There will come an age, after the darkness is gone, when hope shall spring from the most unlikely of places.
A future where the clerics and Kardiac have fallen, and we are once again Peacekeepers.
Karin City - Karin - Imperial Territory
She arrived in a flash of light.
A gleaming silver blade suspended over the city of Karin within the atmosphere, turning her proud bow about as her antigravity system kept her aloft. The Striking Falcon on her starboard side mirrored the black winged sword on her port.
Excalibur had returned.
The crisp, cold day had people in the streets shielding their eyes against the bright sun, peering up at the great Command Carrier. A symbol of power, of strength, and of Imperial might. Graceful and subtle compared to the other Imperial warships, she represented hope.
The flashes before the steps to the Fortress saw the arrival of the Matriarch, the Warlord, and their entourage. Fida'i were fanning out protectively around the pair as the Taïrian Commandos in their hand-worked battle armour advanced towards the steps that would take them to the connecting bridge and into the palace.
The Taïrian Matriarch rested her hand on Darien's arm, allowing him to assist her in climbing those steps. Her wizened eyes looked up at the Imperial ITE Mechs, four-legged pumas sporting twin rail cannons, ready to pounce. They highlighted the differences between Imperial and Amsus thinking; while the Amsus assumed that Mechs had to be slow and ponderous, the Empire had built theirs around speed and agility. She let her eyes linger on the wolf's head painted on its flank, a light smile playing on her lips.
Behind her, two young Taïrian pups unfurled the green standards, the black claw marks indicating who she was swaying in the breeze.
"I feel under-dressed," Darien remarked dryly.
"I could arrange standard bearers," Lauren quipped, "We could dress Lieutenant Ryerson up in red tights and have him prance ahead of you throwing flowers..."
"I'll pass," Darien shook his head, guiding the Matriarch up the slippery steps, sparing a glance upwards to his ship, "Besides, my entrance was pretty impressive." He stopped when he realized that the Matriarch was chuckling at him, and he fought an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry, your Grace."
The doors to the fortress swung open, and Darien was reminded of the first time he and Lauren had come there, crossing that same bridge, before there was any hope, before there was a Resurrected Empire. Just a man, a coat, and...
Walker marched from the doors of his fortress, yellow-trimmed greatcoat swinging as he came forward. His small honour guard of Fusiliers in their full dress uniforms were marching behind him, walking forward to greet them.
Darien marvelled at how white Walker's hair had become, at the close-cropped beard and the permanent smile that creased his crows' feet and striking eyes. A man with too much on his shoulders, but a man who wore it well.
He spared a warm smile for Darien before he came to a halt, placing a hand over his heart in a traditional salute. "Archduchess von Taïr," He paused when he saw the insignia, looking up into Darien's hardened eyes, the white uniform, and the scars. "Warlord Taine, welcome to Karin, the last high seat of the Empire."
"The first high seat of the Empire," the Matriarch corrected with an aged smile, patting Darien's arm, "As much as I love your world, Walker, my old bones are not accustomed to such a clime."
"Of course, Matriarch," Walker said, falling into step beside the two others. Red, Green and Yellow walking side by side for the first time in hundreds of years... "I am having rooms prepared for you. There are a number of suites designed for Taïrian guests, after all, it was your people who first built the fortress here."
"I see your family have made good use out of our work," the Matriarch smiled as they entered the Fortress and left the cold behind.
* * *
"Are you going to visit home?" Galadriel asked the pair of feet sticking out from under the Propylon console.
Ryerson pulled himself out, wiping his hands down the front of his coveralls. "Home? Why?"
She sat down on the edge of the second tier and cradled her mug of coffee, sipping it as she tucked a leg up and under her. She blew on the mug and rested her head back against the console behind her. "Home, your mom and dad. A chance to get off this ship for a bit. I can sign your shore leave," she picked the pen from behind her ear and waggled it at him temptingly, "Being friends with the OOD has its privileges."
Ryerson shook his head as he knelt beside a tool kit, selecting a small screwdriver. "I can't take time off now," he said, shaking his head, "I'm supposed to be the only one who knows how the Propylons work and we still have to fix the ship, we don't..."
"Look, Ben," Galadriel pressed, sounding concerned, "Most of the crew need this down time. The work will get done. Take a day or two off, go see your folks. I know mine would love to see me if we were at Tempus right now."
