The Devereaux Legacy: Chapter Six - Part 7

I really need to stop saving this slide for last. I get all excited thinking my chapter is done and then it's like, "Nope! Forgot about the recap slide! Haha!"

Anyway, welcome back to the Devereaux Legacy! In the last chapter...well we all know the very sad thing that happened in the last chapter. But let's recap all
the other important things that happened as well.

It was revealed that Bella had been using magic on Quinn forcing him to constantly be angry with Rhys. She also decided to get moving on her plan to cause
misery within the family, so she drugged Rhys' coffee. Fortunately, Rhys looked at Eden instead of Bella. Rhyden had some fun times while Bella was pissed that
her potion went to waste.

Puck also proposed to Erin. It was cute. There's really nothing more to say there.

After a huge argument between Rhys and Quinn, Quinn left the house in a huff. To make a long story short, Bella accidentally killed both herself and Quinn
when she tried to cast another spell on Quinn to make him obey her. Before Quinn died, he accidentally revealed to Zane that he was the one who killed Tina.
Though Zane very much wanted to see Quinn suffer, in the end Zane did the right thing. That's pretty much it. I hope you like the chapter!

~*~*~

The flashing red and blue lights caused Erin to wake up from her drowsy, post-coital slumber. She hated any sort of light while she
was sleeping. As she processed what the lights represented, police lights, she sat up and looked over at Puck.

"Uh, oh," she said with a small giggle, "it looks like my dad found out what we were doing and called the police."

Pucks' eyes snapped open and he sat up with a worried look. "Oh, no! Do you really think he did?"

"Oh, totally," she teased.

She peered though her window and her brow creased at what she saw. The police were not at someone else's house. They were at her
house, and they were walking up to her door.

She slid off the bed and pulled on her bathrobe. "Something's wrong," she said. Puck jumped up and pulled on his pants.

The front doorbell rang.

She opened her bedroom door and looked down the stairs. Her parents were already at the door. She stood and listened as Anna and
Zachary, the two officers who were apparently on duty that night, said the words, "We're so sorry..."

That's when she noticed what Zachary was holding.

"Why the hell are you handing me an urn?" her father asked, confusion evident in his sleepy voice. For a dumb moment, Erin wondered
the same thing.

"We..uh, we were wondering if you wanted Bella's as well," Anna said in a choked voice.

Erin gripped the railing as her legs threatened to give way and she felt Puck's hand grip her arm. "Oh, Ere...oh no," he whispered as he
rubbed her back. Her mind was still too dumb to fully process what was being said at the bottom of the stairs.

Her father shook his head and waved his arms as if to shoo them away. "No," he said vehemently. As Zachary tried to hand him the urn
again, Rhys shook his head even harder. "No! That's not ours. That's not..." his voice trailed off but he continued to shake his head. He
uttered one last, feeble, "No," before turning his back on them.

"Rhys..." her mother said softly as she sank down to the floor.

Erin felt herself doing the same thing, despite the fact that Puck was holding her. Puck knelt down and kept his arm around her.

She noticed a look of determination spread across her father's face. He turned around and gently made Eden stand. "Ede, where is the
Bone Phone?" he asked.

Her mother shook her head. "We don't have one," she said tearfully.

His jaw clenched, but his voice remained calm. "Of course we have one. All legacy families have a Bone Phone! It's probably in the
storage room in the basement, right?"

"Rhys, no one in the family has ever been in the Paranormal track, at least not since our family moved to Pleasantview."

"Rhys? Eden? What's going on?" De said as she stepped past Anna.

"We saw the police lights. Is everything okay?" Spencer's voice came from the darkness outside.

Rhys turned towards De. "I know you have a Bone Phone," he said frantically, "It's how you've kept in contact with Zane. I have to use
it!"

She fidgeted uncomfortably and didn't answer him.

"De...please!"

She shook her head. "No, Rhys, I..I haven't had a Bone Phone in ages. It disappeared a couple years ago and I haven't heard from Zane
since. I'm so, so sorry, but--"

"No! What you're actually saying is that you won't let me use it!"

"No, Rhys, not at all! I--"

"Who is the SimSelf in charge around here? He..she..they..GAH! WHAT-FUCKING-EVER! They let my son die and I will make them
reverse it. I know you know! Tell me who they are!" When nobody answered, he tore at his hair. "You're all against me! You all want
to see me suffer. I knew it!"

Eden reached out for him. "Rhys," she cried, but he pushed her hands away.

"No! Don't look at me! Don't touch me!" he cried and he stumbled into the living room.

Erin could hear the sounds of glass breaking as her father threw things against the wall. She buried her head into Puck's shoulder and
wept.

~*~*~

The funeral had been horrible, as funerals tended to be of course. But Cassandra couldn't put her finger onto exactly how this particular
funeral had been worse than her mother's. Bella's funeral, which Alexander had insisted on having separate from Quinn's, had been a
lavish affair. Nearly everyone in town had attended, except for the Devereaux family and their close relatives.

They hadn't even been invited. Not that they seemed to care. That in itself was rather telling.

Quinn's funeral had been a lot more moving. Even though fewer people had been invited, the pain and sorrow had been much more
palpable. Even Cassandra cried a little bit, which was odd seeing as she didn't really cry all that much at her own mother’s funeral. Then
it occurred to her why she was much more sad: she actually liked Eden and her family and she felt horrible for her friend, whereas Bella
had been absent from Cassandra's life for a very long time, and when Bella did return, Cassandra found her mother to be, well, kind of a
bitch.

She sighed and continued to walk down the church steps. If she never had to deal with death again, it would be too soon.

Though most of the snow from the snowstorm had melted, it was still cold outside and the ground was a bit slippery. Because of this,
Cassandra kept her eyes on the ground to watch her footing and it wasn't until she practically bumped into Alexander and Lucy that she
even noticed that they were there.

"Oh!" she said lamely and then she looked down. Alexander didn't look happy.

"What on earth are you doing here, Cassandra?" he asked in a low, angry voice. She looked away and noticed that Zachary and Ceres
were also standing next to her.

"We're here because Quinn was our friend," Zachary said. Cassandra looked up to see her brother's reaction. He didn't look pleased,
but she also noticed Lucy's lips twitch slightly.

