Part IV

Early the next morning, they set out on the snowy path.

"You know, Quinlan...you said something about the end of our story resting on my shoulders," HLM comments as she walks by his side, fur-lined hood framing her face.

He glances over at her and shrugs. "What of it?"

She arches a brow. "Are you going to tell me what you meant?"

He gazes at her thoughtfully. "You know...I was, but I don't think will now."

Light brows furrow as bright eyes blink. "Huh? But...why?"

"Because you are not ready."

She eyes him. "...ready for what?"

"It can wait...it must wait until both your mind and your heart are clear..."

She furrows her brow and mutters. "Yeah...wull...I don't see that happenin' any time soon."

His gaze burns through her coat to singe her skin. "It must."

A sigh tears itself from her throat. "Far easier said than done, Elven Father mine."

"Perhaps, but it is possible."

"I'm beginning to wonder about that."

"Why?"

She stoops to pick up a walking stick in her good hand and uses it to take a little pressure off of her throbbing foot. "'Cause it seems like every time one wound heals, another is opened." She smacks a little snowball in the path with the stick. "Every time my heart tells me something, my mind comes up with something to prove it wrong. Whenever I get close to someone, they either die, get hurt somehow or get hurt and THEN die!" She covers the sob in her throat with a growl. "It NEVER fails! First mom, then Hacker," she sighs softly, her voice lowering to a whisper, "And now Klork...I'm like a curse, Quinlan...maybe I should just go on alone, spare you the danger of being around me...maybe I should just toss myself off a cliff...or maybe just sit in the snow and let myself freeze to death...I bet that...if I died...the whole world would be a happier place...th...that Klork...o...once he recovered...c...could live happily ever after...w...without worrying...about hurting...a worthless piece of...unnatural...freakish...crap...like me..."

She chokes on another sob and comes to a stop, letting Quinlan turn her to face him, though refusing to take her eyes from the snow.

"HLM," he tilts her chin up, brows wrinkling at the tear-filled eyes and trembling lips. "How long have you felt this way?"

She refuses to meet his eyes. "Since before Hacker's death..."

His brows furrow as he reaches up to brush tears from her cheeks before they freeze there. "Have you ever told anyone this?"

She shakes her head. "Only you..."

He pulls her close in a hug. "Ah...my warrior child....you have no idea how important you are to many people, do you?" He strokes his mittened hand over her hooded head. "I'm not leaving your side, no matter what happens until you're at least a little better." Her eyes rise up to meet his, but the protest she's about to utter is silenced with the gentle fingertips resting on her lips. "No. Shh...close your eyes..."

She blinks. "Close my eyes...? Wh...why...?"

"Just do it...for me?"

Her brows wrinkle and she lets her eyes slip closed. She feels Quinlan press his brow to hers.

"Now," he whispers, a gentle wind picking up around them, "open your mind to me..."

Her brows wrinkle, and she nearly whimpers. "Please...I...I...y...you don't want to..."

He wraps his arms around her, pulling her body tight to his. "Trust me..."

She shudders and does as he says, letting him experience all the raw emotion she's been experiencing her entire life. The pain, the sadness, guilt, loss, fear, grief, longing, the sadistic joy that reigns sometimes when she's battling, but also the happiness, humor, love, hope and overwhelming desire to help that's always there as an undercurrent.

Then come the memories. The fresh ones of Paul torturing her for what seems like forever and the foggy ones of Mr. Sinister doing much the same thing, but coercing her into doing it willingly, to enjoy it, through manipulation of her darker side.

Even more raw, however, are the memories of the news of Hacker's death and the rejection. The words "shot to death," "choose her" and "I'm sorry" echoing endlessly in her ears,; louder and louder until she screams and snaps away from the dazed man, slamming her mind closed.

She sits huddled in the snow, arms wrapped tightly around herself. The screams rip from her throat, rage from deep within her soul. She rocks slightly as the emotion ravages her throat, the crimson blood staining her coat going ignored as months upon months upon months of pent up emotion roar shrilly out of her.

Eventually, the banshee shrieks turn into devastated, body wracking sobs. She curls around herself as she cries, every fiber of her being agonized. She rides the alternating waves of pain, grief, sadness and loss as one would the waves of the ocean. She falls to her side and curls in the cold snow. Its white purity stained red with the blood of the heart-broken.

When she finally stills, night has again fallen and Quinlan carries her to the camp he'd set  up during the break-down. He rebandages her arm and holds her close, several blankets wrapped around them both.

They watch the fire flicker, the night silent, save for the occasional sniffle from HLM or animal moving amongst the trees.

The flicker of the fire mesmerizes her as she leans heavily against her father.

"Thank you," she finally whispers in a harsh voice.

He nods quietly, stroking her hair. "For what?"

"Making me face all that...didn't know that was all pent up."

He nods again. "You're welcome..." He trails off gazing at her. "You should talk to him."

She blinks up at him. "I...wha'...?"

"Klork."

She closes her eyes tightly. "He needs time alone...to think..."

HE watches her quietly, gently tilting her head up. The silence pulls at her.

"I...I'm the last person he'd want to talk to...a...anyway...what would I say to him?"

"You tell him what's in your heart."

The blanket over her legs suddenly becomes very interesting. Her heart pains her far more than her throat. "I...I already did..."

"He knows how hurt you are?"

She swallows painfully, hunching her shoulders. "He doesn't need to know that....he's hurting enough...feels guilty enough..."

"But..."

Her eyes turn pleading as she looks up at him. "N...no...please...I...I don't want to make it harder on him...don't want to hurt him..."

He nods with a soft sigh, lifting her to take her into the tent. As he watches her ready herself for bed, he furrows his brows. "At least check on him, see how he's doing."

She sighs softly, brushing her hair, her whispered words exhausted. "I...I don't know..."

He slides into his sleeping back, looking up at her. "Sleep on it, daughter. Your heart longs for him, as does your mind."

She nods a little with a sigh, curling into her sleeping bag, again wearing the sweater lent to her by the one she longs for. "I...alright..."

Curling up to preserve her warmth she drifts into an exhausted, dream-filled sleep.

Part III
Part V
Otherworldly Comforts Index