TOO  QUICK  TO  DIE

PART THIRTY-THREE:

Bud was creeping back down the stairwell that had led him to the rooftop of one of the buildings, reason arguing with the need to take someone out, anyone, as the crucial moments drew near.  Silencers on his gun helped a lot in the slow subterfuge, but he had to wait until the target put itself in a position where he would not be immediately missed.  He even took one chance and rattled a board to distract a rifleman, who left the edge of his watch post to investigate.  Still, there were several more that he was aware of, and perhaps more that he could not see. He had succeeded in three knock-outs when he almost literally ran into Terry and Deidre.

“’Bout damn time!” he gasped, leaning back against a wall in relief. 

“Maximus is on the other side and Dana is getting into position as well,” Terry replied, motioning for Deidre to carry forward. 

“Dana?” Bud repeated, half in horror, half in delight.  He did not want her getting hurt, was glad she had come along to provide support.  “What is she going to do?  Even with all of us, we don’t have much time.  We...”

“She’s got a special package, just for Sid,” Terry replied, with a gleam in his eyes.

This did little to assuage Bud’s fears.  “The same kind that helped us last time?  God damn it, Terry, you’ve got her into this unholy trap.  I....”

“You just keep at what you’re doing.  Nolia and I are going to do the same. If nothing else, if the worst happens, we get Cort and Rachel out of there before Sid can grab Rachel up.”

Bud pressed his lips together, logic again warring loudly with the desire to act against the odds.  “Where do you think Dana has gone?” he asked.

“Bud...”

“She might need cover,” the former cop said, fiercely.

Terry nodded, and began to step away to follow after Deidre.  “Go see what you can do, but all she’s going to need is one clear shot.  We need that, no matter what.  She was aiming for the kitchen of the saloon when I saw her last.”

Indeed, Scully found that much of the town had abandoned everything they were working on to crowd into the street for the final blow to be dealt by the instigator of the Wild West version of gladiator games; so, creeping into the kitchen, only to find a young Mexican girl overseeing a boiling pot, was not exactly dangerous, but Scully cautioned her to be quiet anyway. Judging by how big the eyes of the girl got at the sight of her camouflage pants and top, Scully figured she would either pretend she didn’t see anything or sound so idiotic to others they would dismiss her.  No matter; the main room of the saloon was empty as well. 

And there she could see a woman leaning on post, her arm around it as though she needed it for support.  Dozens others were crowded on the ground before her, making bets, jostling each other for a better view.  Beyond, Scully could just see the top of a man in the center of the street, his frame dropping with fatigue.  That had to be Cort.  Scully heard a voice call out – also Cort.  The crowd at the edge of the porch jeered and tried to throw things at the man.  The woman at the post turned her face momentarily and Scully could see her profile.  The woman was in distress.

That had to be Rachel, Scully decided intuitively.  She looked down at the vaccine gun.  Every-thing that had to do with breaking the hold the nanobots had on trapping them all here in the film, everything that had to do with stopping the man Terry had explained was the cause of all

of it, filled the chamber of the hypoderm case, an amalgam of NanoCorp’s innovative technology, and her many hours of extractions and manipulations.  There was only one way to find out if it all was worth it, only one chance to ever know for sure; else, it was all over except for the baby.

Creeping to the shadows in the doorway, Scully was thankful for her tiny height. It hid her from view just long enough to give her the bearings that she needed.  Rachel did not look like she was much taller and Scully wondered if she were able to pull her back into the saloon without being noticed. 

The street grew silent and Scully realized that the very minute, the seconds before the click as it had been made in the movie was about to occur.  Crouching, she made her way over to Rachel, tugged slightly on her dress.

“Follow me inside,” she indicated as the pregnant woman looked down. 

The woman did not seem too terribly perturbed to see her in modern garb.  She turned her head quickly to face the scene on the street, but muttered back, “I can’t move.”

“It's not far.  I...”

“Look at my feet,” Rachel hissed.

Scully’s gaze fell to the floorboards at Rachel’s feet.  Wetness on her shoes, at the edge of her skirt.  A puddle.

“Oh, shit!”  Scully hissed in return.  “You’ve got to come with me...”

“If I go with you, Sid will know,” Rachel murmured, and Scully could see that she was crying.  “And Cort’s fixin’ to...”

“Pretend to faint,” Scully replied.

