'Til Death Do Us Part

by Seven


Disclaimer:  Earth: Final Conflict and its characters are copyrighted by Tribune Entertainment Company.  All rights reserved.



Notes from Author:    Three years before "Decision" to the September after "Sandoval's Run." This one has a lot of symbolism in it.



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Ronald Sandoval threw his coat to the floor as he entered the spartan apartment and threw himself on the light couch. Dee Dee was was clattering around in the kitchen, the sound of metal against metal seeming to be a cry of "I don't want you in here, I don't want you in here."

Fine. If she didn't want him, she didn't want him.

"Don't I mean anything to you?"

Her words grated on Sandoval's ears, even though she said them softly. He slowly turned, sitting on the bed, and glared at the slim blond woman standing by the window in her robe. She stared at him, almost coldly. "'Til death do us part,'" said Dee Dee softly. "What do those words mean?"

"They mean," Sandoval said coldly, "that we're married. It says nothing about being an implant."

Sandoval got up and pulled off his tie, throwing it right next to his coat. Dee Dee threw open the door, stalked out, and put a plate of tuna casserole on the table. She looked, Sandoval thought, very pretty in her gray silk dress. "Hi, Ron," she said briefly. "How was work?"

"Fine," he said, getting up and seating himself at the table. He stared at the fork beside his clenched hand, as if trying to memorize every detail of it. "How was your day?"

"Fine," Dee Dee replied, putting a napkin in front of him, then seating herself opposite him. The motion had a finality to it, as if there was nothing more to be said. Sandoval ate the meal quickly, then wiped his lips and stood, picking up his plate as if to take it to the kitchen.

He paused, watching Dee Dee's face as she stared at her plate. She knew what he was going to say, and she was pretending not to know. But, Sandoval thought wryly, you weren't married this long without knowing to a woman like Dee Dee without knowing that she knew what he was planning.

"I'll be gone Friday," he said casually, as if he were just going to jaunt to the grocery store.

Dee Dee raised her face, looking at him. There was no emotion in her pale face or blue eyes. "I see," she said quietly. Then she rose, took the plate from his hands, and walked back into the kitchen. Sandoval watched her, then jogged to the door. The apartment suddenly felt like a prison, like something that was hemming him in.

He picked up his coat, checked the pocket for his wallet. Yes, he thought with relief. It was there. He was going to stay in a motel until the next day, when he was to be implanted for Da'an.

He opened the door, then turned and glanced around the living room. It was sparsely adorned and furnished, but there was a warmly worn quality to it that made it special. To him, to Dee Dee, to the two of them together.

He sighed and shut the door. It had a horrible note of finality. Of "never again."

****

On Saturday...

Sandoval watched as the pale woman was wheeled into the sanitarium wing, wrapped in a knit blanket around her shoulders. Dee Dee Sandoval's blond hair was mussed and fell over her blank eyes, staring straight ahead without regard for what passed in front of them. She was slumped, head lolling on the headrest behind her.

The nurse stopped and wheeled it around, then left. Sandoval just stared at his unresponsive wife, so small and huddled in her blankets and shawl. "It's for the best," he said simply, unemotionally. "It's for the Taelons. Implants aren't made for love."

Then he turned and stalked out. No one remained in the sterile room with her, drugged into near-coma.

No one remained to see a tiny tear trickle down her slack cheek...

****

Sandoval awoke with a start in his own bed, shaking and sweating. Sunlight, seeming harsh and overbright, streamed through the window.

He felt pain lance through his hand, from his smallest finger. He raised it, seeing the small golden ring on his finger glitter, shining in the sunlight. It felt hot, burning to the touch. He winced at it, gripping his wrist.

September 16th. Their anniversary.

Sandoval felt remorse wash over his soul, aching like the hand that bore Dee Dee's wedding ring. Even though it hurt him, he thought, he would bear it. As a tribute to his dead wife, and the pain that he had caused her...