some thinking to do." she said as she picked him up bodily and dumped him out the front door.  "I have to go pick up my son and niece before Athena puts some god-awful ideas in their heads about me."
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         Belinda was right, Mark realized.  He had done as she had said--gone home. Gone home to his empty "home" where there was nothing.  No sound of Hope's feet as she stomped all over the place, making enough noise for a herd of elephants. No sound of her continual and infectious laughter, or of she and Christian playing together.
         No sound of Christine playing her piano.
         No sound of Christine's voice singing.
         The piano sat mute, mocking him in its way.  He went over to it and stared.  Sitting on top of it was her sheet music.  He often wondered why she even bothered with sheet music; with her ear, she had only to hear something once and she could reproduce it.  He sat down at her piano and sighed, running his finger down the keyboard.  Then he slammed his fists, hard, onto it.
         Goddamn it.
         He had never felt so alone in his life.
         He was shaking.
         He put his face in his hands, his elbows on the keyboard.  God, why are You doing this to me?, he wondered.  After everything...I finally thought; I finally *hoped* that maybe You had forgiven me for everything I had done...and then, this.  Why?  Is this Your way of saying that I'm still going to Hell?  No...no, You're making my live it now.  There is no Hell so I just have to suffer now; pay for everything I did now, because there is no redemption for me!  You...how could You do this to me?  Make me hope, make me believe...give me a measure of happiness, only to take it from me like *this*?  Is *that* what Hell is?  What do I have to do, God?  What more do you want from me?  What else can I do?
         He slammed his hand into the keyboard again, then sat staring blankly at the keys.  He could remember the way it was to watch her play--she had the longest, most delicate fingers he had ever seen in his life, and watching them move across the keyboard was almost as musical as hearing her play.  Her graceful hands would move over the keys in such a flowing way that it barely seemed like she was pushing the keys down at all.  He closed his eyes, remembering how she played the adagio of Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata," which was one of her favorite piano pieces.  Her whole body would move when she played.  She wouldn't even look at the keys; she knew it so well that she played with her eyes closed.  And Hope...Hope and Christian would come running, but tiptoe when they came close to her.  The two of them would watch, enraptured, as she played, Hope leaning against Christian with her head on his shoulder.  He would watch as well.  She would tilt her head slightly to the right as she played, and kept time by swaying back and forth.  And when she would finish, she would smile faintly and go into the fast movement, if the children were there.  If they weren't, she would continue to play and sing for herself.  That was when he loved the most to watch her; when she was singing and playing for herself.
         He wasn't quite sure when he had started crying.  He wasn't even aware of it until a tear dropped onto his hand.  He stared at it.  God, what did he do?  He needed her.  He...he loved her.  She...she had been his salvation, and hadn't even known it.  But...but that had been for nothing.  She had...she had made her choice.  But...but...
         His jaw tensed.  Was he going to let her be taken from him?  No.  Belinda had said that there was something manipulating her sister, but hadn't known what.  But Mark knew.  This was his test.  His final test. God was asking more of him, to prove that he was worth a second chance at redemption.  If he could prove he loved her...she was still his salvation.
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         He went to the Eyrie.  What else could he do?  He would walk into the lion's den without any fear other than that she would reject him.
         She was waiting on the roof of Wyvern.
         "Talk." she said, keeping her distance from him.  He had asked to talk to her; how could she refuse him at least *that* courtesy?  But damned if she was going to be stupid.  He had hit her once; she was not going to risk it again.
         He let out a breath he had barely realized he was holding, and walked over to her.  But the second he got near her, she tensed and a look of fear unconsciously ran across her fear.  "St-stay where you are!" she yelled.  Suddenly she closed her eyes and shook her head.  "I should never have agreed to see you!  Leave!  I--good-bye!" she yelled, and started to run past him.
         "Christine...Christine, for the love of God, will you just listen to me?" Mark yelled desperately, reaching out to grab her arm as she fled by him.  Christine stopped short and she seemed to draw into herself, wrapping her arms around her protectively and wrenching herself out of Mark's desperate grasp.  "Please...please, I'm begging you!  Just hear me out!  Christine!"