"Yes, well, your mother and I both know how you feel. You're a traitor to your family."

"My family? Huh. Seeing as you disowned me, I thought you weren’t my family anymore. Whatever," Zachary said. Cassandra still
kept her eye on Lucy. Yes. Lucy's lips were twitching in amusement.

Alexander waved his hand in disgust and turned his attention back to her. "That still doesn't explain what you're doing here. Why did
you feel the need to attend the funeral of the man who murdered your mother?"

Cassandra raised her eyebrows in surprise. "It was a car accident, Alex. I hardly think that could be considered murder. Besides...Eden
is my friend," she added softly.

"So you're going to turn traitor too? I am very disappointed in you." She was accustomed to her brother's disappointment, so the
statement didn't bother her much. Well, not too much anyway.

Then she noticed him looking at something to her left. She saw Rhys walking by and she silently prayed that Alexander wouldn't say
anything more about Quinn being a murderer but, unfortunately, her prayers went unanswered.

"Because you know what I think?" Alexander began loudly, as if to make sure that everyone present heard him, not just Quinn's father, "I
think the bastard did it on purpose. I think he did it because his life was so miserable he just couldn't take it anymore."

Cassandra winced when she saw Rhys pale at her brother's words.

The first punch had knocked off Alexander's glasses. Before anyone could react, Rhys was on top of Alexander and his fist punched
into her brother's face again. As he was about to land a third hit, Spencer and Vaughn managed to stop him and they pulled Rhys off of
Alexander.

Rhys wordlessly shrugged off Spencer and Vaughn and he shook his left hand in pain. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
His hand dashed across his eyes and his shoulders were slumped as he walked away.

Alexander touched the blood that was seeping from his nose. "You'll pay for that!" he screamed at the man. "You will pay!" He looked
over at Zachary and said, "You're an officer of the law, do something!"

Zachary shook his head. "You deserved it," he said simply before he and Ceres walked away.

Suddenly, the sound of Lucy laughing cut through the air. Alexander stood up and gave her an incredulous look. "Are you laughing at
me?"

"Did it hurt?" she asked between her giggles. "I really hope it did. It sucks when someone punches you, doesn't it?"

Cassandra couldn't help herself and she began to giggle, too. She knew all about how her brother slapped around his wife and it was
nice to see Lucy stand up to him. A sudden thought occurred to her and before she could think about it, she blurted out the words,
"Lucy, do you want to come home with me?"

The brown haired woman took off her sunglasses nodded. "Yes. I really do." She stepped around her husband without a second
glance.

"You bitch!" he shouted. "You can't leave me. I won't allow it. You--"

Cassandra cut him off. "Alex? Shut up. We're tired of you." She threaded her arm through her sister-in-law's and the two of them
giggled again. She knew it was wrong to laugh at a funeral, and it was wrong to laugh at Alexander's threats because she knew those
would be very real. But, for the moment, she felt good. She couldn't do anything to change the horrible events that took place, but she
could, at the very least, help Lucy out.

When the thought of, this is something Eden would do, went through her mind, she knew she was doing the right thing.

~*~*~

Erin had more or less moved into Puck's apartment. It was understandable even if it was only temporary. But from how things sounded
at home, Puck could understand why Erin chose to be with him.

He did everything within his power to comfort and just be there for her. He held her and stroked her hair as she talked about her
brother late into the night. She also expressed her sadness over the fact that her parents were not dealing with Quinn's death well. Not
at all. Apparently Rhys had taken to sleeping in the living room, when he wasn't breaking things. Eden stayed in her bedroom and was
fairly unresponsive to the rest of the world, including her own daughter. Neither Rhys nor Eden spoke to each other. They really hadn't
since the night Quinn had died. According to Erin, it seemed that Rhys blamed himself for Quinn's death and he also assumed that
everyone else blamed him, too, no matter how much Erin had tried to convince him otherwise. It was a horrible situation in what was
already a tragic event.

Naturally there were no talks about Puck and Erin's engagement or upcoming wedding and that, too, was completely understandable.

The thing that worried Puck the most, however, was the fact that for the last day or so, Erin had fallen completely silent. She didn't talk
about Quinn. She didn't talk about her parents. She didn't cry. Instead, she began to frantically clean his apartment. He didn't mind all
that much, but his apartment was small to begin with, and when it was topped with the fact that he was a fairly neat person himself it
was rather unnecessary.

But it was her silence that mostly put him on edge, especially when he would catch her giving him speculating looks. When he would
attempt to smile at her, or maybe reach out and comfort her, she would look away from him.

On this day, her silence was even more deafening and speculative looks were directed at him more and more often. He gave her a
worried look, twisted his fingers, and said, "Ere--"

"I wish I would have known about this," she interrupted. She didn't look at him and she continued to scrub the counter.

He bit his lip as he tried to figure out how to respond to that. "I know," he said lamely. "Things like this...there's just no way of knowing.
I'm so sorry, Erin. I--"

"Because maybe if I would have known about this, I could have prevented it."

"I don't think it works that way. I--"

"But it can work that way. And you did know about it."

His mouth dropped open. "N..No I didn't. Erin--"

She whirled around with an angry look on her face, which made him take a step back. "Yes you did! You did know. All this time you
knew that Quinn was going to die and you didn't bother to tell me! Why? Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you prevent his death?"

"Erin, I swear to you, I didn't know!"

"You did!" she insisted. "You did! You told me so yourself that you could see things over our heads! That you're the son of a Grim
Reaper and Fate! That was part of your special powers and all that shit! And instead of doing the decent and right thing, you just let
Quinn die!"

"Erin!" He said as sternly as he could. "I swear to every single plumbbob in the sky: I. Didn’t. Know! I had myself made into a mortal
before I ever met your brother! I knew you before attending Pleasantview Tech because you used to come to Veronaville to go
horseback riding. Quinn never did!"

"But what about over my mother’s head?"

He closed his eyes tightly and tried to remember the vague images that appeared over Eden's head the few times he saw her. "Erin,
things were always vague. I saw tombstones. I never saw faces or anything next to them. I assumed it was grandparents or something.
I never could completely predict the future or anything like that. I was ten years old!"

