Note: The rework of “Saginaw” in this section was done by Enola Jones.
Weeks passed – weeks of grief and unspeakable pain.
Peter sighed as he listened to Kayla’s guitar playing. “She’s been writing for days,” he said softly. “Sad, sad songs.”
“It’s the only way she can talk about it,” Micky replied.
“Guys?” Kayla asked softly. “Can I play you something?” And the opening strains of Saginaw poured into the pad.
Davy blinked. “We know that one, Kay.”
“This is a little different,” she explained and began to sing softly.
“If he ever gets to Saginaw again --
A locale that’s somewhat off the beaten track –
He’ll get to see the girl he never saw again,
And I know why he has never ventured back.
We were young and so alive
And now I wonder if he’d cling to me,
Become my very own as he did then,
If he ever gets to Saginaw again.
If he ever gets to Saginaw again
Please don’t come in spring with meadows turnin’ green.
Please don’t come to tangle with the law again,
And next time I won’t be only seventeen.
I gave him love and made him mine,
And when you find the one you’re dreamin’ of,
Who thinks to ask how old is love?
Not when you may never get to Saginaw again.
If he ever gets to Saginaw again,
He will get to see the son—“ her voice broke, and it was a moment before she could continue.
”The son who bears his name.
And perhaps he’ll quietly withdraw again
When he sees the little man that he became.
But how I yearn for him to know…
A father’s love is maybe all it takes
To not repeat the sad mistakes of men…
Oh, please let him get to Saginaw again…” And she played the outro as tears coursed down her cheeks.
Peter crossed to the bandstand and lay his arms around her shoulders. Kayla leaned into him, hiding her face as the sobs wracked her slender frame.
He rocked her, caressing her hair and whispering to her softly.
Micky looked at Davy. “…whoa…” he whispered.
Davy, wordless, just nodded. Slowly, as he watched them, his eyes hardened.
“Davy?” Micky asked softly.
“We’ve been going at this wrong. Micky, that’s still Mike there.”
“So?”
“So…we’ve been coddling her. We need to confront her.”
Micky nodded after a long moment. “Yeah…especially since Peter’s—“
“Yeah,” Davy sighed. “Give them a moment more….then let’s go.”
Micky nodded. “Kay,” he said after a moment, approaching her. “Kay, you need to come out of this, girl.”
“Just go away, Micky,” she said miserably. “Just go away.”
“We won’t,” Micky said, sitting beside her and Peter. “We hate to see you like this. He’s gone, Kay. You need to grieve – but it’s been two months. You need to start moving on.”
“He’s right, love,” Davy chimed in. “It’s time to go on, no matter how much it hurts.”
“How can you say that to me?” Kayla whispered. “My baby’s dead and you want me to get over it?”
“We want you to live,” Micky said. “You act like you’re trying to join Robert. You have a husband who needs you, or have you forgotten him?”
“How dare you!” she hissed through her teeth. “I love Peter! Of course I haven’t forgotten him!”
“Could’ve fooled us,” Davy said impassively, though his heart was wrenching at the sight of her tear-stained face. “Have you taken a good look at him lately?”
“Kay…” Micky whispered. “You can count his ribs.”
“Micky, enough,” Peter said emotionlessly.
Kayla’s sobs gradually subsided as anger took over. “Peter’s fine, I said!” She looked at her husband. “Tell them!”
Peter was silent. Micky pressed, “He’s not eaten in at least five days. Maybe longer.”
Kayla launched herself at Micky, fists flailing. “Shut up! Just shut up!” she cried, small fists beating ineffectually against his chest.
He caught her and whirled her around, holding her head and forcing her eyes to look at her husband. “LOOK at him, Kay. LOOK at him!”
Kayla struggled against his grip, but his hands were solid and unmoving. She looked at Peter, really looked at him, for the first time since the hospital after Robert had died.
She was appalled at what she saw.
Peter looked horrible. His eyes were red-rimmed and sunken, framed by bruise-like dark circles. His shirt, once snug-fitting, hung on him loosely. His cheekbones were prominent in his pale face. “Peter?” she whispered.
“What?” he answered, voice reedy – infinitely tired.
She tugged against Micky’s restraining hands, and he let her go. Approaching her husband cautiously, she framed his haggard face with her hands. “What have I done to you?” The tears began to form in her eyes again, but she held them at bay.
