Name: Second Chances

Rating: PG-13

Summary: "When the heart dies, nothing else matters."

Authors Note: Warning, intended tearjerker. Was originally going to be the last chapter of one of my unfinished stories, ‘The Getaway’ but I changed my mind. This is a one-shot. Song is Second Chances by Michelle Branch.

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Life likes to throw curves at unsuspecting victims; it’s a game of cat and mouse the gods like to play. It’s their form of a good laugh, inspecting the little mice run and scatter as the cat bounds through their life for prey. It’s all fun and games, until the mouse gets caught.

Marie stared at her reflection in the mirror, gazing into her sorrowful eyes rimmed with tears rendering to fall. She gripped the sides of the porcelain sink, bracing her surrendered weight onto it, and closed her eyes, breathing in the damage that was to come. After a moment, she pried her eyes open and glanced at the plastic stick on the toilet seat, baring a mark of confirmation. Just looking at it made her eyes water more, snapping her eyes shut again as steaming tears spilled into her eyes. She tucked her face in without knowing it as they fell silently down her cheek.

She picked up the box accompanying the stick and stared at it. An at-home pregnancy test; she was pregnant. She’d wanted children her whole life, even as a young person herself. When she learned of her condition, those dreams became distant and obsolete, something that could never be accomplished because of the curse bestowed upon her. Yet, here she was, staring down at the piece that confirmed she was indeed with child, and all she could do was shed tears of sorrow. For the first time in nearly seven years, she felt utterly alone.

The soft click of the bedroom door closing made her head lurch up and stare at the shadow of the tall figure dancing across the wall cast by gold light. She hurriedly wiped away the tears, her hands now sticky with wasted pain, and threw the box into the side trashcan. She cautiously stalked into the bedroom, focusing only on her feet as they took her to her desired destination, and threw back the covers, slipping her legs and stomach underneath the comfort of warmth. She examined her hands, picking at a speck of dirt buried under one nail, then let her eyes drift off to the man at their closet. His back was to her, stripped bare of clothes, and was digging through the many places in the closet, hiding something away.

Marie watched him, biting her lip as her mind raced through everything she could say to him, but nothing felt right in this situation. How do you tell someone this? The man finally turned to her and smiled, his long sideburns lifting higher on his face, adding humanity to his gruff features. He stood by the bed, his destroyed eyes locked with hers, and pulled numerous things from his jean pocket. First came his lighter, then a wad of cash and keys to his motorcycle. While he did this, Marie instinctively began to finger his dogtags around her neck, a gift sealing their promise to one another, to not be forgotten and to return.

He finally sat on the bed, the mattress shrinking under his added weight, and concentrated on her, studying her. She wondered then if she looked different to him? Did she? Did he know her so well that he could see in her eyes what was coming? As an answer to her bewildering questions, he laid a hand on her own. Fabric was no longer their boundary; they were free. "Marie, what’s wrong?"

Marie stared at him, forcing the tears away. Her lips faltered, turning into a brief frown, but she tried to smile for him. She failed. She covered his hand, fondly stroking his knuckles, and gazed at him with saddened eyes. "Charlie, we’ve been together for four years, right?" Charlie merely quirked an eyebrow, a response to her obvious question. "Have you ever taken into consideration going to the next level?"

Charlie looked at her, confused shining in his eyes, but he did understand. At least, he thought he did. He stood, taken back by this interrogation. "Marie, we’ve discussed this. You know I don’t believe in that and there is no point in ruining what you and I have with something so futile—"

Marie watched as he rambled on, gesturing something new with each word. Her mind told her he thought she was speaking of marriage, and she waited for the right moment to interrupt him, but that didn’t come as soon as she wanted. She finally had to just stop him, putting the truth on the line.

"Charlie, stop." She paused at Charlie’s immediate silence. "I wasn’t talking about marriage. I understand how you feel about that, and I won’t imprison you." She paused again, then gestured to the part of the bed in front of her. "Please, sit down."

Charlie hesitantly did so, all the while staring at Marie. "Marie, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong? Is something wrong?"

Marie let out the breath she’d been holding, intent on it coming out as a mock laugh, but it instead sounded of a muffled sob. "I’m okay, I suppose. There’s just something I need to tell you."

