Forgive
Written by Rox

Chapter 1

"Dude! Looks like that ones gonna hurt!" He mumbled as he watched the gathering of police cars, fire and emergency medical equipment that had materialized quickly in the area. Must have been a God-awful accident he thought.

He couldn't see exactly what had happened or what was involved from where he was sitting, but, it looked like it would have to be bad. Someone had definitely gotten hurt. Sirens were screaming in the air. Lights were flashing. Red ones. Blue ones. Yellow ones, as well. The traffic had come to a complete and total standstill.

A cop on a motorcycle came roaring through the stream of traffic, stopping to chat with another cop that had arrived just moments earlier. They discussed something for a few minutes, one of them pointing out different areas of the accident site, then the motorcycle cop walked towards the awaiting traffic, trying to get things slowly moving again.

Some of the emergency equipment had gotten moved around by now and Mark could see the back of the tractor trailer rig and what looked to be the driver of the rig standing quietly to the side, a look of total disbelief on his face. Almost as if he weren't really there. Mark quickly realized that he himself seemed to be on the outside of things looking in. Things had slowed down, people and events of the scene seemed to be moving in very slow motion. Scary.

Mark began to have hot flashes, sweating profusely to the point that his clothes were sticking to him. Then, to the other degree, his body cold. Shivering. He felt cold to his soul. He had never experienced a feeling such as this in his life!

His heart raced seemingly out of control, the tightness unbearable in his chest, choking the very breath from him. Each intake a gasp, and the output a blow. The air around him thick, sweltering, which was probably attributing to his shortness of breath.

But the smell. The smell of the air had taken on a sickening sweet aroma. Overpowering.

He tried to reason where he was, looking around to find himself high above the scene of the accident, looking down on it all. His panic increased. He realized he was sitting on the ledge of a billboard, high above the accident. The area actually where the painters of billboards are able to work. His legs dangling from the protective rails. His confusion continued to grow.

He searched around frantically trying to determine where exactly he was and just how in the hell he had gotten up here. He felt a presence to his left and turned to see a man sitting there, quietly watching him. Intently. The man looked familiar, giving Mark a temporary sense of peace.

His heart rate seemed to slow, and the sweating stopped.

"Glenn? Man! What are you doing here?" he asked. Then looking around again he said, "What in the hell am I doing here?" He asked these questions not quite able to grasp exactly what was happening here. But, the big man beside him did not speak.

Annoyed at being ignored, Mark turned on him, angry that he would not reply. But, as he looked closer at the man, he realized that he really wasn't Glenn. But a stranger.

"Who are you?" Mark growled.

"Gabrielle." the man answered quietly. "My name is Gabrielle."

Mark took a much closer look at this man. He was Glenn made all over. Tall. Looked to be as tall as Mark. Long, curly brown hair, but not typically pulled back as Glenn wore his, but loose and flowing. The wind from the night air stirring it. The man had huge arms covered in a long sleeved black shirt, black jeans and black shoes. Mark's eyes traveled to the stranger's face.

But, it could be Glenn. The stranger had a closely trimmed beard lighter than his hair and that slight smile. Yes, it could be Glenn. Then Mark saw his eyes. Incredibly bright and blue. Like he could see directly into your soul.

Mark quickly looked away from the man beside him, feeling an instant shock of discomfort course through his body again. He glanced down to the accident scene just as the paramedics seemed to be putting their equipment up, finishing up, so to speak.

Mark could see a body on the stretcher below and could tell it must be a very big man that was involved in the accident. Then he saw the tangled mass of chrome and leather that was once a Harley.

The body had been covered loosely with a sheet, not quite covering the person entirely. Mark saw large black boots that looked vaguely familiar under the sheet and could see a blue bandana laying on the ground not far from the body.

"I guess that poor bastard didn't make it." Mark said quietly, still watching the scene below intently.

The large man beside him slightly waived his hand and a gust of wind picked up, blowing debris and dust from around the accident scene.

"No. I guess he didn't." he said quietly as he wind gently blew under the sheet causing it to rise off the body and float slowly into the night.

He watched Mark's face as slow recognization came. He could see Mark's eyes traveling up the body from the boots, up further to the jeans settling then on the upper body. He could feel the absolute terror when Mark saw the tattoos on the victims body that so closely resembled his own. Mark was mesmerized, unable to move.

"The smell?" he whispered.

"Yes." Glenn said.

"The smell, Mark. Do you know what it is?" Glenn asked him softly.

"Yes." Mark whispered back.

"It is the smell of death!"

CHAPTER 2

 

 

 

Gabrielle continued to watch as Mark fought the rising terror in his soul.

 

"Don't fight it, Mark! Let it happen." Gabrielle whispered quietly as Mark struggled against the blackness that threatened to consume him. He had fallen over, leaning heavily on Gabrielle.

 

"Don't fight it, Mark! It will be easier for you if you don't fight it. Let it happen." Gabrielle whispered. "I will be right here with you. Tell me what you feel." he said as Mark continued to struggle.

 

"Mark! You should feel an incredible warmth. Comforting. Familiar." Gabrielle whispered as Mark's struggling with the unknown continued.

 

"Warmth, Mark. Do you feel it? Let it flow over you. Touch you. It's ok. I will be right here with you." he breathed as Mark's struggles began to subside.

 

At last, Gabrielle could feel the strength leaving Mark's body. He remained quiet for a moment then he felt Mark tense up again, then again, his breathing became slower, then slower still as Gabrielle felt him totally relax. He heard Mark grunt once, then he was quiet.

 

"Dark." Mark groaned.

 

"Yes. But only for a bit, then you will see..." Gabrielle started.

 

"Light!" Mark exclaimed.

 

"Yes." Gabrielle said.

 

Mark had opened his eyes and Gabrielle could see them darting back and forth as if looking for something, or someone.

 

"Mark." Gabrielle whispered. "You are almost there, do you hear it? The music? The singing?" Gabrielle whispered.

 

"Yes." Mark whispered.

 

Gabrielle let him be quiet for a few minutes, but not long, as he was afraid that Mark might have gone too far. Too far over to the other side. Gabrielle was beginning to worry, Mark had gotten so still.

 

"Mark, tell me what do you see?" Gabrielle asked. Mark was silent. "Tell me!"

 

Mark's eyes had closed again, his body now relaxed. His face so very peaceful.

 

"Tell me what you see?" Gabrielle said again. Mark's eyebrows came together in a slight frown.

 

"Do you see the gates?" he asked. But, Mark only lay quietly.

 

"Mark? Do you see them?" he asked again, seeing the confused look on Mark's face.

 

"The gates, Mark. They should be open. Do you see a man there?" Gabrielle continued.

 

"Yes. I see the gates. There is a man there. He is holding a cat." Mark said softly.

 

A cat? "That's St. Peter, Mark. He holding a lamb in his arms. The lamb is for mercy. Not a cat." Gabrielle said.

 

"Oh." was all Mark said. They were quiet for a bit. Mark still looked so peaceful.

 

"Gabrielle? Did you say the gates would be open?" Mark finally asked.

 

"Yes, the gates will be open and St. Peter will be there." Gabrielle said.

 

"The gates are closed, and the man with the cat is walking away." Mark said as he glanced over to Gabrielle.

 

"SHIT!" Gabrielle muttered under his breath. He knew that God would not be pleased with his swearing. But right now it didn't look like God was pleased with either of them.

 

The gates were suppose to be open! Poor Mark! He must have really done something horrible to change God's mind like this! God didn't tolerate allot of things. Murder. Committing acts of war. Crimes against children. Things of this nature. And women! God had been known to send mortals to hell in a hand basket for sins against a woman! He had no sense of humor about that. None whatsoever!

 

Gabrielle continued to watch Mark, he was still in a trance-like state. Well, he didn't look like a murderer or a rapist. And he sure didn't look like he would hurt a child. It had to be something with a woman.

 

Gabrielle shivered.

 

Heaven help him if he had done something to a woman.

 

For he would surely be hell bound.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 3

 

 

 

Mark awoke to darkness and heat. Not a horrible heat, but heat just the same. It was quiet. So quiet you could hear a pin drop.

 

"Glenn?" Mark called out softly. There was no answer.

 

"Oh shit! What did he call himself?" Mark thought.

 

"Gabrielle." a voice spoke from the darkness. "His name is Gabrielle." the voice softly said. "He is gone. It is just you and I." the voice said.

 

Mark strained his eyes in the darkness to see who the voice belonged to. "Who are you?" Mark asked, fearful of what the answer might be.

 

The voice chuckled. "No, I am not Lucifer, Satan, Beelzebub, or any of those." he said as he stepped into the light. It was the man Mark saw at the gates, except he didn't have the cat. Again, the man chuckled.

 

"I carry a lamb of mercy, not a cat." he said.

 

Mark was too stunned to speak. He just sat and stared, too blown away for words.

 

"Well, I guess I am surprised." St. Peter said. "Usually, when I get a new one that I haven't allowed in the Gates of Heaven, they have allot to say. They tell me there has been a mistake made. They hadn't done anything! Except for you. You haven't said a word. I guess I am a little amazed." St. Peter said, still watching Mark.

 

"Son, do you know where you are? Why you are here?" St. Peter asked softly.

 

"The accident. It was me." Mark whispered.

 

"Yes, it was." St. Peter answered.

 

"And I am..." Mark answered.

 

"As a doornail, as you mortals say. Although I will never understand how you come up with that!" He said.

