The Logic of Desire

A/N: This is the immediate continuation of Part 2.

Warning: Gruesome stuff in this part.

***************

The next few days found Xan often in Random’s office, blowing off steam at the lack of progress in their clandestine search. Not that it was completely fruitless; Xan had reasoned that a city-state, even one inhabited by machines, must trade with others for resources, and a time-consuming Ferret job had revealed that Zero-One had been immensely profitable. At least until the blockade by the human military powers. That event, a response to the faltering markets of the human nations, seemed to have sparked a downward economic spiral, leading to general collapse for all. What the political fallout was, she couldn’t discover in the files, though she would have been willing to hazard a guess: war.

The trade records suggested, though did not prove, that humans were ultimately responsible for the conflict. Was it traitorous that she felt relieved? She missed the Agents more with each passing day.

Because the searches took so long to complete, Xan had mostly free time on her hands. Sarisa, too, had little in the way of official duties – forays into the Matrix by Zion-based personnel had been restricted to Counter-Intelligence. Xan regretted not being able to reveal the reason to her roommate, but, she reasoned, all of Zion would know soon enough. If everything goes according to plan, that is.

So she often dragged Sarisa down to the Intelligence Logistical Support Group offices, where they were quick to discover that the gentlemen of the ILSG would seize upon the most tenuous excuse to stop working, and play competitive Unreal Tournament across the network instead. The two women were initially outclassed by the more experienced players, and spent more time dead than alive. But with practice, they ovedoved rapidly, and by the end of the second day their two-woman team could hold its own against any pair thrown against them.

“Maybe we should switch the teams,” Dante suggested with a sour twist to his mouth. He and Cerberus had just been soundly thrashed by the AOU operatives.

“Whatever,” Xan said with a smirk, winking at Sarisa.

Random broke in. “I’ll team up with Xan, while Cerberus partners Sarisa. That may even the odds. Dante, you need a breather. You can watch – and learn.” He flashed a smile at the women.

Secretly, Xan was relieved. Dante took it all far more seriously than she was comfortable with. Random, on the other hand, was a riot to play with, always wisecracking with off-color comments. She wondered whether it was all part of his strategy, since her virtual avatar had been killed more than once by his while she was convulsed with laughter.

Playing with Random rather than against him proved to be every bit as much fun. Xan thought that she might have dislocated a rib from laughing. Their opponents, as well, got into the spirit, and the whole enterprise nearly degenerated into a fest of verbal one-upmanship. She hadn’t had this much fun since she was unplugged.

She realized with a shock that she hadn’t even thought about Smith, Brown or Jones for the past couple of days. Nor had she thought about searching for more records of the Truth.

She caught Random’s eye, and he sobered abruptly, catching her mood. “Let’s call it a day, huh? My muscles are all cramped,” he said, rolling his shoulders to emphasize his point.

Xan swiveled around to look at Sarisa, and found her conversing intently with Cerberus. Glancing back at Random, she rolled her eyes, indicating her roommate. He grinned, jerked his head in the direction of the door, and they left the office together.

They used the journey up to her quarters to discuss their next plan of attack, and what the trade records might mean. Random was grim. “I’m beginning to think that there’s a very good reason why they don’t want everyone to know what really happened. If the Machines really did strike first, then why hide it? It would bolster their case. But if it does turn out that we humans are to blame, that we committed real atrocities, you just know that some wiall all for negotiations. And the Zion leaders won’t let that happen.”

“Ozymandias won’t, that’s for sure,” Xan agreed. “And I think you’re probably right about the rest of them, too.” She stopped and turned to face him. “Random…thanks for all the fun – you guys are great. But more than that, I want to tell you how much I appreciate having someone to share this crazy search for the truth with. I…” She trailed off, not sure of what, indeed, she even wanted to say.

He gulped visibly, and reddened. “I’m glad we met, too, Xan. I know what you mean about having someone else to share this stuff with. It’s exhausting, keeping it to yourself all the time…” The blush deepened. “I really like gaming with you, too, and all that, um…” He shrugged, and turned away.

She reached out and squeezed his hand briefly, then set off again. They walked the rest of the way in silence and, at her quarters, Random gave her a quick smile, promising to get the new search running before he slept. For a moment he seemed about to say more, but evidently thought better of it, because he only grinned again before pivoting on his heel and striding back the way he had come.