"Okay. I’m listening."

Marie held Charlie’s hands and gazed at him, her lips forming a line. "You know I’d without hesitation say I’m willing to spend the rest of my life with you, however long that may be, and I am. But, certain circumstances have appeared, and now I’m not so sure." She bowed her head and her fingers brushed the underside of her nose.

Charlie bent his head slightly to see Marie’s hidden face. Something was wrong, he could smell it, but nothing could help him unless Marie told him. "Marie, hey—"

"Charlie…I’m pregnant." The confession rung heavy, so much that Marie couldn’t even look at Charlie’s face.

Charlie stared at her, suddenly feeling his body go numb. He lost all sense of time and feeling; this was too much to process this late at night. His vision went blank and all thoughts ceased. He shook his head slowly, straining to hear silence. "What?"

Marie rose her auburn eyes and almost regretted it. "I’m pregnant, Charlie…with your child."

Charlie’s lips moved to form silent words. He cleared his throat, the scratchy sound hitting the stillness. "Are you sure?"

Marie nodded. "Yes. I took a test this afternoon. It’s been confirmed; I even had Hank test me."

Charlie tore his eyes away from her and looked wildly around the room, blinking furiously. His breaths, previously calm and regular, suddenly became shallow and short, catching in his throat. He looked back at Marie, who was trying her best to hide the tears forming at Charlie’s refusal to accept the information. This was the reason she had to continue with her plan; he simply wasn’t ready. She slowly leaned forward and caught Charlie’s face in her hands, forcing him to look her in the eye.

She kissed him gently then retracted her face so she could take him in. "Charlie, I love you. Ask me any day and I won’t lie. I have loved you since you came after me on that train. Hell, maybe it was before then when I first met you. I so love you. I always will." She paused, rising the words on the tip of her tongue. "But you’re not ready to have this baby."

Charlie stared at her in disbelief; was she serious? "Marie, wha…?"

"We’ve been through everything imaginable, more than any human should experience. But when it comes to matters of our hearts and our future, you’re simply not ready. You’re too much, too much to raise a child. A part of you is lost and another is dangerous, but I love the other half, the real man I see. It’s just…you can barely take care of yourself without dying. How can our child trust you if everyday they fear whether you’ll be coming home today or not? I can’t put our child through that."

Charlie grasped Marie’s wrists and lifted them from his head, holding them tightly in his rough hands. His eyes never left hers; for the first time she saw tears in his eyes, threatening to leak. "Please, don’t say this when it isn’t true. I can, we can. We can be a family, you, me, and this baby, can’t we?"

Marie shook her head. "We can’t. You’re not ready to put yourself fully into a family. You’re still too wild." She licked her lips, tasting the salt in her tears that soaked her cheeks. She kissed him one last time then sat back, disappearing from their forgotten closeness. "I’m going to spend the night in my old room. Jackie and Billie already know."

"Marie—"

"Charlie, please." Marie choked on her words, her voice breaking with each word.

This was already causing her more pain than she deserved; Charlie could see that. He stood on weak legs, hesitating to regain the strength that this pain took from him, then marched to the door. He throttled the knob and creaked the door open, revealing only loneliness.

"Where are you going?" Marie asked, a tint of worry in her tone. She always would be.

"Out. I need to think." Charlie answered, shutting the door behind him.

Marie listened to his footsteps evaporate down the hall, completely fleeting after a moment. She clutched her stomach and buried her face in her knees, breaking into a thousand pieces as her whole existence of her desired perfection came to a shattering end. Is there a way to pick up broken pieces when you’re not finished yet?

XXXX

Charlie stormed out of the front doors of the apartment, the gravel crunching under his boots as he marched to his car parked in the garage, an easy access. Tears stung his eyes, but he angrily wiped them away with the back of his hand, also ridding his running nose. Mr. Donavan had left the garage door open when he was fixing the engine in another car, so this made Charlie’s voyage quite more capable.

He slammed the car door shut, confining him in a small case that blocked off the rest of the world, and sat there. His fingers sprinkled the leather steering wheel as his eyes stared blindly straight ahead.