 

Mark couldn't say anything as the reality of the situation kicked in. He began to hear dogs howling and baying. Pitiful sounds.

 

"Well, they certainly move quickly when they smell a lost soul." St. Peter said.

 

"Who are "they"?" Mark asked quietly.

 

"The hounds of hell, my boy, to be sure." St. Peter said and started to walk away, leaving Mark alone. Mark was frightened, unsure of where he was, and why. Oh, he understood the mechanics of the situation. He was dead, or so it would seem. He couldn't believe that, but here he was!

 

He could hear the hounds again, and he caught a whiff of the smell of death. Then the realization of everything fell into place. NO! This couldn't be happening to him! Not him! He was the Undertaker, the biggest draw in the WWE, not some poor schmuck waiting between the gates of Heaven or the pits of Hell! This was insane!

 

St. Peter could read his mind. He had stopped just ahead of Mark, watching his reaction to all this.

 

"No, you are simply Mark Calaway, and only Mark Calaway as it should have always been. And you are not scheduled for here. You were to go with them." he said quietly and pointed to the horrid hounds impatiently waiting to take him and be on their journey.

 

There wasn't many like this, to be sure. He had almost been allowed behind the gate, but at the last minute he had a been banished to the first level of Hell. The toasty, warm level. The level where you can keep your feet warm. A mistake had been made.

 

The hounds could smell his confusion, his fear. And they waited.

 

"But, I don't understand! You let me get to the gates, only to turn me away! Why? What is happening here?" Mark bellowed.

 

"Mr. Calaway! Calm yourself! I'll have no hysterics here. You may have been a master of drama in your time, but let me assure you, I won't tolerate it here." St. Peter said.

 

"Simply stated, Mr. Calaway, when you came through that tunnel and to the gates, I could see no remorse for the actions of your life. No sadness. No regard for the people in your life that you have hurt." St. Peter went on quietly.

 

"God does not like liars, Mr. Calaway. If you truly want forgiveness for your sins, then act like it, don't lie about it. Especially here, Mr. Calaway. He knows your every thought. He knows it before you even think it. He smells the gas before you even think about expelling it." he said.

 

Mark just remained still, not knowing what to say. St. Peter knew he was clueless as to exactly what he had done wrong in his life and that was so sad! It was so heartbreaking to see people like this. In limbo.

 

And this soul was truly in limbo!

 

 

 

CHAPTER 4

 

"All right, Mr. Calaway. Let me give you some clues, some facts." St. Peter said. "First of all, facts. In the span of your lifetime, Mr. Calaway, you have become rude, arrogant, deceitful, cruel, manipulative, controlling, uh, should I go on?" St. Peter said smugly.

 

Mark was still quiet. Unnervingly so. St. Peter continued.

 

"During the middle of your adult life, you were horrendous!" he said as he waived his hands as he walked away. "And God was very displeased." he said in a low voice as he slid his hands into his robes.

 

"I believe you mortals call it being "pissed off." he said.

 

Thunder rumbled slightly at his last statement, bringing a grin from St. Peter. It even shook Mark up a bit.

 

 

 

"Your primary source of pleasure was playing mind games, I believe is the correct term, with unsuspecting women. Using your celebrity status to reel them in. Tell them that you care so much for them. That you loved them. And wanted to take care of them. Then you used them bitterly for your own pleasure, then tossed them carelessly away like yesterday's cookies." he said as he waived his hands around in disgust.

 

"Huh?" Mark said. St. Peter realized his mistake.

 

"Garbage, I suppose is the word I am looking for. You mortals have such a vast vocabulary." St. Peter recovered quickly. Mark, however, still didn't get it.

 

Maybe it was the tremendous blow he had taken to his head during the accident. St. Peter kept watching him, not quite knowing how else to put it. Mark would just have to figure this one out on his own, and seemed to be having such a hard time doing so.

 

"Mr. Calaway, I am going to give you another chance. I'm sure God will probably be upset with me, but you see, the seventh level of hell is not a nice one. And I'd like to see you redeem yourself. In your younger life you were quite extraordinary. Basketball. Lovely sport! Then professional wrestling. That suited you very well. I can't honestly say when you started to slip. Only you can." St. Peter stopped again, letting this sink in with Mark. He could see some thoughts moving around in Mark's head.

 

"Did you say SEVEN levels of hell?" Mark asked.

 

"Oh yes, Mr. Calaway, to be sure. Seven levels. Some hotter than others. Starting with what we call the Toasty level, just far enough from the inferno to keep your feet warm, down to the last level. The one we refer to as the Crispy Critter level. Another nasty term we picked up from the humans. Most assuredly the worst level, Mr. Calaway. Make no mistake." St. Peter still watched Mark carefully, gaging his reaction.

 

"Come, Mr. Calaway. Come with me. Let's talk about what to do for you. How to make things right for you. Believe it or not, Mr. Calaway, I don't enjoy sending your humans to Hell. It is a nasty job." he said as he returned to the path to the gates of Heaven.

 

"And you can help me?" Mark said bewildered.

 

"Mr. Calaway, to be perfectly honest with you, I am your ONLY hope." St. Peter said firmly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 5

 

St. Peter walked Mark through the Pearly Gates of Heaven and Mark was amazed. Beautiful way beyond the imagination. Peaceful. Serene. Not too hot, not too cold. Perfect was the only word that came to Mark's mind.

 

"Yes, Mr. Calaway, it is isn't it? Perfect?" St. Peter said. Mark grinned as he remembered the old angel's amazing capacity to read minds.

 

They walked down the path to a group of trees. Under these trees was beautiful wicker furniture with bright cushions to sit on. They sat down, and St. Peter noticed that Mark was busy taking in all his surroundings.

 

"You thought it would be all formal with gold and gilt, did you not?" St. Peter said.

 

"Yeah, I guess." Mark replied.

 

"Well, God decided we needed to town down some, make things a little easier to deal with, not quite so stuffy." St. Peter said.

 

"Yeah. Ok." Mark said as he settled into the chair.

 

Both men were quiet just taking in the surroundings. Finally, Mark got enough nerve to speak.

 

"You are my only hope, is that what you said?" Mark asked.

 

"Yes, Mr. Calaway. I am your only hope." he answered.

 

"HE listens to you?" Mark asked.

 

"The only one, Mr. Calaway." he answered. Mark continued to sit quietly for a bit.

 

"I was bad, wasn't I?" he asked quietly.

 

"Your conduct with these women was reprehensible, Mr. Calaway. Absolutely shocking! The very idea of wanting someone to have sex with you while you were on the telephone! Mr. Calaway, really!" St. Peter said indignantly.

 

"And they did!" Mark exploded.

 

 

 

 

 

"Of course, they did, Mr. Calaway. You bullied them, dominated them, harassed them until they did exactly as you said. You toyed with them, told them you cared for them, that you loved them. A lie, Mr. Calaway, all lies in order to get what YOU ultimately wanted. You broke these women down, playing with a very deadly weapon, Mr. Calaway. Their emotions. Their hearts. With no respect or regard for them. Then callously threw them by the wayside, did you not, Mr. Calaway?" St. Peter demanded.

 

"All these women wanted was to tell their friends they had fucked the Undertaker! That's all they wanted. Every damned one of them!" Mark growled. "They hurt me just as much! MORE! They hurt me!" Mark said. "When I love, I love hard and deep. They hurt me." he whispered.

 

"They hurt you? Couldn't relate to you as simply Mark? Only as the Undertaker? So, you treated them as you did. And that is your definition of love? That is shit, as you mortals so eloquently say, Mr. Calaway, and you know it!" St. Peter said angrily!

 

The heavens rumbled and for a few minutes the area grew dark and a light wind had picked up. The rumbling continued. St. Peter hung his head. "Forgive me, Lord. Sometimes I forget and speak as the mortals do. Forgive me." St. Peter said quietly. The skies immediately cleared. Sun returned to shining, an all was well again.

 

"Forgiveness. Is it always that easy?" Mark asked.

 

"No, Mr. Calaway. Forgiveness is not that easy. HE knows how I am. I speak quickly, without thinking sometimes. But, I really mean no harm. You, however, did harm with your deceitful ways and cutting words. Words, Mr. Calaway, actions that wounded the soul." St. Peter said.

 

"Ok, I get your point. They were saints and I was shit. I got it now. But, how do I turn this shit into a saint? Obviously that is what I am going to have to do. So, tell me. What do I do?" Mark said tiredly.

 

"You sound defeated, Mr. Calaway. Do you feel defeated, as well?" St. Peter asked. "Do you really want to repent of your sins? It is not as easy as it sounds. Saying "I'm sorry" does not always make things right. And I guarantee you right now, not all of these women will be so forgiving, so just be sure you are aware of the setbacks." St. Peter said.

 

Mark frowned. Not forgiving? That would be strange.

 

 

 

"The number of women you have degraded are too numerous to mention. I have picked a few and you will work through those. Again, as I say, Mr. Callaway, not all will forgive." the old angel said.

 

"Hmmmmmm." Mark said. Then after a few minutes thought he said, "OK, and just who are these women? And what exactly do I have to do?" Mark snapped.

 

"Always the impatient one, aren’t you?" St. Peter grinned. "Well now, if I gave you the information that would make your job entirely too easy, and I certainly don't want that. I want you to learn something from this, as hard as it might be." St. Peter said.

 

Mark frowned as the air grew still and the surroundings got extremely quiet. As Mark's confusion grew, St. Peter gently waived his hand causing Mark to fall into a deep sleep.

