When Lightning Strikes

Silence answered him, black and mocking.

He sat that way forever, hunching and shaking beside her bed, mired in a haze of self-loathing and regret. He mouthed an endless series of prayers, offered a continual stream of penances to the Almighty in exchange for just a word from Lainie, just a word.

She coughed. It was a whisper of sound, barely more than a ripple of hot breath.

It took him a moment to realize that he hadn't dreamed it. He brought his head up slowly, staring at her through gravelly, aching eyes. She lay perfectly still, staring up at the ceiling, her face drawn and tight, her mouth curved in a heartbreaking frown. Shallow breaths shuddered through her chest, made the blankets rise and fall too quickly. She coughed again, a harsh, rattling hack that sounded like music to his ears after so many hours of bone-jarring silence.

Her eyes were open. Sweet Jesus ...

He leaned closer, feeling the rapid thudding of his

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heart. Hope flared in the darkness, gave him a shimmering ray to reach for. "I'm right here."

She said something; at least he thought she did. It was a rustling flutter of breath that might have been you stayed.

He drew the washrag from her forehead and gently eased back the sleeping bag. Heat radiated from her body in a rush. He moved slowly, so as not to disturb her, and climbed onto the bed beside her. The old wooden bed planks creaked and groaned beneath his weight.

He stretched out on top of the covers, molding his body to hers, curling an arm protectively around her waist. "I'm right here, Lainie," he breathed against her ear, kissing the hot, damp swell of her earlobe. Very gently he rocked her, whispering an endless stream of loving words in her ear, hoping against hope that somewhere she heard, that somehow she knew.

"C-Can ..."

The sound of her voice brought his rocking to a sudden stop. Time seemed for a heartbeat to hang suspended, waiting. He tightened his hold on her and didn't dare to breathe.

"C-Can't see . .."

"I'm right here, Lainie. Right here beside you." He stroked the moist side of her face, eased his fingers through the damp curls at her temple.

"Talk," she whispered brokenly.

Talk. He racked his mind for something to say, but he knew it didn't matter what he chose. She just wanted to hear his voice, wanted to know that she wasn't alone in the darkness.

"You asked me once about Emily," he said quietly, still stroking her hair, still pressing his lips against her face. "She wasn't murdered. She ... she killed herself."

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Images, stark and cold and terrifying, whirled through his mind in a heartbeat. The grave he'd come home to, the empty house in the middle of an unprotected prairie, the note .. .

He squeezed his eyes shut. Jesus, the note. He hadn't thought about that in fifteen years, hadn't let himself remember. But now it was back, riding in the forefront of his mind, reminding him with sharp, undisputable proof of his failure. / needed you, Johnny. I waited so long... . Where were you?

Where were you Where were you Where were you? The horrible question circled through his mind and stabbed his heart. It flung him back in time, so long ago, made him remember.

"I wanted to get back to you, Emily. I tried-----" His

voice cracked, broke on the clog of tears in his throat. What did it matter now that he'd been in some stinking hellhole of a Mexican jail? What difference did excuses make? He'd promised to be beside her always, until death, and he'd broken that vow.

Beside him, Lainie twisted slightly and made a quiet, breathy sound that might have been his name. He drew back.

She turned slightly and met his gaze. Her eyes were wide and vacant, the skin beneath them bruised and swollen. Tears glazed her hazel eyes. Slowly she brought a hand up and reached for him.

His breath caught, his pulse thundered in his ears. He leaned toward her, let her hand mold to his unshaven cheek. The hot, moist column of each finger burned through his skin. "I forgive you, Johnny."

Killian froze. For a single beat of his heart he couldn't breathe or think or move. He could only feel, a stunning, mind-boggling combination of hope and fear.

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"Emily?"