Disoriented thoughts filled his head; he couldn’t think straight. His body moved to turn on the car and quietly eased it out of the garage, speeding racer and rider down the driveway into the wilderness beyond. He clung to the back roads, forests and trees scaling past him, the reflections glimmering off the darkened glass.

Charlie made no note of any of this. He was elsewhere. Nothing made sense in his mind. How could she think he was incapable of caring for a child? It was true he still had a rebel side to him, but being a cop had tamed him some, hadn’t it? He thought it did. He loved her; he only stuck around because of her. If he hadn’t met her, he didn’t dare think about where he would have ended up. Maybe he’d still be making money off cage fights, making up his own trouble as he lived his day to day life like a miserable man. He was a teacher now, because of her. Because of her, he taught the trainees how to fight…for futures as a member of the elite cop on the special crimes unit. And yet she had the courage to say he wasn’t capable of having a son or daughter of his own? It broke his heart…she broke his heart.

Yellow light suddenly shown brightly in his eyes, blinding him. He shielded his face, but it didn’t help. It wasn’t until the person dimmed their lights that he saw them…heading straight towards him, in a head-on collision. Just then, everything then felt right.

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An incessant pounding on oak wood woke the occupants of room 213 at the Park Place Apartment Complex. The two girls asleep in their beds sleepily argued with one another on who was going to get up and answer. They considered leaving it, but the banging only got louder. A male’s voice echoed through the solid wood, shouting for the door to be opened. Marie, who was crouched on the desk chair, downcast in dead light, stood and maneuvered around the many items strewn on the bedroom floor.

She opened the door, sniffing, and stated she wasn’t prepared for visitors, especially at this hour. She hadn’t seen who it was when she said this, but when she finished, she looked at the face. She was taken back. Standing before her was her brother, James, panting, red sunglasses fixated on her, lips parted to breath. He looked deathly ill. Fear rose in Marie’s stomach.

"What happened?" Marie whispered harshly.

No words needed to be said. James’ face told her the whole story. New tears came. When he regained his breath, he managed two words. "I’m sorry."

XXXX

Hospital halls always seem too long, longer than they’re needed to be. They seem to want to prevent certain people from what waits for them. It’s almost like they know everyone’s future and want to spare the pain for a number of people that all they have is to feel. The halls felt excruciatingly long for Marie as she raced down the fluorescent passage, dodging nurses and patients in her way, even at this hour of night. She never once looked back at James chasing her.

She saw a recognizable person at the end and yelled to her. Aurora waited for her, arms open to catch her, to hold her back. Marie lunged into the woman’s arms, her rampage closing to a forced halt. She glared at the woman through her tears and screamed to be let past, drawing unwanted attention to herself, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was Charlie, lying helplessly in a crowded room, all alone. Aurora embraced her, stroking her hair and whispering soothing words to her.

"I’m sorry. He’s gone." She informed Marie. Marie screamed his name.

She melted in Aurora’s arms, her legs giving way underneath her. Aurora carried her weight, gently—but vastly—setting her on her knees, coming down with her. She held her, shedding a tear for her, then looked up as James joined them, sadly staring down at the broken lover collapsed on the ground of a hospital, crying for the one man that ever took her into him, the one man that gave her everything she ever wanted…the one man that was snatched from her.

XXXX

The front lawn of the police academy was lined with mourners. It was a sea of black, moving from the standing students, bowing their heads in respect for the fallen warrior, to the closer people, the ones that had the more effect in Charlie’s life. It was cold so many people wore black coats and sweaters, the hems of these clothing’s plastered to the back of their legs. Marie sat in the first row on the left side, in between Jackie and Billie. Despite the service going on to honor her love, her eyes were focused on the rolling hills to her side, barren as fog covered the dreary trees and grass. Her thoughts drifted from place to place.

She looked back to the service, her eyes glancing over her shoulder once to rove over all the people. She caught sight of Bobby, her ex, and for a brief moment their eyes met, but he turned away. She frowned and paid attention to the scene in front of her. The Professor was speaking, fondly speaking of memories of Charlie and his discipline to doing things his own way. A picture of Charlie, taken a few years back, stood on a metal stand beside the open-casket, baring his pale face. Marie couldn’t look at it.

