Iris Johansen - Pandora's Daughter

"No, he won't," he said grimly. "I was too late for you but not for him. I cut the son of a bitch's throat."

"Good. Megan will… I'm getting cold, Neal. I can't die yet. I have to tell you-"

"God, you're such a fool, Sarah," he said unsteadily. "I told you to leave here six months ago. You should have run. You should have hidden Megan away."

"I felt safe. I thought you were wrong. I didn't want to pull Megan away again. I've tried so hard to let her have a normal life. Not like mine. Not like yours." She inhaled sharply. "Everything is getting… hazy. I didn't expect it to be like this. I'm… frightened. You can help me, can't you?"

He nodded. "I can help you."

"I thought you could. Could I… touch you?"

"Yes." He lay down beside her and gathered her close. "Just relax, Sarah."

"I can't relax. Not yet. Megan. You have to help Megan."

"For God's sake, you didn't even prepare her. You lied to her. I don't know if I can do anything for her." Try.

"I can't promise you. You know what's going to happen once you leave her."

"Try," she repeated. "Please, Neal."

"No promises." He gently stroked her cheek. "I'll see what I can do."

"I know you will. She's strong, Neal. Much stronger than I am. She has a chance… You'll take care of her. You… like her. You like… my Megan."

"Yes. Now be quiet and rest."

She was silent for only a moment. "Neal, I'm… not a Pandora."

"You are," he whispered. "But it doesn't matter now. Hold on to me. I'll help you through it."

"I was hoping you would." She nestled closer. "Yes, help me…"

She let him take control. Warmth replacing coldness, light floods the darkness, glittering sanity instead of a world of madness.

"Thank you, Neal," she whispered.

"Shh, just let go…"

MEGAN SCREAMED.

Neal stiffened as the agonized sound tore through him.

Dammit, Sarah had just drifted away from him and Megan was already feeling the release.

Pain.

He gently pushed Sarah away from him and sat up.

Another jolt of agony.

He had to get to her before she tore herself apart.

Before she tore him apart.

Find her.

Where are you, Megan?

More pain.

Mindless panic and agony.

Find her.

Help her.

Find her.

MAMA!

Megan huddled against the wall of the cave as pain tore through her.

Not Pandora. Not Pandora. Not Pandora.

Voices. Babble. Screams.

Not Mama's voice. Where are you, Mama?

Gone.

But the voices weren't gone. They assaulted her, beat her, stabbed her.

Go away. Go away. Go away.

Help me, Mama.

No, Mama.

Gone.

Panic seared through her. She was alone with the voices that were tearing at her, killing her.

She screamed again. Help me.

"There's only one way I can help you, Megan."

A man was standing in the entrance of the cave. Dark, slim, tall. Was it the same man whom her mother had gone down to see?

Mama had gone and not come back.

Gone.

No, it wasn't that stranger. It was Neal Grady. Relief surged through her. Neal would help her.

Neal standing behind someone. The gleam of steel as his knife sliced across a throat. Blood spurting…

Murder.

Mama? Mama's throat?

No!

She instinctively launched herself at his knees and brought him down.

Another wave of voices struck her and she crumpled in agony.

"Stop fighting me," he said hoarsely. "I'm not going to hurt you."

She bit his wrist.

"My God, Sarah was right. You're much stronger than she ever was."

She could barely hear him, the voices were roaring now, ripping at her.

Fight them.

Fight him.

She tried to crawl toward the cave opening.

"No." He grabbed her by the waist. "It's over, Megan."

Mama.

"Stop it." His face contorted with pain. "She can't help you any longer. And I'm not sure I can do it either."

Mama.

"Don't do this. I told her I wouldn't promise to-"

Mama!

"Dammit, Megan, you have to stay with me." He backhanded her across the face.

Darkness.

But the voices were still there, gnawing at her sinews, devouring her.

"Okay, I can't take it anymore," he whispered. "You win, Megan. Or maybe Sarah wins." His hands grasped her arms, holding her still. "I'm going to shut you down. Don't fight me. I'm not going to hurt you. You're just going to go to sleep and I'll take the voices away."

She opened her eyes to look dazedly up at him. "What…"

"Shh." He gently brushed her hair back from her forehead. "You wanted help. I'm going to give it to you. You won't remember the voices, the pain, any of this." His lips tightened. "I wish to God I was that lucky."

Twelve years later

St. Andrews Hospital

Atlanta, Georgia

"HE'S DEAD, MEGAN. CALL IT," Scott Rogan said as he looked at her over the body of the fourteen-year-old boy. "Give it up."

"Tell that to his mother." She hit the paddles again to try to jumpstart the boy's heart. Come on, Manuel. Come back to us. "I'm not going to do it without a fight."

"We've been working on him for the last twenty minutes."

"Then another few won't make a difference." She counted to three and then hit him again. "Live, Manuel," she whispered. "You have so much to do, so much to see. Don't let it end like this."

But it had ended, she realized in helpless frustration after another two minutes. Dammit to hell. Poor kid.

She ripped her gloves off as she turned away. "Document that the patient died at eleven-oh-five p.m.," she said jerkily to the nurse. She strode out of the ER to wash and change her bloodstained scrubs. She couldn't face the boy's mother like this. The woman was going to have a bad enough memory to carry for the rest of her life.

Damn. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the jamb of the door for a minute. It shouldn't be like this. She should be able to do more.

"Are you okay, Megan?"

She opened her eyes to see Scott standing beside her. "No." She straightened. "I wanted a miracle. I didn't get it."

"You did your best. We're just doctors. We can't walk on water."

"I can try. Every day I can try a little harder and maybe someday I'll be good enough to-" She rubbed her stinging eyes on the back of her hand and turned away. "I can't stand here talking. I have to talk to Manuel's mother."

"Wait." He was hurrying after her. "I'll tell her, Megan."

She shook her head. "My job. He was my patient." But, dammit, she didn't want to do this. It was always a painful responsibility but especially traumatic when it concerned the young. "Thanks anyway, Scott."

He shrugged. "It's bad for me too. But it doesn't tear me up like it does you. Sometimes I wonder why you decided to become a doctor. You're too damn emotional. All that psychological training we were given in med school didn't get through to you."

"I'll get used to it." Her gaze was fixed on the small Latina woman sitting in a chair across the waiting room. A deep pang of sadness surged through her. Dear God, the woman's hopeful expression as she saw Megan…

No, she'd never get used to it. Not in a million years. Then take it on the chin and go tell that mother her boy is dead.

The woman was tensing, her eyes anxious. Megan could feel her pain and desperation as if it were her own. It was surrounding her, deluging her, drowning her. She braced herself, fighting to pull away from it.

"Megan," Scott murmured.

She shook her head to clear it. "It's okay." She moistened her lips and forced herself to start across the room. Get it over with and try to offer the woman what comfort she could.

"Mrs. Rivera, I'm Dr. Megan Blair." She drew a deep breath. "I'm sorry to tell you that…"