***************

WHAM!

“Wake up, you two!” The voice interrupted a pleasant dream of walking along a beach. Xan groaned, but opened one eye. The door to her room was still vibrating on its hinges, having rebounded from its close encounter with the wall.

Altaira was nearly jumping up and down, attempting to drag Sarisa from her bunk. “Get up! We’ve got to get to the central Commons!”

“Why? What’s happened?” Xan rubbed the sleep from her eyes and looked around for her boots.

“They’ve caught a traitor! A real one! Intel brought him in overnight. They’re going to announce the trial time down at the Commons, we definitely don’t want to miss it.” Altaira made an impatient gesture, and the other two women scrambled to make themselves presentable. By the time they left the AOU quarters, they found themselves part of a throng that surged and chattered excitedly as it made its way to the designated location.

The Commons was a huge natural chamber in the very center of Zion. Joined stalactites and stalagmites formed imposing gnarled columns that marched toward a ledge at one end of the space. The attention of the crowd was on that ledge, waiting for someone to appear. Murmurs ran through the assembled, the volume rising and falling as Zion’s citizens speculated on the identity of the alleged traitor, and his likely punishment.

Sarisa eyed Xan curiously. “You were looking for security breaches – did you have something to do with catching this guy?”

“I don’t know for sure, but it’s possible. We’ll all find out at the trial,” she hedged. A vague discomfort was settling in her stomach as a result of listening to the conversations surrounding them. Is this what I face, if I continue to see the Agents?

Sudden movement turned her attention to the ledge. Carbon had appeared on it, and was holding up his hands for silence. The crowd grudgingly complied, and when all was quiet, he announced, “Citizens of Zion, I ask your indulgence. Our defense forces have identified one whom we believe is a traitor, who has betrayed his shipmates to their deaths and colluded with our enemies, the Machines. We will hold a trial for this person beginning at one hour past noon in the Hall of Justice. We ask for your help in bringing to light any information that may bear on this case. Any citizen with knowledge of this case, indeed with any information regarding the accused, Blacklight, is hereby commanded to appear in the Hall for the trial. The hearings are open proceedings; any citizen may attend. That is all.” He disappeared from the ledge as the tumult of many voices rose from the chamber.

************

Sarisa and Altaira wanted to make sure of getting good seats, so the three women arrived at the Hall early. Xan didn’t need to worry about the view she would have of the proceedings; an officer of the court had informed her that she would be called as a witness. She was led to a roped-off section of chairs while her companions selected front-row spots in the general audience.

As more people filed in, the mood of the Hall became one of tense anticipation. Xan saw more than a few looking her way, whispering and pointing. She laughed grimly to herself. If they were expecting to see her implicated, they were in for a surprise. She tried to ignore the rising din, mentally reviewing her testimony.

An abrupt swell in the noise level made her look up. Armed guards were escorting a man to the Place of the Accused, some in the crowd spitting on him as he passed. Xan looked curiously at him. Though the distance made it hard to tell for sure, Blacklight seemed of average height and build, with short brown hair and – for lack of a better term – average features. Very little stood out about him. Xan wondered if that was what had let him go undetected for as long as he had. Even now, facing trial for his very life, he seemed remarkably calm and collected.

A sharp bang of gavel on bench jerked her attention to the front of the Hall. The tribunal was assembled. She stood respectfully along with the rest of the crowd, though she couldn’t help feeling a momentary twinge as she looked upon the same people who had pronounced judgment on her.

Carbon rose to his feet. “We are gathered to hear evidence of the crime of treason. The charge is brought against Blacklight, service number BD-212555. The defendant is accused of passing classified information to the Machines, information that has led directly to the deaths of over thirty field operatives. This charge, if proven, carries the penalty of death.” He turned his piercing gaze on the accused. “How do you plead?”

Blacklight suddenly looked smaller than average as he replied in a quavering voice, “Not guilty.” He slumped to his chair.

Carbon intoned, “Make your case, counsel for Zion.”

Xan had to bite back a groan. The counselor was none other than Helix. She hoped that being a witness for him wouldn’t be nearly so uncomfortable as being his adversary.

She didn’t have to wait long to find out. After a sweeping statement to the Hall that there would be no doubt as to the guilt of the accused, Helix called her to the witness stand.