         Her eyes glittered at him coldly through he unshed tears and she seemed to try to make herself smaller.
         "Christine...please, if I have ever, *ever* meant anything to you, listen to me!"
         She closed her dark eyes.  "Talk."
         He let out a breath he hadn't even known that he had been holding.  "Thank you, God." he whispered to himself, shutting his eyes.  He swallowed thickly.  He didn't know what he was going to say, he only knew that he had to say *something*.
         "Christine...I love you."
         Her eyes glittered even more.
         He kept talking.  "Christine...I'm afraid for you.  I am.  With him.  Xanatos.  I'm afraid of what he might do.  'Tine, he put a spell on me!  That was why I...why I said all those...*things* I said to you.  Christ, I couldn't stop the words from coming out, no matter how hard I tried!  And when I *hit* you..."  His face showed his distress.  He started shaking.  "I...  Christine, please, get away from him before he hurts you.  If you can't forgive me...if you never want to see me again, at least get away from Xanatos."
         "I don't believe you." Christine whispered, her voice deadened.
         "Wh-what?"
         "You heard me.  I don't believe you.  How can I?  I don't trust you, Mark.  I'll never be able to trust you again.  Ever.  You said you didn't see me as a monster for what I was...but obviously, you still did for magic to effect you so strongly.  Some small part of you still saw me as a freak."
         "Christine, I didn't...!"
          "...And I tried to delude myself and pretend that everything was hunky-dory all this time.  To pretend that I didn't have any nagging doubts, and trying to make them go away when I did.  But I doubted you, and now I know that I'll never be able to trust you again.  And I think you're lying--doing whatever you can and saying whatever you have to."
         "If I saw you as a freak, why the hell would I lie to try and get you back?" Mark yelled.
         She looked at him.  Her brown eyes cut him and he felt as though the wind was knocked out of him.
         "Because you *do* love me."
         Mark narrowed his eyes.  "Christine, I just want you to know that now I am completely confused."
         "But you also see me as a freak." she said flatly.  "And I don't trust you.  Maybe you do want me back...but the part of you that sees me as this hideous freak of science will hate me.  And the part of me that can never trust you again and knows what you are will hate *you*."
         "I don't see you as a freak!  Christine, for God's sake, can't you see that?!!?" he yelled, grabbing her shoulders desperately.
         She pulled away.  "Good-bye, Mark." she said, her voice a whisper.  "Stop.  Just stop.  And go."
         "Christine, please, *please*...if you don't come back to me...but leave *Xanatos*.  *Please*.  I'm really afraid of what he might do to you!"
         She looked at him.  "Good-bye, Mark." she said, her eyes shining again.  She barely managed to keep the tremor out of her voice, but she could feel her throat growing thicker--if she said too much more, she was going to burst into tears.  Dammit, why wouldn't he just leave?  Why was he doing this to her?
         "Christine..."
         She shut her eyes.  "Good-bye."
         "Christine, why are you doing this?  Why are you chasing me away?  Why?!!"
         She squeezed her eyes shut even more.  "Good-bye, Mark."
         When she opened her eyes again, he was gone.  She opened her mouth to call out to him, then shut her mouth and started at the door as tears began to run down her face.
         "Good-bye, love,
         Good-bye, love..."
  ***  **  ***  ***
         Mark walked.  It was a warm night, but it felt frozen to him.  His world was collapsing.  His world had collapsed God only knew how many times before, but he hadn't felt this helpless over it in a long time.
         Damn it.  Why wouldn't she believe him?  What else could he do?  What could he say?  Was there anything?  Why was she pushing him away?  Did she really not trust him?
         He sighed to himself.  He hated feeling like this.  He hated feeling as though Christine hated him.  He hated knowing that she didn't trust him and perhaps never would.  And worse, he hated knowing that she was with Xanatos.  What would that bastard do to her?  Was she under a spell?  The man obviously had no scruples.  And Christine...Christ, she tended to trust people unless they did something to hurt her.  And she thought she knew Alex--she was completely blind to the threat he posed to her.  Mark felt sick.
         Why was she pushing him away?
         "Hey, watch where you're going!"
         "Sorry." Mark said to the woman he ran into.