“You’ve done nothing,” he assured her, taking her hands. “You’ve been grieving. That’s all.”
She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled over and over, as her hands measured the thinness her eyes couldn’t see. “I’m so sorry, Shotgun…”
“For being human? We lost a child, Kay. That’s enough to drive anyone to depression – and to drive couples apart.”
She nodded against his chest. “I don’t want that to happen to us,” came her muffled voice. “I love you too much…”
“And I love you—“ he squirmed. “Amorita, that tickles.” He stilled a hand that was skimming his protruding ribs.
Kayla stood stock still -- then, amazingly, a tiny laugh escaped her. “Looks like I need to work on fattening my husband up.”
Peter shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”
“You must be! Micky said you haven’t eaten in days!”
“I’m really not hungry,” he insisted.
Kayla pulled away from him. Sniffing, she wiped away the last remnants of her tears. “Don’t fight me on this, Peter Tork. I say you’re hungry, and you are going to eat!”
He opened his mouth to protest.
“You’d better listen to her, mate,” Davy advised. “Judging by the look on her face, this is one fight you can’t win!”
Peter slowly closed his mouth, then sighed. “What’s on the menu?”
“Pancakes,” Kayla answered. “IF you’re willing to risk my cooking, that is.”
Peter grimaced. “I’d rather go hungry.”
Davy, seeing the belligerent look on Kayla’s face, quickly jumped in. “Listen, I’ll go out and get breakfast, all right?”
“Fine, Davy,” Kayla agreed. “And you are eating,” she warned her husband again.
“All right,” Peter said. “Lead the way.”
Kayla took his hand. Leaning close, she whispered, “At least let me undo some of the damage, Shotgun. I can’t believe what I’ve done to you….”
“You’ve done nothing,” he insisted, wobbling as he stood up.
“Right,” she said sarcastically as she steadied him. “You’re in great shape, just peachy….”
“Hey,” he smiled, and it only made his cheekbones protrude more. “You needed me more than I needed to eat.”
“And you were there for me. Even if I didn’t deserve it.” She squeezed him briefly, then released him, keeping her arm about his waist. “Now I’m going to return the favour.”
“Oh, Kay…” he caressed her cheek. “You always deserve it, love. Always.” And he swayed again, his knees protesting.
She grunted as his weight sagged against her. Guiding him over to the couch, she eased him down on to it. “This isn’t going to work,” she observed. “I’ll bring the food to you.”
He nodded, too weak to argue.
Davy returned ten minutes later, carrying a sack of breakfast sandwiches from a local fast-food restaurant. “Hope you don’t mind these – they’re all we can afford,” he sighed.
“It’s fine,” Kayla assured him. Taking one, she handed it to Peter, along with a glass of juice. “Eat!” she commanded.
He smiled and nibbled at the muffin, not touching the meat. The juice was gone in three swigs, though.
She took his empty glass, refilling it from the pitcher. Handing it back, she gave him a no-nonsense look that was reflected in her voice. “Is that all you’re eating?”
“I’m not hungry,” he insisted.
Kayla sat beside him, taking his thin hand in hers. “I know you’re not,” she said softly. “But you need to eat. Please try. Just a little more.”
“Solo para ti, Amorita,” he whispered to her. Only for you….
But he ate a few more bites.
“Thank you.” She took his half-empty glass and the few remaining bites of muffin. “Not much, but it’s a start, don’t you think?”
“Mm,” he said, slumping against her.
Setting the remnants of his meal in the floor at her feet, Kayla drew her legs up onto the couch, curling them underneath her. With a sigh, she settled against Peter’s shoulder. “Good night, Shotgun.”
“…night, Honey…” he slurred, giving in to the sleep he’d denied himself for days just because his wife could not.
Within moments, they were asleep, the first truly restful interlude they’d had since the tragedy.
Micky took the afghan from the chaise lounge and draped it over them. He tapped Davy’s arm and whispered, “Let’s go for a drive.”
Davy nodded, and they tiptoed quietly from the Pad, leaving Peter and Kayla to their rest.
Three hours passed.
Peter opened his eyes and sat up. “Ow…” he moaned, rubbing at the crick in his neck.