She swore the oath to give truthful testimony and sat down. Helix wasted no time on pleasantries; indeed, Xan could see his eyes glittering maliciously under half-lowered lids. So he hasn’t forgiven me for being found not guilty. She waited for his first question, trying to keep her hands from trembling where they rested on her knees.

“Field Operative – excuse me, Analyst Xan, please recount your part in the uncovering of this traitor. What associates you with this sordid business?”

Involuntarily, Xan glanced at Carbon. Could they be trying to lay a trap for her as well? No, the Chief of Zion Defense was glaring at Helix, and seemed to be on the verge of reprimanding him. She relaxed a bit. “My duties are to analyze the patterns of activity of the Agents, in order to assist our operatives in countering them. In this case, I was looking for patterns of activity among our forces that might suggest that the Agents had an informant passing them information.” She raised her eyebrows slightly. Your move.

Helix’s nostrils flared. “Then please describe the particular analysis that led to your identification of Blacklight as a traitor.”

“I’ll be happy to give you the details, but I need to correct one thing you said there. I didn’t identify Blacklight as the traitor; that was done by others. What I did was narrow the location of the informant down to the hovercraft Taranis.” And she launched into the chain of reasoning she had used to set up the search, and how the Ferret had combed through the records to find that one perfect correlation of ship position with instances of death at the hands of Agents.

“And there is no possibility that you are mistaken? That the traitor might not be on another ship?” He walked over to his desk and picked up a sheaf of papers, bringing them to her and thrusting them into her hands. “Those are the results that you brought to your superiors. Some of the other correlation factors are over half – could that not indicate that traitors might be on other ships?”

Sheesh, which side is he on? “That is possible. However, it’s not very probable. I’m sure, Learned Counselor, that you’re familiar with the principle of Occam’s Razor – that, all else being equal, the simplest explanation is usually the correct one.” She smirked at him. “If the traitor is not Blacklight, or someone else on the Taranis, then there would have to be multiple informants, all coordinating their activities with each other.” She shook her head. “Given how dangerous that would be, it’s just not likely at all.”

“So you are convinced that Blacklight is guilty of treason against Zion?”

“I am, sir.”

“No further questions, Honorable Officials.”

The counsel for the defense rose and approached the witness box. He introduced himself courteously as Puck, then immediately began a thorough attack on Xan’s methods and conclusions, attempting to find a weakness in her testimony. She was forced to consult the printouts that she had given Carbon many times, and had to be thankful to Helix for providing them. But her logic proved sound, and Puck was unable to find any inconsistencies in her statements. He finally waved her away from the witness box, his “No further questions, Honorable Tribunal,” having a strident edge to it.

Xan gratefully made her way back to her seat. Sudden noise, as the audience held quick conferences, made her realize how quiet they had been before, hanging on her every word. She caught Carbon’s eye, receiving his slight nod.

Helix had already stood up and called the next witness: Cuchulainn, captain of the Taranis. Xan sat up straighter; this was a part of the tale that she hadn’t heard yet.

Cuchulainn told the hushed crowd, “I was contacted directly by Carbon on a secure channel. I was told that I had a traitor aboard my ship, no doubt about it. So we concocted a plan to flush him out. I figured that it was most likely to be one of the operatives, but I didn’t know which one. So I divided them into two teams, briefing them on different missions, and then secretly logged all of the transmissions from the ship leading up to the time of insertion into the Matrix. It was touch and go, ‘cause I had to review them all in real time, so that I could prevent any of my crew from being intercepted by the Agents. But I did pick up on onepicipicious signal. It almost took me too long to decode it, but it gave the location where one of the teams was going. So I knew that the traitor must be in the other team. Mixed up the teams and did the same thing again, twice more, and that process of elimination positively IDed him.” He sat back, triumphant grin on his face.

Helix asked, “Captain, is there any doubt in your mind that Blacklight is a traitor?”

“None whatsoever.”

“No further questions.”

Puck rose, gazing thoughtfully at the witness as he walked forward. “Cuchulainn, before this incident, how would you have described the defendant? Did you have any reason to think that he was less loyal to Zion than the next Resistance fighter?”

“How would I have described him? Quiet, mostly. Seemed nice enough, though he didn’t mingle much. Said he hated the Machines ‘cause they killed his family, so I never really questioned his loyalty. Let him keep to himself, mostly.”