Sometimes we get second chances
And sometimes we never make it past the first
It really makes you wonder why something’s happen when they do
It really makes me wonder why it wasn't me instead of you

She was still finding it hard to come to terms with everything. She’d closed herself up for nearly two days, since that ill-fated night, and hadn’t spoken. She was forced to eat, for she was pregnant, but she didn’t relish the meals. She constantly found herself looking at the empty seat beside her where Charlie sat. She had to force herself not to cry in public anymore. She’d shed her tears, but they still came.

Her free hand, not the one Jackie was holding tightly as support, found her stomach and began to stroke it, running her finger over the loose black fabric. A black hood hid her face from the people staring; she couldn’t handle people looking on in pity any longer. Nothing made sense. How could Charlie, the great Mauler, die? Wasn’t he supposed to be the invincible, daredevil Charlie? He was supposed to out-live all of them. He was supposed to watch all of them wither away while he never aged a second. How did this happen?

Marie suddenly became clued in to what the Professor was saying when something caught her attention. "Charlie was known for being the tough one, the one not afraid to tell everything as it was, the one to go all out despite the risks involved. He was a risk in himself, but that worked as an advantage and a disadvantage. We all have our tales of the great Mauler and we all wonder how it was he could die. But when the heart dies, nothing else matters."

Marie noticed Professor Cherone was looking straight at her as she said this last line. The doctors had told her something that she had assumed existed only in movies; it seemed Charlie gave up on life. He lost his will to live, his heart died.

Professor Cherone finished and wheeled himself back, indicating the service was over and people were allowed to approach the casket for a final good-bye. Marie stood and stood off to the side, the end of the line where people were to pay their condolences to her. Charlie and Marie had been the reigning Beauty and the Beast; they were widely known and people understood. No one had to agree, but they understood. The long line of people slowly went by, bidding how sorry they were to Marie, and leaving the premises back to the school. After a bit the only ones left were the immediate friends and family.

They crowded in a bunch, huddling together under the nippy October air, and swayed in silence.

"Second soldier down." James said, his words full of remembrance to the one that he lost long ago.

"Yes. It’s unfair, but it’s nature." Prof. Cherone explained somberly.

"It just feels unreal. Charlie, dead? It doesn’t feel right. He was always the one taking dares and living through them." Aurora stated, casting a glance at Charlie’s casket.

"No, it doesn’t. I assumed he’d out live us all." Prof. Cherone looked up at Marie after Aurora and James hugged her and headed up the hill to the school. "Coming in?"

"Give me a minute, Professor." Marie willed. "I’d like a moment alone."

The professor nodded and left Marie alone, in the howling wind and dark clouds. She cautiously approached the casket once she was sure there were no eyes watching her and braced her hands on the polished wood. She looked at the corpse, examining it. It almost didn’t resemble him. It was pale and the hair had been cut and trimmed so it looked more sophisticated. Its hands were folded in front of it and its lips were set in a dead line.

Marie brushed a stray lock back that was blowing in the wind, but recoiled instantly when her fingers brushed the cold skin. It felt like ice, frozen to the touch. She set her jaw and unhooked the necklace adorning her neck. She slid the metal from her neck, bundling it in her palm, then gently set it across the corpse’s hands. Charlie’s dogtags.

"Good-bye Charlie. Our child will know about you, I promise." Marie assured.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and turned away from Charlie’s casket, turning her back on him. She thought his death was her fault and she knew she’d always live with that regret. She’d come upon something hidden in their closet the night after the accident and she hadn’t been able to forgive herself since. She knew she never would.

Billie found her two hours later, huddled on the porch swing on the porch, knees drawn up to her chest, crying as her eyes watched the rain pound the earth. It set off a sort of coat over the world, halting it for a mere few minutes to listen. Billie gently sat behind her friend, unsure of what to say, then wrapped her arms around her, enveloping the trembling form of a broken woman. She rested her chin on Marie’s shoulder and reluctantly pulled out the item that needed to safely belong in Marie’s hands. She forced open Marie’s hand and placed the box in her palm.

Marie already knew what it was. She’d found it. She opened the velvet box and revealed a diamond engagement ring, nestled in the box, waiting to be fitted on someone’s finger. Marie sobbed.

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