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"More sure than anything."
"But you will go into the light."
"No--because you'll catch me, and stop me."
"But then you will fall asleep. You will sleep and you won't wake up for nine months... ."
"And you'll protect me while I'm sleeping, won't you, Milos?"
Milos took a slow, deep breath, then he nodded. "Yes, I will," he finally told her. "And I promise I will be waiting for you when you awake."
"I believe you," Mary told him. "I trust you." But then something troubling occurred to her.
Milos must have read it in her eyes, because he said, "Do not worry about this fleshie. He was kind to you, and so I will make certain that your body of flesh is never found, and he will never know what he has done."
Mary smiled. "You think of everything, don't you?"
"It is something I learned from you."
Milos looked to both ends of the alley to make sure they were unobserved, before lowering the blade to her chest. It still quivered in his hand, so he tightened his grip until the blade was still. Then in that lonely alley in the living world, Megan Mary McGill put her arms over Milos's shoulders, feeling the steel tip of the blade lightly pierce her new satin gown, just barely touching the skin above her heart. She looked into his eyes until she could see Milos behind the face of the security guard, and then she commanded in a powerful, impassioned whisper:
"... Bring me home, my love... ."