He reached for her but she flung his hand away away. "But you're still on speaking terms with Fate, right?" she asked wildly. "You can
contact her and ask to reverse it. You can bring Quinn back and then everything would be fine again! My parents will be happy and
they'll hug and kiss each other again. Quinn would be happy because you can ask not to bring back that bitch of a wife he had.
Everything would be just like it was before. And then you and I can get married and we could live happily ever after and--"

"Erin," he cut her off with a pained voice. "It doesn't work like that!"

"Why not?"

He blinked and tried to figure out what to say to her. "It just doesn't," he finally said.

"Well then fuck you, Puck," she said in a quiet voice and his heart dropped into his stomach when she brushed past him, picked up her
keys, and walked out the door.

After he watched her drive away, he sunk to the floor with a huge, sad sigh. The only thing that kept him from becoming truly upset
over Erin's words, and the way they sounded so final, was the fact that he knew he was supposed to get married to her.

But then again, the future is sometimes nebulous and fate can change. That thought didn't sit well with him.

He stood up and paced around his apartment for a bit before looking up and saying softly, "I want to talk to you."

Almost instantaneously, Hermia appeared with a sad smile on her face. "Hi, Puck, I'm sorry about--"

"Not you," he said. "I want to talk to my mother."

"What's the difference?" she asked. "Is it because you and I dated briefly when I was still mortal and we were in school together? So you
think it's weird to talk to me about stuff like this?"

Puck gave her a look. "No. That has nothing to do with it. Is it too much to ask to actually speak to my own mother? Ever since I
became mortal, the I've only seen Atropos and now you. I want to talk to my mother!"

Hermia sighed. "You realize that most mortals aren't even this lucky," she said quietly. "And--"

"I DON'T CARE!" he shouted at her. "She's my mom. I'm her son. I want to talk to her!"

She gave him a reproachful look before she shrugged her shoulders and disappeared. Puck crossed his arms and waited.

After a few moments, Titania appeared.

She didn't say anything for a moment as she looked around his apartment. She had a small smile on her face as she touched a few of
his belongings. Puck waited silently until she was done.

Finally she turned to him. "We aren't at your beck and call, Puck," she said softly.

"You're my mother" he replied.

She nodded and then sighed. "I know I am, but you know that we are not able to have a normal relationship like most mothers can with
their children. In fact, I'm not supposed to talk to you at all. You know this."

"Do I?"

"Yes, you do. Puck, child, you knew that as soon as you became mortal that all ties to me and your father had to be severed."

"So then why did you come?"

She closed her eyes and sighed again. "How about you first ask me your question. Make your pleas."

He squared his shoulders. "I want to know why Erin's brother, of all people, had to die. I want to know if there is a possibility to bring
him back."

"No," she said simply. She didn't say anything more.

"That's it? 'No.' That's all you're going to say?"

She gave him a cool look in return. "Do you really want to know the true reason?"

"Yes. Yes I do. I really would like to know so then I can tell Erin and maybe help her feel better."

"Would it?"

"Would what?"

"Would it really make her feel better? Puck, this sort of knowledge is not something that any mortal should know. I think you knowing
the reasons behind Quinn Devereaux's death would be more of a burden than anything else."

"I would like to be the judge of that. Mama, I..she's upset. I want to help. I want to make her feel better. If his death can be reversed, I
would like to see that happen. It's not a request for me, but for someone else. That should count, right?"

"It is for selfish reasons, Puck. If his death can be reversed, Erin would be happy with you. Correct?"

He dragged his foot on the ground. "Yeah," he mumbled. "But I still want to know. Please tell me."

She closed her eyes for a moment. "His death cannot be reversed. It will not be reversed unless the Grim Reaper for this realm allows it
to be so. Unfortunately, he has made it impossible for anyone to be resurrected for the next generation and a day. That is his
prerogative and immortals cannot interfere with the affairs of other immortals. However, there is more to it than that." She fell silent.

"What? What more is there? Tell me, please."

"My dear child, you will be burdened with this information. You think you want to know it, but you will not want to tell anyone. I am
giving you one last chance to--"

She shook her head. "So be it." She shrugged. "He died because he was superfluous. His usefulness was at an end. He wasn't
supposed to exist, originally. Erin's mother was pregnant with only her. However, we, Atropos, Clotho, and I, we are aware of a
prophecy. Something that could happen, something that would be very beneficial to happen for the world as a whole. We knew that
there was a slim chance for this prophecy to come true and so we encouraged, or rather, we appealed to the stubbornness Erin's father
possesses. We practically goaded him into making sure that Quinn did exist. He made cheesecake, thus enabling a new thread to be
woven into the tapestry of life. However, that thread had to be short, otherwise the tapestry would have become unstable. Quinn did
what he was born to do. Quinn, in the grand scheme of things, died a hero. Not that anyone will ever know this until the end. It's a
shame, really. He seemed like he was a nice sort of person."

His mouth dropped open in disbelief. "So that's it? 'His usefulness was at an end?' That's what you're really saying."

"I also said that he was a hero--"

"Except that nobody will ever know. Why? WHY? Why couldn't his thread be longer? Why couldn't you have, I don't know, why
couldn't you have made room or something?"

"We had to make room for your thread. That is why."

Her words hit him hard and he slumped down onto his couch. "So because of me, Quinn's thread had to be cut short?"

"That's too simplistic, Puck. We knew that you were destined for Erin Devereaux. However, we weren't sure if you were going to be on
the top tapestry in the main thread, or underneath. We had to make sure there was room."

"So..so if I wouldn't have chosen to be mortal, then Quinn wouldn’t have died?"

"If you didn't exist, then there would have been room for Quinn, yes. But then that would have meant that your father would have not
participated the the True Reaper Child Experiment. If your father wouldn't have been recruited for that experiment, then he probably
would have been punished before his time, which would also mean that your sister would not have existed. Hermia would not be the
current Clotho. There are too many variables to consider, none of which are even necessary to think about anymore. You do exist, so
thus Quinn does not. But it's not your existence that caused Quinn's death."

"I..I don't see the difference."

She sat down beside him. "But it makes sense to me, Atropos, and Clotho, and that's what matters."

"It's my fault."

"No!" she said sharply. "No it is not. This is but a very small portion of the weave. Granted it is the most important weave in the
tapestry, for this dimension at least, but it's still very small. You cannot blame yourself, Puck."

