One week later (2)

She got up and walked to the door. Turning the deadbolt she let out a deep breath.

"Come in."

She had stepped out of the way as she pulled the door open. He was standing in the hall, hesitant. After an awkward moment of stasis, he realized that she wasn't looking at him, and probably wasn't going to say anything further until he walked in.

As soon as he moved forward, she turned and walked back to her bedroom. She'd been in bed for most of the afternoon and evening, and planned on staying there if at all possible.

He closed the front door and locked it behind him. Walking across the apartment, things looked much as he'd last seen them. The bike hung on the wall across from the front door. He paused again, standing in the doorway to her bedroom, waiting for her to acknowledge him, give him some direction as to what she wanted from him.

She didn't look up at first. She was sitting, slouching, with her back against the wall. Her eyes were gazing towards the television, but no sign of recognition showed on her face.

Mark really didn't know what to say. The past week seemed like a blur. Bad decisions, arguments, tragedy, it all ran together. He knew that he wanted to be there, standing in the door jam to Shannon's bedroom, at that very moment, but he didn't know what to do after that.

"Mark, I..." her voice trailed off. He spied a small chair along the wall, and stepped slowly towards it. She glanced up at him when she noticed movement, but then looked back towards the television.

"I... it's nice of you to come. I'm not... really..." Shannon's voice sounded heavy with emotion at the end, when she trailed off again. Mark sat down, kept quiet, and looked around the room a bit.

It was pretty dark. The glow of the television, and a hint of light from the overhead in the living room were the only sources of illumination in the whole apartment.

Nothing had changed. He didn't really remember the pattern of the sheets, it's possible they were the same, he couldn't tell. The blinds were still drawn. He wasn't sure, but it seemed that the top drawer of the dresser had been open just that much when he was here before.

Actually, one thing was noticeably different. There were now little wadded up tissues all over the floor. A testament to hours worth of crying.

"I'm a mess." Mark looked up and saw that she was finally looking at him. That was both a relief and a new source for worry. What should he do now?

"Well, I think you have a good reason for feeling bad right now." He paused, unsure of himself, trying very hard to avoid saying something that would make it worse and trigger tears.

She was quiet and still looking at him. 'Damn, now I need to say something else,' he thought.

"I'm just here for you. I don't know what I can do to help, but let me know... if there is anything." He still felt very tense. While that was the truth, he wasn't sure that's what she wanted to hear.

She looked away. 'Shit, I screwed that up,' was his internal analysis of her response. He heard her sobbing and looked at the floor. 'What did I say wrong?' He didn't dare ask the question.

She stood up, and walked over to him. He looked up, stood, turned to face her, and she buried her head into his chest. She was tall, very tall for a woman, almost six foot. He had a few inches on her, but she was still slouching, she looked crumpled.

Instinctively he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. The weight of her, in his arms, was noticeable. He was helping her to remain standing. He could feel her body shake, quivering as she cried.

She sobbed loudly at first, but grew quiet quickly.

"I'm... I'm so sorry..." she tried to pull away, and he let her go.

He shook his head. "I knew what I was signing up for when I called. I was expecting this."

Shannon sat down on the edge of the bed, looking up at him gratefully, and patted a spot next to her, motioning him to sit down.

Mark felt a strong sense of relief that he was finally getting some direction. He stepped beside her and sat down.

She leaned into him, so he put an arm around her shoulders, and gave a gentle squeeze.

"I really don't want to be alone tonight..." she paused, and then continued, a bit faster than normal, forced, "I thought I did, but I don't. I would really like it if you would stay with me, but just as moral support, you know?"

He had assumed that from the beginning, and wasn't sure how he felt that she believed that she needed to say it. 'Time to work that out later', he decided.

"Yes, I know. That's fine. You've been through so much, and...", it was Mark's turn to pause. For some unknown reason he wasn't sure if what he was about to say would go over well.

She pulled away just enough to meet his gaze, her eyes wide, with a look of genuine curiosity. No artifice or guile registered on her face. He felt reassured by her sincerity.

"It's just that I blame myself for part of it...", she shook her head. His gut clenched a little, 'I knew it. I don't know why, but that was the wrong thing to say.'

"No. No. We're both grown ups. You didn't lie to me. You didn't trick me." Somewhat relieved, he noted that she didn't seem angry, just emphatic. There was something child like about her. Vulnerable. She was hurting so bad.

He nodded, showing that he accepted what she said. "Okay. You're right. I just... I probably have some feelings that make you out to be perfect, and place the blame on myself... whether that's fair or not... if that makes sense."

The faintest smile crossed her face, and he was sure that he saw her roll her eyes at him. A good sign. If she could laugh at him, she was probably going to be okay.

She sat up a bit, and leaned into him again, this time resting her head on his shoulder.

"So you'll stay?"

"Of course."

"And you're okay with..."

He really didn't want her to say it again. He wasn't here to try to seduce her. The funeral had just been this morning for God's sake.

"Of course, Shannon, I'm fine. Really. I'm here for you."

She paused for a moment before replying.

"Thank you."

They sat still, on the edge of the bed, for what seemed to Mark like a long time. Before long Shannon had reached back for the remote and hit mute. The volume of the television had been low, their talking had been much louder. But once they grew silent, it was a irritation that she no longer wanted to tolerate.

After more time passed, she sat up and looked over at Mark.

"I'd really like it if you could hold me and see if I can go to sleep."

That reminded Mark of a week ago, in this room, when he had held Shannon afterwards, and she had drifted off to sleep. A very happy memory.

Then he remembered the fall out the next day.

Hiding his mixed feelings he said, "I'd be happy to. Get comfortable."

He took off his shoes, but kept everything else on for now. He wanted her to feel secure.

Shannon laid down, still in the same sweats that she had put on when she had got back from the church earlier that day. She had never liked churches, but right now she hated them.

It was even more soothing than she had hoped, having Mark spoon up behind her. Her anger and a lot of her sadness started fading away immediately. She could feel his arm drape over her, protectively. She leaned back into his chest, and curled up, nestling into him.

She no longer felt like crying. There would be more time for tears tomorrow. As she drifted off to sleep, she avoided any thoughts of the funeral, of her parents. She especially avoided thinking of Jana.

She focused on Mark for a while, and then finally fell asleep once she was out on a country road, finding her rhythm, just her and her bike.