“Do thinthink that it’s possible that his status as someone outside the main group might have made it more likely for you to suspect him rather than someone else?”

“No – no way! I was after the truth – if we didn’t get him, then the traitor would keep selling us out, one by one.” The captain seemed surprised at the question.

Puck smiled as one might to a simple child. “Cuchulainn, neither I nor anyone else doubts your devotion to Zion, but don’t you think that the proof you offer is a little thin? You didn’t catch the defendant in the act of passing information to the Agents. What you offer is merely circumstantial. Do you have any solid evidence to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Blacklight is guilty of treason?”

“I think that my evidence is pretty darn good, but if it’s not enough for you, then maybe theirs will be!” He rose to his feet angrily, pointing at two women sitting next to Xan.

Carbon banged his gavel to silence the erupting crowd. “We will have QUIET!” he bellowed. The decibel level diminished noticeably. He growled, “Do you have further questions, counsel for the defense?”

Puck smirked. “No further questions, Honorable Officials.”

Helix leapt up once more, calling on the woman to Xan’s immediate left. She turned out to be one of the Counterintelligence agents, a specialist in encryption algorithms and codebreaking. Her evidence turned out to be nothing short of damning. She recounted how she and her partner had scoured Blacklight’s computer and network storage for evidence, eventually breaking the security codes he had used to protect his files. When the details of what they had found were presented, the entire Hall seemed to hold its breath. Dates of contact, names of Resistance Operatives, targeted locations – it was all there. The crowd let out its collective breath in an angry whoosh, sure of the guilt of the accused, and calling for his immediate punishment.

Xan looked over at the prisoner. Blacklight’s head was down, and his shoulders shook. Puck had his head in his hands. They had lost, and they knew it. Puck didn’t even bother to cross-examine the witness. He simply waved her back to her seat, telling the tribunal, “I have no further witnesses to call to defend my client.”

Helix also declined to call additional witnesses to the stand, so the tribunal filed out to begin its deliberations. While she was waiting, Xan looked over to her AOU comrades. Sarisa gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up, and Altaira positively beamed at her. The noise in the chamber was deafening.

As time passed, the crowd gradually subsided. Xan tried hard not to fidget. Finally, after more than an hour, the clamor abruptly rose again as the tribunal returned. Carbon pounded on the bench again, commanding silence. It took several tries, and the efforts of the bailiffs forcibly ejecting the more rowdy audience members from the Hall, before order was restored.

Every eye was on Carbon as he pronounced solemnly, “Blacklight, we have carefully reviewed all the evidence, and unanimously find you guilty of treason against Zion. Do you have anything you wish to say before I pronounce your sentence?”

The convicted man had to be helped to his feet by one of the bailiffs. Voice breaking, he pleaded, “Please, I couldn’t help it. The Agents have my family. I lied when I told everyone that they were dead – but they would be killed if I didn’t give the Agents information.” His complexion turned a nasty shade of grey. “They’re probably already dead by now, I missed my last information drop.” Tears began leaking down his cheeks.

Carbon was unmoved. “Inside the Matrix, you have no family. You are grown, not born. This is the family you should have defended,” waving his arm to indicate the watching crowd. “Zion is your only family. You betrayed us. And not once, but many times over a period of years. You have shown no remorse for that. For such a crime, the only fitting sentence is the Traitor’s Death. You will suffer it at the ninth hour tomorrow morning, before the doors to this very Hall. Let all Zion be present to witness it. This hearing is ended.”

He banged the gavel once, turned on his heel, and swept out of the chamber, the rest of the tribunal following him.

************************

Altaira was jubilant. “Xan, you did it! I don’t think that anyone could doubt where your loyalties lie now.” She fished the container of home-brewed alcohol out of its hiding place under Sarisa’s bunk, pourpoured cups for all three of them.

Xan took a large swallow before answering. She had to admit that she felt good about what she had done. Blacklight was a traitor, and his actions had led directly to the deaths of many, many Resistance members. He had to be stopped.

But she was not so certain about the manner of his punishment. She had never seen it done before, but it sounded quite gruesome, if the stories were to be believed – along the lines of drawing and quartering, the historical punishment for treason in some medieval societies. Evidently the Zion hierarchy felt that a strong example would inspire greater loyalty among the troops. She shuddered. No matter what he deserved, Xan was not looking forward to watching that. But she couldn’t escape it; Carbon had sent a message specifically commanding her presence at the execution. She guessed that all the witnesses had to be present.