Kayla stirred, disturbed by his movements. “What…”
“My neck hurts…” He felt around. “This…we’re not in bed…” Peter’s head whipped around. “Kayla, where are we?” his voice rose in alarm.
She opened one eye. Seeing the familiar surroundings of the living room, she closed them again. “We’re on the couch,” she mumbled. “Must’a fallen asleep here…”
He slumped against her in relief, his ribs brushing her hand as he did so, his stomach announcing its intentions loudly.
Kayla felt the rumblings against her palm. “Sounds like somebody’s hungry,” she teased.
“Hm,” Peter chuckled. “Would you believe me if I said no?”
“Not a word!” She sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Wonder where Davy and Micky are?” she said around a yawn.
“Did they leave a note?” He stood up, still wobbly, and stretched until his back audibly popped.
Kayla quickly scanned the room. “Not that I can see,” she reported.
“Well…” Peter yawned. “Sorry…look for the car for me, please… If it’s not there, we’ll know they’ve left us alone awhile.”
She peered out the kitchen window, having to stand on tip-toe. “Gone,” she said briefly. “They must have decided to take a drive.”
He nodded and took a step forward, forgetting to reach – and cracking his shin on the coffee table. He sank to the ground, cursing in all four of his languages. “I’ve not done that since I first lost my sight…” he growled.
Kayla grimaced. “Looks like we’ve both taken a few steps back, Shotgun. I think it’s time we started moving forward again.”
Peter smiled toward the sound of her voice. “Any of those sausages frozen still? I’m hungry.”
She opened the freezer door. “You’re in luck.” She withdrew a foil-wrapped package. “We beat Micky to them.”
He laughed. “Good!” With that, he pulled the Nehru shirt off and dropped it onto the couch. “I’m gonna take a shower.”
The package made a THUMP! as it slipped from Kayla’s nerveless fingers to the floor. “Dear G-d,” she whispered, as Peter’s thinness was revealed to her.
“What is it?” he gasped, turning to face her full on. “You… you never reacted that way before when I’d undress….”
“You’re so thin…Micky was right,” she said, voice anguished. “I can count your ribs….”
He reached for the shirt and staggered as he did, nearly overbalancing. “I’ll be fine.” His voice and face were suddenly emotionless.
“Peter.” Kayla approached him, laying a gentle hand on his arm. “What is it? Something’s bothering you, I can tell by your face.”
And her husband turned his back, silently groping toward the bathroom.
Using one of Mike’s old tricks on Kayla.
Kayla watched in confusion as her husband exited the room. Peter had never acted that way before! She sat at the kitchen table, covering her face with her hands. *It’s really no more than I deserve. I wasn’t there for him when he needed me. Now he’s decided he doesn’t need me at all!*
A crash and a Spanish curse from the bathroom door drew her attention.
She ran to the bathroom door, hammering on it when she found it locked. “Peter! What’s going on in there!”
His ragged breathing was clearly audible. “…Kay…nothing…fine….”
“Bull!” she said bluntly. “Open this door or I break it down!”
There was no response other than the ragged breathing which now had a bit of a rasp to it.
Until the doorknob turned with a click – he’d unlocked the door.
“I’m bleeding, I think,” he rasped.
“Like a stuck pig!” Kayla grabbed his arm, manhandling him over to sit on the closed toilet lid. Grabbing a clean washcloth, she pressed it against the side of his head, where blood was flowing liberally from a deep cut. “What happened?”
“….” he mumbled.
“Never mind,” Kayla said as she spotted the shattered glass of the medicine chest. “I can see for myself.” Pulling the cloth gently away, she looked at the laceration. “Oh, Peter, this is gonna take stitches….I’d better get a doctor….”
“Where is it?” he asked, wincing as blood dripped into his eyes. “And why is it bleeding so much?”
“Right above your left eye,” she replied, keeping pressure on the site. “Head wounds always bleed a lot.”
“Well,” he quipped, holding her hand with his shaking one, “at least I won’t have to worry about it affecting my sight…” He managed a smile. “That was a joke, Amorita.”
“A bad one! This is serious, Peter!”
His eyes closed. “I don’t feel like being serious, Kay. My heart hurts, my stomach hurts, my head hurts, everything hurts.”
She bowed her head over his. “I know. And I don’t know how to make it any better, Peter.”