Rachel paused momentarily, obviously thinking.  The clock was ticking away the seconds.  Then, without prelude, Rachel stepped away from the post...and pushed her way through the crowd toward Cort. 

“No one shoots him!” she called out as she lumbered as quickly as she could to step in front of her husband.  “Shoot him, shoot me.  Go on now,” she taunted.  "Shoot!"

Cort was absolutely horrified at his wife's actions. "RACHEL!" he said loudly, clutching both her arms with his unbound hands. "What are you doing?" When she turned her face up to him, he almost gasped at her pallor, at the dark smudges under her eyes, at the wild expression her features bore. "Darlin'? What...?"

"Don't let go of me, Cort," Rachel said between her teeth.  Turning so she could see Sid, she continued "do you want your men to shoot Cort while I'm with him?  A bullet could easily pass through him into me.  Go ahead, Sid.  Have your men do it and you'll be responsible for the death of a baby yourself."

Cort slipped his arms about her torso, feeling her sag hard against him, aware that she could barely stand. "Darlin', no," he said urgently. "You can't be doing this."

Sid had stepped out into the edge of the street, glaring at the couple in the middle. "Goddamnit, Rachel! Get yourself back over here!"

There was a report that electrified the air then and Rachel clutched at Cort, facing him to see if he had indeed been shot.  But he showed no sign of it.  Another report, and they saw a man fall from the ledge on the clock tower. 

Maximus, gun still smoking, stepped out from under the doctor's porch roof, taking aim at another man on the balcony of the saloon. Townsfolk began to flee for cover and Ellen, taking advantage of the confusion of the moment, strode quickly forward, her eyes on the man she believed to be Herod.  Cort, his arms still around Rachel, began to half-drag her out of the center of the street.

“Take her into the saloon!”  Scully shouted to Cort.  More shots rang out and she dodged behind some barrels to listen for more.  Some who were fleeing fell in the streets.  Scully turned to see that Cort and Rachel had made it to safety and turned her attention back to the street, which was now almost empty, even of the Herod-like Sid.  She noted that the action seemed to be taking place behind some of the buildings, and other riflemen came out from hiding to run to assist the others, some jumping from catwalks and high porches. How Maximus and Ellen managed to remain unmarked by the crossfire, Scully would never figure out.  Caroline, perched on the windowsill of their second floor bedroom over the doctor’s office shot one of the gunmen in the shoulder, effectively disabling him, while other henchmen found cover or were picked off.

Terry had been prepared for engaging the henchmen, but was more than a little surprised to hear Rachel’s voice in it all.  A single gunshot rang through the air and suddenly their own targets appeared. His was a small man wearing a hat that must be twice as large as his face, and Deidre’s a burly man who Terry really wished was his to take. He didn't think Deidre would win if the man decided to physically attack her so he was ready to aim his first shot at him before his own. Their targets stiffened and began raining bullets toward the street below,  so he and Deidre began firing as well.

Ellen's eyes were wild. "Where the goddamn hell did Herod go?" she shouted. 

Bud was not too far away from Scully but he was focused on keeping track of Sid, who had darted into the saloon after Cort and Rachel.

By now, Rachel could barely stand and Cort was trying to get her settled in a chair. Sid approached silently, his eyes locked on Rachel's face, taking note of her clenched teeth. His gaze dropped to the wetness of her hem. "Now?" he growled. "You are having my baby NOW?"

Cort's head jerked up, his eyes flying first to Sid and then back to Rachel. "The baby? Hope's coming?"

The twinges had not been hard or painful, but definitely significant.  The squishiness of her socks and shoes, the rising panic in her throat, the all-consuming realization that the moment had arrived formed such a knot of anguish and anger in her, she could only stare back at Sid.  His baby, he said.  As if he knew something about making her...

“I’m having Cort’s baby, now,” she corrected Sid, her voice low.  She was gripping the arms of the chair, a feverish lightness making her feel as if the world were going to fall out from under her. 

Cort's eyes widened. "Oh, God!" he moaned.

"Invoking deity will do you no good, Preacher.  The baby is coming into my town, into my control."

Cort straightened, drawing his gun. He had not fired his one bullet. Sid just laughed. "Go

ahead!" he taunted. "It will do you no good. We both know that."

“No, but this will.” 