         "Yeah, right." the little woman said, shaking her head. She rolled her eyes and kept on walking.  She had better things to do with her time than wonder what was wrong with some man walking down the street...  "Hey, mister!"
         "Hunh?" Mark said, surprised.  He turned around.  The girl--no, she was an adult, just *tiny*--was staring at him.  He blinked once or twice--damned if he'd ever seen hair that color--burgundy--before and have it be natural.  Hell...he was sure he had seen this woman before.  He was really sure of it.
         "You OK?  You look kind of...sick."
         "I'm fi..."
         "You lie."
         He smiled in spite of himself.  "The woman I love first cheated on me, then told me she doesn't trust me and wants nothing to do with me, and I don't know why or what to do."
         Her eyebrow went up.  "I bet.  Listen, you look beat.  And I've got nothing to do--want to get a coffee and talk?  You look like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders."
         Mark smiled faintly.  "Miss, if you heard the players in this story, you'd run for the hills."
         The woman snorted, thinking of a run-in she had had long ago with a hybrid gargoyle-human named Deimos.  "The name's Julia de la Cruz.  And trust me...*nothing* surprises me any more."
   ***  ***  ***  ***
         Julia rubbed her eyes.  "That's quite a tale, Mark.  And I don't know what to tell you."
         Mark sighed.  He had no idea why he had just spilled his guts to this woman.  After she had said that she had had dealings with a hybrid, it had all come out.  "I can't just give up."
         "No." Julia said, sighing. "You can't.  All I can say is that your Christine seems damned confused.  It almost seems to me like she's pushing you away because she thinks she doesn't deserve you or something."
         "What?"
         "Well, no, that's not right...it's more like she's pushing you away because she doesn't want to leave herself open to you hurting her again.  She's afraid of what she feels.  She might genuinely love you, but she's afraid of that.  Especially if she's had really crappy luck with love.  Has she?"
         He frowned.  "From what I know, yes. She's had a pretty bad life at times."
         "Mmm.  I think she's afraid to trust you--afraid to love you--because she's afraid you'll hurt her.  So she's rejecting you before you reject *her*."
         Mark stared at the woman.  "*Why*?  And why is she with *him*?"
         Julia stared back at Mark.  "What didn't you understand?  It makes perfect sense to me."
         "Just...explain it."
         She shook her head.  "OK.  I don't think she loves Xanatos.  And I think *that* makes her feel safe.  She doesn't want to love and risk her emotions--but she needs to *be* loved.  She's afraid to love you.  Afraid you'll hurt her.  Maybe she thinks that your hurting her was inevitable, and so she jumped for anything at all that seemed to prove that you couldn't possibly *really* love her and that you were like everyone else who's managed to hurt her.  It gave her an excuse to get away.  She wanted a justification for her fears, and she was going to jump for one, even if it's not valid in the slightest.  And she's probably congratulating herself right now for getting out and not being an idiot.  She may be miserable, but she thinks she's doing what she has to."
         Mark blinked repeated.  "I...you...you could be right.  My God...it makes sense..."
         Julia sipped her coffee.
         Mark looked over at Julia.  "Where did you get so smart?"
         Julia shrugged.  "I know people.  My parents died in an accident when I was ten, and I got shuffled around from place to place a lot.  I was in juvie, too.  I learned a lot about people there.  A lot of really damaged people were there.  Your Christine reminds me of some of the girls I knew there."
         "Your parents died?"
         "Car accident." she said, shrugging.  "I was thrown clear, but they died."  She shrugged again.  "It was rough--the car went up in flames in front of me."
         Mark sighed.  "I saw my parents die when I was thirteen.  Stuff like that is rough."
         Julia nodded.  "Yeah.  But life goes on.  You learn to make peace with it all, or it weighs on you for the rest of your life."
 Mark was silent.
         Julia looked at him.  "Mark...give her some time, OK?  But don't give up on her, no matter what.  You give her the time and space she needs, and she might come back to you on her own.  When she works all of this out.  It may take her a long time but...give her that time.  If you think she's worth it--worth the hell I have the feeling she's not only put you through but will put herself through as well--then you'll end up with her."