 

"Gabrielle?" The old angel called.

 

"Here, sir." came the voice from behind the trees.

 

"Ah! There you are! So you have heard everything, my boy?" St. Peter asked.

 

"Yes sir. I heard enough. At least it wasn't children that he had a problem with, but women! Why are you going to help him? I don't understand." Gabrielle said.

 

"Because I think there is goodness in him. Kindness. A capacity to love and be loved in return, it is just hard for us to see." St. Peter said thoughtfully.

 

"Yeah, you are right. I don't see it." Gabrielle growled. "But, you have always had a soft spot. But, what exactly do you want me to do?" he asked.

 

"Go with him, Gabrielle. Protect him. His will be a rough journey. And the others will want him too." St. Peter said.

 

Gabrielle knew the hounds of hell would always be close.

 

"Go with him, Gabrielle. Be close to him, always close." the old man said as he rose leaving Gabrielle in charge of a man who's journey to forgiveness would be much like the life he had led. Unruly. Reckless. And down a path strewn with difficulties.

 

God watches over fools and children.

 

This man would be on his own.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 6

 

 

 

Mark slept the sleep of one who had been to the ends of the Earth and back. The sleep of the dead, as the humans called it. Deep. Resting. Rejuvenating sleep.

 

Gabrielle watched him sleep like this for 3 days and nights. The longer he watched him sleep, the more resentful he became. He wanted to personally kick Mark's ass for how he had treated these women and he wanted to kick his ass because St. Peter wanted him to look out for Mark. Look out for Mark! PFFT! He wanted to be looking out for Mark when he walked right in front of a bus! Now THAT would make him feel REAL good.

 

Thunder rumbled in the background and Gabrielle knew someone was displeased. "I know, I know." Gabrielle mumbled. "It isn't for me to decide." he grumbled.

 

St. Peter appeared to Gabrielle. "My son. You know it is for Mark to decide, and no one else. He has to figure out where he went wrong with each woman I send to him and make the situation right."

 

"It just seems unfair." Gabrielle mumbled. "Second chances. I just don't get it!" He whined.

 

St. Peter put his hand on his arm. "And what would you change, my big friend? What would you change if you could?" St. Peter asked.

 

Gabrielle grinned, knowing immediately what he would change if he could. "I would have eaten more cheeseburgers! OH! And ice cream!" He was almost drooling. St. Peter laughed at Gabrielle's enthusiasm, he remembered well how he loved to eat.

 

"OOHHHHH! Fried pickles, too! Holy Shit!" he exclaimed. And St. Peter let that one slide.

 

"And sex." Gabrielle said quietly. "I didn't get to have enough sex." he growled. "And children. I would have loved to have children with the right woman." he whispered.

 

 

 

St. Peter could feel his friend's frustration. He was taken tragically at a young age. Gabrielle was one that even St. Peter would never understand. God had a definite plan, to be sure. But Gabrielle would have been a good husband and a wonderful father. A wonderful man.

 

Yes, St. Peter didn't understand those circumstances himself. In a world where children lacked loving parents and a good home, there had been Gabrielle. And now he was here with the angels. And, he had to say, he was glad for that.

 

Then there was Mark. A total opposite. One who left a string of women who's egos had been badly abused, and he is given another chance. A chance for what? To do it all again? For it all to be a lie? St. Peter just shook his head.

 

He hoped Mark truly understood what was expected of him, and was able to make a difference. He only hoped the Lord would be pleased with the outcome.

 

And if he wasn't, then he hoped he, St. Peter, would be on vacation at the time!

 

 

 

CHAPTER 7

 

 

 

Mark woke hours later, stiff and sore from laying for such a long time. It was dark outside and he could hear a light rain on the window. He lay there silently wondering where in the hell he was now. Well, maybe Hell wasn't exactly the right choice of word. Maybe this had all been a bad dream.

 

He decided he was in a hotel room, he had sure been in allot of those in his life. He wiggled around slightly, just to be sure he was ok. Yep! Everything felt in the right place.

 

His right hand drifted under the covers, feeling for his lower extremities. He breathed a sigh of relief. Yeah! Everything was ok! Maybe this was just a horrible dream, he thought as he slipped out of bed.

 

Man! He smelled funky, and felt crusty, like he had been sleeping for days! A shower would be the thing to do. He made his way to the bathroom, stopping to use the toilet before he got into the shower. He stood forever in front of that toilet, pissing like there was no tomorrow.

 

And as he stood there peeing what seemed like gallons, his bowels rumbled, and he farted continually, loud and long, ending both bodily functions with a resounding belch.

 

He chuckled as he shook off the little fellow and looked around for towels and soap, scratching himself as he looked for the articles.

 

Gabrielle was lurking outside the half opened door, along with St. Peter when the combined stenches hit him.

 

"DAMN!" Gabrielle yelled, forgetting himself once again. St. Peter rolled his eyes at Gabrielle's outburst, and at the raunchy smell, and pulled a delicate square handkerchief from under his robes and placed it over his nose, temporarily stopping the smell. The thunder rolled again.

 

"Mortals!" Gabrielle said disgustedly. St. Peter only nodded, not yet removing the handkerchief from his nose.

 

They heard Mark fart again as he bent over to turn on the shower.

 

Gabrielle looked at St. Peter, whining all the while. "Oh come on! Do I HAVE to stay with him? Anyone who can fart like that can definitely take care of himself! He don't need me, and I can SURE live without that!" Gabrielle whined as another blast occurred from the shower area.

 

"Humans!" Gabrielle mumbled under his breath, afraid to breathe in too deeply because of the smell.

 

"To be sure!" St. Peter said as he slapped Gabrielle on the back. The burping and farting continued again, each round further dampening Gabrielle's enthusiasm for helping Mark in the least little bit.

 

St. Peter chuckled as he told Gabrielle before he left them on their own.

 

"This human, as we now know him, will definitely miss cheeseburgers too, eh?" and he disappeared again.

 

Leaving Gabrielle standing there listening to yet another round of blasting from the shower.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 8

 

Mark paced the room after his shower, restless, nervous. Ok. He had gotten this far, what did he need to do now? There were all these women he had hurt. Even he couldn't tell how many, or where they were. What did he do? Wait to find them? Or would they come to him? And how in the world would they accept him, if he did find them?

 

 

 

This was too much for his addled brain. They had sent him back here to make amends. No instructions, no nothing. He felt so alone. And now, not even that goofy Gabrielle or whatever he called himself was around. No one was ever around when you needed them!

 

The thoughts in his mind kept moving and swirling around and around. How in the blue hell was he going to fix things? How could he make things right, when he didn't know who he had wronged!? His head hurt! Maybe he just needed to sleep. Never mind that he had just slept for days. Yeah! Sleep!

 

He crawled into the hotel bed, slipping into the cool sheets. They felt soothing on his skin. He relaxed little by little as sleep gradually over took him, until it finally pulled him totally under.

 

Gabrielle watched silently from the shadows, undetected by Mark. He would just love to see Mark falter and fall right on his face! But, St. Peter would not be happy with him, and neither would God. That might not be such a good thing.

 

He listened to Mark's deep, even breathing, letting him know that he was soundly asleep. And Gabrielle finally walked out of the dark shadows into the room.

 

As he watched Mark sleep, he thought to himself. "You stupid mortal! Do you think you will find these women on you own? PFFT! You couldn't find your ass with both hands, much less all the women you have wronged!" He was greatly exasperated.

 

There was a small flicker of lightning and a rumble of thunder.

 

"I know! I know!" Gabrielle said.

 

He stood there in the edge of the shadows, then mockingly said, "Why Mark! You don't need to worry about a thing! I will be there for you, each step of the way, holding your hand! Right there with you!" Then under his breath he said,
"You dumbass!"

 

This time the thunder was resounding! Rattling the room in it's intensity.

 

"Oh! All right! I'll behave!" Gabrielle said as he looked up towards the ceiling. The last thunder blast had roused Mark slightly from his sleep, and Gabrielle waited quietly until he quietened down a bit. Then he started to work.

 

He moved closer to Mark, holding his hands out towards him as if he were reaching out to touch him. And, to an extent he was, reaching out to his memory. To the first woman. The first woman to decide for Mark.

 

 

 

The soft gentle woman from Columbia that Mark had hounded. He met her through a tag group. He built up her broken heart only to crush her spirit with absolutely no remorse, no regret. No feeling. This fragile Southern flower, crushed and left to die of a broken heart.

 

Gabrielle knew the details of this one. And he knew how far she had come. "Fuck you!" were nasty words. Hurtful and degrading, and Gabrielle only hoped she flung those hurtful words right back in Mark's face. Oh yeah! That would be so sweet! OH SWEET! That reminded him!

 

He waived his hand and the soft, subtle fragrance of Ralph Lauren's Romance filled Mark's senses. Snippets of conversations passed through his brain.

 

"I'm a mess, Mark. I've had to restart my life. I have moved to a new city and started a new job, have a new house. It has been hard. But, I am trying to get better." the soft voice told him. "Please just bear with me. He told me he never loved me. I was a meal and a fuck, and that is all. He was married. It leaves a hole in your soul when you find something out like this. His name was David." the soft voice said.

 

"I miss you when you don't come to me. I want to be your friend. Just let me in. I care so much for you, and I don't know why, but I do. You ARE somebody! You are special to me! Let me in, you won't be sorry. Come to me, know the REAL me!" he heard his own voice saying.