“Be with me,” he said, stilling her fingers. “Be with me, Michaela…. Love me…. Let me know you still love me for me, not because I was the father of the baby we lost…” His voice broke.
“I do love you,” she insisted. “I never stopped! I was just – lost – for awhile. But I swear to you, Peter, I always loved you!”
He began to cry then – a lost, hiccupping sound. “…you wouldn’t eat… you wouldn’t sleep… all you did was cry…. All I could do was hold you… couldn’t sleep, you weren’t there… lost my appetite… I loved him too, but you didn’t want to hear that….”
“I was selfish!” She groaned in self-disgust at how she’d neglected the most important person in her life. “I couldn’t see beyond what I was feeling, couldn’t see that you were hurting just as much as I was….”
His arms – painfully thin now – flashed out and crushed her to him and he sobbed his anguish into her shoulder while his grief flowed like the blood from his wound.
She held him as he wept – not the futile, wasted hears he’d shed before; but the cleansing, healing tears that released the emotions he’d had to suppress because of her.
“He’s gone… nearly lost you too….can’t bear that, Honey…can’t bear….” And the tears took his voice.
“You’ll never get shed of me, Shotgun. Not as long as I have any say about it! Get that straight right now.”
Was that a chuckle that erupted through the sobs?
She gave him a gentle shake. “What was that? You back-talking me again?”
“/Always,/” he replied in French.
“Smart man,” she said affectionately. Guiding his hand, she pressed it against the cloth. “Hold this. It’s almost stopped bleeding, but we should get you checked out, just to be sure. I’m going to call the hospital.”
Peter nodded, his stomach protesting the lack of food. “And something to eat?” he asked shakily.
“You got it.”
Five minutes later, she returned with sandwich in hand. “It’s peanut butter. Best I could do in a hurry. And the hospital’s sending someone.”
As if on cue, there was a pounding on the door. Kayla led Peter to the living room and answered it.
A man in a white coat stood there. The first words out of his mouth were “What the hell … How’d he get into this state of emaciation?”
Peter shrugged. “I couldn’t rest,” was all he said.
The doctor hmphed and began to examine him. Then he turned to Kay. “He’s going to have to be hospitalized, Mrs. Tork. He needs nutrition faster than eating will supply.”
”No!” If they were separated now, Peter would never get the rest he needed! “He needs to be with me! I’ll do anything you say, but please let him stay here!”
The doctor shook his head. “Out of the question. If you love him, you’ll released him to me – he needs at least 24 hours of intervention….”
She crouched next to her husband, taking his hand in her trembling one. “Peter, what are we going to do? You know what will happen if they separate us!”
“We can’t be apart, doc,” he said.
“Please, Mister Tork, I’ve heard it before. Husband and wife… they say they need each other… but give them a day or so and they adapt.” He sounded so cold….
Kayla got to her feet. Hands on hips, she squared off against the doctor. “You go ahead and hospitalize him, doc. But I’m going to be there, every minute. I don’t care if I have to get myself admitted as a patient, you will not separate me from my husband!”
“You will be in trouble, Mrs. Tork. I intend to file a report citing you for spousal abuse – letting your blind husband waste away like this….”
“ENOUGH!” Peter cried, springing to his feet. “Who the hell do you think you are? We just lost a baby, for goodness’ sakes! We’re grieving! And you come in here and… and…. “ His fists clenched and unclenched. Rage had taken his voice.
“And what? And do my job? Mister Tork, you’re obviously distressed. Let me give you an injection…” He pulled out a needle, and his bag fell open – revealing one single bottle.
Insulin.
He was going to inject a healthy man with insulin!
This was no doctor!
Kayla acted instinctively. Backhanding the man’s arm, she sent the needle he held flying across the room. “Who are you?” she demanded. “And what are you trying to do to my husband? That was insulin!”
“It will calm him,” he said in an eerily calm voice. “And that’s another thing to cite you for, obstructing a doctor in his work…” He shook his head and clucked his tongue. “You really are a threat to your husband, Mrs. Tork… better to divorce him and give him to me… I’ll take good care of him….”
Kayla shook, a combination of rage and fear. “Get out of here,” she hissed. “I don’t know who or what you are, but you’ve got ten seconds before I---“
“Michaela,” Peter interrupted. “Call the police. I just recognised his voice.”
The man’s face went blank and he paled.
