Escaping the Pyre by Jayel

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Escaping the Pyre, Part 4
by Jayel

Bess had outwalked the hottest part of her fury before she was half a mile out of camp. After all, she *had* been putting some pretty heavy physical demands on Morgan lately. She just felt so alive, so vital, as if life itself were a warm, sweet dew steaming out of her pores. Every time the baby moved, she felt like clasping the whole world to her bosom and covering it with kisses. And naturally she loved Morgan most of all. He was the wizard who had helped her work this magic, the other half of her miracle. Just the sight of his fine, black hair falling in an anxious tangle over his high, pale forehead made her tingle with desire, and she had assumed he felt the same. Hearing him say he needed a break had hurt her feelings and wounded her pride, but on cooler consideration she supposed she could understand. She had always had more physical stamina than her husband. Poor sweetie, she thought she an affectionate sigh.

Still it was such a pretty night, soft and cool with a deepblue, star-sprinkled sky. She hated to hurry back and face the inevitable curiosity of the rest of the Eden Project, even for the sake of making up. Let him stew awhile, she thought, brushing aside the tender branches of some saplings in her path.

Suddenly she heard someone crying--not the kind of muffled whimpers she occasionally indulged in herself after Morgan was asleep, but full-blown, violent sobbing. One of the women from the Eden Project had slipped out here to find some privacy for a violent fit of grief, and here was Bess, stumbling over her in the dark. Should she try to slip away unnoticed, or offer whoever it was her help? Before she could decide, a luma flashed on her face, and she found herself standing over Tara.

"Go away," the other woman choked out, covering her face with her hands, and Bess was sorely tempted to obey. She was no fan of Tara Donahoe, not after she had all but refused to help them survive. Julia might have forgiven her for almost letting Alonzo die, but every time Bess thought of those terrible days at the EVE ship, all she could remember was fear for her baby and rage that this woman who said she could save them wouldn't. Nor, to her mind, had Tara done anything sinc her husband's death to particularly endear herself . . . since her husband's death . . .

"Tara, don't," she said, going to the other woman and putting an arm around her trembling shoulders. Tara stiffened, and Bess thought for a moment she would push her away. Then suddenly she turned and buried her face in Bess' shoulder and wept like a child. "It's okay, honey," Bess soothed, crying a little herself. "You go right on and cry. It's the best thing for you."

"Is it?" Tara asked, straightening up and wiping fruitlessly at her still-streaming tears. "I don't know . . . I'm so sorry, Bess."

"For what?" Bess asked, brushing Tara's tangled curls back from her face.

Tara just looked at her for a moment. "I don't know," she admitted with an hysterical little snort of laughter. "Everything, I guess. For being such a burden--"

"But you're not," Bess insisted. "You pull your own weight in the group just like everybody else."

"But I'm not really part of the group, am I?" Tara said with a sniff. "You've all been together so long, and you're so close . . . It's okay; I understand, really. I know I'm not . . . I mean, I've never been good at . . . except with Val." She looked up, meeting Bess' eyes. "He was everything, Bess, I swear it, *everything,* and I miss him so much."

"I know," Bess soothed. "If I lost Morgan . . . " But the idea was too horrific for imagining.

"I can't stand it," Tara went on as if she hadn't heard. "When he died, Bess, I felt it. We were on gear together, you see--he was helping me hold on, and I wouldn't let go . . . and then he burned . . . "

"Don't," Bess interrupted, frightened by the sudden glow of her eyes.

"I have to," Tara insisted. "I can't stop feeling it--touch my skin. Can't you feel it?"

"Yes," Bess admitted. Touching the bare skin of her arm was like putting a hand to a stove, or a piece of Morganite.

"It happens every time I think of him," Tara said. "And I can't stop thinking . . . and every time, all I see, all I feel and smell and taste is that awful burning. I wake up in the night, and I can still smell it on my clothes and taste it--he tried not to scream, I can tell, but in his head--"

"Tara, please," Bess begged, shaking her. She had purposely put the idea of how Val might have died out of her mind. He was dead, and they were safe, and God bless him for it. But she couldn't push this away.