 

He smiled in his sleep as he remembered her kindness, her gentleness. He also remembered her fear and her hesitation.

 

Then his biting words echoed in his mind. "YOU are a whore! And that is all you will ever be! A nasty whore! No wonder he left you! Nobody wants you! Leave ME alone! Fuck you!" the words echoed through his mind, loudly. "Fuck you!" repeating over and over.

 

He sat up in bed, immediately knowing who the first woman would be. He was sweating and his heart beat so fast and hard in his chest. He sat there in the dark, his breathing ragged and uneven.

 

"Nobody wants you! And they never will! YOU could have had something good! I could have made you blossom. But you loose! You loose!" The angry words echoing in his mind.

 

"YOU loose, Victoria!" he remembered as he closed his eyes against the memory.

 

He settled back down in the darkness of his room and in the back of his mind he could see her as if she were still standing in front of him. A small and fragile beauty with softly shining coffee brown hair and large crystal blue eyes. Eyes that reflected an ocean of pain. An ocean of pain that he he had inflicted.

 

He lay back slowly on the pillows, the image of her haunting him.

 

"You loose, Calaway! You loose!" he thought to himself sadly as his eyes finally closed again in sleep.

 

"Yeah, you son of a bitch, I hope you do!" Gabrielle couldn't stop that thought from escaping his mind, even if it brought God to stand right before him. And strangely enough, there was no thunder this time. Only quiet.

 

He sat about quickly establishing more memories for Mark. Memories that would lead him to Victoria.

 

Round one had officially begun.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 9

 

 

 

Mark remembered walking around in this area before. The buildings and surroundings very familiar to him. The sounds of the city spurring memories.

 

Seattle. A beautiful city. Lots of traffic and fresh air. He had worked a Wrestlemania here and won. Now that seemed like a million forever’s ago.

 

He just stood there for a moment taking the sights of the city in, feeling lost and alone. He would even be glad to see Gabrielle now. Damn! He couldn't believe that he had thought that! He had always been a loner, but now a familiar face would be nice.

 

He stood watching the crowd of people walking on the sidewalks. Then he caught the slightest whiff of perfume. Soft. Airy. Feminine. The hair on his neck stood up. Gabrielle watched him disguised by the hordes of people.

 

"Yeah, zero in on her, you schmuck! That's right!" Gabrielle thought.

 

Then, Mark saw her. Standing on the edge of the crowd with a man. The man had his arm gently around her waist and he was bent low, speaking softly into her hair. Mark felt a twinge of jealousy as the man bent further and kissed the woman. As he moved away from her, Mark could see that she was pregnant, not very far along, but definitely pregnant. She looked very happy. She actually glowed.

 

The couple parted with the man moving towards a parking lot across the street. The woman stood there watching him leave before she moved to the building through the glass doors.

 

Mark watched as the man pulled away in a Mercedes SUV then turned his attention to where he had seen the woman go in. He could see her waiting patiently for the elevators, holding her purse and briefcase. She looked wonderful, professional. Her coffee colored curly slightly unruly. Beautiful.

 

His words came back to haunt him as she walked into the elevator and the doors closed.

 

"You are a nasty whore! A nasty whore! I wouldn't put myself in you if you begged me too! You bitch! Don't ever try to contact me again. You are worthless!" his angry words kept playing over and over in his mind. "You are a whore!"

 

He stood there watching the numbers light up indicating what floor she was going to. It was the 6th floor. Suddenly, he couldn't breathe. He felt as if hands were tightening around his throat and the life was being squeezed right out of him. He had to get out and turned to exit the building the way he came in. He didn't see Gabrielle watching him as he stood outside the building gulping huge amounts of air.

 

Gabrielle came over to Mark, leading him to a bench, shoving his head between his legs to slow his breathing down. Gabrielle thought to himself as he held Mark's head down between his legs that he probably just needed to go on and kiss his stupid ass goodbye. He was bent over for it, might as well make it happen, but Mark got in control and slowly raised up. He turned to see Gabrielle with a ticked off look on his face.

 

"Now you decide to show up! Where in the hell have you and your sorry ass been? I've been here alone! And where have you been?" Mark growled.

 

"What's the matter, dude? Did ya miss me? " Gabrielle said sarcastically.

 

"Still your typical pain in the ass, huh? Are you always so friggin smug?" Mark growled, annoyed that Gabrielle choose this moment to come back.

 

"Let me tell you something, buddy! Unfortunately, I am always around, just like THEY are!" and he pointed to the lurking hounds of Hell. "I'm always looking out for your sorry ass, but remember this, so are they! You want to do this alone? Fine by me!" Gabrielle said as he stormed off leaving Mark to ponder his mess.

 

Shit!

 

What a mess!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 10

 

Victoria had been working for quite some time on the employment contract for an executive for one of her companies. She was tired. It was a little past 3pm and the only sounds you could hear were the computer key strokes made by her secretary, Tina.

 

Jonathan was out for the afternoon having a lunch appointment with a client, then another appointment later this afternoon. He would be back later and promised to take her out for dinner tonight. He always kept his promises.

 

She looked at the photographs she had scattered around her office. Jonathan had been her salvation. And that was the truth. She worked for Jonathan in Columbia when she was with David. She shuttered just thinking of David. Even now, thinking of David her cringe.

 

She loved him with every ounce of her being, or so she thought. She was young and thought she knew what she wanted. She moved in with David and quickly became totally wrapped up in his life.

 

Her own father called her a whore for living with David, never allowing her to come back home. Totally turning his back on her. And her mother lived in her father's world, and was a helpless victim of his domination.

 

Victoria and David lived together for 2 years. Occasionally his business would take him away from her for a few nights every few weeks. She was perfectly happy. David bought the home they lived in and gave her money to furnish it as she wanted. He also gave her money to run the household, not wanting her to spend her money. They never talked about marriage.

 

Her memories took her back to the day she came home from work to find David already home. He had been away for several days and she was overjoyed to see him, but he was cold and distant. She didn't understand. He quickly explained things to her. Enlightened her.

 

He didn't love her, he had never loved her. She was just a good time. A good meal. A steady fuck. He was never going to marry her, because he was already married. On the nights he wasn't with her, he was in the town about 100 mines away, with his wife. The woman he loved. Not Victoria.

 

He had packed his clothes, leaving her with everything. He wanted nothing. She didn't even remember calling Jonathan, but obviously she did. He came to her immediately and she went to pieces right before his eyes. How could anyone do this to another human being?

 

Jonathan realized then that he cared for her, but she would never allow him to be close. She called him "The Troll" and that is all he would ever be.

 

There were tears rolling down her cheeks when she came out of her fog. Tina had come in to check on her, then freaked out when she saw the tears. She immediately wanted to call Jonathan, but Victoria adamantly said no! She was fine. It was just the hormone thing, not to call Jonathan. Tina reluctantly left her alone.

 

Victoria had no idea where these memories had come from or why. She thought she had shut them away when Mark left her. She hadn't thought about any of this for such a long time.

 

CHAPTER 11

 

Victoria busied herself in her work for the next few hours. The work taking her mind off the memories. Terrible memories.

 

Tina went home, leaving her all alone. She took a bathroom break for a bit, then came back to her desk. She could see out the window at the dusky Seattle skyline. She loved it here. She and Jonathan had decided to live here permanently. They had moved from city to city before finally coming here. Murfreesboro, Boston, Dallas and Little Rock before finally locating here to Seattle. They had gone through many changes.

 

She sat back at her desk, restless, unable to concentrate. She leaned back in her chair and the memories started again.

 

She remembered the group she joined. Then she remembered Mark. She had to smile, how could you forget him? She joined his group wife's group first. She thought the group would be good for her, and at first it was. She remembered how kind Mark was. How sweet he was.

 

He came to her almost immediately asking her to chat. But her hurt was still too fresh, the wound still too open. And she couldn't do it. He gave her his number and told her to call him. He cared for her. He sent her beautiful tags and she was appreciative, but she was still hurting. He messaged her quite often wanting to talk to her, ease her hurt. But she would avoid him. She would respond through the group. And then he became possessive.

 

"Victoria, I saw your email to the group thanking them for the tags. And nothing to me. I know you are online but you won't come to me. I've given you my number, for Christ sakes, but you won't call. I am tired of wasting my time on you. I won't bother you again." he told her angrily.

 

She tried to get him to understand, she still hurt. David's memory still to painful.

 

"Is that what you want? To be his whore? You were a fuck to him, he didn't love you. That was obvious! And now you are letting him get away with hurting you because you are too fucked up to see otherwise!" he hollered at her. "Then go back to him, Victoria! Make him take you back. That is what you want!" he told her.

 

"That's real classy." were his parting words. So, she crawled back in her shell and tried to go on. And for awhile, she was able too. She had kept on in the groups, seeing Mark online, but staying away. And he didn't try to find her.

 

Then after a month of nothing, she got an email from him. Just out of the blue.

 

"Can you give me a minute of your time. I know you have a busy schedule, but can you give me just a minute?" he asked her in the email.

 

She was taking a break in Atlanta and didn't get to respond to him, so he sent her another email a few days later.

 

"I asked you to get in touch with me. Asked you for a few minutes of your time. We need to make some decisions. Are you so busy that you can't do this for me?" he asked her.

 

Her heart was racing as she sat in the chair. A few minutes? What could it possibly hurt. So she did.