"But I'm going to."

Titania sighed and ran her hand over his hair. "Knowledge can be a burden."

"I can never, ever tell Erin. Never. I don't like the thought of keeping secrets, especially not from her. And her family is going to be my
family. I..how..?"

"Tell me, were you planning on telling the rest of her family about your unique heritage?"

A look of horror crossed over his face. "Oh my God, no. I really can't can I? Her dad..all of them, they'd all insist that I could do
something even when I can't. He..they’d hate me!"

She shrugged. "This is no different. It's just one more secret."

"It..it's not just 'one more secret.' You just don't get it."

"I do 'get it.' More than you realize. You can tell them about everything, but then you'd have to deal with however they react to it.
These are decisions that Mortals have to make everyday and this is what you signed up for when you chose to become one. Not
everything is easy. It’s not meant to be."

"What if she tells her family about it? About me?"

She shrugged. "Then she does. She probably won't, but she might. You don't know, and that's the entire point. Nobody is supposed to
know everything that happens in advance. On that note, and I am very sad to say this, but I can no longer come to you when you ask.
None of us can. It's against the rules."

"I know, and I love you very much, but this is part of the choice you made. We will still watch out for you--"

"So I just fucked everything up when I decided to become Mortal, didn't I?"

She raised an eyebrow at his language but didn't reprimand him. "It was your choice, a choice you freely made. I'm sorry, but that's just
the way it is." She gave him a small smile. "Before I go, I will say this: not everything is as bad is it may seem. It rarely is. I should know."

"That doesn't help."

"It's because you're Mortal. Mortals rarely see the big picture, but that's okay. Things have a way of working out in the end. Trust me,
you'll see. Now, I should go."

He stood up with a sigh and hugged her tightly. "I wish--"

"I know and I will miss you dearly, my sweet boy. I will tell you one more thing: everything will be okay in the end. I promise."

He gave her a sad smile as she disappeared and then dropped back down onto the couch.

~*~*~

The worst part about her brother being gone was that Erin didn't have anyone to complain to about how her parents were acting. The
irony was not lost on her; she knew that her parents acting the way they were had everything to do with Quinn being dead.

That wasn't the worst thing about her brother's death. Of course not. But that was the only way should could even begin to put her
grief into a coherent thought.

Everything felt out of sorts for her. There were a million times in the day where she wanted to knock on her brother's bedroom door to
tell him something, only to remember that her brother wasn't in that bedroom and said bedroom door was locked.

There was nobody to talk to. Nobody to lean on. Nobody to tell how she was really, truly feeling.

Well, that's not completely true, she thought as she eyed her cell phone. There's Puck. He's there and has been so incredibly
supportive.

She pushed that thought to the side. How could she call Puck after she essentially told him to fuck off? The awful, guilty feeling she
had about her actions were completely different than the horrible sadness she felt over her twin's death and she really didn't want to
deal with both at the moment. Not to mention the extreme guilt she felt over the fact that she was screwing her boyfriend the night
Quinn had died. Hell, for all she knew, she had been having sex at the exact same moment when her twin died. And she never even
realized it. Not until Zachary and Anna had showed up at her house with Quinn's urn. He was her twin! Weren't twins supposed to
know when something horrible happens to the other one? If so, what kind of twin was she? No, she couldn't call Puck. He wouldn't
understand.

Not to mention that you pretty much fucked things up there, she reminded herself. Making impossible demands and then getting angry
with him when you knew he wouldn't be able to do what you asked. What kind of fiancée are you? Ugh.

And then there was the way her parents were acting. Never in a million years did she ever think that she would be taking care of them.

That was its own awful situation. Never in her entire life had she ever seen her mother and father fall apart the way they had.

With that thought in mind, she went downstairs to check on her father. She stood in the doorway and watched him as he sat on the
floor with his head on his knees. At least he wasn't throwing things against the wall like he had for the first couple of days. But, for
some reason, his immobile silence was even more dreadful that his destructiveness.

"Dad? Do..do you need anything?"

"No. Just..just go away, Erin. Leave me alone."

She bit her lip. "Okay," she whispered and did as she was told.

She was about to go to where her mother was, but then rejected the idea. Her mother would be just like her father. There was no
point. So she went back into her bedroom and slumped against the door.

She needed to get out of the house. The silence and sadness was oppressive. She knew that she could go over to her grandfather's
house, or even her half-brother Vaughn's house, but that wouldn’t help matters. Not really. She wanted to be with Puck.

She sighed and thought about what she needed to do. She should apologize. But apologizing to him wouldn't help her situation at
home; it would just solve a different problem.

She made up her mind. She couldn’t even begin to think clearly in the house. She needed to get out and she wanted to be with her
fiancée. Maybe they could think of something together.

She pulled out her phone and her brow furrowed as it rang.

"Hey," he said when he answered. That was it. Nothing more.

"Hey," she replied. They were silent for a moment. Finally she blurted out, "I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have been like that with you. I'm an
asshole."

"Yeah, sometimes you are."

She pursed her lips and said in a miffed tone, "You're not supposed to agree with me."

"I'm not? Oops. I'm sorry. I totally meant to say that you're not an asshole. You are a perfectly reasonable person at all times. It was an
honest slip of the tongue. My apologies."

His deadpan voice made her laugh and it was the first time that she had done so since her brother's death. She covered her mouth as
she tried to stifle it, but the more she tried not to laugh, the harder it became. When she finally got control of herself she said, "Thank
you. I really needed that. But I mean it, Puck. I'm really sorry."

She heard him sigh. "Erin, there's no need to apologize. I know where you're coming from and I apologize for not being able to help.
I..I tried."

"You did?"

"Yeah," he whispered. "I was told, 'no.'"

She tried not to cry. She was thankful that he tried and devastated that he didn't succeed. "Thank you," she said softly.

"Ere, I would do everything in my power to make you happy. I want you to know that. I'm sorry that..that.."

"No, I know. Thank you for trying. It means a lot to me, it really does." She heaved a heavy sigh and swallowed. "Puck, can I please
come over? I really need you right now."

"Why are you even asking? Of course you can!"

"Thank you," she said gratefully. A sudden thought popped into her mind. "I'll be over as soon as I can. I need to talk to my grandfather.
Maybe he can help."