"Propylons," Ryerson reminded, gesturing over at the devices, "I could poof you there."
"And then what?" she smiled, shaking her head, "FTL communications outside the Apilon Rift are blocked. I would have to use an FTL relay to get back, and I am pretty sure that using Propylons to zip home would be a rules violation of some kind." She looked up at the warm sunlight streaming in from the observation windows. They would be moving up to the dry-dock in orbit around Karin soon, but the Warlord had insisted that a show was in order, a reminder to the people of Karin of the brave men and women who were fighting for their freedom.
Ryerson sighed and shook his head. "I- I don't want to see my folks right now." He crouched down again. "Besides, I have to find this transmitter Rikard..."
"I could order you to take shore leave," Galadriel threatened, getting up and touching his shoulder, "They're probably worried about you. Everyone else from Karin is taking time off. Ever since they got back to the ship, Colonel Mayfair has been equipping an expedition to return to that Polian world. It's nuts around here. This is the first chance to rest since we left on the madness..."
"I don't need to rest," Ryerson snapped, "I just need to work, okay? I don't need to see my folks, I have... I wouldn't... I can't," he said, shrugging out of her touch and poking angrily into the console.
"Is this about Ashley?" Galadriel asked, glancing back around the near empty Propylon chamber. Commander Durnham was off-line. The technicians were running a full diagnostic of his programs after his recent brush with the Lex Talionis's computer virus. A couple of marines were monitoring the forward magazine, ensuring that no one unauthorized went near the Type-Nines. Darien's orders had been explicit, and she wouldn't doubt there were Fida'i waiting in the shadows to deal with anyone who broke his orders. No one was willing to risk those weapons being stolen. Even with their electronic locks and other safety measures, all it would take was a creative engineer and some time to find a way to crack them.
Ryerson deflated, his shoulders sagging as he sat down on the deck and looked up at her. "I... it doesn't feel right, Ashley was a good guy and..."
Galadriel nodded. "He was my friend too. Look, everyone needs time to clear their heads, I'll go with you. Come on, I want to see your hometown. I've never been on another planet before; I usually just stay on the ship. It'll be the first time in... wow, two years... since I was on firm ground." She gave him her winning smile. "When Captain Shale comes on duty we'll go, okay?"
Ryerson bit his lip, looking tired. "But..."
"Please?" she asked, looking serious, "If Rikard can access the holographic projectors, maybe it will be good to get off the ship for awhile. Feel fresh air for a change." She gave him a smile as she pulled her hair back away from her face, tucking the dark ringlets behind her ears.
"O-okay..." Ryerson said, "Just... The guy was a good kid, he and I were amongst the second batch to come aboard the Excalibur before we set out from Karin. And when we were all..." he shook his head, "Can we just relax? Is it right to?
"It is," Galadriel reassured, "Look, this weekend, it's just you and me and rural Karin... should I bring anything, it's winter there right?"
"I live on the southern continent," Ryerson said with a reluctant sigh, "It's summer there, so a jacket should be all you need... maybe gloves?"
"Okay," she laughed musically, sitting back down with her to-do checklist, returning to her work and then looking back at him, "This will be fun!"
Ryerson knew better.
* * *
Doctor Kyr yawned, leaning over the small desk they had given him in the corner of the Karin Veterinary Hospital's critical care unit. The words on the page swam before his eyes as he rubbed the sleep away for the hundredth time since starting to update his patient's files.
He'd reached Karin via the Jump Nexus and a desperate flight aboard one of the Imperial couriers. How many days ago had that been? While the hospital on Sentinel Station had been fully equipped, it had lacked any of the facilities the Doctor had needed to care for the crucial recovery of an alien like Xanatos. The decision to return to Karin had been prompted by necessity as the large Gorean battled a stubborn infection that kept him hovering at death's door.
The Veterinary Hospital, built out of vanity by one of the Pirate Barons nearly fifty years before when he had opened up Karin City's only zoo, had been designed for xeno-logical care and had the facilities he needed: large surgical bays and equipment designed to be used on something as large as the Gorean was, as well as a team of vets with experience in treating reptilian physiology. It was a painfully slow process, but he was clawing his way, stubbornly, towards a recovery.
He rubbed his eyes. Colonel Ramsey was a different case all together.