         Mark raised his eyes to the woman.  Then he nodded.
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         "I have to talk to her, Belinda.  I have to."
         Belinda made a noise.  "Mark, I think it's time you faced the fact that she's gone."
         "No."
         She made a face.  "If you turn into a stalker I'm going to kill you."
         "Belinda."
         "What?"
         Mark rolled his eyes.  "This isn't the time.  I have to see her.  I have to talk to her again."
         Belinda put her hands on her hips.  "Look, I'm on pretty bad standing with my sister right now, thanks to you.  Give me one good reason why I shouldn't get my nose out of this."
         "Christine."
         Belinda just stared at him.  "Good God, you've got it bad, don't you?"
         Mark just looked at her.
         "Don't look at me like that."
         He continued to look at her, not saying a word, just pleading with his eyes.
         "Stop it.  Stop!"
         He looked at her.
         "Oh, come on!  Stop!  I'm not going to get into this any further!  I'm...oh, you owe me *so* big for this." Belinda muttered.
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         "She doesn't know you're coming." Belinda muttered.  "If she knew, I have no doubt she'd tell me to get lost."
         "Thank you, Belinda."
         "Yeah, whatever." the woman said, rolling her eyes.  "I can't even believe I'm still getting involved in all of this." she muttered as they flew.  "She said she'd meet me on the roof, at Wyvern.  I'm going to drop you off and just pick myself out a quiet place to hide, because my sister is going to be livid."
        "I know."
         They were silent until they got to Eyrie.  They could hear Christine, singing to herself.  Mark frowned slightly--he recognized the song, but barely.  After a moment, he placed it--she would sing it to Hope sometimes, when the girl didn't want to sleep.  It had been by an old song group called "Queen" if he recalled correctly; he'd heard it when he was a child--"Who Wants to Live Forever?"
         Belinda put him down and was gone, trying not to get involved anymore.  She sighed to herself.  She wished that this would all work itself out--what was wrong with her sister?  She frowned again.  Everything had been settled, and now it was all in the air.  Sometimes, Belinda wondered if maybe she and her sister were doomed to destroy themselves--as though maybe because they were an in-between, their lives could never find balance.
         She sighed again.  Who knew?  She did know that Christine tended to complicate her life far more than she needed to.  But oh, well-it was her life.  Her sister was an adult and head to be treated as such, free to make her own decisions and her own mistakes.
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         He listened to her sing for a while.  She wasn't facing him; she was staring off into space, probably waiting for Belinda to show up.  He wondered if she knew he was there--she seemed not to, but then, she was an empath.
         "I know you're there." she said softly.
         "Christine, I..."
         "Why are you here?  And where is my sister?  Did you put her up to this?"
         "Yes."
         "Why?"
         "Because I had to see you.  I had to talk to you."
         "Didn't we go through this last night?" she said, turning around.
         "No, we didn't.  We didn't finish it."
         "Funny, I thought we had."
         "Not yet, Christine.  I think I have the right to have you talk to me...to answer my questions, if nothing else."
         She leaned against the parapet.  The wind ruffled her hair and lifted her wings. "Ask."
         "Why?"
         "Why *what*?"
         "Why Xanatos?"
         She heaved a sigh.  "I don't know.  It wasn't planned."
         "On your part."
         She narrowed her eyes.  "Mark...I'm not changing my mind.  I know what I want."
         He snorted.  "No, no you don't."
         "What do you mean by that?"
         "Precisely what I said.  You don't know what you want."
         "I know exactly what I..."
         "Then what.  Tell me.  What do you want?"
         Her mouth snapped shut with a snap.  "I..."
         "Precisely.   You don't know what you want.  You think you know, but you know that you don't."
         Her eyes narrowed.  "I don't need to be lectured by *you* on anything!"
         "Why do you keep pushing me away?  You've always done it."
         "No, I haven't.  If anything was getting between us, it was *you*."
         "Me?!!?"
         "You still see me as a freak."
         "No, *you* still *think* I see you as a freak!"
         "Don't tell me what I think!"
         "Then don't you do the same to me!  I'm not just going to roll over and play dead!  I'm not going to just walk out of your life like you *think* you want me to!  I still love you, and I *know* you still love me!"