"Do what you need to do. I'll be waiting right here for you."

She smiled sadly. "'kay. I'll see you in a bit."

After she hung up the phone, she packed a small overnight bag. When she was finished, she walked into Eden's bedroom. She felt the
need to let someone know where she was, just in case someone in the house became concerned about her whereabouts.

"Mom?" she asked. Eden didn't respond. She didn't even turn over to face her. Erin clenched her jaw and squared her shoulders.
"Mom, I'm going back to Puck's and I'm going to stay there for a while."

When there still was no response, her face fell and she knelt by the bed. "Mommy please don't hate me. I'm sorry I can't stay here
anymore. I just don't know what to do! I don't know how to help you and Daddy. I wish I could do something, anything, but I can’t
because nobody's talking to anyone here. I can't deal with this alone. I want us to be like a family again and I'm so sorry that we can't
be a full one anymore. And it hurts! It hurts so much! It feels like there's a hole in my chest and I don't know what to do!"

She bit her lip and continued. "So I'm leaving, only for right now because I want to be able to cry and have someone hold me and love
me. I wish I could so that for you, and you for me, but neither one of you will let me. I love you, and Dad, and Quinn, and I miss Quinn
so much and I know you guys do, too. I'm so sorry that I'm bailing and it's only for right now. I just wish...I just wish that we can all be
together again. But we can't. Because you guys won't let me be with you. You won't even be with each other. I just wish I knew what
to do. So maybe..maybe I can figure something out when I get to Puck's. I'm so sorry. I love you, Mom. Tell Dad I love him, too.
Please call me when..when...I don't know. Just call me when things get a little bit better, okay? I promise I'll come back."

She waited a moment to see if Eden would say or do anything. When there was no response, Erin sighed heavily and walked out the
door.

As Spencer cut across the lawn to the house next door, he thought about everything that Erin had told him.

"It's oppressive, Grandpa. I thought the sound of things breaking as Dad threw them against the wall was bad. I thought the sounds of
Mom crying was worse. But I was wrong about both. It's the silence. It's the nothingness that's the most terrifying of all. Dad just sits
there in the living room drinking. He still occasionally throws his glass, but not as much. Mom spends her time in the bedroom. And
they don't talk. They haven't spoken to each other since the night Quinn died. And you know how they used to be! Dad was always
talking. They both were always hugging and kissing each other. And now they don't. Now it's just this thick, palpable, oppressive
sadness. And I can't breathe! I can't be there anymore! Please don't hate me for going to Puck's. But I want to be able to cry. I want to
be able to say my brother's name and I can't at home because it feels forbidden. Please don't hate me!"

Of course he had understood and he assured her that nobody would hate her. He had desperately wanted to intervene ever since the
funeral where Rhys had punched Alexander Goth, but at the same time he really couldn't. The unofficial rule from the primary Simself of
this 'verse was to remain as 'hands off' as possible in regards to Rhys and his marriage to Eden. But surely that didn't apply in the wake of
tragedy, did it?

He cast a quick glance at the house as he approached the front door. All the windows were dark except for an upstairs bedroom light:
Rhys and Eden's bedroom. He sighed as he rung the doorbell. When there was no movement in the house he rang it again. He
resisted ringing it a third time and decided to just try the door handle. He wasn't terribly surprised to find it unlocked. He quietly
pushed open the door, and stepped into the foyer.

He let his eyes adjust to the darkness before looking into the living room. "Rhys?" he said softly. He thought he heard some slight
movement and he waited a moment before saying again, "Rhys? Are you in there?" There was neither a response nor a sound. Spencer
waited another moment before turning to head up the stairs.

His footsteps sounded loud as they echoed through the silence. If he wouldn't have been present to witness it on numerous occasions
throughout the years, he wouldn't have believed that the house had ever held the sounds of laughter. He suddenly understood exactly
what Erin had meant about the oppressive pall and he found himself walking almost on his tiptoes as he walked towards the bedroom
his son and wife shared and he quietly opened the door.

There were suitcases, half packed, laying on the floor and bed. Clothes and toiletries were strewn about the room. As for Eden herself,
she was only half dressed. Rather, she was wearing what appeared to be Rhys' pajama top. However, instead of laying in her bed like
Erin had said, she was going through the closet, pulling more clothes out. She stopped when she saw him and her shoulders slumped.
"Spencer," she said before she started to cry.

In two steps he was at her side and he wrapped his arms around her in a hug. Eden clutched at the front of his shirt and sobbed into his
chest. He swallowed the lump in is throat as he rocked her gently. "I know, honey, I know." And for the next fifteen minutes he rocked
her and smoothed her tangled hair as if she were a child herself.

Eventually her tears stopped and she took a deep breath before moving out of Spencer's fatherly embrace. She wiped her eyes and
nose on the sleeve of her nightshirt. "Thank you," she said after she took another steady breath. "I..I really needed that. Rhys--" she cut
off as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. "Rhys is Rhys," she choked out.

He only nodded in response. There was no need for him to ask what she meant.

"And for over twenty years, I've been okay with that. 'That's just him. Of course he loves you,' I'd tell myself. 'He doesn't need to say it
because he shows it all the time,' is another. And then there's, 'He's been through so much with you and he's been a steady, constant
companion. Not to mention your biggest and most supportive fan!' For years I've told myself this. I've understood. I never pushed.
Heck, I only whisper it to him when he's sleeping so he's not 'put on the spot.' But now..." she turned up her hands and let them fall
listlessly to her side. "But now I'm not so sure."

"Eden--"

"'Leave me alone! Don't touch me! I can't look at you!' That's what he said to me. Spencer, I can barely keep it together as it is. Our
son is dead and we can't bring him back! But with Rhys pushing me away, it's like I've lost two people that I love and I don't think I can
handle it, Spencer! I just can't. And the worst part is that I know he's hurting as well, but I can't even go by him without him yelling at
me or throwing something. I just can't do it."

"And so thus the packing."

"I'm a horrible person! But he wants to be left alone, so I will do what he wants."

"This is your house, Eden."

"No! It's our house. It's our home. Or it was. But now..now it's just, well, whatever this horribleness is!"