Altaira was patting her shoulder, “Don’t worry, we’ll have you back to active duty in no time. We’ve missed you, stuck at a desk.” She made a face, then grinned and waggled her finger at Xan, “But you will have to keep your distance from Agent Smith! You’re allowed to look, not touch!”

Xan replied with a wan grin, catching Sarisa’s eye. If Altaira only knew…

“To Xan!” Sarisa lifted her cup. “To a job well done!”

“Hear hear!”

They drank the potent liquor swiftly, coughing as it burned on the way down.

“Tonight, we get completely rip-roaring drunk!”

**********************

The next morning found Xan red-eyed with a pounding headache. Walking through the corridors to the Hall of Justice was torment; each footfall sent a jolt of pain that seemed likely to make her brain explode out through her eye sockets. She derived small satisfaction from the knowledge that Sarisa and Altaira were similarly miserable.

Arriving at the plaza before the Hall, she found Random waiting for her, a small thermos in his hand. He took one look at her bloodshot eyes, winced, and whispered, “Coffee,” pressing the flask into her hand.

She mumbled her thanks, but he demurred, speaking very softly, “It’s okay, don’t try to talk, your head must be killing you. Just drink.”

She did, gratefully. How on earth had Random managed to procure such passable coffee? Normally what they got in the mess halls was utter swill, but this was good. He is a man of many talents, she thought wonderingly.

The beverage had a wonderful restorative effect, and Xan felt almost human again by the time that the tribunal members arrived and ascended the platform that had been erected to one side of the doors to the Hall. Accompanying them was Zion’s official executioner, appropriately named Anubis. She had no idea if that was his regular day job, because his black hood hid his features. She suspected that he must do something else most of the time; executions weren’t particularly frequent. What might he do otherwise? Software engineer? No, that didn’t seem likely. Probably some more physically oriented job. She had to stifle a giggle when she realized that he just had to be a cook. It was the only way to account for the appallingly bad food – it must be a deliberate attempt to kill the diners.

Her attention was brought back to the present by a hand lightly grasping her upper arm. It was one of the bailiffs, telling her that she must come up to the platform with the rest of the official party. Ugh. This was not going to be pleasant, but she had to comply.

Once up the steps, she took her place next to Cuchulainn, and looked out over the crowd. She spotted Random in the second row, and was grateful to receive his encouraging nod. She craned her neck, trying to see her AOU partners, but was unable to pick them out of the shifting mass of people.

At precisely the ninth hour, the convicted prisoner was brought before them. Carbon again read the charges against him, and decreed the sentence. “Are there any among us who would protest this conviction and sentence? Is there anyone to speak on the condemned’s behalf?”

Tense silence greeted the ritual question.

“Do we speak with one voice to this traitor?” Carbon’s voice echoed around the vaulted space.

“Kill him! Kill him! The Traitor’s Death!” the crowd roared.

“It shall be done.” Carbon strode over to a low table at one side of the platform, pulling back the sheet of fabric that had hidden its surface. Xan could now see that it held an assortment of grisly instruments: knives, hooks, manacles and ropes. She gulped. Oh God, let this be over quickly.

Anubis took up the manacles. The bailiffs dragged Blacklight to the wall of the building, to where steel rings were set in the wall. Xan realized that she had never noticed them before, and shuddered, now understanding their purpose.

The condemned, gibbering, his eyes rolling in terror, was shackled to the wall by wrists and ankles, spread-eagled, unable to move when Anubis had taken up the slack in the chains. The executioner stepped to one side, awaiting Carbon’s orders.

“Gag him.”

Anubis took up two pieces of coarse cloth, wadding one up and thrusting it into Blacklight’s mouth, using the other to bind it in place.

“Strip him.”

The executioner roughly ripped the prisoner’s clothing away. Blacklight’s terror had grown to new heights: he thrashed wildly in his bonds, the edges of the manacles cutting into his wrists. Blood began to trickle down his arms. Urine trickled down his legs.

Carbon moved to the table and picked up a short-bladed knife. The edge glinted, reflecting the harsh artificial lights. He held it up, displaying it to the crowd. They roared their approval, and Carbon held up his other hand. They obediently quieted.