 "You're wrong!  Everything I felt for you died when you hit me!" she roared, tears flooding her eyes.  "I hate you!  I don't want anything to ever do with you again!"
          "You don't mean that."
         "What do I have to say?  What do I have to do?  Get out of my life!"
         "Why?  What are you so afraid of?"
         "I'm not afraid of anything!"
         "Then why are you crying?"
         "Because I...I'm...go away!"
         "Not until you tell me why you're crying."
         "Because I'm upset!  Why won't you go away?  Leave me alone!  Get out of my life before you...go!"
         "Before I *what*?"
         She shut her eyes and clinched her fists.  "Go away, Mark.  Leave.  It's over.  I'm sorry."
         He grabbed her shoulders.  "No, Christine...it's not over.  And I'm not leaving until you tell me what you started to say."
         "No." she whispered, setting her jaw and shaking her head.  "I don't owe you anything any more."
         "Step away from her." another voice said.  Mark's head jerked up.
         "*You*."
         Alexander came out of the shadows.  "Haven't you done enough?" he asked, his face iron.  He came over to them and put his arm around Christine.  "I'm going to have to ask you to vacate the premises.  Immediately."
         "Christine, please!"
         Christine didn't say anything, she just peeped over at him.  Her face was a mask of confusion and pain, but she didn't say anything.
         "Christine!"
         "Leave.  Now." Alexander said, narrowing his eyes.  "Christine, please, go inside and let me take care of this."
         She opened her mouth to say something, then quietly did as he had said, looking over her shoulder as she did so.  She looked as though she wanted to stop and say something, but she didn't.  She simply rubbed her head, as if it had begun to hurt, and then walked out.
         When she was gone, the two men glared at each other.
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         Christine's thoughts were racing.  She didn't know what she felt.  She just didn't.  Something just kicked in when she was with Alexander.  But...but...but she couldn't get Mark out of her mind.  And the look on his face...he had looked so stricken and hurt, and that had made her heart start to hurt...and then her head had started in, too, pounding insanely.  It almost...hell, it *did* hurt to think.
          She started pacing, full of nervous energy and feeling as though all of her nerve endings were going to explode.
         Why had her life become so *complicated*?  When had all of this happened?  And why the heck couldn't she figure anything out in her life anymore?  When had everything stopped making sense?
         She snorted.  Nothing in her life had ever made sense.  It was a giant mass of never-ending chaos.  The only 'underlying order' in her life's chaos was that her life never was simple.
         She started pacing faster, wrapping her wings tightly around her body as she did so.  She needed to think.
         God, her head hurt.
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         Mark and Alexander glared at each other after Christine had left.
         "Accept defeat, Adams." Alexander said after the long silence, his expression never losing any of its coldness.
         "I'm not finished yet."
         "Oh, yes you are.  Don't you get it?  The better man won.  Take it like a man and leave her alone."
         "The better man?  That's a load of BS and you know it, Xanatos." Mark said, his eyes narrowing.  "You did whatever you had to do to 'win' her."
         "It's a way of doing things that has lasted for centuries.  Why change a winning pattern?" he said, raising his eyebrow.
         "I swear to God, Xanatos, if I find out you've done *anything* to her to make her..."
         "I'm insulted.  I didn't use any magic on her.  None.  She came to me of her own free will."
         "She broke it off with you.  And you used *magic* to..."
         "She broke it off because of her exaggerated sense of duty and honor..."
         "*Any* sense of duty and honor would seem 'exaggerated' to you!"
         "...not because her feelings for me had changed." Alexander finished, ignoring Mark's outburst.  "I just cleared the way for her to do what she really wanted to."
         "You son of a bitch." Mark said, shaking his head in disbelief.  "You really are a chip off the old block, you know that?"
         "Thank you."
         "It wasn't a compliment."
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         She found herself in the lab she had been spawned in.  She wasn't entirely sure how she'd gotten there, but here she was.  She sat down in front of a computer.  She hadn't looked at all of the files.  Things had gotten so hectic lately...
         She read, her eyes scanning over the forty-year-old documents.  All of a sudden, her face paled.