He scrubbed his face with his hands and asked, "Are you planning on leaving tonight? Where are you going to go?"

"I don't know," she replied miserably. "Probably a hotel. I..I really haven't thought that far ahead. I don't want to leave but I can't stay. If
I do, I'm afraid he'll say something truly terrible and that'll be it. I'll find out that I was just deluding myself all these years; that he doesn't
love me at all. And then I'll have truly lost him along with Quinn. And--"

"Eden," he interrupted kindly, "don't think like that because it's not true. He's difficult, I know. God, how I know. But, and this is going to
sound really bad, but he's not thinking about you right now. He's thinking about himself. He's thinking about Quinn. And I know him
well enough to know that he's probably blaming himself over every single real, or imagined, misstep he's made over the years in this
'verse. And probably other 'verses, too, to be honest. It has nothing to do with you other than the fact that Quinn looked a lot like you
and that's why he can't look at you. It's too painful. I'm not excusing him, not by any means, but..." he shrugged.

"It's like he checked out," she said.

"Yeah. Exactly. He's mentally and emotionally checked out."

"That doesn't make me feel better."

"I know, sweetheart. The only thing that might help both of you feel better is time. It might. I don't know because that's up to you, Erin,
and Rhys. But you leaving will not bring Quinn back and, in fact, it might exacerbate the situation."

"His throwing our crystal against the wall doesn’t being Quinn back either. Neither does his yelling, or screaming, or punching
Alexander--"

He held up his hand. "I know and I plan to tell him as much." He sighed. "Eden, look, you're going to do what you want and I'm not
going to tell you otherwise or even tell you that you're wrong. You're an adult. You both are. All I can ask is for a favor: let me talk to
him and then give it a day. It's been a week since the funeral and enough time might have passed for him to listen to reason."

He took her hands in his. "You are one of the few people who has had faith in him. You accepted him for who he was despite
everything he's done in his past. And I'm not the only one who appreciates that: he does, too. So I'm asking for you to have faith for just
a little bit longer; to not give up on him quite yet. I promise both of you will get through this and you'll get through this together. Okay?
Please?"

She was silent for a moment before she nodded. "Okay," she whispered.

"You're not alone, okay? Me, Nina, Vaughn, Laurana, De, Cassius, Marina, especially Marina, everyone is with you guys right now. I
don't want you, Rhys, and Erin to think otherwise, alright?"

"Thank you," she said. He wanted to say more to her; he wanted to take the pain they were all feeling away, but he couldn't. So he
stood there helplessly for a second before giving her hand a final squeeze.

He walked out of the bedroom and the click of the door shutting behind him echoed in the hall. He squeezed the bridge of his nose for
a moment as he tried to gather his thoughts.

He knew beforehand that it was bad. Witnessing it was even worse. He sighed for the umpteenth time and felt that there just weren't
enough sighs in the world.

He slowly made his way back downstairs and stood in the doorway to the living room again. He tried to figure out how to approach his
son who he knew was an incredibly volatile state of mind. He reached his hand to the light switch to turn on the lights.

The room remained dark.

He stepped in and let his eyes adjust to the darkness. In the dim moonlight he was able to see the overturned end tables and one of the
lamps laying on the floor. He walked over, righted up one of the tables and found the outlet to plug in the lamp.

"Go away, Dad," a hoarse voice said. He looked over and saw Rhys sitting on the floor in front of the couch, his arms wrapped around
his knees. Spencer said nothing as he turned back to the outlet.

"I said go away. I don't want you here," Rhys insisted.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," replied Spencer as he turned on the light. He surveyed the damage that had been done to the room.

Both of the shelves were toppled over, the items scattered on the floor. There was broken bits of glass everywhere. He tried not to
wince at the portrait that had been knocked from the wall, though thankfully it was undamaged. And then he looked at Rhys, and what
he saw startled him more than the remnants of his son's violent and grief stricken outburst.

"Oh, Rhys," Spencer said past the lump in his throat.

"Why are you here, Dad? I don't want you here. Why are you always here?"

"I am exactly where I need to be," he replied simply. Rhys glared at him for another second before dropping his head back into his arms.

He decided to ignore his angry son and started picking up the mess. He moved the shelves back into position and quietly placed the
items back on them. He moved a loveseat back into the divots it had made in the carpet.

When reached over by Rhys to pick up the Journalism quill, Rhys snapped, "Leave it there!"

"Why?"

"Because I might want to throw it again."

Spencer reached his hand out to touch Rhys' shoulder, but the other man knocked it away. "Don't touch me!" He stood up and
grabbed the bottle of scotch that was sitting next to him and he took a swig from it.

"From the bottle, Rhys?" Spencer asked as his eyebrow arched up unbidden.

His son's eyes narrowed momentarily before they strayed to the scattered broken glass in front of him. "No more glasses," he mumbled.
"Doesn't matter. It's not like the booze is working anyway." He flopped down onto the couch and was about to drop the bottle to the
floor, but Spencer managed to catch it in time. He located the cap and screwed it back on before moving it out of Rhys' reach.

"And exactly what did you want it to do?" he asked.

"Make me sleep. I can't sleep. My mind keeps going 'round and 'round and 'round. Things I could have said. Things I could have done
to prevent this. It doesn't stop. It. Never. Stops." He sighed and dropped his head into his hands.

Spencer nodded silently and sat down on the other couch. He decided to wait for Rhys to talk and after about five minutes his patience
was rewarded.

"Everything I touch turns to shit."

"That's not true. Not in the slightest. There are places where you succeeded beyond all expectations. Look at what you did in Sierra
Plains alone."

"I had to do that, otherwise I would have died."

"The reason why you did it doesn't matter. You still succeeded. And then there's here--"

"Yeah. Here. Where I have a son who died by my hand. I killed him."

Spencer raised his eyebrows. "You most certainly did not kill--"

Spencer paused for a moment, then continued. "You did not kill Quinn," he said softly.

"YES I DID! I DID!"

"No. You were not the tree. You weren't the ice on the road. You didn't cause the snowstorm. You were nowhere near the place. It
was an accident and it's not your fault."

