“Good a place to start as any,” he said, almost under his breath.
“No,” Cathy said firmly, closing the gap between them again. She grabbed his chin between her thumb and forefinger and forced it to turn toward her, staring him square in the eye. “You’ve got more control than you think. You’ve got more than you think.”
“Like what?”
“Me,” she said, turning briefly back to Mike and then back again. “Us. But maybe that’s not enough. Like the Womb said the other night, maybe we’re not good enough.”
He looked away again, frowning. Tears began to shine in his eyes now, but he didn’t shed them.
“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” she asked, almost sarcastically as she continued to stare him down, her face filled with every emotion nameable. “How much we both love you? We loved Sara too, okay? Do you have any idea what that would have done to us, if you’d fucking killed yourself?”
“Well, what do you think stopped me?” he yelled, turning back toward them. He was angry suddenly, though he wasn’t quite sure why. “I didn’t do it, because of you two. And now I’m killing again, people are dying again!”
“Are we all that stopped you?” Mike asked, stroking his chin as he watched his friend.
Xander calmed instantly, his shoulders slumping. It was like gravity had reaffirmed its hold, dragging his face, body and tears down toward earth. “That, and a promise I made. To not give up.”
All three of them stood silently for a minute, taking deep breaths.
“You need more reason than that to stay here,” Cathy said finally. “You can’t live for other people. If you’re doing this, you have to do it for yourself and know that things are going to get better.”
Xander winced, then turned away from them both and walked back into the house.
After a moment, Cathy followed.
Mike stayed outside, then slowly walked to where the gun still lay on the grass. He reached down gently and picked it up, sliding the chamber out to reveal all six rounds loaded and ready to go. He broke down crying for the first time since the confrontation had begun, and made sure he’d stopped before he went back inside.
John stared at the picture on his desk, tapping his pencil - just about worn down to the nub - against the surface of his desk.
The focus of the picture was soft, as though whoever had been operating the camera hadn’t quite been sure of its function. It made everything in it looked watered down and gentle, as though it had been painted onto the paper rather than imprinted on it. The girl in the picture had soft, chestnut-colored hair that fell to her shoulders. Even though the image was forever stagnate, it always looked like it was bouncing. The sun on her face showed the freckles that dotted both her cheeks. Her smile took up most of her face as she turned to one side, something sweet or funny catching her eye. He hadn’t been there when the picture was taken and had wondered exactly what it had been more than once in the past month. There was a heart-shaped silver pendant around her neck with a ruby in its center that looked so real that he thought he could just reach out and grab it.
“Got that quote from the Mayor like you said for the water supply story,” Don said, opening the door. He slid a pen into his pocket and smiled at his boss, giving him a little nod. “Didn’t have much to say, but at least we can say he said it.”
“Good,” John nodded, turning away from the picture and clasping his hands together.
“I put it on the S drive if you want to take a look at it before it goes to print,” he elaborated, motioning toward the monitor on John’s desk.
“I will.”
There was a silence for a moment. Don stood in the doorway with one foot in the office and one foot out, the doorknob teetering back and forth between his fingertips.
“Anything else?”
“Yes, actually,” Don laughed, his cheeks flushed. “I put another story in there as well. I was hoping we could find some space in it for tomorrow’s edition.”
“What’s the copy?” he asked, mildly interested as he giggled the mouse to make the screen turn on.
“It’s about Xander Drew, sir.”
John stopped, taking his hand off the mouse and clasping them before him again as he turned back to face Don. “Weren’t you the one tearing down Drake earlier because you didn’t think that kid was printable?”
“Not the same story. He’s helping the Genblade defense, sir. It’s worth printing. I really believe there’s something going on here that they’re not telling us. If nothing else, it’s a good human interest piece.”
John’s head snapped up from where it had lolled to, meeting Don’s excited gaze. “Human interest?” he scoffed.
“Yes, sir,” Don replied, oblivious to his editor’s tone as he sat down across from him, his hands shaking with excitement as he explained. “I think Xander Drew has more to do with this then he lets on. Something happened out there with Genblade that he’s not saying... something big. I don’t know what it was, but Drew wants to keep Genblade alive when he should be - -”
“Human interest?” John repeated again, slamming one hand against his desk and making Don jump in his chair. “Do you know who that girl is?” he asked, lowering his voice as he turned the photograph toward Don.
“No, sir, I don’t.”
“That’s my daughter, Don. That’s my Liz. She was killed a month ago. Do you know who she was killed by?”
Don did not speak, swallowing hard.
“You know, Don. You were here when we got the call. Who was she killed by?”
“By