         "I think," she said, swallowing thickly, "That I'm going to be sick."
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         "Leave." Alexander said flatly.
         "This isn't over."
         "Yes, it is." Alexander said, his voice just as flat.
         "I won't her go, Xanatos...I won't let *this* go."
         Alexander's eyes glowed.  "I would advise you to let it go, Adams...otherwise, things will get very...messy."
         "I'm not afraid of you or your threats.  She means too much to me."
         Alexander narrowed his eyes. "Enough for you to die for?"
         Mark started straight at him, his expression not changing.  "I would do far more than die for her, Xanatos.  The question is, would you?"
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         Christine left the computer she was in front of, shaking.  Dear Lord...she needed air.  And she knew, now, more than anything, that she was a product of everything that had been done to her.  All of this...it was time to end all of this, all of it.  She knew now what she had to do--get as far from this place and her past--all of it--as possible.
         She went upstairs, back to the roof.  Alexander and Mark were still glaring at each other, looking ready to attack each other at any second.  First things first.  She looked at Alexander, knowing now was not the time to deal with him.
         "Alexander, please leave.  Go wait for me in the subbasement." she said flatly. Alexander looked at her and started to say something, but the look on her face stopped him cold.
         "Christine, I don't want to leave you alone with him.  Remember what he did!" he said pointedly.  Mark's jaw dropped angrily and he started to say something when Christine cut him off.
         "I do. Let me deal with this!" she snapped.
         "Call me if you need me." he said, knowing that facing Mark was something she had to do.  And feeling a knot of dread that she would find out what *he* himself had done.  He was ashamed of that spell, but knew he could never tell her.  He'd had to do it; he'd *had* to...
         When Alex left, Christine shut her eyes and spoke before Mark could do anything.  "Mark...listen to *me*, for once.  OK?  Get out of this mess."
         "Christine...I can't." he said, closing his eyes and bowing his head.
         "Mark..." she began.
         He raised his hand to indicate her to be quiet, and she involuntarily flinched.  "Please.  Listen to me.  *Please*."
         She closed her eyes.  "All right.  I'll listen.  But...but no promises, Mark.  None."
         He sighed.  "Ever since you left...I don't know why you...why you and Alexander..."
         She cut him off with words he could only barely hear.  "It was because of a subconscious programming.  I was programmed to obey the sound of David Xanatos's voice.  Alex sounds exactly like his father.  I just found out.  Alexander doesn't even know yet."
         Mark was silent for a long moment.  Well, he thought to himself, if nothing else, I have the answer to *part* of that...  "All right.  But as I was saying, when you left, you just...left.  It came out of no where.  I didn't have time at all to...I didn't see this coming.  One minute, it seems like everything is fine, and the next...the next, you're gone.  Hope is gone.  My *life* is gone." he said, shaking his head.  "I...I finally thought I had been forgiven for all of the unforgivable things I had done in my life.  I thought...I thought that I could finally move on.  With you."
         He looked at her then.  He hadn't been able to look at her until then; it would have hurt too much to look into those brown eyes.  But now he had to.  He had to close this, somehow.  She would either leave with him or he without her, but, now matter what, this had to be done, things had to be said, emotions faced...something, *anything*...
         He did know that the time for begging was over.  No more pleading with her to listen.  And no more of his stomach clinching in nausea when he thought about her and Alexander Xanatos.  He was still angry over that.  And hurt.  Dear Lord, had that hurt, and still did.  She had betrayed him in a way he had never imagined that she would.  He wanted to yell and scream at her; grab her by the shoulders and shake her, screaming.  But when he looked at her...she had drawn into herself as much as possible, her head bowed slightly but her large eyes staring straight at him.  The white streak that she had had ever since she was a small child fell in her face again, across her left eye.  Anger died when he was around her.  Faded.  All that was left was the dull ache inside him.