Almost before the last syllable had left his mouth, Bud stepped up to Sid’s side and began firing point blank range into the nanotech, one bullet after another.  The cyber-being jerked and jolted but even as Bud’s last bullet left its chamber, Sid was laughing uproariously, falling toward a nearby table.  They could see holes where the bullets had entered and exited, fast healing up.  Bud was unmoving, however.  He lowered the pistol, expression cold. 

As Sid had been sent stumbling by the force of Bud's repeated firing at such close range, he'd sprawled across one of the round saloon tables, breaking several whiskey glasses. He immediately scooped up the shards and stuffed them in his mouth, the silicon instantly beginning to replace his damaged tissue. Standing as he laughed, he swept the back of his hand across Bud's face, sending him reeling into the bar. His laughter faded rapidly as his full attention focused back on Rachel.  "I will not have my child born in a saloon," he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

"This is not your child, nanotech," Cort replied, despite fully realizing the futility of his one bullet after Bud's attempt.

"You little roach!" Sid snarled, his own pistol in his hand before anyone even realized he'd moved his arm.

The two men stood there in the saloon with the pregnant Rachel between them, each pointing a revolver at the other. "You first," Sid mocked.

Cort started to step to one side, not wanting his wife in front of him, not wanting to take any chances with her safety.

“Drop the gun!” another voice commanded, and Rachel could see past Sid the small figure of Dana Scully, eyes afire and arms extended with her own gun ready to shoot.  Panic rose to a new pitch in Rachel: didn’t this woman know what Sid was like?  Didn’t she see what was going on?  What had happened to Bud?  She began shaking her head at the idea of yet another person being swept aside.  It was all a matter of time before the superhuman strength of the cyber-being cleared away the few defenses left and came for Hope...all a matter of moments....

“I said drop it!” Scully insisted, her voice ringing.  Rachel could not help but stare.  Such a powerful voice from such a small lady!  Scully advanced, blue eyes hard and bright now, red hair swinging as she moved.  She did not react to Bud’s groan from the floor, her gaze solely locked on Sid.

"I have no intention of dropping anything," Sid said almost politely, eyeing the small new person.  He'd kept his revolver trained on Cort despite his brief sizing-up of Scully. "Do you really think you can get off a shot before I plug him between his eyes? Do you?"

Cort quickly pulled back Rachel's chair far enough so that he could slide around in front of it, which brought him even closer to the end of Sid's gun barrel. He could feel her clutching at his shirt, trying to pull him back, but he held his ground, his eyes locked on Sid's revolver.

The saloon doors opened and Maximus entered, pausing to take in what was happening. "Ah, General," Sid greeted. "You have arrived just in time. Cort is on his way out, so to speak, and the badly-named baby is on her way in.  But I'm sure I have enough bullets for you, too, so don't feel neglected."

Maximus' eyes moved from Sid's revolver to Scully's eyes. Imperceptible to anyone but her, his eyes retraced their route, wanting her to understand that he intended to shoot Sid's weapon. He didn't dare risk the slightest head motion. He saw, though, that she understood.  Pressing his lips tightly together, he moved a step or two to his left, creating a larger space for Sid to have to cover with his gaze.  Cort began to realize what Maximus must be thinking and his fingers gripped his own pistol harder.  Perhaps if he could distract Sid, or if Maximus could, one of them could disarm the nanotech, giving Scully her chance to fire during the process.

"The baby is coming?" Maximus asked, as though ignoring Sid completely.

"She is," Cort nodded.  "We need to...."

"I'll tell you what's needed, Preacher," Sid interrupted as Rachel let out a long moan.  "She needs to be gotten into my house so she can give birth in a bed...my bed."  As he spat out the words, his eyes were fixed fiercely on Cort.  He itched to be rid of the man, yet something in him was hesitating.  He had never killed a counterpart before, and Cort had been created before he himself was; therefore, inextricably some part of his matrix. It was why Cort's baby would serve fairly well as a substitute for his own. But would his own being be affected in some unknown way if Cort were eliminated? He didn't know and the not knowing made him hold off on pulling the trigger.

Maximus saw the hesitation, had no idea of the why of it, but hollered out "SID!" in a mighty bellow.

Sid jerked, turning toward the sound of his name and both Maximus and Cort fired. Cort's bullet ripped into Sid's hand at the same instant Maximus' bullet hit his revolver broadside.