Twice daily he would make the journey to the Old Naval Hospital. With everyone else out on the front, Kyr was one of the most experienced military doctors left on Karin, and was therefore the only one with enough clearance to treat the Kardiac Highlord.
The prognosis wasn't favourable.
Kyr had given up trying to work out how Colonel Ramsey was still alive. The injuries he had taken leading the 242nd Light Horse should have killed him, and still probably would. The only explanation was some kind of divine miracle, or perhaps it was the man's keen stubborn streak that refused to allow a warrior such as him to just give up.
It had torn Kyr up to deliver the news to Masconi.
The return of the Excalibur had made him smile, and he realized how much he thought of that ship as his home. A monstrosity of metal and engines that looked nothing like the idyllic Kaynin medical practice in a country vale he'd been dreaming about in medical school. But the people, his friends, lived there and he wanted nothing more than to get back to work.
"You gonna sit there all day?" Edward asked.
Kyr's eyes went wide. He sat ramrod straight in his chair and turned slowly, a stupid grin beginning to spread over his young face, a lump in his throat as he looked at his best friend, standing in the doorway, wearing Darien's leather jacket all askew, hands on hips and a rakish grin on his face.
"Matt?" Kyr asked in disbelief, blinking back tears, getting to his feet.
Edward beamed at him. "Did'ja'miss'me?" he asked cheerfully, taking a quick few steps and throwing his arms around his best friend.
"You... stupid... stupid... dumb... annoying... stupid..." Kyr pushed him back, smiling despite what he was saying, "What the hell! You scared the piss out of me!" he accused, "I thought I'd seen a ghost..." he stopped when he realized that Elias's scent was different, still him but there was a confidence there, something truly Prince Edward.
"What?" Edward grinned, pushing his hair back from his face, looking at Kyr as he sank his hands into the pockets of his worn brown pants.
"I remember you saving us on R-403, but then you vanished, are you a ghost?" Kyr frowned, looking confused as he gingerly reached out to poke the leather jacket Edward was wearing.
"No, a god," Edward smirked, "Which is kind of a ghost I suppose." He looked Kyr up and down, the tweed, the rolled-up sleeves of the lab coat that was a size too big for him, and the stethoscope, heavy eyebrows and youthful features. He found himself hugging Kyr for all he was worth.
"I need to..." Kyr laughed a second and found that they were both bouncing, the excitement of being reunited hitting them both and Kyr pulled back, his cheeks dimpling as he grinned broadly, "You're alive! You are alive!" he stopped again in confusion, "But if you're here, then... but... the Senate, the body lying in state..."
"There's no time for that," Edward said with a grin, "I'm gonna need your help... can you go away for a few days?"
"Where am I going?" Doctor Kyr asked, suddenly a bit wary. He had patients to care for, responsibilities.
"Trust me," Edward replied warmly, resting his forehead on Kyr's and sighing contentedly.
"Well... okay..." Kyr shrugged, "I've been bored out of my gourd stuck here."
"Right," Edward said with a smile, "First you need to..." The Princeling grabbed Kyr's tweed coat and started to pull it on the doctor inside out on top of the white lab coat, "Make a house call."
"I swear Matty, if you try to talk me into giving you a GYN exam I'm going to..."
* * *
Darien marched through the crowd, Karin Marines clearing a path for him. As usual, James hovered anxiously at his shoulder trying to keep an eye on so many people around them. Throngs of people all to see...
They stared at the white uniform, the gold and silver insignia, and the red blood flap hanging open at the front. The Warlord had returned.
Darien mounted the steps, grabbing one of the small posts that roped off the dais, casting it aside with a clanging as he waded through the flowers and discarded badges, climbing up a step to look down at the body.
He looked untouched, peaceful, his hair neatly combed tucked underneath the thin, tarnished silver circlet, like he was asleep, a sleep from which he would never wake. A sleep that would eventually consume his body, leaving nothing but a desiccated husk, the spirit no longer having a use for the mortal coils, shedding the shell to become something far greater.
Darien stood there, at the foot of the dais, the greatcoat on his shoulders, standing rigid. The wind from outside washed through the chamber to stir his hair as he gazed down, feeling the weight of sadness and responsibility that had brought them all to where they were.
There was a murmur of discontent from the crowd, pressed back away from him by a ring of Mayfair's marines. They recognised the Warlord Taine, but many were unaware of his connection to their Prince, though whispers of the fact that they had been lovers began to spread through the crowd.