         "All those years...you were my conscious.  It was your voice that I heard.  Your voice needling me, screaming at me that everything I was was wrong; forcing me to redeem myself in some way, so I could sleep at night.  I never told you." he said, sighing.  "I never told you because I never had the words. I never knew *how* to express it.  How the hell could I?" he said, beginning to pace.  Christine watched him, not moving even though she had never wanted so much in her life to run.  God damn all of this...why was he doing this?  Why was he building all his hopes and dreams on *her*?  Made her into some...some *angel*?  How the hell could she live like that?  How could she be someone's angel?  She wasn't.  She was hopelessly, pathetically flawed and she could never live up to his expectations.  Hadn't she proven that?  She didn't...she didn't deserve to be on someone's pedestal.  She would fall off of it if she even tried.  They were both better off if they went their separate ways.  They just were.  So what if it hurt.  So what if even seeing him made the fact that they weren't together anymore rip at her and made her want to just start crying.  She didn't deserve someone like this.  It was better if she was just alone.  If he got on with his life.  If *both* of them did.
         "I could finally sleep at night." he said, closing his eyes.  "After that whole confrontation with John Canmore, I could finally sleep.  And then you came.  And...I felt as though God was finally...finally forgiving me.  As if...as if I was finally bringing closure to my past."  His pacing picked up as his words in creased in tempo.  "That you had to forgive me...you had to find some way to forgive me before we could both move on...I thought it was a sign from God."
         "There is no God." Christine whispered.
         "Yes, there is." Mark said flatly.  "And one day, you'll know that."
         A muscle in her face twitched.  "Don't lecture me on God, Hunter." she spat out.  Mark didn't flinch.
         "So it comes out.  That's how you'll always see me."
         She glared at him, ignoring the pain she heard in his voice--or rather, trying to convince herself that it was resignation rather than pain.  "I tried to forgive the past.  I tried.  But...I was only lying to myself.  I'm not that forgiving.  I'm  not that...perfect.  I'm not some wondrous, all-forgiving angel.  I can't open my arms and say, 'I forgive you totally for everything that's happened.'  I can apologize for what I did.  And I will.  I'm sorry I cheated on you.  I'm sorry I slept with Alexander Xanatos.  But it happened.  I'm pathetically flawed.  I'm not this amazing woman you've got on a pedestal!  You don't love me, you love your image of me!" she yelled angrily.  She balled her hands into fists.  "And when I failed to live up to what you built me up to, you...you reverted to what you are and you...and you...you..." she began, then broke off when she burst into tears.  "I...I had thought you really lo...and then you...I can't even believe...I...I can't do this!" she yelled.  "I can't!  I just can't!  I can't be your angel!  I can't live up to it!" she screamed.  Mark knew she was going to run, so he got in her way before she could, cornering her.
         "You never let me say good-bye, Christine!" he finally yelled, his voice cracking.  "How can I even *try* to move on, if you...if you won't even let me say good-bye?"
         He started crying then.  He moved away from her, balling his hands into fists, not able to look at her.  He stared out at the sky, trying to stop the tears he felt on his cheeks.  He needed her.  He needed her in a way he had never needed anyone in his life.  If it was over...he would get on with his life, somehow, but...he needed closure.  Something.  But he wasn't going to beg her.
         "I tried.  But you wouldn't accept it." she whispered.  "I...can't give you any more than a good-bye.  So I'll say it now." she said, and walked over to him so she was facing him.  She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his.  He would see this was best, one day.  One day, this pain she felt would stop.  He'd find someone who deserved him and get on with his life, probably overjoyed to have escaped from her.  It would just take time.  "Good-bye, Mark."
         He closed his eyes.  So this was how it ended.  "Good-bye, Christine."
         She started to walk off, then abruptly whirled on her heel and rushed over to him.  She kissed him.  Their last kiss.  There was a desperation in it he never would have dreamed Christine would have.  She totally let go, pouring everything she felt into it.  She loved him, but she was still leaving.  He knew that, with that kiss.  She started to pull away from him, but he tightened his arms around her, letting his own desperation out.  When this ended...how could he let her go?  He needed her.
 It had to end, and it did.  Neither of them said anything, just looked at each other.  Both of their eyes were filling with tears, but Mark's spilled over first.  Christine took one look at the tear falling down his cheek, and began crying herself.  That was when she turned and ran.
         He watched her go.  What else could he do?  When she had gone, he whispered into the darkness.
         "Christine..."