"Sometimes, I almost hate him," Tara continued, her eyes glowing almost as brightly as her lumalamp. "I love him . . . I want him back he way he was before. I want my husband, not this monster . . . " Her hands were clasped so tightly Bess saw a thin trickle of blood oozing from each dimly glowing fist.

"Tara, stop it!" she ordered, forcing the woman's fingers to open. "Look what you've done to yourself--"

"I deserve it," Tara insisted, looking dispassionately down at the crescent-shaped wounds in her palms as the eerie glow faded away.

"That's foolishness," Bess scolded, her voice shrill with anxiety. "How could you possibly deserve--"

"Because I want somebody else," Tara interrupted, so softly that for a moment Bess wasn't sure she'd heard her correctly. "That's what's killing me, Bess, more than the fire. This wanting, this longing for the sweet, sweet cool of somebody else."

***

In spite of Devon's hastily-made offer to pull a double shift, Alonzo chose to stand his own watch. And as luck would have it, Morgan Martin pulled the same slot, emerging bleary-eyed from his tent after a couple of hours of what everyone assumed was reconciliation with his wife. "Coffee?" Alonzo asked, straight-faced. "I hear you've been feeling a little run down lately."

"Everybody's a comedian," Morgan muttered, but he took the steaming cup.

"Sorry, man," Alonzo said. They sat in grudgingly companionable silence for several minutes, Morgan sipping away in a series of grumbling slurps.

"Hey, Morgan," Alonzo began.

"Yes?" Morgan answered, peering suspiciously over the edge of his mug.

"When you and Bess decided to get married," Alonzo continued, hoping to sound tactful. "How did it--I mean, how did she--Listen, Morgan, how did you manage to talk her into it?"

"You know, Solace, I've had just about enough of you and your moronic fly-boy insinuations," Morgan said.

"Hey, man, I'm serious!" Alonzo insisted. "I don't mean to be insulting, but you know--"

"Bess is gorgeous, and sweet, and sexy, and how in the world did she end up married to a bureaucratic mole like me?" Morgan finished, but he was almost smiling. "What's the matter, Solace? Julia getting old? Looking to trade up?"

"Not at all," Alonzo replied, forcing himself to be straight with the guy. "Actually, I was think of--let's just say I'm shopping around for the best way to propose."

"Ah," Morgan said with a grin. "Going to make an honest woman of her before the bundle is delivered, huh?"

"Something like that," Alonzo said. "So come on, Morgan. Be a pal. Tell me how you did it."

For a moment he thought Morgan would refuse on principle, but then he leaned forward conspiratorially. "I didn't," he grinned. "She asked me."

"No way," Alonzo asked.

"Believe me, no one was more shocked than I was," Morgan admitted. "I mean, here was Bess, the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, and we had nothing in common, really. I mean, she was so sweet, and I'm . . . And she was from the surface where her father worked with his hands, and I was--well, you know. I worshipped the ground she walked on. And I guess maybe that was it."

"What?" Alonzo said, thinking that maybe he had never liked Morgan so much as he did just then.

"Bess is my life, and she has been ever since the day we met," Morgan explained. "And I've never made any secret of that. You wouldn't believe how many times I've made a complete fool of myself over that woman."

"Yes I would," Alonzo grinned. "I've seen you."

"So maybe that's why she asked me," Morgan said. "I have no doubt that Bess could have found a man who was smarter than I am, kinder than I am, better-looking, richer, and I know she knows it, too. But she also knows that she'll never find a man who could love her as much as I do."

Alonzo didn't say anything for a long moment. "Thanks, Morgan," he said at last. "That's good advice."

"What advice?" Morgan retorted. "My advice is to save yourself some heartache and forget the whole thing. Julia's a doctor and the daughter of a Council member. Why in heaven's name would she want to marry you?"

"Thanks, Morgan," Alonzo said sarcastically, kicking Morgan's feet off the log he'd propped them on. "You're a real pal."

End of Part 4.

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