Darien felt the oppressive air, turning his head to look at the people who had travelled so far to catch a glimpse of their god made flesh. He thought of the news reports of Lex Talionis's strike so deep in the heart of Amsus territory and rending asunder Arcanis, all for the will of that same god. It was a power that wasn't constrained to flesh, nor to one being, no matter how powerful. It was growing, and growing far stronger than any of them. Belief fuelled by the desire to be free.
There was no doubting; he knew exactly how VonGrippen had felt after the Emperor's transcendence. Helpless in the face of such raw power. Trying to reason out a way, any way, to curb the double-edged sword the religion had become.
He stared for a moment at the circlet around the Prince's brow, recognizing it from somewhere. The Silent Caliph, on Eqyr-Ouso. He had worn it, a mark of his stewardship, and a mark of a ruler unable to speak for himself. The mark of a puppet to those who would speak for him like Zixor or...
He felt a chill, knowing exactly who was trying to send him a message.
"Rikard," he growled, turning from the dais, his hand balling. Stopping, he looked back. Reaching out to unclip the pocket watch from the Prince's belt, he closed his hand upon it. The cold, silver timepiece felt heavy, solid as he turned it over, lifting it to tap it against his chin thoughtfully as he marched away from the dais and the throngs.
* * *
The rhythmic whirring of the medical machines burbled and pulsed as the heart rate monitor trilled its regular beep.
She was in full dress uniform, wrap tunic on as she stood at the foot of his bed. Wing Commander Angelina Masconi nee Ramsey, House Kardiac. The brass on her collar, the medals on her chest, even the silver-plated service pistol at her side couldn't stay the tears rolling down her high cheekbones and sliding towards her chin.
"Pappa," she said, in a voice so small she barely recognized it.
His old eyes fluttered open as he turned his head weakly to look up at her, a glimmer of pride in them as he lifted his hand a fraction of an inch.
She took the bandaged hand in her own, feeling the strength as he clasped her firmly. A man who wouldn't give up, he refused to give up.
She tried to match his strength, but the tears continued to flow as she pressed his hand against her forehead.
"Y-you're safe," Ramsey managed, his words drawn and painful, but fondness showing through, "I hear... I hear that I should be proud of you." He smiled at her, coughing a little, a few flecks of blood dotting the edges of his white beard. "You became a fine... woman."
She kissed his hand, not saying anything, fearing that her emotions would betray her further as she held onto him. She just wanted him to know that she was there.
"You have always done that," he smiled as he squeezed her hand again, "Made me proud of you." He paused, closing his eyes, taking a long sigh as he built the strength to keep speaking.
She caressed his weathered face, feeling the lines that she had touched as a little girl sitting on his knee, listening to his stories. She'd loved him then; there had been none of the misunderstandings that had driven the wedge between them. Just a little girl, his little angel, and her pappa.
"I've done...a terrible thing," he said at last, opening his eyes again, faint as the luminance that lit them began to fade, "Allie... Raptor..." he closed his eyes again, fighting to open them again, "I'm sorry... I am so sorry," he said, his own tears running down his face, "Forgive me."
"Shh Pappa," she said, wiping his tears with her thumbs, knowing that her own tears could wait, "I forgive you. Where is Allie?"
"He... on... Raptor... Amsus..." his chest sagged as his eyes slid closed, the heart monitor trilling its final, morbid note. A clarion call that a great warrior, a Kardiac Highlord, had passed away.
* * *
The Holographic transmission wavered but resolved again. General Riley and Colonel Churchill stood in the middle of Walker's office as they delivered their update to the three Highlords standing before them.
"And that's really our plan," General Riley said evenly, "I took the liberty of taking over this shindig, I figured I had Darien's blessing."
"That wasn't quite what I had in mind when I sent you on a courier run to Sentinel," Darien remarked, folding his arms as he leaned back on the edge of Walker's desk, "But I'm glad you did, it sounds like we all owe you one this time." He opened his tunic and loosened his collar as he looked over at the Chancellor.
Walker inclined his head as well. "It was quick and decisive thinking, and I am in agreement with Warlord Taine. Were it not for your intervention and leadership, perhaps the Amsus would have overwhelmed the jump nexus by now."