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         She couldn't see as she ran.  She tried, but eventually stopped and collapsed, crying.  Goddamn it...she had to have left. She had to.  She wouldn't go back, no matter how much she wanted to.  Her life with him was over.  It had to be.  So be it.  They had said their good-byes.  There could be no more looking back--they had to move on.  Keep going.  Their lives had diverged; their lives never should have even crossed in the first place.
         I can't go back, she thought desperately.  How can I?  What if he hurts me again?  How I can risk Hope...I can't go back to him.  I don't dare give him another chance.  I can't forget...I can't forgive anymore.  I just can't...
         She closed her eyes and let herself cry.  She had been trying to control it, but now she let go.  There was no reason to hold all of it in anymore.  So she cried, curled up in a fetal position on the floor.  She just didn't care anymore.  Why should she?  She knew she needed this time to just let it all go or else she would never be able to move on from this.  In a way, she was glad that they had actually faced each other.  They had both needed to. She gradually stopped crying.  It was time to handle all of this; to end all of this...
         It was time to face Alexander.
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         Mark stared at the sky.  His face was emotionless, but tears were falling down his face.  So.  She would never forgive him.  She couldn't see beyond what had happened.
         Anger filled him.  She was the one who was wrong!  She had cheated on *him*!  She was the one being blind!  The urge to break something was suddenly overwhelming, and he slammed his fist into the side of the wall.  It hurt to hell, but if felt good.  He continued to hit the wall repeatedly.
         The hits got weaker and he collapsed against the side, face in his hands.  He needed her.  He did.  He had for a long time.  But she was gone.
         He closed his eyes.  Well.  He had a choice.  He could either accept this or not.  She had seemed final.  And now there was a finality to it all, even if it wasn't one he wanted.
         She said to go.  And she meant it.  She hurt you.  Do you really want her?  Do you really need her? he thought to himself.
         Yes.
         But do you have her?
         No.
         Well, what are you going to do? he heard her voice say in his head.
         He opened his eyes.  The answer was very simple, really.
         He was going to leave.
         For now.
  ***  ***  ***  ***
         Christine beelined for the subbasements when she gathered herself.  She found Alexander sitting in front of a screen, frowning slightly.  When he heard her enter, he jumped up and went over to her, worried because of her tearstained face and frigid demeanor.  "Christine?"
         She shook off the hand he'd placed on her arm with a speed and vehemence that shocked him.  "Christine!"
         "Don't....don't you say a word!  Not one, word, Alexander!  God, how could I have been so *stupid*?"
         "Christine, what on eartuuumph!" he finished when she rushed up to him and clamped her hand over his mouth.  She was so close to him when she breathed her chest brushed against him.
         "Not...one...*word*!" she said.  "God, Alex, don't you see?  I...they programmed me!  They programmed me so that I would obey your father.  Specifically, *obey the sound of his voice*."
         His brow wrinkled, and he pulled her hand away from his mouth.  "What are you *talking* about?"
         "Your voice!" she said angrily.  "Alex...you sound *exactly* like your father!  Don't you see?  All this time...I was obeying a *program*.  I..."
         It took a while for it to sink in.  Finally, Alex whispered, "Christine, I don't sound a thing like my father."
         She laughed dryly.  "Yes, you do.  You just don't realize it.  Trust a singer on this--the voice other people hear is not the same as the voice you hear.  Alexander, you sound like your father.  Down to the vocal inflection!  Christ, Alex--it wasn't me!  It was a damned program making me obey you!"
         She sat down on the floor and burst into tears.  Again.  She wondered that she hadn't run out of them, yet.
         Alexander had no idea what to do.  It was a shock.  He frowned.  No.  He would not accept from her that all of it--*everything*--had just been her giving in to a program.
         "Bull." he said flatly.  She looked up at him in shock.  "I don't buy it, Christine.  Not all of it.  Maybe it made you more likely to obey me...but I know *you*.  You just seem like you're out of control.  I know you, Christine--no one, no *programming*--can make you do something if you're dead-set against it.  Remember, *you* fled here with my sister.  *You* stood up to Demona.  *You* broke Owen's nose when you found out  he taught Erika magic.  *You* were willing to