WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN?

by

PiperMerlyn

Chapter 3

The Chapters

INTRO

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

1 May 2006

Athens, Greece

7:03 p.m.

He was floating, a liquid sensation as if he were skimming just beneath a vast, dark ocean. Occasionally, he’d see flashes almost like a television screen flickering in and out. Most were memories – a jungle fresh after a storm, a cold Halloween night in a haunted house and others, snippets of  images, faces, the sound of laughter. They haunted him like ghosts, taunting him with a reality he could no longer grasp.

It reminded him he couldn’t move and that irked him. At times, he wasn’t even sure he could feel his arms and legs. He swallowed hard and willed his eyes to open but they refused his brain’s command. A distinct memory rode to the surface. It had been the first video the heavy metal band Metallica had ever done and it had been about a man who’d lost his arms and legs in a mortar blast. He’d never found out if the scenes included in the video had been an actual movie.

Faintly, he could hear voices but they seemed to be talking in another language for all that he could understand. With no visual, not enough audio, he had no idea where he was or how much time had passed. Another voice came, one he was surprised to recognize. An image flashed into the theater of his mind: red hair, temper. Dan Hargrave.

“Nasty scar,” came another more unfamiliar voice.

“He’s alive, he can handle a nasty scar.”

“I don’t think this is what the doctor meant. Visiting hours are over.”

“I don’t care.”

Joe tried to make his eyes open. It all flooded back, meeting Lilith, the damn code phrase, Dan on the yacht – the gunshot.  He shivered and felt ice cold. What scar were they talking about, he wondered, with dread.

“Why’d you tell the doctor that? I’ve been thinking about that for hours now.”

“Tell him what? About the princess?” Dan Hargrave slumped deeper in the uncomfortable chair. “It’s true. She got married Christmas two years ago.”

The faint beep from the heart monitor quickened and both men looked at the machine and then the prone figure on the bed. “I think she’d known the British guy before or something.”

Jake looked at Dan who was focused on the heart monitor. He shifted his gaze to the man on the bed in time to see a finger move. “Dan...”

“I know.” Dan pushed himself to his feet. “Joe. Wake up. Damn it, you’re the ugliest Sleeping Beauty in the world, so wake the hell up.”

The beeping sped up, almost annoying in its fast rate. There was a groan from the bed but nothing else. Jake joined Dan at the bed. “Why do I feel the urge that if I slap him like Mr. Spock, he’ll wake up?”

“You watch too much damn TV.” Dan rolled his hazel eyes. “Joe...Mack...hell, wake up.”

This time the hand moved as if grasping for something and without thinking, Jake grabbed the hand, gave it a strong squeeze. He was startled when Joe’s hand squeezed his back. “Dan...”

Dan leaned over the bed, tapped Joe’s beard-shaded cheek. “Joe, damn it, come back—“ He hesitated, wondering if that would be the right thing to do. The woman was married, it wasn’t fair to taunt the man like that. But if it brought him back... “Casi MacFairlaigne needs you.”

Jake winced as the hand tightened around his. Some part of his brain didn’t understand how a man in a coma for two years would have that much strength. He watched the man struggle and finally, after a long moment, open his eyes. They stared unseeing at the ceiling. “C’si.”

Dan swallowed hard. “Joe, look at me.”

Slowly, he blinked and angled his eyes to focus on Dan. “Where...?”

“Hospital. Bullet got you, man. It was touch and go,” said Dan in a rush. As if he sensed Joe’s next question, he added. “It’s been two years.”

Tears filled Joe’s eyes and slid along the sides of his face.  “No.” His eyes closed and his grip on Jake’s hand slackened. The beep on the heart monitor slowed and Dan resisted the temptation to put his fist through the wall. “Damn,” he muttered with feeling as he stepped back from the bed. “Damn it all to hell,” he added, stalking out the door.

Jake studied Joe for a long moment and then followed Hargrave out into the hallway. “What now?”

“I don’t know.” Dan leaned against the wall and sighed. “I just don’t know.”

*****

2 May 2006

Brighton, England

12:41 a.m.

She sat there, for how long she had no idea. Long enough for her to forget about how uncomfortable and cold the window seat was. The room behind her was supposed to have been her personal space. A solid oak desk with a state of the art computer system was nothing but a dark hulk across the room. Shelves held books, filing cabinets held notes and information.

A deep blue carpet muffled noises.  The soft blue walls were supposed to soothe and relax but Casi had not written a single word in this room. The only time the computer was on was when she bothered to play computer games. She pulled the crocheted afghan tighter around her, propped her arms on her drawn-up knees and rested her head on her arms, staring out at the stars, the night sky, the occasional flash of light from a passing ship or low-flying plane.

She hadn’t had her dream in a long time. It had felt so foreign; the familiar corridor, the lit sconces, the arched windows facing out on a garden. In the distance, oddly enough, had been her house from Provincetown and the Pilgrim Monument, both partially surrounded by water. She’d stood in the middle of the corridor, both ends curiously shadowed. She could just barely make out the shape of two men. She hadn’t had to see the faces to know who they were. Chad...and Joe.

She’d vacillated between them for years, torn between her family wanting her married and settled, and her own turbulent feelings for Joe. A single tear traced its way along the side of her face and leaked onto her arm. God, I miss him. How could life be so unfair? she wondered.

She closed her eyes. “After all we’d been through,” she whispered, remembering what had happened when he’d come to stay with her that fateful summer to recuperate after Bryce’s death; months later in Marrakech and later in Romania. “It wasn’t supposed to be that way, my dream was within my grasp...”