 

At first, it was wonderful. He treated her so specially, like she was a cherished and loved woman. Then things quickly became sour again because she didn't call him. Couldn't call him. Hearing his voice would be too much for her to bear, too much. It would make him all too real.

 

But, he continued to pressure her, goading her until she finally did. She broke down and called him. And hearing the emotion in his voice was her total undoing.

 

She called him from the rental car on Friday night, trying to drive through Dallas traffic to get to the airport. Jonathan was with her, and he knew who she was talking to. He kept fiddling with the radio, knowing she was trying hard to talk to him. She had no idea it was eating a hole in him. She was concerned for Mark.

 

She had to cut the conversation off when her cell phone died, just ending the conversation totally, no warning. Her tears scalded her face because he must have thought she had just hung up on him. It must have infuriated him as well. And Jonathan's heart just broke to see her crying for the bastard. Victoria had been through so much, and now this.

 

It was at that very moment that Jonathan realized he loved her. Loved her more than life itself. Never ending. The realization hit him hard. He had never recognized this feeling before.

 

Love.
 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 12

 

 

 

Mark could see her from a distance. He had found an outside break area on the same floor and could see her in her office. Actually it must have been a smoking area, sure smelled like it. As he watched her from the distance he saw Jonathan return to her, and together they got their briefcases and laptops and made their way to their SUV. They made one stop before they finally got home, must have been something for dinner.

 

He followed them from a great distance until they got to their house. The house was open and airy and located on a lake. He could see photographs, flowers, pillows. It seemed to be beautifully decorated all through the house. He heard the chiming of her beloved grandfather clock as well. Then all the lights went off and finally the house was still.

 

As he sat in one of the chairs on the deck he could see the moonlight streaming into the house. His mind replayed his own memories of conversations and words he had said to her. He called her a nasty whore and accused her of having no feelings. But, nasty whore kept exploding in his mind.

 

The tears were running down his face, wetting his shirt and he remembered a time when her tears had done the same thing, and he held her tightly as she sobbed uncontrollably. And he had just held her, letting the tears wash away some of her incredible pain. What he wouldn't give right now to take those hurtful words away. Take her tears away. Ease her pain. But, that would never be.

 

He gazed into the peaceful night, not hearing the padding of bare feet as she walked quietly up behind him. She carefully reached out to touch him as she had done hundreds of times in her dreams. Only this time he was warm and solid, where he had disappeared before in her dreams, always chanting "You loose, Victoria! You loose!" This time was different, he did not. This time the voice in her mind was quiet.

 

"Mark?" she whispered. The big man slowly stood turning to look at her. There she was, truly a vision. The nightgown and robe flowing in the slight breeze, as was her beautiful hair. Even in the moonlight he could see her crystal blue eyes. They were bright with tears. And he could see the obvious shape of her body.

 

"Victoria." her name was a sigh on his lips as he moved the chair to lightly pull her to him, just needing one more time to feel her warmth. She was so small. And she allowed him this, just this once. Needing to feel him this one more time, just as well.

 

She pulled away after a few minutes, realizing he had found her after all this time, why? Did he only want to hurt her again? He read that question in her eyes and quickly tried to banish the thought from her head.

 

"No, Victoria, I am not hear to hurt you. I don't expect anything from you. I only wanted to see you one more time." he said softly.

 

She had sat down in one of the chairs, her legs still unsteady at the sight of him being here on her deck. And in the middle of the night, no less.

 

"Why did you want to see me one more time? You clearly said you never wanted to see me again. You didn't want a whore." her voice broke. Even now saying the words opened the floodgates of pain. Mark's own heart tightened painfully.

 

He got up pacing the deck trying to find the right words to say to her. Only three would come to mind. "I'm so sorry." he murmured. "Victoria, I am so sorry." he said. His own heart breaking. He had never said these words before.

 

Victoria could only sit there quietly in the moonlight as she watched the emotional turmoil that Mark was certainly feeling. She came to him, softly touching his arm.

 

"Mark. There are lessons to be learned everyday. Mistakes that must be made in order for you to learn from them. Some are easy lessons, others are hard. And some you never quite get over." she said quietly. "Sometimes you have to look through some horrible things to see the good. The beauty of life. That is the way it was for me. I have had to look through some terrible things to see that beauty. And I am so thankful that I was able too! I have everything I could possibly want in my life. A house, a husband and now, a child." she said, placing her hand over her belly. "That is all I ever really wanted. The love of a good man. I have that and so much more with Jonathan. He was my salvation. He has been my strength. My hope. He is the reason I am still on this earth because I didn't think I could go on after you." she ended quietly.

 

Mark could see as she said those words the man was indeed everything for her and more. And for a minute jealousy consumed him.

 

"And did you have this man all along, Victoria?" he spat out. "Even when you were seeing me?�

 

Very quietly she replied, "Yes Mark. I did. But I didn't know it until you. Your hurt made me see my future." They were both silent. Both deep in thought.

 

"Mark, Jonathan is "The Troll" remember? He was there all along and I never saw it until you. He picked me up after David, and then again after you. Jonathan allowed me to see I am not a bad person. I am a good woman. I am not a whore. I'm not." She said as tears spilled again.

 

"He made me believe in me. Something you and David managed to destroy, my ability to believe in myself." she whispered.

 

She looked at the French doors to see Jonathan standing there. He had heard everything. His heart ached for this amazing woman. And he thanked God everyday for her and for this child that she now carried. Mark had not seen Jonathan in the shadows.

 

"Victoria, I hope you have a good life." Mark whispered as he turned to her. He saw Jonathan there in the shadows, his hand extended to Victoria beckoning her to come to him. Love and trust the most powerful emotions imaginable.

 

"I do, Mark." she whispered as she walked toward Jonathan's outstretched hands. As she reached him, he lifted her gently in his arms, holding her as if he were afraid she would disappear right before his eyes. And he couldn't live without her. He knew who Mark was and hoped he wasn't here to hurt Victoria further.

 

He turned with her still held tightly in his arms to return her back to the safety of their bed, but she stopped him, just for a moment.

 

"Mark." she said softly. Saying the words she truly felt that his soul needed to hear. "You are forgiven."

 

Jonathan carried her inside, quietly closing the door on Mark.

 

Forever.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 13

 

Mark stood in the shadows long after Victoria said the words. Those three words that meant his very salvation. Oddly enough, he wasn't overjoyed or felt as much like celebrating as he thought he would. He felt humbled. Not at all what he thought.

 

He had put this woman through so much, and still she said the words. His actions had been as unspeakable as David's and she had still said the words, "You are forgiven" just as freely as she had said the words "I love you" to him so long ago. He was amazed at her strength, and ashamed at his lack of.

 

He sank to his knees there on her deck and wept. He wept for Victoria and for himself. And the others he had yet to encounter. He could only imagine how difficult this would all be.

 

He felt a presence behind him and turned to see Gabrielle standing there, watching him intently. Gabrielle couldn't stop the biting words as they came rushing out. "Humility, it's a new feelin for ya, huh? You always have to be the one, don't you? Everything always has to be about you? You self centered son of a bitch! And she forgave you, didn't she?" he sneered.

 

Mark could only hang his head. "She did." he whispered.

 

"Well, you were lucky. This is only one round. One of many, and who knows? You might not be so lucky next time." Gabrielle spat.

 

"Why do you hate me so much?" Mark asked Gabrielle. "What have I done to you?" Gabrielle didn't have an answer. It was something he didn't quite understand himself.

 

"You have everything, Gabrielle, and I have nothing." Mark said quietly.

 

Gabrielle didn't know what to say. His own heart ached for something, he just didn't know what. Couldn't put a name to it.

 

Forgiveness.

 

Maybe Gabrielle needed to learn the lesson too.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 14

 

Sleep. Peaceful, rejuvenating, sleep. Balm for the soul. It was the dreams that seemed to be the worst. But the dreams were the instructions that Mark needed. Clues for him to identify the woman and the circumstance.

 

Gabrielle liked Mark much better when he slept. No yapping, and of yet, no farting either. Much better!

 

He always stayed close to Mark watching over him as he slept. Feeding him clues while he slept.

 

St. Peter came while Mark slept as well. This time was no different. And, Gabrielle was always glad to see the old man. St. Peter appeared this time quietly, as he always did. No fanfare. No harps. Just quietly.

 

"I heard the news of his first victory. Quite a good thing I should think." St. Peter said.

 

"Yeah, I guess." Gabrielle muttered.

 

They sat together in the quiet for a bit, both angels thinking. Finally, St. Peter spoke.

 

"Gabrielle, you were chosen for to be an angel for your compassion, your goodness, your heart. That is truly why I choose you. I felt Mark needed a strong spirit to lead him down this difficult path. And you are strong. You were a good man, Gabrielle. You are an excellent angel. It is a privilege to be chosen. You know this, don't you?" St. Peter asked.

 

"Yes. I know this, and I am humbled, I truly am. I just don't understand Mark. Why him? I just don't get it!" Gabrielle said.

 

"We don't ask why, Gabrielle, even I don't ask why. It is God's will. Not yours or mine. We only carrier out his wishes. The messengers, so to speak. We ask no questions. You know this." St. Peter said.

 

"Yes, you are right. I do know this." Gabrielle said softly.

 

"Now, what is next for our big friend?" St. Peter asked. "Something simple or a little more difficult?"

 

"I'm not quite sure yet. There are several possibilities. Thought I might be a little easy this time. He has been asleep for quiet awhile. The last one took allot out of him. He hasn't moved!" Gabrielle said.

