The Battle for Peace

Chapter 5:

Voldemort stood there on the field, almost grinning. Students in the stands started to faint and scream. Harry could not believe that this was happening so soon. I wish he had waited until the end of this year, Harry though. The Dementors glided slowly and purposefully toward them. Dumbledore and the other teachers rushed forward, wands at the ready. One by one, each teacher began to conjure their own Patronus. Slowly, the Dementors began to back away, hands still outstretched.

Harry's scar began to sting, and then it began to burn. His right hand immediately went to his forehead, clutching it in pain. His eyes began to water, and he could barely make out the figures around him.

A rush of...something coursed through him, and it seemed as if the figures were looming closer and closer to him with every second. He could see the Dementors on the field, their hands stretched forward, sucking the happiness out of everyone; Voldemort's army of Death Eaters grinning with their wands at the ready, then firing curse and hexes in every direction, successfully striking many students. And then there was Voldemort, watching the scene before him with an evil smile on his face.

In his mind, he could almost see a white-hot blade being pressed to his forehead; it was the cause of his pain. He opened his eyes, not knowing that he had closed them. A blade was floating before him, its tip grazing his scar, burning him.

All he had to do was reach out and grab it. Then, the pain would stop.

He reached forward. The blade inched away, but his scar still burned like Hell. Why wasn't it working? He leaned further. After much struggle, he finally grabbed hold of the blade. Suddenly, he was falling.

A red light surrounded him and righted him on his broomstick. Harry wildly looked around to see Dumbledore with his wand in the air. Harry looked to his left and saw Voldemort doing the same thing.

"Let's get this over with, shall we, Potter?" he sneered. "Leiden aus ewig koma!"

Quick as a flash, a silver beam flew from Voldemort's wand, striking one of the Quidditch players. As the player fell, he could tell it was a Gryffindor. Frantically, Harry looked around at his teammates. Seamus was there with Jacey, Ron was there, Ginny was next to him, Natalie was there, and Ashley was...

It was then that Harry realized that Voldemort had aimed for Ashley. The force of the spell had knocked her off her broom with no time to react. She was falling and heading towards Voldemort's army. Blood trailed from the back of her head and floated in midair for a few seconds before giving in to gravity itself. She was heading towards Voldemort's army, whose arms were reaching out, ready to grab her and do God knows what.

"NOOOOOOO!" Harry bellowed. He flattened himself onto his broomstick and flew towards her. Come on, he urged himself. Come on, I have to get to her!

Voldemort just stood there, laughing manically, urging her with his wand to come closer. Just when Harry thought all hope was about to be lost, a great flash of white light flew past him. Lower and lower it went, scorching the green grass to a nasty brown color. If one looked close enough, you could see the little animals on the ground scattering for cover. The beam zigzagged here and there. Finally, it hit Voldemort's shaft of light and...well, I guess the only thing that could be said is that it destroyed it.

Not bothering to see who had sent the ray, Harry flew faster and faster. Now, his flight, which seemed to go on forever in his mind, was made even more difficult by curses the Death Eaters were sending his way. He zoomed to the left, and then he maneuvered to the right. One of the curses came startlingly close to hitting him, scorching the ends of his hair. Harry didn't care. There was only one thing on his mind.

Finally, Harry could reach out and grab her. Barely managing to stop after gaining so much momentum, he grabbed her waist and heaved her onto his broom. She was unconscious and when he tried to steady her she wobbled dangerously; they were still about fifty feet from the ground.

Voldemort did not show one single emotion on his snakelike face. All he did was smirk (whether that is an emotion is up to you) and walk into the Forbidden Forest. All of his followers proceeded to do so as well.

"Now!" Dumbledore shouted.

Spells flew from every direction, striking about a dozen Death Eaters. Voldemort whipped around and glared at Dumbledore. Dumbledore began to glow and give off a blinding white light. Everyone shielded their eyes and ducked down, hoping it would all be over soon. With one flick of his raised hand, Dumbledore cast a powerful spell and directed it toward Voldemort. Voldemort dodged out of the way, trying to evade it. The enchantment just hit his foot, and then he stumbled. His entire left side was paralyzed.

"You Muggle-loving fool!" Voldemort exclaimed. "Do you really think that your meager spell will stop me?" Dumbledore, raging with anger, lifted both of his hands, and instead of white light, they gave off a red beam.