"Well I wouldn't go printing 'Mission Accomplished' banners just yet," Riley remarked dryly, "We're still in a game of galactic hide and seek, and the Amsus like to cheat..." The image wavered again as a hyperspace storm distorted the signal from the FTL relay, "But on our present course, slipping around the Amsus listening posts with dead jumps, we should be in position to launch D-Day on..." he checked his watch, "February Ninth."
"One month." Walker observed. "General," he looked back at the image, "Is there any word on this Amsus Commander Sephradon? Do we have any idea of what her counter strategy will consist of?"
Churchill and Riley exchanged looks with each other and the colonel nodded. "If she's smart..."
"Which she isn't," Riley chimed in.
"...She will split her fleet and pull back to her fortifications and garrisons and wait for us to surface. However, she has given no indication that she intends to do this, after her attack on..." Churchill paused, shaking his head. "No, your Grace, currently she seems content to divide her fleet and search for us around the Haligonian and Sentinel systems. I don't think she has considered that we'd be attempting anything this audacious."
"We must move swiftly if we are to capitalize upon this," the Matriarch spoke at last. Silent through much of the meeting, she had digested what was being said, and now chose her words carefully. "We must keep the Amsus busy searching. A smaller Hegemony fleet will be easier to deal with should the need arise. However, once they do learn that Earth is to be the site of the imminent battle, they shall bring their full means of arms to bear on you there."
"Well, we have a few advantages," Riley chipped in, "Dragging the pan-galactic stepping stone with us, we don't have to worry about our supply lines, we can continue dead jumping for as long as necessary. We can jump back and forth to Eisenhower when we need to. But you are right, we're gonna be in for one hell of a shit storm once we hit Earth. The Amsus aren't going to like us plopping down there and setting up shop."
"We're going to need intelligence as well," Churchill added, "From the Terran system, if we're to plan this effectively."
"We'll arrange something," Caldone, an ever present shadow for Walker, promised.
"Well then, Gentlemen," Walker said, rubbing his hands and looking at the pair of them, "Under the circumstances, I think we should make this official. Until further notice, I am appointing General Riley Field Marshal and Supreme Allied Commander. That should give him the appropriate weight he requires, as well as whatever resources he may need, be they Army or Naval. If there are no objections?" He looked at the two members of the High Council.
Darien shook his head indicating that he had none.
"Serve well," the Matriarch bowed her head as the image flickered and vanished.
"Do you think he can do it?" Walker turned to Darien as he walked back around his desk, sweeping his greatcoat off and sitting down.
"Riley?" Darien asked, looking back to where the hologram had been projected, "If he's half the man his reputation makes him out to be... However, the Amsus aren't simply going to roll over once he reaches Earth. If we have any hope of stopping this war, we need to stop Rikard and Sephradon. And hope that without them driving the Amsus..."
"There are a great many issues to consider in this matter." The Matriarch pulled the hem of her skirt up as she walked towards the windows, enjoying the play of light as it was reflected down from the surface. She looked back at Darien. "You and Peligia, and you, Walker, and your Senate. The battle for Earth is but one battle, and like each of you, Field Marshal Riley will rise to meet his challenge because that is what he must do. We are each being guided down a path set for us an age ago, each with our own part to play, and we must trust in ourselves to complete our tasks."
Darien nodded thoughtfully as he looked at Walker. "Colonel Mayfair returned from his recon mission to the co-ordinates locked in the Excalibur's computer," he glanced up noting that Caldone was watching him with interest. The director of Imperial Intelligence made Darien a little uneasy, and he couldn't quite place his finger on why. "The Polians attacked his team, but what ever is there, it's important ... I am going to put together an expedition, and take the Excalibur. I am going to transfer as many of my crew as I can spare to front-line units, Veterans could bolster what Riley has. But..." he shook his head, "the key to stopping Rikard, I know, is in reaching Peligia before he can."
"The election results are going to be coming in over the next five days," Walker said evenly, "I could use the Marines and Mechs you have stationed aboard the Excalibur to maintain order."
"The Karin Marines have always been yours," Darien reiterated.
"Thank you," Walker smiled, looking a little relieved, "I..."
The door banged open, and apologetically Walker's aide hurried inside, pressing a piece of paper into Walker's hand.
Walker read it and set it down, taking a long sigh. "Colonel Ramsey is dead," he said, resting his hand against his temple and closing his eyes.
* * *
Edward sat behind Darien's desk in the stateroom, wondering why he was still there.