“Casi?”

Startled, Casi opened her eyes and raised her head. “Cat?”

Catherine walked through the darkened room and joined her sister on the window seat. “What’s wrong? I ran into Chad in the kitchen. He’s still dressed and was headed back to his study. He said if you weren’t in your bedroom, you’d be here.” She looked around the room, noting the neatness, the lack of any sign of an ongoing project. “Casi, you’re not writing?”

“I...I can’t. God, Cat, how can I? I can barely function, knowing he’s gone.” In a sudden abrupt move, Casi was up and off the window seat, pacing in short fierce strides. “I should have never married Chad.”

Cat watched her sister’s jerky movements, then got to her feet and stopped Casi in mid-stride. “Casi, stop.” Cat  swallowed hard. “Why haven’t you told anyone this?”

“Because it’s not Chad’s fault. Damn it, it’s me. I can’t let go. I can’t move on.” Casi burst into tears. “I keep feeling as if this is all wrong, that this isn’t my life, my world...”

“It was meant to be,” said Catherine softly. “It must have been.”

“No.” Casi shook her head violently. “No. I dream, Cat, I dream of Provincetown, I dream of Joe, of family get-togethers. Of the police chief, growing old with his grandchildren...” Her voice broke on a sob. “Cat, God can’t be that cruel. He just can’t be, to torture me with dreams of a different life.”

The sobs made Casi’s whole body tremble and Catherine pulled her into a tight embrace. With one hand, she smoothed Casi’s tousled hair away from her face. “Oh, Casi...I’m so sorry.”

Casi wrapped her arms around her sister and hung on for dear life. “Cat, I dream of happy times, a future with purpose. How could it have all gone wrong?”

Catherine held her sister until the sobbing finally slowed down to a sniffle. She took her sister’s tear-stained face in her hands. “Casi...if you’re right...”

Casi searched Catherine’s face. “You...feel  it too.”

“I dreamed of you and Joe on the flight over here. It was so perfect, you two were at it, arguing over steaks or chicken, Ethan was trying to put his two cents in...Adrian and Ian were being themselves as usual.” Catherine felt her own eyes tear up. “But...how? How could it change?”

Casi slumped down on the window seat again. “I wish I knew.”

*****

2 May 2006

Salem, Massachusetts

1:04 a.m.

The wind that wailed through the gravestones was icy as it tugged at her leather coat and long hair. A part of her knew she shouldn’t be here, not getting sentimental over the simple stone marker. They’d never been close, her mother and she. Maybe once, when she was younger, long before she’d found her father. Or rather, her father had found her.

The night was dark, lit only by a thin crescent moon. She stared at the dark stone marker, wondering idly who had purchased it for the woman buried in the ground. Then she shook her head. It was of no concern of hers. This was not her life.

She strode down the gravel drive and left the old cemetery. A low-slung black convertible sat there, its top up against the chill of the night. She got into the vehicle, rubbing her cold hands to return some feeling. She leaned forward to start the engine, only to see someone standing in front of the car. She narrowed her eyes. What was he doing here?

He stood in front of the car until she got back out. His hair was silver but his goatee was black. Dark eyebrows were slanted into a frown. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Neither should you.”

He spared a glance for the wrought-iron entryway of the cemetery. “We got back together in the end, you know.”

“Ask me if I care.”

“Lily.”

She stiffened her shoulders. “Don’t call me that.” She slammed her hand against the rim of the car door, ignoring the pain in her palm. “Damn it, just go away.”

“You’ve changed more than you can imagine.”

She turned to face him. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Whatever you think of me now, I am no fool. I taught you better than that.”

“Did you now?” Her tone of voice was bitter. “You left my mother when I was barely old enough to remember you. You taught me all right, taught me all I needed to know. Brilliant this was, don’t you think?”

“No.”

“I stopped needing your approval a long time ago.” She yanked open the car door. “Now get out of my way before I run over you.”

“Lily.”

She let out a short scream. “Damn it, stop that. I am not what you wish for me to be. You taught me too well, Father, and I know what I want.”

“Do you?” The older man moved until he was at the driver’s door. “Lilith, this is a fool’s errand. You’ve changed more than one life, you’ve changed countless lives, some for the better, some for the worse. The power that resides within you was not meant for this.”

Lilith Raven shook her head. This man was not the father who taught her the power, taught her the words that could do more than she could ever imagine. She’d not believed her own potential until the fateful moment the computer had exploded and she’d realized that she did have power. But this man – he was a product of his environment and she was a product of hers. “Go away.”

“You’re forcing me to stop you...then.”

“You can’t. You don’t even know how I did it.” She smiled, but it wasn’t a pretty one. “You won’t,” she added, spitefully.

His shoulders went rigid. “Why did you come here? To gloat that your mother is finally dead?” he asked, his voice angry now.

“My mother is not dead. My father is.” She got into the car, slammed the door shut and drove off, leaving the man staring after her.

Jonah Ravenscraft watched the tail lights disappear and sighed. He’d seen it, felt it, a powerful ripple that shoved against his skin and through him. He shook his head and shifted his gaze to the cemetery. This was not where he wished to be.

Jonah strode to a solid black stallion across the road, standing still as a statue. “Home, Mephisto, there’s nothing more to do.” He settled into the custom saddle and headed for home. He spared one final glance for the cemetery. Or was there?

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