Scully felt her trigger finger pull, heard and felt the charge punch, knew in the split seconds that Maximus and Cort acted that the vaccine had left the chamber; but things happened so fast, she did not see, and could not know, that the plug holding the nano-manipulated virus had lodged itself firmly in Sid’s upper back.  Sid turned swiftly to face Maximus, forgetting the presence of the small woman.  Scully’s firearm lowered and she relaxed her position, tense with concern.  Now was the moment of realization, now everything hung in the balance...would it work?  Would the vaccine have any effect at all?

Sid's gun flew across the room, landing near where Bud was still on his knees near the bar. The nanotech looked from Maximus to Cort then back to his hand, which was rapidly dripping blue nanogoo on the floor.  He wore a startled expression on his handsome face, not having expected his counterparts to work in tandem as they had.

The momentary shock of it passed quickly. He knew, even without a gun, the lot of them were still no match for him. "You...," he began, but stopped, his concentration now centering in on an oddly numb feeling that seemed to be spreading from between his shoulder blades. Swiveling on the balls of his feet, he turned to face the little redhead. "What...?"

He felt...strange.  Slowly he lowered his right hand to the nearby table top, letting it lie among the broken glass. As though from some great distance he watched the twisting blue tubes begin to heal it.  It seemed to be taking longer than it should. He felt...closed in...isolated from the others in the room as though he were somehow encapsulated, even the sounds that reached his ears were becoming muffled, distant. The numbness was spreading down his arms and he found he could no longer lift them. He blinked repeatedly, everything in his eyesight becoming tinged strongly with blue.

His hip impacted the table's edge, knocking it over, and he went down with it, ending up sitting on the saloon floor, his back against its vertical top. Vaguely he saw Maximus coming toward him. "Gen...gen...," he tried, but could no longer form the word.  His tongue felt thick in his mouth as though it no longer belonged to him.

Maximus stood silently, revolver at his side, watching Sid.  Unbidden, unwanted memories of the island flooded his mind, and a jaw muscle twitched repeatedly.  Sid started to slide to the side, but kept his eyes on the General's. Just before his head touched the floor, he gasped out one last word. It was garbled but Maximus knew he'd said, "Brianna."  Then Sid's eyes glazed over blue and he was perfectly still. 

Maximus blew out a long breath, his own eyes closing a moment.

Scully stomped her foot in triumph.  “YES!” she crowed, then flew to Rachel’s side. 

Rachel’s first act after Sid toppled over was to let out a long breath she’d been holding.  The bullets had been so close, so close!  And the report from three guns firing all at once was still reverberating, the blood in her veins racing, as if the power from the blasts had entered her bloodstream; then, all froze as Sid fell under the influence of something truly devastating, the look in the nanotech’s eyes radiating something that turned her racing blood into a flood of hope...did she dare hope?  If she had been in a less stressful condition, she might have felt a hint of pity for the blue shadows of amazement and shock passing over Sid’s face.  As it was, all she could feel was the desire to see the light die in his eyes.  And when it did, Rachel could hardly believe it.

It wasn’t until the red-headed lady was kneeling at her side and pulling her clawing grip on the chair arm away to feel for her pulse that Rachel realized...it was over.

Oh, God.  It was finally over!

“Rachel, my name is Dana Scully and I’m a medical doctor,” the lady was telling her in a kind voice, flipping her own left wrist to look at her watch.  “I want you to tell me the moment you start to feel another contraction and we’ll count the time between the next one, okay?  Are you with me?”

Rachel nodded in automatonic response.  Her gaze lifted up to Cort, tears filling her eyes. Was it really over? She wanted to ask, but her tongue and lips wouldn’t move.

“Where’s Terry?  Deidre?”  Bud asked when he had regained equilibrium.  He walked cautiously to stand next to Maximus, gazing down at the frozen cyber-monster, as if neither one of them completely trusted that Sid was finally out of commission.

Cort was still staring at Sid, shocked from what had just happened. But when Rachel looked up at him, everything was forgotten but her. "Oh, Darlin'," he whispered, crouching beside her, his hands sliding around her body.  He was nearly overcome with emotion and lay his head lightly, briefly atop her tummy. Hope kicked and he laughed, a laughing half-sob of relief. "We've got to get her out of here," he said to the room in general. He looked into her eyes, "We've got to get you home,"

Caroline burst through the swinging doors just as Maximus asked quietly, "Is he dead?" He had no idea of what happened to Sid, what those back in Emerald City had been planning.