"You shall never win, Tom," he stated, surprisingly calm. Voldemort's eyes widened and he commanded some of his Death Eaters to lead him out of there. They complied, levitating him, much to his dismay.

They headed into the Forest, though some did not make it, falling victim to some nasty hexes. After what seemed like an eternity, they were gone.

All of the teachers stood there with shock, surprise, and maybe a bit of fear etched on their faces. Dumbledore's eyes lost their twinkle, and Snape's face darkened.

"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall screamed. "Get her to the hospital wing, quickly!"

§§§

The hospital wing seemed familiar, yet so strange to Harry. After all the times he had been there, this time seemed totally different. Maybe it was because of the fact that it was not he this time that needed to recuperate.

"What in blazes happened to her?" Ron asked. Harry turned around, silently asking the same question. Hermione sighed, not wanting to make eye contact with either of them.

"It's the curse of Danaev (A/N: pronounced do-naa-év). He was supposed to be one of the most terrible wizards on earth, according to The Greatest and the Worst: A History of History. Some people believe that he was the one who persuaded Salazar Slytherin to go against the other founders and--"

"Hermione, if I had wanted to know the entire history of this Danaev, I would have read your notes from History of Magic," Ron stated. Hermione didn't even bother to retort, as Ron's eyes showed no mischief or mirth.

"Well, when people didn't agree with him, he cursed them. Not the way you or I would, but in his own way. He actually invented a cursethat could do whatever the caster wanted, as long as it induced pain." Harry's eyes widened and his mouth hung open.

"What goes along with pain?" he asked.

"Anything: eternal pain, internal pain, emotional pain, anything. The beginning always starts with pain, and then the caster adds what he or she wants the pain to be in or do."

"So," Harry began, his voice shaking, "what did he do?" Hermione slowly turned to him, her lip trembling.

"Please don't make me say it, Harry," she pleaded, tears threatening to fall.

"What did he do to her? What is the curse?" he voiced, his tone rising steadily. Hermione made no motion to reveal what she knew. If Harry heard what Voldemort had done, he would leave right now and try to kill him. He wasn't ready; she knew that.

"Hermione!" he demanded. She bowed her head.

"I can't tell you, Harry. If I do, you'll go mad, and--and you will try to kill V-Voldemort right now, which you can't because--"

"Hermione, enough already! Just tell what the bloody hell is wrong with her!" Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but decided it was no use. She relented.

"Pain of eternal coma," she said, in a whisper that was barely audible. Ron's face reflected terror and Harry tensed, his eyes widened in shock and anger.

As if on cue, Ashley began to twitch and her skin began to turn red. Her skin began to glow a sickening scarlet, and her arms and legs flung wildly around her. Soon, it seemed she was having a full-out seizure. Harry, Ron, and Hermione ran to her bed, trying to calm her. Her eyes screwed up tightly and she gripped at her bed sheets, screaming.

Madam Pomfrey came dashing into the wing. She had an alarmed look on her face and her white hair was starting to fall from its bun.

"Stand aside," she ordered. She grabbed a potion from the bedside table and, instead of trying to pour it in her mouth, she poured it all over Ashley's body. Almost immediately, Ashley began to stop moving and relax, her breathing slowing to normal. Her face was still red and she had a scratch on her face.

"This will have to do until we find a cure," Madam Pomfrey informed. "Keep an eye on her, and if she starts up again, just call me, understand? Do not try and help her yourselves. You three may be bright, but this is too much for you." With that, she left the room. Harry rounded on Hermione, furious.

"Do you mean to tell me that there is no cure, or at least a counter-curse?" he questioned, his voice low and dangerous.

"Only Danaev knew, and he wasn't about to write it down or give it to anyone," she explained. Harry banged his fist on the table, took one glance at Ashley lying on the bed and absconded, slamming the door behind him. Ron sighed.

"That bloke needs some sort of anger management, I'm telling you," he stated. Hermione scoffed.

"Ron, I really want to slap you right now," she said, tapping her foot.

"Why?" he asked, incredulous.

"If you don't see it, why should I tell you?" she replied. Ron bit his cheek and balled his fists. He absolutely hated it when she answered his question with another one. He hated it when anybody did that, but when she did it, it really pushed his buttons.