 

"That decision I will leave up to you, my boy. You know better than anyone how to work him, within reason, of course." St. Peter said.

 

Gabrielle shook his head. "I think this next one will be easy for him, then I will test his ability, so to speak." Gabrielle said and he sent a visual image to St. Peter. The images were shocking to the old man.

 

"Oh my! Yes, well, she will be extremely difficult, painful too. This next one might need to be easy, whatever the outcome because the others will certainly take a toll on him, even painful for him in the end. Don't you agree?" St. Peter said with a wicked grin, letting Gabrielle know he was aware of the future outcomes and would offer no objections. He then left Gabrielle alone to ponder.

 

Oh yes, Mark would definitely get his eventually. In the end.

 

How terribly appropriate!

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 15

 

Gabrielle had to admit, he couldn't wait for Mark to feel some of the wrath he knew some of these women would have. He knew Mark was definitely in for some hard times, and it made him giggle with glee!

 

But, for now, he wanted this next one to go rather smoothly. It needed to go smoothly.

 

He waited for a few minutes then sent thoughts to Mark. Snippets of music to help him along. Mark could hear the music, as if if were some type of ceremony. "Pomp and Circumstance" was proudly playing. Voices were buzzing around softly. He could see the auditorium full of people vaguely in his sleep, but couldn't remember why he might be there.

 

Sleep tried to claim him again, but the music kept bringing him right to the brink of wakefulness. This time when he fully awoke he was sitting in a crowd of people. The were clapping and whistling, cheering happily. People in long gowns and caps were filing quietly into the auditorium.

 

"Holy shit!" he thought. This looked like a high school graduation! What the...then he focused on the kids. He didn't know anyone graduating from high school. Those kids were waaaayyyyy off limits for him!

 

"Jailbait" popped into his mind along with a guff from Gabrielle. Mark felt suddenly sick. Hot and sweaty. Then cold and clammy at the same time. The air was suddenly thick.

 

"Oh God! Not this!" he thought, sick at what this truly meant.

 

"Oh hell yeah!" Gabrielle's giggle came back to him. "That's it, you pervert!" Gabrielle was enjoying this entirely too much.

 

Mark turned to see the girl who had grown into a truly beautiful woman.

 

The woman was Cassandra.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 16

 

 

 

Almost instantly when his mind whispered her name, she turned to look in his direction. Her beautiful brown eyes scanning the crowd. A shiver ran through his body. She looked older, wiser. Then he realized she had looked right past him. Good. This would give him some time to think.

 

"Yeah think! When did you learn to think? And what exactly are you thinking with?" Gabrielle sent Mark the thought and Mark's body stiffened.

 

"Where are you, you son of a bitch?" Mark thought back.

 

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Gabrielle shot the thought right back at him.

 

"Yeah! If I knew where you were, I would kick the shit out of you!" Mark thought angrily as he nervously ran his fingers through his hair.

 

"Yeah sure! You and who's army?" Gabrielle smirked.

 

Mark was livid. When was this gonna end? He thought as the speaker started the ceremony. Mark was still so mad he was shaking. If he ever got his hands on that bastard, Gabrielle, he would strangle him and enjoy the shit out of it.

 

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." Gabrielle said. "You don't want to hurt me. I am your friend." Gabrielle snorted, then Mark could tell he was gone.

 

"Who needs you?" Mark barked.

 

"You will, my friend. You will." Where Gabrielle's parting words.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 17

 

 

 

Mark sat in the crowd going over the events in his head. Cassandra. He would never have thought in a million years she would be one he would need to ask forgiveness from.

 

Then suddenly, he remembered why. Oh God! His mind replayed the memory.

 

"Mark, I am only a kid." the voice said. "I can't do this with you."

 

He was almost physically ill. The memory of the conversations and the things he had asked her to do. The things he had demanded that she do!

 

This time, he was sick, running from the auditorium as if a demon were chasing him. And they were. The hounds of hell.

 

Gabrielle had told him earlier that God did not find forgiveness for sins against women and children. Yet, here he was.

 

He made it outside the building and down the steps before he was no longer able to hold back the horrible retching. Violently he wretched into the bushes, unable to stop the waves of nausea that consumed him.

 

As his stomach finally calmed, he was able to lower himself to a grassy patch there by the bushes as he tried to stop the trembling of his body.

 

Bloody hell! The more his mind replayed some of their conversations, the sicker he felt again. He remembered the flirting, the teasing. The way she said his name when she was embarrassed by something he said.

 

He shook his head as if trying to shake the thoughts but found he was still extremely light headed. He probably looked much like a serial killer sitting there in the dark, all in leather. But he didn't care.

 

He scooted back until he was leaning against the cool brick of the building. And for just a few moments he allowed himself to drift back in time to when he spoke with her. Her voice had attracted him immediately. She had an infectious giggle when she spoke, and he loved that.

 

She wasn't afraid to talk to him. Him. Mark. She didn't compare him to the Undertaker, his character. She always knew what she wanted and she hadn't been afraid of his temper. And on more than one occasion she had challenged him, verbally giving him back just as good as he gave. She also made him crazy.

 

She started things with him and never backed down, not once. And why should she? She was young and easily led, and he led her right where he shouldn't have, even after knowing she was so young. He wanted her for himself, and as young as she was she would have allowed it.

 

 

 

But when he persisted, it scared her, she admitted that she was young, still in high school, and the reality of what he had done was devastating. He had approached a child for sex, and was in the process of setting things up to meet with her!

 

Things proceeded to be nasty from there. She had lied to him, putting him in dangerous position. Did she have any idea?

 

No, she was infatuated with the character. The man should have known better.

 

"When did life get so damned complicated." he thought.

 

"When I let my dick do my thinking for me, that's when." he muttered out loud. Bitterly.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 18

 

He sat there for a long time, letting the night blow all around him, cooling him. He was trying to fight the bouts of nausea, and having a hard time at that.

 

"You look as if you might need this." a voice came from the darkness. He never heard the foot steps, but the voice he would remember forever. He looked up into incredibly warm brown eyes that were watching him intently.

 

She was just as beautiful now as she was then, even more so. She had matured. Grown up.

 

She stretched her hand out to him again. "I think you probably do need this." she said quietly, as he reached for the cool, wet towel. He rubbed his face and neck with the cool cloth hoping the cold from it would help his shaky stomach. He removed it from his eyes to see that Cassandra had bunched up her robe and was sitting on the ground beside him.

 

"I saw you in the crowds as I walked down the isle, then I watched as you kinda turned a lovely shade of green and ran outta there. I figured then that you must have recognized me. Must have made you sick. Imagine that!" she said rolling her eyes.

 

"I know I was shocked to see you there, after all this time. Why Mark?" she was looking him squarely in the eyes the entire time she spoke to him. Not in the least afraid of him, even though he had threatened her at one time.

 

She was still angry, the years had lessened it, but it had not stopped it. Not by any means.

 

She stood up abruptly, suddenly unable to stand the thought of sitting close to him.

 

"Why now, Mark? After all this time? What are you trying to prove? That you can still control me? You can still use me?" she asked angrily.

 

"Is that it?" she asked him again when he didn't speak. "Do you think that you can still hurt me?" she sneered. She stood above him with her robe blowing softly in the night, the breeze gently blowing her hair.

 

"No." he said softly. He had stood up watching her as the emotions played out on her face. She was shaking.

 

"You're damn right, no! You will never hurt me again, because I won't allow it. I am no longer a child, Mark. I am grown!" she said a little bit for her benefit as well as his.

 

"Cassandra, I am sorry." he began. He moved toward her, holding his hands out as if to touch her. But she quickly stepped back and as she did she looked him squarely in the face again. Fire shooting from her eyes.

 

"Sorry? Yes, that about covers it, doesn't it? Saying I'm sorry, Cassandra, that I took advantage of you, then dropped you as if you were nothing, that makes it all right? And that is why, Mark? Because you said so? Because that makes you feel better and makes it easier to live with yourself? Doesn't matter how I felt, huh? How used and abused I felt. And how stupid I felt, because I loved you so much." she said softly. "It didn't matter that I wasn't old enough to know what love was. You took anyway, with no regard! No remorse!"

 

She stopped looking at his face. The face she had loved so much then, was now a stranger to her. And this stranger looked so lost and alone.

 

"You know Mark, for a long time, I thought I was bad because of how I felt about you and the things I did with you. And it ate me up inside. I didn't think I could ever be with anyone else or be able to love anyone else. Hell, Mark! I wasn't sure I could even love myself or get to the point where I could make myself happy. And if you can't make yourself happy, then there is no hope for anyone else. So, I have to say, I learned a great deal from you. Whether I wanted to or not." she said bitterly. She stood quietly for a few minutes, then continued on.

 

"I can't change what happened, obviously, it is done and in the past. But, only I can change what happens in the future. I had to learn that in order to get better and to go on you have to learn to forgive. I had to first learn how to forgive myself because I was young and stupid. And when I learned that and allowed that forgiveness, things have been easier and I have gone on." she drew a quiet breath. Neither of them spoke.

 

 

 

"Cass! Where are you? We are going on to the party." a voice in the night said. "Are you coming?" they asked.

 

"Be right there." she replied.

 

They were both quiet again. Cassandra reached out her hand to touch his arm. "Thank you for coming, I don't know why you would have, or how you knew. But thank you." she said.

 

She watched his face for a few minutes more then removed her hand to leave. She had taken a few steps away when he called out.