“As dead as he’s ever going to be,” Scully replied, still counting the minutes ticking off on her watch.  “We used a ‘special formula’ that should effectively erase any chance of his coming back to life. The real question is whether or not this will allow us to get out.”

Bud turned to face Rachel and Scully as if he suddenly realized they were there.  “I’m going to go find them,” he said, referring to two missing retrievers, and strode out of the saloon, pushing back people who were congregating at the doorway, Ellen included.  Pausing, Bud stepped back and tapped Ellen on the shoulder.  “You, come with me.  I might need backup.”

When the gunfire broke out and he had dropped his target, Terry ran to the side of his building in time to see Deidre swing her rifle at the man who had obviously figured out the trick of the situation and lunged for her.  It bounced off his shoulders as it would a pillar of wood.  The man then grabbed Deidre by the arms and began pulling her down to the floor of the roof.

Crack!  Terry fired off a round and the man jerked back, stunned.  Another shot, and he fell onto his back and lay still.  Terry could see the rise of his belly. 

Another shot...and another...

“Enough!”  Deidre cried across the way.  She had scrambled to her feet as soon as she was let go.  “You got him!”

Terry lowered his weapon. 

“Are you okay?”  He rasped.  All he’d been thinking was filling that lard-filled belly with enough bullets to make him crash through the roof to the ground.  “Are you all right?”  He asked again.   

“I’m fine,” Deidre began and then froze.  There was quiet...well, quiet in relative terms.  No one was shooting anymore.  There were people still running through the streets, but now the shouts were of an exploratory nature, rather than sheer panic.  They both remembered in time to look at the roofs of the other buildings to their sides.  Empty.  Creeping to the front, they looked down into the street.  None of their people were visible.

A crowd was forming at the saloon.  Terry was just about to call to Deidre to begin their descent when a new report of gunfire sounded from the saloon, and people stiffened momentarily.  He and Deidre looked at each other and the Alabama girl was as pale as the magnolia flower he had nicknamed her.  Then the crowd began moving and jostling again.  Someone’s voice rang out “Herod’s dead!”   Another few voices cheered, cut off by people who were not so willing to believe that cry.

But Terry’s attention left the sight of the crowd trying to work out what happened to the sky and light around them.  A shimmering blue, like a ghostly aurora borealis, was beginning to waft over the skies, as though opalescent waves were washing over an invisible structure arcing over the town.  The pulse of the lights grew faster, stronger, until the sky was shimmering regularly, like a strobe light.  Then, the lights snapped off and a cool breeze wafted over them.

He returned his gaze to Deidre who had been watching it as well.  What did this mean?

Two figures broke from the crowd at the saloon, one voice calling out their names.

“Up here!”  Terry called back down to Bud, who paused in the street to wave to them. The other figure, Ellen, stared up at them.  Terry had a feeling she was thinking nothing had gone right for her.

Well, she’ll get that chance all over again, he mused.

“Are you and Deidre okay?”

Terry gave him a ‘wait for it’ signal and motioned to Deidre to go back down to ground level.  Bud and Ellen came rushing up just as Terry met Deidre in the alley below, but that didn’t stop Terry from sweeping his Nolia up in a tight embrace. 

“What’s happened?” He asked Bud, voice slightly muffled from being buried in Deidre’s neck.

“The son of a god-damned bitch is dead,” Bud replied, grinning.  “Scully’s medicine did wonders!” 

“It worked?”  Deidre gasped.  Bud nodded. “It worked!  Did you hear that, Terry, it worked!”  She was beside herself, jumping up and down. “Are you sure?”  She froze in mid-jump, taken by a lingering fear.  “Are you absolutely sure?”

“Go see for yourself.  We’ve got to get out of here ASAP, though,” Bud added, as they turned and made their way back to the saloon.  “Rachel’s water broke and...”

“Oh, dear God!”  Deidre yelped and grabbed Terry’s hand to pull him along.  “Get a move on, soldier!  Let’s warp out of here!”

“Go on, let them know we’re okay.  Right behind you,” Terry replied.  Ellen was standing stock still in the street, staring at him and Bud. 