He could go anywhere, see anything. And yet he stayed, feeling somehow a part of everything that was going on around them. Feeling protective of his Darien, wanting nothing more than to shelter that stubborn man from the universe that seemed to have such a hate cantered directly upon him.
He played with the edges of Darien's logbook, turning through the pages, running his fingers over Darien's tiny script. It was getting smaller and smaller with each entry, the shaking in his hand making it impossible for him to write legibly in anything but a tight scrawl. He ran a finger over the words lovingly, worried about Darien, but knowing that even as powerful as he was, without knowing more there was nothing he could do to help Darien.
Sighing he looked out of the tall windows and across the sun drenched deck. He didn't want to stay on Karin, any appearance by the Immortal Emperor risen again from his grave would only inflame the religious fervour further. And while there was nothing to stop the rumours that abounded from the Excalibur's crew going on a richly earned shore leave, he wasn't about to confirm them. He wasn't a political tool, in fact that had been the reason he had sent Darien to Karin in the first place.
He knew that sooner or later they would figure out he was on Excalibur, and demand to see him. Which meant that he had to leave again. Let the election that was simmering in the Empire come and go, let the people make their own choices. There would be a time for him after it was done.
Darien would understand that. In fact he would offer to go as well, but Edward couldn't ask him to do that, as much as he longed for his company. Darien had responsibilities, things that only Darien Taine could do. The Peligian puzzle. There were key preparations that had to be made.
Darien.
"Sitting in a chair with a saffron yellow shirt on, reading a book, stroking his chin." Edward murmured aloud.
Darien.
"Standing in front of an altar, smiling at me as I say I do..." Edward smiled faintly at that thought. Somehow he could never picture Darien all polished up like that. No their wedding, if there ever would be one, would be on some rain-soaked world, interrupted by an Amsus war fleet, a pair of Polian wedding crashers, and a rampaging Imperial battleship wedding singer thrown in for good measure.
"Darien VonGrippen..." Edward murmured, idly doodling in the margin of the log book. Darien always claimed to hate it when he did that, but Edward could go back to other little doodles on other pages and see where Darien had circled the ones he liked. He seemed especially fond of the D+M's... "Darien Elias..." Edward screwed up his nose at that one, "That ain't happening," he murmured scratching that one out.
"...Edward Taine..." he frowned, not at all sure he liked the idea of loosing his family name, any of them. Maybe he could hyphenate it, "Elias-VonGrippen-Taine..."
"Talking to yourself?" Lauren asked from the doorway.
Edward leapt a little in the air, blushing a bright red as he snapped the book shut and pretended to look innocent. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"
"I thought you were a god," Lauren quipped, coming in and sitting down on one of the low couches, "Gods don't get jumpy."
"They do, least I do." Edward replied getting up and descending from the desk, plopping into the couch across from Lauren, "I was... thinking about Darien."
"When don't you think about Darien?" Lauren smiled at him. Fishing through her BDU pockets and pulling out a small pill bottle, she popped a couple and settled her foot up on the edge of Darien's coffee table.
"When I'm worried about you!" Edward said, his brow darkening. "Gimmie those!" He extended his hand as the pill bottle tore its way out of Lauren's hand and landed in his.
"Give them back, Matty," Lauren said, lifting her hand.
"No!" Edward said, turning the pill bottle around and looking at it, "Tricyclic venlafaxine?" he gaped over at her, "That's an antidepressant."
"Matt, you don't know what you're talking about," she said, standing, "Give it back to me."
"No!" Edward said, backing up, shaking his head, "This is from Doctor Kyr's dispensary, but it's not labelled; Kyr always labels his pill bottles... I know, I had to sit while he did it..." He stared at her. "Lauren, why do you have these?"
"Matt, I need you to just give me the bottle," she said tiredly, "I need you to stop asking questions... please?"
Edward hesitated, looking down at the bottle and back up at her. "What's wrong with everybody around here?" He asked, his voice hitching, "I wasn't gone that long... I'm back now... why has everyone... gone and gotten sick on me? What did I do?"
Lauren shook her head, taking the pill bottle from the young man and gathering him up into a tight hug. "Some of us aren't as tough as you are," she said quietly, kissing the top of his head, "It's not your fault."
Edward leaned back staring up at her in concern. "Promise me you'll be okay," he said firmly, "that you're not doing anything dumb?"
She squeezed him tightly, "I promise."