The silence was enough to make someone want to pull their hair out. Hermione had been sour with him all week, ever since... No, he didn't want to go there.

Well, for your sake...

With a little sneakiness and Harry's Invisibility Cloak, Ron had led Hermione to Hogsmeade before they were scheduled to. Hermione, being Head Girl, objected at first, but then just let it pass. She hoped that their first date would be worth breaking this rule.

It wasn't. They went to eat and Ron spilled Butterbeer all over her robes (which were new). They tried to dance, but then stopped because Ron was crushing Hermione's feet. Then they tried walking and having polite conversation, but Hermione just couldn't seem to get Ron's attention, even when she spoke about Quidditch. Following his gaze, she realized where his attention was.

Three witches in skimpy outfits were dancing around and jumping while holding up their wands. A message shot into the air: Play Wizard, A Pleasurable Magazine. Along with it came some very, er, interesting pictures. Now, as you know, wizarding photos are put into a special solution so that they can move. Even though these weren't your typical photos, they were still moving. Get the idea? I'm sorry you had to.

Hermione, furious, had slapped Ron, hard. Practically in tears, she stomped all the way back to Hogwarts, giving the excuse that she thought she saw a student sneaking off to Hogsmeade. When asked who it was, Hermione told the truth.

She just left herself out of it.

Ron had been given detention for a week, and after a talk with Harry, did not get angry with Hermione. Still, this did not stop her from being extremely angry with him, lashing out every chance she got. The whole ordeal had started a poll on when Hermione would stop being angry. By the way things were going, it looked like everyone was going to win; they all voted, "Never."

He was surprised Hermione hadn't told him off when he interrupted her "lesson," but he was surprised about a lot lately.

For instance, his cousin was lying in the hospital wing in an eternal pain coma or whatever, and he was powerless.

"What are we suppose to do, Ron?" Hermione asked. He cocked his head, his brow furrowed.

"What?" he replied, confused.

"I know what you're thinking," she said. "There isn't anything we can do right now."

He sighed deeply. "You're right. I mean, it's not as if we can go back and ask Danaev what the counter-curse is." Hermione looked at her feet, knowing he was right.

She didn't like this at all. She didn't like this feeling of weakness. She didn't like the fact that they were standing in the Hospital Wing doing nothing to help their friend. And what about Harry? How were they supposed to help him?

Life was supposed to be simple. They were expected to be the greatest witches and wizards out there, and things were supposed to be perfect. A little problem here or there, sure, but otherwise, perfect.

Was it always going to be like this? Were they meant to suffer like this?

These thoughts continued to flow through her head as she quietly led Ron out of the Hospital Wing, dragging her feet slightly in despair.

&*&*&*

One good, solid week, and nothing had changed. Hogwarts was on hyper alert, yeah, but that would have happened sooner or later. No, I'm talking about Ashley's condition.

Harry just couldn't seem to concentrate in class. He managed to pull an E at least, sometime a P when he was really inattentive. Everyone he knew tried their hardest to boost his spirits, but not even a smile would escape his lips. Every day after classes were over, he would slowly make his way toward the Heads' suite and not come out, even for dinner.

Christmas was getting closer and closer. All of the Gryffindors, little by little, began to adopt Harry's mood. Of course, no one went to any extremities.

Hogsmeade weekends lessened and only 6^th years and up were permitted to leave. Hogwarts's security and observation increased steadily; the Ministry was careful not to let anything go by unseen. No privacy was available, so it seemed. Everything from classrooms to letters and packages were closely monitored. Though every student knew it was for the best, though that didn't mean they were keen on it.

The only House that seemed unfazed by everything was Slytherin. In fact, they became even more ruthless and heartless than Voldemort himself. This was proven on the first of December, when Harry, Ron, and Hermione were walking through the corridors, reminiscing and wondering.

"Hey, Potter," said a voice. Ron and Hermione turned to see Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini standing there, smirking. Reluctantly and with a sigh, Harry, too, turned to face them as well. From the shadows came Malfoy's cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.

"What's the matter, Potter? Are you sad now that your girlfriend is dying?" Pansy mocked. Blaise sniggered. Crabbe and Goyle just stood there, grinning like idiots.