“Because the condemned has done so much damage to many in Zion, it is only fitting that those who revealed his treason to us should have the duty, the privilege, of executing the traitor.” His voice boomed through the waiting chamber.

Xan couldn’t believe her ears. No. No, he can’t mean…

But Carbon was turning to her, extending the knife to her hilt first.

Shock rooting her to the spot, she looked into his eyes. She saw the unspoken message clearly, Do this, and I will know that you are one of us. Do this, and bind yourself to me, to my cause. Refuse, and I will never completely trust you.

Desperate, she looked at Random. His face was white as chalk, his eyes full of pain and fear for her. But he nodded his head, almost imperceptibly.

She locked eyes with Carbon once again. Do it, those black pools said to her.

Almost as if she were watching from somewhere outside her body, she saw her hand lift to take the knife from Carbon. Her voice was hollow, empty, “What do I do?”

The Zion Defense chief half turned toward the crowd and proclaimed in a loud voice, “As she was the first step in the revelation of treason, it is fitting that Xan shall reveal the traitor’s innards to us.” Stepping close to her, he said in a low voice, “You are to cut his belly open. Not too deep, the organs must remain intact for now. Start at the bottom of the ribs on one side and follow them up and over to the other side. Then pull the flap down, and your part is done.” His dark eyes were approving.

She walked slowly toward the condemned. The sound of the crowd receded to a dull roar as the blood pounding in her ears seemed to fill her head and bring the headache back to full strength. She knew every eye was on her, judging her as much as they judged Blacklight. If I don’t do it, someone else will, she told herself. He’ll die just the same, in the same manner. But if I do it, Carbon will trust me, and maybe I’ll finally get the access I need. If I can find the evidence I think is there, then millions of lives might be saved. It’s worth it, isn’t it? I just have to screw up my courage…and…do…this. So do it!

Blacklight’s eyes were wide with terror. He was trying to scream, but the gag prevented more than a gurgle from coming out.

Please pass out, she sent the thought desperately at him.

White noise filled her ears, and even vision seemed to dim as she tried to focus solely on the mechanics of what she had to do.

She screwed herself up, and did it.

She tottered back to Carbon’s side and handed him the knife, swallowing hard as she resumed her place in line. Cuchulainn was named next; he looked pale but resolute as he took the sharpened hook from Carbon and started toward the condemned.

Xan kept her eyes directed out over the hordes of screaming citizens. Hearing returned in a rush, and she was distracted by a staccato pounding that an involuntary and much-regretted glance showed her was Blacklight’s heels drumming against the stone wall. She snapped her eyes shut, trying to block out the memory by concentrating on breathing, forcing the air in and out of her lungs.

A new irritation, in the form of a tickling sensation on her right hand, made her open her eyes again. Glancing down, she saw that blood – Blacklight’s blood – was slowly oozing down her hand, dripping off her fingers to fall in dark ruby drops onto the platform.

The world heaved, tilted to one side, and Xan fell into blackness.

******************

She woke to dim light. Looking around, she saw that she was lying on a cot in a smaoom oom that normally had four occupants, judging by the number of bunks. A shadow in the corner moved, and she saw it was Random. He had been sitting in a chair, keeping watch over her. Now he came to her side, sitting on the edge of the bed, laying a hand on her forehead.

“How do you feel?”

“Like crap. Absolute crap,” she replied. “What happened?”

He chuckled. “You fainted, that’s what. Just went out like a light. Carbon himself caught you, and I’ve never seen him move so fast! You’re lucky he did; you might have fallen right off the platform otherwise.”

Memory of what had happened to cause the faint was beginning to resurface. “Oh, God. That was the most horrible thing I’ve ever done.” She hid her face in her hands, tears beginning to rise and spill over. “How could I have done it?”

She felt Random’s arms gently enfold her, one hand stroking her hair as he held her against his chest. “You did what you had to do. I don’t think any of them wanted to do it, but they did. Cuchulainn even threw up afterwards. But Carbon wanted a message sent, and it’s been sent. In spades.”

But Xan wasn’t listening. All cou could think of was what she had been willing to do in order to get what she wanted. In hopes of getting what she wanted. The scene replayed itself over and over in her mind. Was it worth it?

Random reached over and switched off the light, then held her for a long time as she cried her misery to the uncaring dark.