 

"Cassandra!"

 

She turned around to see him standing there, the breeze blowing his jacket.

 

"You've grown into a beautiful woman. Thank you for seeing me, one more time." he said softly.

 

"You are welcome." she replied as she walked away. Their conversation baffled her, she still wasn't sure exactly what he wanted with her. Surely not just to see her graduate from high school.

 

As she walked away she realized what he wanted. He wanted her to be able to forgive him. She stopped when she realized this and turned around, he was still standing in the same spot, and she knew that was what he wanted. And she found no matter how much she wanted to say those words, she couldn't. Not now.

 

Instead she said, "Mark, forgiveness comes from within. It isn't something that I can give you. Look inside yourself to find it." she softly said.

 

He nodded his head and she turned away from him to walk silently into the night.

 

"Look to myself for forgiveness." he thought. "Well, I guess that is true. But, how can I ask any of them to forgive me, when I don't know if I can forgive myself?" he thought sadly.

 

His heart was now truly heavy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 19

 

 

 

Gabrielle and St. Peter watched Mark from the shadows.

 

Gabrielle finally said out loud, "OUCH! That one had to hurt too! And, so will the others. She was truthful with him, but it still must have thrown him for a loop." he mused.

 

"Truthful? Yes. And very wise indeed, the young one." St. Peter agreed.

 

"But, she didn't really forgive him, will that count?" Gabrielle asked.

 

St. Peter looked around thoughtfully, then looked up to see the hounds of hell waiting, their breath hot with anticipation of being able to grab another lost soul.

 

"Wow! They are moving quick with this one!" Gabrielle exclaimed.

 

"Yes. I've heard the Devil himself is interested in this one and is pushing quite hard for him. Quite hard." St. Peter said quietly.

 

"Ya think the devil will win this time?" Gabrielle asked. St. Peter only nodded towards Mark, as he still quietly remained where Cassandra had left him.

 

"Only he knows the answer to that question, Gabrielle. Only he knows." St. Peter said.

 

"Let him rest, he will need his strength for the rest to come."

 

Gabrielle only nodded, knowing what the future held for Mark.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 20

 

From the fog of sleep he Mark thought he could smell the acrid scent of burning flesh. Flesh that had been singed slightly, then really burned. He could also detect the strong odor of sweat, urine and other human secretions. And fear. He definitely smelled that as well.

 

He recognized excruciating pain. He dozed fitfully again as there seemed to be lull in the moment.

 

It was the whip cracking that roused him from his slumber. Fear clearly in control of the situation this time, certainly not him. The room where he lay was dark, the smells around him, the sweat, the urine and the smell of sex reeked.

 

His joints ached and he tried to move just a bit to test where he was, and he realized he was the captive, not the captor. This thought immediately made him uneasy. He wanted to be the one in control.

 

He looked around trying to adjust his eyes to this dark room and determine exactly where he might be and what might be going on. His fear made him want to cry out, but his pride wouldn't allow it.

 

He recognized silken cords holding him firmly in place and were suddenly jerked painfully tight, reminding him with authority that HE was the one helpless. HE was not the one in control.

 

A whimper did escape him when he realized fully that he was awake and he was the captive one. He realized he was bound like he had been in his dream, face up and bound by silken restraints. Naked. His body aching from the binding.

 

The room itself hot, as if it were located in Hell itself. And his body was slick with sweat.

 

"Gabrielle?" he called out softly, but the only answer he received was the sting of the whip across his body, tearing the flesh open. Letting his warm blood run freely.

 

"SILENCE! Only speak when you are spoken to!" the voice commanded. It was almost a woman's voice, but yet, not quite.

 

He moved himself struggling around trying to find some relief from his aching body.

 

"BE STILL!" the voice commanded again. At the same time a very few lights came on, allowing him to see that he was indeed bound and in a dungeon.

 

He wanted to call out to Gabrielle again, but he didn't dare risk the sting of the whip. His body was on fire both from the heat and the agony of the whip. He could still feel blood mixed with his sweat as it trailed down his body. The room was unbearable.

 

Maybe sleep was what he needed again. That would take away the pain, and he allowed himself to sink into the black abyss of sleep.

 

He awoke sometime later to the crack of the whip again. His shoulder and hip sockets burned with pain. He realized he was still held by the silken cords, but this time he was suspended on his stomach, legs spread wide open. Vulnerable.

 

He did not like that feeling. The feeling of no control.

 

He listened hard for any sounds that would identify where he was, and finally could hear the faint footsteps, heavy boots. Who ever was there was a man! Maybe one that would help him.

 

His elation was soon again turned to despair when the lights dimmed again casting him into the darkness, and after a short while he heard the rustling of clothes. He felt someone standing quietly between his open legs.

 

"Blind fold him!" a feminine voice spoke. One that was familiar, yet not so familiar.

 

The blind fold was tied tightly in place, no easy task indeed, as Mark struggled against his captors.

 

As quickly as they had started, they finished leaving the one person still standing quietly between his legs. He felt the soft tickling of feathers softly grazing his inner thighs, running over his buttocks. And then soft, warm fingertips came into play.

 

He could feel his dick hardening painfully in pleasure. From under him he could feel lips tracing his nipples, sucking them gently allowing them to become hard nubs. He was unable to stop the moan of pleasure as it escaped his lips. He loved this kind of play, pleasure mixed with pain. The feeling of being taken. And it had been such a long time for him.

 

His erection was painful with the need to release. He continued to feel heat, pleasurable heat. His desire heightened to a fevered pitch knowing someone was standing between his legs. Waiting. Just like him.

 

He felt the soft, gentle fingers again caressing his balls, pushing him just a little further toward the edge. The very edge of sanity.

 

 

 

"Please!" he heard a voice whisper, and realized it was his own voice begging for release. His own desire consuming him so that nothing else mattered to him except his pending orgasm. Then the voice came again from out of the darkness.

 

"FUCK HIM!" the voice commanded and pain splintered through his lower body as with no preparation at all he was violated. Fire was coursing through his body as over and over he was brutally taken. Each time more painful than the last.

 

His screams of pain echoed off the walls of the hell he was in.

 

Screaming.

 

Screaming until he couldn't scream anymore.

 

And his world became once again, silent.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 21

 

She watched him as he lay on the floor having been cut from his silken ropes. His body a bloody, quivering mess. Oddly enough, she felt no remorse as she watched him suffer. No sadness. Only a bitter hatred. Hatred for the man that had made her life a terrible Hell.

 

For him, Hell would be the appropriate place, she imagined. And not just the easy Hell either. But the level of purgatory that is worse than any mortal can possibly imagine. The level that burns you over and over and over. The level that is final.

 

But, would that really satisfy her? To see him forever damned? Even she didn't know for sure.

 

She had felt so in control while he was being punished. As she heard him screaming for mercy. But now that the punishment was over, and he lay there beaten and bleeding, she just didn't know. Now she only doubted herself.

 

His hateful, cruel words echoed in her mind.

 

"You are a whore! A filthy whore! Anyone could use you, anyone at all!" she could still hear these words, and the anger within her started to rebuild.

 

Desperation and anger fueling the flames of her anger. How dare he! How dare he call her those names? Who gave him that right? She had gone through years to make herself strong again, and he destroyed it all in a matter of words! She was not about to let the son of a bitch destroy what she had worked hard to do. Get herself well.

 

"Fuck you, Mark!" she yelled. Just saying the words made her feel better.

 

"Fuck you!" she yelled again and again and again. Each time she yelled, she kicked him as her anger burned like a fire out of control.

 

He roused from his stupor to feel sweat and blood trickling over his body and could see the woman raging above him. Fire seemed to be fanning out all around her.

 

"Blaze!" his foggy mind thought.

 

"Blaze, help me!" he weakly called out to her.

 

She looked at him incredulously.

 

"Help you?" she sneered, as she gave him one last resounding kick.

 

"Oh yes, I will help you!" she replied angrily.

 

And as she kicked him one last time, she said, "And may you rot in Hell!"

 

With a backward glance over her shoulder, she left him lying.

 

Alone.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 22

 

Days passed.

 

Slowly.

 

Day after day and no sign of Mark. No sound. No word. Gabrielle had always had the ability to find someone no matter where they were in the spirit world. But Mark was nowhere to be found.

 

Gabrielle had known this part of Mark's journey would be tough. It would be by far the worst that he knew would be in store for him. But, he also knew he had to leave Mark on his own. Whatever his punishment, he would have to take.

 

But where was he?

 

Gabrielle knew this woman was the angriest of them all. She would hurt Mark the worst. In the end, is what he had told St. Peter.

 

He paced and paced, worrying more and more. Mark was in such a fragile state, not technically dead, but not technically living either. Just in a suspended state of between. And that was a scary place even for Gabrielle. A place of uncertainty. Somewhere even Gabrielle had no control over. There was only one person in control. God. And St. Peter, to some degree.

 

Gabrielle had spoken with St. Peter after the first day that Mark had not returned, but St. Peter had only said Mark was strong and for Gabrielle not to worry. Mark would surface when Mark wanted to. But it had now been several days, and there was still no sign. The longer it stretched out, the more anxious Gabrielle became. And again he went back to St. Peter only to be shooed away and told that Mark was his responsibility, now find him! And Gabrielle came away hurt and dejected. Never had the old man acted in such a manner.

 

Gabrielle returned to a lonely hotel room. And for the first time since he had been in this world he felt an incredible inability. And he was greatly saddened. Maybe he had failed. Not only failed Mark, but himself as well.