"Don't you think you're a little too old to be doing this, Parkinson?" Hermione asked. Parkinson laughed.

"Don't you think that sleazy witches shouldn't be made Head Girl?" she retorted.

"Then I guess that's why Hermione was chosen and not you," Ron stated. Parkinson growled.

"Down boy," was all Harry said before Parkinson launched at him. He whipped out his wand, ready to curse her, when someone else did.

"Immobulous!" someone yelled. Parkinson stopped in her tracks, frozen. Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle turned around, shocked to see Draco Malfoy standing there, his wand out.

"Don't you three have better things to do than torture Gryffindors? Get out of here," he ordered. They practically ran away; apparently, they did not want to suffer as Parkinson had. Ron raised an eyebrow in doubt.

"Why did you do that, Malfoy?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Malfoy scoffed. "Would you rather I let her torture Potter over something like this? Believe it or not, I know what it's like to be worried about someone you care about." Before another word was exchanged, he left. The three were silent.

"Strange," Ron voiced. Hermione looked at Harry pointedly; they were not going to say anything to Ron about what the meaning behind Malfoy's words was.

"Yes, Ron, it's very strange," Hermione agreed. Harry nodded. "Let's go, then."

They slowly made their way to the Great Hall, absolutely starving.

***

"I can't believe we have this much work to do. I only kept half of my classes, maybe less!" Ron exclaimed before shoving mashed potatoes in his mouth. Hermione stared at him in disgust.

"Ron, shut up before you spill your food," she said. Ron complied, even if a bit agitated. Harry said nothing; he was pushing his food around his plate with a fork. Hermione frowned.

"Harry?"

He looked at her, and Hermione saw that his once brilliant eyes were dull and lifeless. They had been this way before, but now it seemed worse. The circles under his eyes were darker than the night sky, and his skin was pale and colorless. He seemed so frail. Hermione's brow furrowed in deep concern while Ron put down his plate.

"Aren't you sleeping at all, mate?" he asked. Barely noticeable, Harry shook his head. Hermione was shocked; she was smart enough to tell it was lack of sleep, and she wasn't denying that Ron was smart, either. However, she also couldn't deny that he was rather thick when times like this arose. Ron seemed to sense what she was thinking and glared at her. Harry went back to playing with his food.

Ron pulled Harry's plate away. "Tell us. It's like this one's--"he pointed at Hermione--"always saying: we're too old to be bottling things up. We're not dense, Harry, and neither is the school. At least tell us what's bothering you. Aren't we your best friends?" Harry finally looked up as Ron ended his speech. Slowly, he looked between Ron and Hermione. It was true; they were the Gryffindor Trio, best friends till the end, through thick and thin. Wasn't it time he started telling them the truth?

He pulled out a piece of parchment from his pockets and threw it out onto the table. His friends stared, first at the parchment, then at Harry. What were they suppose to do?

"Read it," Harry urged, his voice hoarse from not speaking for so long. Hermione and Ron placed the parchment between them and, eyes widening, began to read.

I hardly ever give prophecies. I wouldn't say I'm an incompetent Seer, but no one is perfect. The last one I gave Dumbledore was absolutely true, but this other one...I can't bear to say this. What did I do--what have I done--to deserve this? Everything is so terrible, so difficult, so....

One of You-Know-Who's followers came that night. I was frightened; what was I to do?

He came in, and unknown to me he had his friends outside, waiting. I hardly remember anything. The most is that as I tried to reach for my wand, I was Stupefied. When I awoke, I was in what seemed to be a cave of some sort.

My heart filled with dread, and as I relive the tale, it does so again. I can hardly bear these memories, but once here they will escape me forever.

Hermione gasped while Ron's mouth hung open in shock. They tried to make eye contact with Harry, but he just waved his hand, urging them to go on.

My throat ached horribly. I tried to massage it, but my hands would not move; they surged with pain, pain that reached my very veins and blood. I was so frightened. I was afraid I was going to die right there. But they weren't going to let me off that easily.

I remember someone coming into the room. My heart stopped, I thought it was You-Know-Who. It was just my captor, though. He came up to me, slowly; I suppose he really wanted to torture me. Finally, he came right beside me, his hand trailing up my arm. I was told of their plan.

If I complied, I would be set free and would forget after twenty-four hours. If I failed to comply, I would be given away.