“Who, Peter? Who is he?”
“This is my cousin, Kay. He’s insane. He’s tried off and on over the years to kill me….” He shook his head. “How he escaped the institution is beyond me….”
Kay quickly called the police. “They’re on their way,” she informed Peter, who was sitting on his cousin while she made the call.
“Good.”
The police and a real doctor came and took the man away. The real doctor knelt before Peter. “The cut isn’t deep,” he said. “But I am concerned about the emaciation.”
“Please tell me you don’t want to put him in the hospital,” Kayla begged.
He sighed. “For maybe six hours, yes. Long enough to get a protein and nutrient IV bag drained into him. After that, I see no reason why a normal diet shouldn’t sustain him.”
Kayla sighed in relief. “Thank you! You don’t know what that means to us!”
He frowned. “No… I admit to some puzzlement – would you like to stay with him?”
“I would,” she said fervently. “I know it’s a little odd, but we don’t like to be apart…”
“I understand,” he said, petting her arm. “I don’t like to be from my wife either.” He looked her up and down. “You show signs of strain – sadness – perhaps you’d consent to a complimentary checkup while he’s getting fed?”
She shook her head. “Just get him well again, Doc. That’s all the medicine I need.”
“I’ll do my best,” he said, smiling at her. “Now, you – you walk toward my voice – I’m not going all the way over there to get you!”
Peter stood, grinning. He moved to the doctor’s side, and his arm was taken. “Now, let’s go get some nutrition in you.”
“Yes, sir,” Peter said with a grin.
Three hours later, Peter was happily dozing. The IV bag was halfway gone and Kay had curled up on the bed beside him so he could rest – when a nurse came in to check on him.
“What’s going on here?” she squeaked.
Kayla motioned for her to be quiet. “Shh… he just got to sleep!”
“Would you kindly get out of that bed?” the nurse scolded in a whisper.
After the day they’d had, Kayla was in no mood to be concerned with the rules and regulations of the hospital. “I will not. This is a private room, and we’re not bothering a soul. We’ll be leaving here in a couple of hours, so why don’t you just leave us alone?”
The nurse smiled. “I understand. He is a doll, isn’t he?” She brushed the damp hair from Peter’s forehead. “Take care of him. On the record? I’ve seen nothing.”
Kayla grinned. “Thanks. And I’m sorry I was so rude. We’ve had a bad time of it lately, and we’re just now getting back on track.”
“I understand.” And she kissed Peter on the forehead and cupped Kayla’s cheek in her hand. “You remind me of my daughter and her husband.” And she was gone.
Kayla sighed deeply, curling herself around Peter once more, waiting until he was ready to go home with her.
Two hours later, Peter opened his blind eyes—disoriented. “MICHAELA!” he screamed, panicked.
“Hush, Peter,” she soothed, touching his cheek. “I’m right here….”
“Where…what…” he winced. “My hand hurts…”
“It’s just the IV, remember?” She ran her hand down his arm to where the needle was inserted. “We’re at the hospital.”
“Oh… food…” he mumbled, leaning back against her.
“That’s right. Straight from the bag!”
He chuckled and turned to face her. Colour was back in his cheeks.
“You look so much better,” Kayla observed. “I can’t believe what a difference a few hours have made.”
“I love you,” he said. “How long till we can go home?”
She looked at her watch. “Shouldn’t be long, now. That IVs almost empty and Doc’s due to come back and check on you any minute now.”
He nodded, sighing. “I want to go home.”
“Me, too.” She hugged him tightly. “Just a little while longer…”
He leaned toward her – and fell asleep again. Poor guy – he was totally drained from the last few weeks.
Kayla eased him back on the pillow and lay back herself to await the doctor. Might as well let him sleep as long as he could….
When the doctor entered the room, he did a double take. “Well…” he chuckled. “I didn’t expect to see you in bed with him.”
Kayla smiled at the kindly man. “He sleeps better this way,” was all she said.
“Well, if he sleeps better that way, stay there. I don’t think he’s gotten much sleep lately, has he?”
“No,” she replied quietly. “Neither of us has.”
The doctor nodded as he removed the IV bag and then the needle, putting a Band-Aid on Peter’s hand. “I’ll let you stay here for another hour,” he said. “Then I’ll wake him up.”