"Yes it is. I should have said something. I should have explained everything to him; all the stuff he found out about my past. I should
have said something, anything, to keep him in the house longer. But I let him go. He thought I was a bad person. His last words to me
were, 'I can't believe I wanted to be like you and now I wish I didn't even know you,' and I didn't say anything. I just let him go because
he was right: I am awful."

"You let him go because he was angry and you wanted him to cool down. You had no way of knowing this was going to happen.
Nobody ever expects this sort of thing. If you were able to predict the future then, yeah, it would have been your fault. But you can't
predict the future, so it's not. But I will tell you something that is your fault."

"What?"

Spencer gestured toward the broken glass and then vaguely towards the upstairs. "This. All of this. But, unlike the past, this can be
fixed. Glass can be vacuumed. Vases can be replaced. More importantly, your devastated daughter can be called home and consoled
over the death of her twin. And your wife, whom I happen to like very much, not only needs reassurance that her husband has not
emotionally abandoned her, but she can also give you the comfort you need."

"I don't need her. I don't need you. I don't need anybody or anything."

He shrugged. "You and I both know that's not true. Things like this can either break up a family or it can bring them closer together.
Rhys, your family needs you. And whether you want to believe it or not, you need your family. Because this," he gestured again towards
the broken items, "this solves nothing. This doesn't bring Quinn back. If it did, we all would have broken all of our dishes."

"If someone had a Bone Phone, it wouldn't be an issue."

"But there are none, and that's something you're going to have to take up with Zane. Well, when and if he stops being incommunicado
with us Mortals, that is. But until then..."

He sighed. "Until then, you need to pull yourself together. That's your portrait on the wall next to Eden's. And she's said on numerous
occasions that you aren't just her spouse, but her partner. All of your descendants will look back on this time and they are either going
to see a family that fell apart, or a family that banded together and pulled through this tragedy. Because it's not the events that define a
family, but how they react to them that makes them special."

"Whatever, Dad. Go away and leave me alone. Give your inspirational speeches to someone who will believe in your bullshit."
However, his voice lacked venom.

Spencer sighed. "Alright. You're going to do what you're going to do. You always have and nothing anyone can say will stop you from
doing that. But..we're here for you when and if you ever need us."

He stood up, gently ran his hand over his son's disheveled red hair and Rhys made no protest. Then he began to walk out of the room.

"You don't know how it feels," Rhys called after him.

"That's not true. Remember, I was there the day you died in Sierra Plains."

"It's not the same. I died of old age there."

"You're right. But that didn't make it suck any less."

When Rhys didn't respond, Spencer walked out the front door. When he was outside, he scrubbed his face with his hands before
running them through his hair. He took a deep breath and wiped away the tears that had formed in his eyes before heading back to his
house.

~*~*~

The worst part about his father coming over and butting his nose in where it wasn't wanted was that he didn't even bother to turn off the
light when he left. Rhys focused part of his misery and anger on that in an effort to push away the small, nagging feeling that maybe,
just maybe, what Spencer said was right.

"No. It's just a bunch of bullshit. He doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about," he muttered to himself. Of course he didn't.
Nobody knew what any of this felt like.

He went to reach for the bottle of scotch but then remembered that Spencer had moved it and it was now out of reach. He stood up
and walked over to it. It was a lot of effort to do so.

He knocked the bottle over with his foot was was vaguely disappointed that the cap had been screwed on tightly. He sort of wanted to
see the liquid spill out. What was one more mess that needed to be cleaned up? He'd do it. Eventually.

He ran his hands over the stubble on his face and through his destroyed fauxhawk before turning off the light and curling up on the
couch. Sleep. He needed sleep. He needed to escape the same thoughts that circled around in his mind. Thoughts about what he
could have said or done to save Quinn. Not that his dreams were any better. They were quite horrific, really. It was driving him insane.

He sat up. It was the couch. It had to be the couch. It was fucking uncomfortable and he had been camped out in the living room
since...his brow creased. Since he found out that his son had died which was...

He vaguely tried to calculate exactly how long it had been. He remembered that night. He remembered the funeral and punching
Alexander Goth. His calculations told him that it had to have been about two weeks since he slept in his own goddamn bed.

"No, fuck this," he muttered to himself. He had every right to sleep in his bedroom. Why on earth was he sleeping on the couch when
there was a far more comfortable bed upstairs? He thought that maybe it was because of Eden...

Shit. Eden. He really hadn't given her much thought since that night. He sort of remembered that she occasionally tried to come by
him and he had essentially told her to leave him alone. He couldn’t deal with whatever she was going through.

Fuck it. He was going upstairs anyway. If she was in the bedroom, hell, if she was still even home...she was still at home, right? He
wasn't quite sure.

His tread was heavy as he slowly walked up the stairs. Maybe he'd shower before going to bed. He felt very worn and kind of gross.
He ran his hand over his stubble again, actually taking note that there was stubble on his face. That was kind of weird.

He paused outside the bedroom and he was about to knock on the door before he realized the absolute absurdity of needing to do
such a thing. It was his bedroom, too! He squared his shoulders and threw open the door, bracing himself for whatever barrage of
emotions Eden was going to bombard him with.

Instead, she said nothing. She didn't even look up from what she was doing. It took him a moment to realize exactly what it was that
she was doing. She was..she was..

"You're packing?" She still didn't look up from the suitcase she was cramming her items into. When she didn't say anything, he
continued with, "I know you can hear me, Eden. Quit trying to pretend that you can't. Stop ignoring me."

"I'm not ignoring you, Rhys," she said calmly. "I’m very well aware of you." She didn't look at him as she went to her dressing table to
pick up some of the toiletries that were on it.

"You're packing!" He was aware of his voice rising. "You're packing! You're planning on leaving me! You're going to leave me at a time
like this? After everything I've been through?"

That got her attention and she whirled around to face him. "After everything you've been through? YOU?"

She stomped over to him and her voice also began to rise as she continued. "You aren't the only one who lives in this house, Rhys! You
aren't the only one--"

"My son is dead! MY SON! And you just don't understand!"

"I don't 'understand?' I DON'T 'UNDERSTAND?!'"

"He was my son! I don't have that many sons!"

"WELL I ONLY HAD ONE!" she screamed at him. "AND I'M GOING TO ONLY EVER TO HAVE ONE! I'M NOT 'FUCKING
EVERYWHERE' LIKE YOU ARE!"