 

He moped around the hotel room, touching things that belonged to Mark, trying desperately to establish a link of some kind, anything to reach out to Mark and let him know he was there. He was trying to find him. Only to reach out and touch silence.

 

For the first time in a long time, Gabrielle allowed himself to totally shut down. No light. No sound. Nothing. No movement of any kind. No thoughts. He sat in the center of the bed allowing total peace to be his guide. And still there was absolutely nothing.

 

Gabrielle felt a sorrow deep in his heart, something he had not felt in a long time. A very long time.

 

As his heart bled for the man he couldn't seem to help, he felt so employ. And he opened his heart for the first time and wept. Tears that only an angel could shed.

 

As he wept there in the middle of the room, St. Peter quietly watched. He watched as the big man openly ached for another soul in need. And St. Peter's own heart felt such joy. Gabrielle had proved yet again that he cared, he had just needed some guidance. That guidance had come from Mark. They had learned from each other. And that was a wonderful thing.

 

Gabrielle wept until he was exhausted, the tears washing his anger towards Mark away and his heart opened up like a light through the clouds after a storm to reach into the darkness for Mark.

 

 

 

He could faintly hear Mark calling .

 

"Gabrielle? Gabrielle? Where are you?" he could hear the faint voice.

 

Gabrielle listened hard, trying to hear Mark again.

 

"Gabrielle! Help me!" Mark called to him, his voice weak and full of pain.

 

Gabrielle immediately had an image, one that would haunt him for awhile to come. It was Mark. Beaten and battered. About to cross that treacherous line between being and death.

 

"MARK! NO!" Gabrielle screamed, his senses on full alert as he flew on angel wings to reach his friend.

 

His friend. His friend. Those two words echoing in his mind.

 

He tried to send his thought to Mark, to let him know he was on his way.

 

"Hold on, my friend. We will make our way through this, together. Together!" he whispered these words over and over.

 

And all the while, Mark teetered dangerously on the edge.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 23

 

The stench from the dungeon where Mark had been held was overpowering, even for Gabrielle. Sweat. Human excretions. The smell of sex and the smell of death was rancid, almost causing Gabrielle himself to gag.

 

He pushed his way through the stench and obstacles trying to get to Mark before it was too late. He found him lying in a mass of disgusting muck, and had even walked past him the first time, not recognizing Mark because of the damage to his body.

 

His face was swollen from the numerous kicks to the head he had taken. His nose had been bleeding and was now dried with the crusted blood. His lips swollen and parched. He had been left to die. No food. No water. Nothing. His body was bruised and battered, probably with numerous broken bones as well. Gabrielle felt for a pulse and miraculously felt a very weak one.

 

Mark had lost a lot of blood, Gabrielle could see that. The bottom half of his body spattered and smeared with blood around his buttocks and the tops of his thighs. Gabrielle knew instinctively why that was.

 

The bloody pool at the lower front of Mark's body was what frightened Gabrielle. So much blood! Then suddenly, Gabrielle was terrified that in her wrath Blaze might have done more damage than it appeared.

 

Quickly Gabrielle turned Mark over, bringing a low moan from him. He was relieved to see that she had left everything intact. The blood must have pooled from his injuries from other areas. Gabrielle knew he had been brutally taken over and over and that was the cause of there being so much blood.

 

He looked again at Mark's face to see his green eyes opened and clouded with pain that had to be tormenting him.

 

"Gabrielle!" he whispered. "You found me." his breath shuddering as pain racked his body.

 

"Yes, my friend. I have found you, and I will take care of you." Gabrielle said quietly.

 

Mark whispered as he tried his best to wet his lips. "You should have left me, let me go on to Hell. You should have just left me."

 

Mark watched from half closed eyes as Gabrielle became surrounded by light, and to Mark's utter amazement wings unfolded from Gabrielle's back. Huge, beautiful wings.

 

Gabrielle lifted Mark as tenderly as he could, moving him to get away from the filth and stench.

 

"Now what kind of angel would I be if I had let you go?" he asked with a grin on his face.

 

So, Gabrielle was his angel, Mark thought as the darkness claimed him once again. Gabrielle was thankful that Mark had passed out, because his pain would have been unbearable. The blows he sustained to his body by one woman. Then he remembered, ah yes, probably one man as well, could have been worse.

 

Gabrielle got him back to the hotel room and gently placed the huge man softly in the bed.

 

Rest would be the quickest healer for him.

 

For now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 24

 

 

 

Mark slept for days as Gabrielle watched quietly over him, never leaving his side. Rest would be the key for his recovery, Gabrielle knew this.

 

Sometimes in his sleep, Mark would whimper and moan as he tried to shield his body from the attackers in his dreams. Gabrielle knew his punishment was severe, but knowing the circumstances around why, he did understand. He understood it all.

 

Days turned into nights, then nights back into days and still Mark slept the sleep of the healing until his mind and his body would allow him to be ready for his next apology. His next cleansing.

 

After six days he roused enough to tell Gabrielle he couldn't stand the stink of himself anymore and Gabrielle then helped his big ass get into the bathroom to shower. This time, Gabrielle had to grin as Mark started his burping and farting again.

 

As close to the edge as he was and as close to the entrance of Hell as Mark had been, Gabrielle had to believe that he could stand the noises and the smells that Mark could make.

 

Then another fart rumbled from the bathroom, the smell almost as bad as the smell of death. Lord! Where did those smells come from? St. Peter appeared to Gabrielle at the same time.

 

"The mortals! They always do amaze me with the noises they can make. And the smells." he said as the linen handkerchief was discreetly pulled out again.

 

"Yeah." Gabrielle laughed. "This one is a pretty amazin character." Gabrielle guffed. This his attitude became very serious and he spoke softly.

 

"I almost lost him. I almost let him go to the other side. It would have been unthinkable!" he said with a shudder.

 

"Yes. But you didn't. You found him. You opened your heart and allowed yourself to find him, even in the depths of the hell he was in. You allowed your goodness and compassion to come through, and that is what saved him. You helped him through. That, Gabrielle, is what makes you so very special." St. Peter said seriously.

 

Another huge fart exploded from the bathroom. Followed by a large sigh of relief.

 

"OH! I see!" Gabrielle said as he waived his hand in from of his nose, fanning the fumes.

 

 

 

"I'm the special one, and he smells like shit! And that makes us a likely pair!" Gabrielle said as he held his nose and continued to fan the air around him. Even St. Peter had to laugh.

 

"Sometimes even here where we are, Gabrielle, it doesn't always smell like a rose garden. There has to be a little stinker somewhere." St. Peter said as he disappeared again.

 

Gabrielle grinned. "I guess so." he whispered, as Mark continued to let it rip.

 

 

 

CHAPTER  25

 

Gabrielle decided to allow Mark more time before his next apology. He felt Mark needed some time to heal emotionally and physically. This last one had taken a huge toll on him. He was quiet, not so argumentative. Gabrielle had thought this was good now, but, could eventually be a bad sign. A quiet Mark...hhhmmmm. A rate treat, indeed.

 

But, as the days wore on, Mark became quieter and more withdrawn, and Gabrielle knew the time for a new apology was at hand. And so did Mark. The being in limbo was reeking havoc on Mark. He was afraid to go to sleep knowing now that the dreams were how Gabrielle revealed the new person to him. Gave him clues. Then threw him in.

 

He would sit on the balcony of the hotel going back over each woman. Victoria. Cassandra. Blaze. He sat there for a few minutes, his head in his hands, and he knew the emotional turmoil he had put each of these women through.

 

He had lashed out at Cassandra because she was young, and he knew she couldn't do anything to him because she was young. He bullied Blaze, then treated her horribly when she wouldn't submit to his dominance. She had showed him what it was like to be broken.

 

And Victoria. She was someone that had loved so much. With her entire being, and someone else had broken her. He came along and built her up, only to break her down again. She was only trying to protect her fragile psyche. And he had called her a whore!

 

What had happened to him? He had changed! Why? Was it the fame? The recognization? The money? When had he become so unhappy in his own life, that he felt he had to be so callous and hateful to others? What one thing had hardened his heart so much?

 

Only he knew the answer to that question. Only he had the power to make the difference, make the change. He didn't know if he could.

 

Maybe Hell was where he needed to go. Maybe that was the punishment he deserved. He just didn't know anymore.

 

He also knew there were others, and knew this ordeal was far from being over. St. Peter had told him there would be a few that he would pick, but how many was a few? And how many was too many?

 

Mark sank further into the depths of despair. He felt Gabrielle's presence behind him. His voice was low in the darkness

 

"Gabrielle, how many more? How much more?" Mark asked quietly

 

Gabrielle felt the despair that Mark felt. Did he tell him the truth, or just dance around the issue?

 

Mark's plea of "Gabrielle, please, how many more?" touched his heart.

 

"You are halfway there." Gabrielle told him softly.

 

They were quiet. Then Mark stood, facing Gabrielle in the darkness. He knew the drill, knew how Gabrielle did it.

 

He walked past him into the hotel room and made himself comfortable in the bed. The room was dark and Gabrielle heard Mark say softly, "Then do it." indicating he was ready to go on, yet another time.

 

Gabrielle let him lay quietly in the dark for a few minutes knowing his mind was replaying everything. The he quickly waived his hand plunging Mark, yet again into the depths of sleep. Allowing him some peace.

 

Short lived.

 

But for the time being. Peace.