Too frightened to think straight, I went with the former.

I was to get into a trance and tell Dumbledore of an unknown prophecy. I was to make it sound terribly convincing, enough for the Headmaster of Hogwarts to take immediate action. The prophecy had to include 6 people, specifically Hogwarts students. It was imperative that the "prophecy" revealed some hogwash about certain heirs of certain wizards finding their mate and creating children that would "defeat a rising army, should the Dark Lord be defeated."

I went along with it. After they released me, I arranged a meeting with Dumbledore, trying to strike a conversation about classes and whether he approved of my program. Then, I stopped. I began to tense and shake slightly. I willed my face to become blank, and in the strangest voice, I said:

"Should the Dark Lord be defeated, there will be a new evil to overcome. His followers shall come to get revenge on those who were responsible for the fall of their master. This evil can be overcome only by the power of three children, born of the strongest wizards and witches since the Founders. The first child, born of the lion and the snake, heir of Garren, will be the emblazoned star; guiding the others and planning attack in the new war. He will be resourceful and cunning, a great help to the Triangle. The second child, born of two lions, also one the heir of Madien and Garren, will be the Healer, also resourceful, cunning and very powerful in the arts of healing and the living, powerful enough to overthrow a Necromancer. She will be the New Hope for a feud on the fading side. The third child, the strongest of the three, born of two lions, the heir of Godric Gryffindor and Merlin, will be the warrior. Smart, cunning, ambitious, and a great warrior she will be. She will be the link in the triangle, the most powerful part in the triangle. These three and these three alone must band together to defeat the new evil that may bring the worst. These three must be born, or the world is lost."

Dumbledore immediately took action. They tried doing research to see which students fit the prophecy, though it was to no avail, as the wizards mentioned had no intention of leaving a clue of whom their heirs would be. According to the Death Eaters, Dumbledore would make connections. The most powerful child would, in his mind, belong to Harry Potter. The rest would very likely be people in his tight knit of friends. That meant Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, and even the youngest Weasley, Virginia. But two people were missing, he knew.

He did, though, have an idea of who might be one of them. He knew that one of the Weasley children's aunt and uncle were thinking of coming to Hogwarts, as where they were living began to become part of the magical war. He visited them, informed them of the prophecy, and urged them to move to England and come to Hogwarts, where their child would be under his protection.

Not a sound was heard out of Ron and Hermione's mouth.

"Wait, there's more," Harry said bitterly. They continued.

Hopefully, this child would become friends with Potter. The Dark Lord wanted this child to become an easy target. He sensed that Harry Potter would practically perish if someone he grew close to was captured by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and eventually killed.

They were never going to find out in time, and I certainly couldn't tell them what was happening. I was under a curse at the time of the prophecy revelation, and couldn't warn them if I tried.

Dumbledore, as smart a man as he is, has fallen right into the trap. I feel terribly sorry for young Potter, too. He's going to lose someone who I predict (in truth) will be very dear to his heart.

I hope someone finds this in time, before something else happens and the magical world is doomed.

"So it was all a lie?" Ron asked, furious. "Everything is falling apart because of this, and it's not even worth it?"

"Ron, keep your voice down!" Hermione whispered, smacking his arm. Ron glared at her.

"Hermione, he used Harry and Ashley! He used all of us!" he hissed.

"Ron," Hermione pleaded, jerking her head towards Harry. Ron followed her motion and immediately his face softened.

Harry had his head in his hands and his shoulders were shaking slightly. Worried, Hermione tapped his shoulder. He looked up, and Hermione saw with immense sadness that Harry was crying. Harry Potter. Harry Potter was crying, the Harry Potter who never let his emotions show unless they were anger or depression.

"Let's get out of here," Ron whispered. Hermione quickly grabbed the parchment and stuffed it in her bag. As discreetly as they could, the trio left the Great Hall. No one noticed a thing, for once; they didn't even want to know.

§§§

They quickly ran to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, knowing it was always empty at dinnertime (Professor Lupin had taken to leaving his work in order to have a meal with his colleagues). As soon as they were inside, Hermione placed a rather complicated lock ohe door so they would not be interrupted.

Ron immediately took a seat at one of the desks, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Harry just stood by the window, staring.