She began to frantically throw more items from around the room into one of the suitcases. In mid-step she suddenly stopped as the
brief moment of fire inside of her died. Her shoulders slumped and she began to cry.

"I don't want to," she said between her sobs. "But you want to be left alone, so I'm going to do that. There is no room for anyone's grief
other than your own. I'm tired of walking on eggshells, Rhys. For twenty years I've been fine with it, but I just can't anymore. I love you,
Rhys, and I need you. Erin needs you. But you're pushing us away and it's breaking my heart! I can't stand to lose you, too. I refuse to
stay here and watch you self-destruct. I just can't do it anymore."

He clenched and unclenched his fists as he watched her cry. The words 'I only had one' echoed in his mind as a realization struggled
forward. He pushed it down and focused on the fact that she was leaving. She was leaving him. Everything he touched turned to shit,
just like he told his father.

Fuck her, I don't need her, was the first thought that popped into his mind.

Yes you do, and you know it, a small voice contradicted . It sounded irritatingly like his father's and he was tempted to ignore it. But,
much like his father, it refused to be ignored. She's one of the best things that's ever happened to you. She makes you happy. And
didn't you promise yourself that you would try to actually be a good husband and father here? Didn't you want to see if you could have
a normal life and healthy marriage without being forced to live in an apocalyptic environment? What happened to that promise? Do
you think you're being a good husband and father right now?

Oh, shut up, he told the Spencer Voice. Quinn's dead.

But Erin, Eden, and everyone else: they aren't.

Just shut up! He mentally shoved the voice down as he tried to deny that it was right. Ever since the accident he kept seeing Quinn's
face in Eden's. But as he stood there, he only saw Eden. The realization that had tried to struggle forward forcefully pushed itself to the
front. She had lost Quinn, too. As did Erin. As did the entire family. And now the family was falling apart. And it was his fault.

You can fix this, the Spencer Voice whispered.

I told you to shut up! And, blissfully, it did.

He took a small step forward as he gathered his scattered control together. Another step. And then another.

He reached out his hand and gently touched her shoulder before pulling it back.

She didn't turn around and he could see her shoulders still shaking from her sobs.

He took one more step and gently wrapped his arms around her, afraid that she would pull away from him. When she didn't, his arms
tightened. "Ede--" his voice cracked and his tenuous control wavered. "Ede, I--" his control slipped and shattered.

"Oh, God, Eden, please don't leave me. I'm so sorry. I'm an asshole. I'm a big fucking asshole and I'm so sorry. Please don't leave. I
don't think I can take it. I don't want to lose you, too. You are one of the best things that has ever happened to me and I've been so
lucky and I love you so very much and you are one of the last people in the entire Multi-Verse that I would ever want to hurt. I'm so
sorry. I love you. Please don't leave. I can't lose both Quinn and you. Please--"

Eden wordlessly turned around in his arms and wrapped her own around him as she buried her head into his chest. The only thing they
did for a long time was hold each other and cry.

It was the first time he had cried since the night they found out Quinn had died.

At some point during that night they had fallen asleep while clinging to each other. He woke up to the sound of Eden crying and he
stroked her face, kissed her eyes, her nose, and then her mouth. She reached up and wiped the tears that were on his face. And
without costumes, handcuffs, games, or any words at all, they comforted each other in the best way they knew how. When they were
done, they went back to sleep.

Later that morning, as the sun shone brightly through the window, he woke up to the feel of Eden lightly stroking the side of his face,
over his hair, and over his nose. It was something that she did quite often throughout their marriage and he knew what was coming
next.

"I love you, Rhys," she whispered.

He always loved to hear it. Except this time, instead of pretending to be asleep like he normally did, he wrapped his arms around her,
kissed her forehead and said, "I love you, too."

~*~*~

(And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the end of Chapter Six.)

Oh man. I know I always give Marina first line on my credits page, but after this chapter she totally deserves her OWN page. Because, you know, Marina is
awesome.

I want to give her a big, big, HUGE thanks for not only allowing me to marry in Rhys, but for also allowing me to do everything that I was allowed to do with him
for this story arc. She gave me so much help, leeway, and suggestions to help me with her character. Best of all, she was the one who suggested that Rhys
would not only be the one who said he was sorry but that he would also say the dreaded "L" word to Eden. That's just not something that he would ever do and
I was so happy that, in this instance, it was allowed. Seriously, I did a weird, flail-y, happy dance in my chair...and then dragged my feet for two years with this
plot line. The reason being?

I had to kill Quinn for any of it to happen. Granted, I was going to kill Quinn all along, but the bittersweet ending for this chapter almost makes it worth it.
Almost.

Anyway, huge props to Marina and a gigantic thank you for not only giving me all the help you did, but for helping me through all my doubts, nail biting, and
whining. It was a very fun journey and we BOTH learned things about Rhys that we didn't know before. Oh yeah, thank you for not cringing too much when
these "revelations" came about. I'm sorry about that. We all know whose fault that is...

(Shoulder Devil Rhys still makes me laugh. As a side note: I STILL haven't fixed SimAng's makeup since I changed my skin defaults almost two years ago. Her
blush is ridiculous >.<)

Credits and Thanks:

Marina/Smoothiequeen: For Rhys and Spencer Fitzhugh (The Fitzhugh Legacy/Villainous Apocalypse)
De/Fireflower: For Vaughn Fitzhugh and her Simself (The Morgan Legacy)
Ben/Blight27: For Cassius Marius (10 Caesars Legacy)
Lark/Lady Larkrune: Lark (the author of so many things it would take a whole slide to list them) also gets a big, huge thanks for listening to my whining, talking
me down from ledges, and just generally being my sounding board. Thank you for also being one of those people who giggled with me about some of the
revelations that have come about with Rhys. Sorry about that, Marina It's Shoulder Devil Rhys' fault, I swear!
To all my readers: Thank you so much for reading and commenting. I've been really, really lazy about returning the favor and I promise that I will get back on
track with both replying to my own comments as well as leaving comments on your chapters. Now that this story arc is done, a huge weight has been lifted
from my shoulders and I should be able to get back into the swing of things.

Thank you all for reading and until next time Happy Simming!

The Devereaux Legacy: Chapter Six - Part 7

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