"Who ARE you people?" she asked.

“Just passing through,” Bud said, after a few moment's consideration. 

In the saloon, Maximus was straightening out Sid's limbs. Caroline watched, one eyebrow quirked way up. "Why, Maximus, why would you care if he's sprawled or lying straight?"

Maximus paused, not looking at her as he replied. "He was one of us, different, yes, but still a counterpart. I owe him that much."

"You owe him nothing!" she said, her voice husky with emotion. "He tried to kill you more than once."

Slowly he turned, his gaze moving to her. "I know. I think it is because...."

"Why? Because of what?"

"Because he loved Brianna and even though it was not directly my fault, somehow I took her from him, her and his baby. That and...."

"Yes?"

"...he is the only other person who knew what it was like to be me."

"But he stole that information from you, almost tortured you to get it!"

"I know that, too. But...still...he knew."  He rubbed his hand across his chin. "It is very complicated for me. I do not think I can explain it."

"Try. I need to understand."

"There on the island...one day...as we talked, his eyes met mine and I could see my own memories in them."

"But he was only Sid now, Maximus. He hated you."

He shrugged slightly.  It was more than he could express, what it was like to see his home, his parents, his wife and son in Sid's eyes. Now that Sid was dead, could no longer hurt anybody, the memory of that had come upon him again. Perhaps it was because all of that had been taken from him and to see it there in another's face...it...well, what did it really matter now? There were important concerns at hand to deal with. He looked at Cort, still squatting beside Rachel.  New life was coming. That was a good thing. He reached for Caroline's hand. "It is time for us to go home, too."

Scully clocked the time between contractions at about twenty minutes.  “You’re doing fine,” she told Rachel and patted her on the arm.  She sensed that Cort was in need of a few moments alone with his wife, so she stood and began looking around for the others.  “I’m going to see where Terry and Deidre are.  Did you...?”  she hesitated as the question formed on her lips.  This pregnancy was highly unusual in its speed – of course she wouldn’t have... “You wouldn’t have had a chance to get familiar with Lamaze, would you?”  She asked anyway.

Rachel’s eyes grew a bit round.  “No, not for Hope.  My sister, she took it...I kind of helped her with that...” she looked up at Dana, as it dawned on her that Sid had taken yet another experience away from her.  “Can you help?”

“I’ll be there every step of the way, if you like,” Scully replied, smiling in return, and left them alone.

Rachel leaned against Cort’s forehead, eyes closed, trying to remember the breathing her sister, Lisa, used.  Her head was light, she felt bloated, uncomfortable...and strangely content.  She could feel Cort beside her, Hope’s kicking...Hope!  Hope came...Hope was coming, and there was no more nanobot threat.

"We didn't lose Hope, Darlin'," he murmured, sliding his hands around her to rub her back. "Today's going to be her birthday. And we're leaving this town, this place, and we'll never have to come back."  He was trying to talk to her, to keep her mind off things.  “We'll be taking her home to the blue house, you and me, and we can sit on that big porch swing in the evening. It's going to be wonderful, Darlin'.  Just think about how wonderful it'll be, ok?"

She opened her eyes and nodded, focusing in on his voice.  It was all she needed now.  She took

a deep breath, looked around.  People were milling away, Maximus and Caroline were bending over Sid (which was a bit shocking – she figured Maximus would be as far away from the creature as possible), talking quietly with each other.  Scully had disappeared outside.

As unexpected as everything else had been, memories of her last venture in the saloon returned to her, a late night after three days of agonizing attention to Cort as he lay upstairs, broken down by pain, confused by her presence as she nursed his hand, his everlasting fever.  The exquisite, intense joy of his kiss, the rattling fear of Dimetri’s attacks, Sid...

(See "If It Were Not So")

No.  He was dead now.  As good as dead.  She could hardly bring herself to look at the prone figure on the floor.  He was gone, so he didn’t exist anymore.

She picked up Cort’s right hand and held it up to examine.  Still whole, the long fingers undamaged. 

“I didn’t think I’d ever see this place again,” she murmured, as she traced his fingers with her own.  He answered by entwining his fingers with hers in a firm clasp.  “Not broken,” she added, returning her gaze back to him with a smile.  Yes, there he was, just as he had been when she descended the stairs to take him away – meeting her with all the world in his eyes. “I love you.”

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