Dumas had occasionally balked at the commands of bellowing drill sergeants.  And yet, the possibility of rejecting Mari’s order didn’t even occur to him.  Obediently, he trudged over to the bed and sat down on its edge, wincing a little when the mattress creaked beneath his weight.  He couldn’t forget what had happened on it only hours ago -- how happy he’d been, until he found out that he’d made love to the wrong woman.<br/><br/>He didn’t know what to expect as Mari approached him.  Although her words sounded more assertive than usual, she didn’t seem to be truly angry at him.  Her first point earned a small nod.  Dumas could accept that the bitch had tricked him.  Of course, something deep inside of him had<span style="font-style: italic">wanted</span>to be tricked, and would always share the responsibility for what had happened.  But Dumas was willing to let Mari’s other self carry most of the blame.<br/><br/>Mari’s second point made him smile for an instant, before his mirth flickered and went out.  How could he admit that he’d sent Chester because he was afraid he might bash her head into a wall?  That he might wrap his hand around her throat and squeeze until she turned purple?  Dumas opened his mouth, as if that alone would be sufficient to make words spring forth from it.  But before he could attempt to explain the fury that lived inside him, Mari moved on to her third point, and everything else in the world stopped mattering.<br/><br/>Joy filled Dumas’s heart with a bright fire.  The fog was dissipating and he could feel his emotions again -- but for once, they weren’t threatening to rip him apart.  Closing his eyes, he rested his head against Mari’s chest and listened to her heartbeat, its steady rhythm as reassuring as a childhood lullaby.  Maybe he hadn’t ruined everything.  Maybe there was still a chance for them.<br/><br/>“I thought that I’d hurt you,” Dumas whispered, tears of relief flooding his closed eyes.  “I couldn’t live with myself if I ever hurt you.”<br/><br/>But he<span style="font-style: italic">had</span>hurt her.  Like storm clouds, the memories cast dark shadows across Dumas’s happiness.  Now he opened his eyes, and the tears rolled down his face as he reached up, barely skimming his fingertips across the deep purple bruise on her cheek.  “Ches told you what happened with the sex.  But did he mention that I did this to you?”  Light as the brush of a butterfly’s wing, his touch moved lower, to the smaller bruises forming on her throat.  “And this?”<br/><br/>Helplessly, Dumas shook his head.  “She kept taunting me.  I tried to ignore it.  But then she mocked me about what I’d done to you, with Ches standing right there...and I lost it.  I’m so sorry.”