Kayla nodded. “I appreciate it. He’s really worn out…”
He nodded and left. Peter shifted in his sleep. “…Kay…no…please…don’t cry…anymore….”
“Shh.” She stroked his hair. “I’m not crying anymore. Go back to sleep….”
He smiled in his sleep – the full, killer one – and nodded before settling down.
He was still asleep an hour later when the doctor came back into the room. “Hi, Doc,” Kayla whispered.
“Hey,” he whispered back. “How’s he doing?”
“Sleeping like the proverbial baby. If I didn’t know how much he wanted to go home, I wouldn’t let you wake him!”
He sighed. “I wish there was some way to wake him without me touching him – blind as he is, that would disorient him more…”
“I’ll wake him up,” Kayla offered. “But he’s still not going to like it.” She tried to wake him gently, but neither calling his name nor shaking him prompted him to open his eyes. Finally, Kayla did the one thing that was sure to wake him.
She got out of bed.
Peter woke instantly, shooting to a sitting position and shrieking her name.
Fortunately, Kayla had expected that. Standing by the edge of his bed, she reached for his hand. “I’m sorry, Shotgun. We couldn’t wake you up any other way.”
The doctor’s eyes were huge. “That…that…all she did was…and you….”
“Busted,” Peter groaned, sinking back onto the pillows.
“Take it from me, Doc,” Kayla said ruefully. “It’s a very long and complicated story and your life would be much simpler if you just wrote this off as a little – uh – medical oddity.”
“One condition,” he said with a grin. “I’ll write it off if I’m told the entire story – once he recovers.”
“What do you say, Peter? Think he’d believe it?”
“No,” he laughed. “But maybe he’ll understand.”
Peter was stronger, but still just a little wobbly. Kayla supported him down to the cab and on the way home, he dozed with one hand on her leg.
As they pulled up to the Pad, Kayla reached over to shake Peter. “We’re here, Shotgun. Wake up.”
The tawny eyes fluttered half-open, looking around as if he could see. “Where…. Home?”
“Got it in one,” she replied, opening her door and reaching the fare money over the seat. “Back at the Pad.”
Peter smiled and removed his hand from her leg, waking up completely, instantly. “Good. I’d… I’d like to practice some if you’re up to it –“ His stomach protested. “After I eat again.”
Kayla waited until he hauled himself out of the cab before she answered. Taking his hand, she led the way to the front door. “I’ll give it a shot. If you’re sure you’re up to it.”
“I’m fine,” he said with a smile, petting her hand.
They entered the Pad, only to be greeted by a frantic Davy and Micky. “Where have you two been?” they said in unison.
“Hospital,” Peter said with a smile. “Getting me fattened up.”
Kayla deposited Peter at the kitchen table. “Speaking of which, he’s hungry again. Anybody for dinner?”
“I’ll help ya cook!” Micky volunteered, licking his lips in anticipation.
She chuckled. “Should’a known it’d be you, Mick. What do we have in here, anyway?” Kayla pored through the cabinets. “When was the last time we shopped?”
“March,” the other three chorused.
She grimaced. “Take out?” she asked hopefully.
“Pizza/Chinese/burgers!” the three said, each saying a different word at the same time.
“C’mon, you three! Make up your minds!” She stopped, looking sternly at them as they prepared to argue the subject. “Never mind. I will. Chinese – I want egg rolls.”
“Wonton soup and moo goo gai pan,” Peter said with a grin. “And MORE egg rolls!”
“Happy Family Seafood!” Davy put in.
“Schezwan chicken!” Micky said.
Peter groaned. “Again with the hot stuff?”
“Hey, clears the sinuses!”
“Yeah, and keeps you walkin’ the halls all night!”
“Stop it,” Kayla ordered. “Peter, let him have the hot stuff. If today is an indication, his walking the floor in agony isn’t going to keep you awake!”
Peter chuckled. “Kay, don’t forget fortune cookies. I love fortune cookies!”
“I know, I know!” She called in the order, asking them to deliver since none of them felt like going out again. “Thirty minutes, guys.”
“Great, let’s practice,” Peter said. “We can do that rework of Saginaw – if you’d like to, Kay.”
A brief look of sadness crossed her face, but she quickly put on a smile. “All right.”
The four moved to the bandstand. They began to play.
And they began, at long last, to heal.
Return to The Realm