He remembered when his life had been simple, even if a bit depressing. When times were tough, he wished that somebody would take him to a wonderful place and he would never have to return to the Dursley's.

Hagrid was that somebody, and he had taken him to Hogwarts. No matter how hard things got, even at Hogwarts, he never wished he was back at the Dursley's, that he had never known this world.

This was the first time.

I wish I had never known all of this, he thought, sighing. He buried his head in his arms and just sat on a chair by the window, trying desperately not to let the tears fall.

"So, what happened wasn't just his plan because of something. It was part of a bigger plan, his plan," Hermione stated. Ron glared at her, hard.

"Oh, Hermione, it's a good thing you told us that. We never would have figured it out; we're so thick," he said sarcastically. Hermione was shocked.

"I was only saying it so I could confirm it was real, Ronald. You do that, too, so don't act as if it's never been done!"

"Stop it, you two!" Harry pleaded. Instantly, Ron and Hermione's bickering halted. They walked over to their friend, each putting a comforting hand on his shoulders. "Can't you see there's enough in this world without you two adding to it?"

"Sorry, mate," Ron atoned.

"Forgive me, Harry. I'm so sorry," she whispered, a tear falling down her face. The three were silent, praying to whoever was listening for a miracle.

"Harry?"

"Hermione? Ron?"

Ron turned to see Remus Lupin standing outside his office, worry etched all over his face. Behind him with a worried face as well was Sirius Black.

"Harry!" Sirius exclaimed, running down to comfort his godson. Hermione and Ron retreated, allowing him to do so. They knew Harry not only needed them, but also needed his godfather.

"Why aren't you at dinner, Professor?" Ron asked. Lupin smirked.

"I should ask you the same question, Ron," he replied.

"Stuff," Ron said.

"Same here. What's the problem?" Hermione looked at Harry, asking if she should tell them. Harry's eyes flared with urgency. She handed Lupin the parchment that revealed everything. Lupin's eyes widened; he flung the parchment toward Sirius.

"What the bloody hell?" Sirius whispered.

"That's what I was thinking," Ron murmered. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

"So this was all part of old Voldie's master plan, was it? Not very foolproof if we found out about it," Sirius stated.

"He used her," Harry whispered. "He used her, just to get to me." Lupin laid a hand on Ron and Hermione's shoulders.

"Harry, he's just trying to break you down. You can't let--"

"It's too late, Professor! He's got me! I never thought I'd admit it, but he finally got to me! He figured out the worst thing that could happen to me, and made it come true! I love her, Remus! She's suffering because I do! Everything could have been fine; we could have been okay. But now she's in some sort of pain coma and she'll never get out of it! Why do I have to have the worst hand?!"

He stormed out without another word.

The remaining people in the room stared at one another. What was there to be said? Harry was right; this was the worst thing that ever happened to him. He always got the worst hand dealt to him. It wasn't fair. Everyone there silently agreed that they would gladly take some of the burden off of Harry's shoulders, maybe even all of it. It pained them to see him suffer.

"I've never seen him like that. He's gone around the bend this time," Ron said.

"What are we going to do?" Hermione asked quietly.

"There's only one thing to do. We have to tell Dumbledore," Remus said.

By the looks on everyone's faces, he realized it was the wrong thing to say.

&*&*&

Right after he left the Defense classroom, Harry went straight to the Hospital Wing. Not bothering to knock, not bothering to ask permission, he made his way to Ashley's bed.

She just lay there, still, breathing ever so slightly. Her hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat and Harry could see dried tear tracks on her face. Her eyes had dark, puffy circles around them and her entire body was as white as the sheets. His heart ached at the sight before him. Instead of grabbing a chair, he sat on the bed, holding her hand. He gave her a gentle squeeze.

"People always try to tell me that what happens isn't my fault. But it really is, this time. If Voldemort hadn't tried to get me, you wouldn't have been dragged over here because of a fake prophecy. You wouldn't have known me, and none of this would have happened.

"But there's something wrong with that, too," he concluded. He stroked her face, feeling how hot her skin was, even if it was colorless. "If I never knew you, I'd still be miserable.

"I wish you would come back. I miss--I love--you. I still love you. I can't help it. Please, just, come back." He lay down next to her, quietly sobbing, eventually giving in to sleep.