Fantasy in Death

Epilogue

Eve looked through the glass where Be

Her eyes remained closed, as they had since the attack. “Word is he’s here every day all day,” she told Roarke. “Most of the night-all if he can talk the medical staff into it.”

“Still no change.”

“No. No change.” She walked in. Be

“We can sit with her awhile if you’d like to get some air,” Roarke said.

“No, but thanks.”

“I wanted to let you know,” Eve began, “Var’s lawyers and the PA’s office have reached a plea agreement. I can break it all down for you if you want, but the short version is he’ll do fifty years, hard time, off-planet.”

“It doesn’t matter. What happens to him doesn’t matter. She’s all that matters. Three days now. The doctors, they say that every day she… that every day’s good. That she could wake up in five minutes. Or five years. Or never.”

“You believe she’ll wake up.” Roarke laid a hand on Be

“And I think when she does, it’ll matter to her that Var pays. For what he did to her, to Bart, to all of you,” Eve added.

“We thought he was one of us, but he wasn’t. Four square-but it was all a lie. I don’t understand it. I can’t. We were together all these years, every day. We worked together, studied, played, ate, laughed, cried. I don’t know how he could do what he did. I’ll never understand it, so he doesn’t matter to me. He won’t ever matter to me again.”

But he drew in a ragged breath. “Why didn’t he go for me instead of her? Why?”

“Do you want the truth or do you want it easy?”

He looked at Eve. “The truth.”

“You were more useful, and she more dangerous. In his mind, in his plan. She’s more of a leader, and you prefer the solo, the research. He could use you, and when he’d used you enough, or when he just couldn’t resist, he’d have set you up, too.”

“If I’d gone in with her. If I’d just-”

“She’d be dead without you,” Roarke said. “He meant to kill her, Be

Roarke pulled a chair over, sat beside Be

“I don’t care about that.”

“She will. She helped build it as you did, as Bart did.”

“If we hadn’t, Bart would be alive. She wouldn’t be here.”

“No. Var’s responsible,” Eve corrected. “Not a company, not a game, not technology. A man. He put her here.”

“I know that.” His tone weary, Be

“I could, but I won’t. Bart wouldn’t want that, and neither would she.”

“She’d hate it. But she’s hurt so bad. Even if… when, even when she comes out of it, she’ll have so much to go through.”

“But not alone,” Roarke murmured.

“No, not alone.” With his eyes on Cill’s face again, Be

“You’ll stop wasting time,” Roarke finished.

“You don’t understand.”

“Don’t I?” Roarke looked at Eve. “I know love, and what it does to you, for you. I know that it can bloom out of friendship, or that friendship can open out of love. Both are precious. And when you have both, there’s little that can’t be done.”

“You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself,” Eve told him. “And start doing what can be done.”

Anger flashed over Be

He started to bring her hand to his cheek, stopped. “Her fingers moved.” His voice trembled as he squeezed her hand tighter. “Her fingers moved.” He shoved out of his chair to touch her face. “Cill. Cill. Come on, Cilly, please.”

“Keep talking to her,” Eve ordered when Cill’s lashes fluttered.

“Wake up. Please, Cilly, wake up and look at me. Can’t you just look at me? I need you to wake up. I need you so much, Cill.” He touched his lips to her cheek, then gently, gently brushed them over her lips. “Wake up, Cill.”

“Be

Roarke rose, nodded at Eve. “I’ll have them page the doctor.”

“Hey, Cill.” Be

“Be

“Right here.” He shoved down the bed guard, sat beside her. “Right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Eve backed out of the room, stepped aside as one of the nurses hurried in. She walked to Roarke. “We’ll give them some time. Peabody and I will come back tomorrow and get her statement.” She glanced back. “She’s in for a long, painful haul.”

“She’ll make it. They will.”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Friendship to love-maybe it would work for them.

Then there was the other choice. Love to friendship, she thought as they took the elevator down. She supposed she and Roarke had taken that route.

It seemed to be working out just fine.

J. D. Robb