Note: I firmly believe in the Southern Cause of states rights, which is what the Civil War was really about. I'm a loyal Southerner. No offense to anyone who doesn't agree with my views.
This life was first mentioned in The Visit. Marc is named after a friend of mine who died in March. He was 11 years old and he and his father were killed by a drunk driver.

April 1861
There was a knock at the door of the little cabin. Marc rose from his chair. "I'll get it," he told his wife. "You rest." He opened the door to reveal his friends George and Thomas.

"It's war," George said before Marc could greet them. "Beauregard fired on Sumter this morning."

Marc knew this day was coming soon. After all, the Southern states had left the union months before.

"We're joining the army," Thomas told him. "We can't let those damn yankees tell us what to do."

"Are you with us?" George asked.

Marc didn't know what to say. He looked at his friends and then back at his wife and son. This is what he would be fighting for.

"What's wrong?" Julie asked.

Marc motioned for George and Thomas to come inside. They entered and the four sat down at the table. "The war has started," he told Julie.

"Are you going to fight?" she asked him.

"I have to," he told her. He turned to George. "Who will be commanding the army?"

"Word is General Lee of Virginia," George told him.

"He's very good," Thomas said. "He was offered command of the union army, but is loyal to Virginia."

"I've heard of him," Marc said. "With him in charge, we could win."

"We will win," George said and Thomas nodded in agreement.

"Are you going to fight with us?" Thomas asked.

Marc looked at Julie and took her hand in his. They had been friends all their lives until one day he realized he loved her. He looked at his son, the morning sun glinting on his blond hair as he played on the floor, unaware that outside the world was falling apart. He had to preserve their freedom.

He looked at his friends. "Yes, I will fight with you."

Eighteen Months Later
The war that wasn't supposed to last more than a few months was dragging into it's second year. Thomas had been wounded at Gettysburg and lost an arm. George had so far not been hurt. Marc was cited for bravery and had been promoted to sergeant. He had been granted a furlough to go home for a few days.

He was excited. He missed Julie and Simon. Julie wrote when she had the chance. Those letters were his strength when didn't think he could make it. Knowing he was fighting for his family's freedom made it worth it.

Death was all around him. He had seen lots of friends die and had killed his share of the enemy. He welcomed the few days away from the war, time with just his wife and son. His soul needed it.

Julie greeted him at the door, throwing her arms around his neck. "I've been so lonely without you," she sobbed. He said nothing, just held her close, the feel of her body next to his relaxing him.

Simon stood behind her, shyly hiding. He was almost four now and Julie's last letter had mentioned him asking for a little brother. He didn't know about his sister. For some reason they had never told him.

He picked the boy up and hugged him. Simon hugged him back. "Hi, Daddy," he said.

Damn the war, Marc thought. The war was taking him away from his family. He had not been able to attend his sister Angela's wedding a few months before. Was the fighting really worth it?

At least the war hadn't touched Texas. He had seen people in Mississippi and Virginia whose homes had been destroyed, who had to live in little shacks and didn't have very much food.

That night, he held Julie close. "Make me forget," he told her. He didn't want to think about war and blood and death. He wanted to think about love and happiness and family.

For those few brief hours, all was right with his world again. He had his Julie beside him. Nothing else mattered.

All too soon it was time to go back to the war. Back to death and destruction. Back to hell.

Julie tearfully kissed him goodbye and promised to write. Simon hugged him goodbye and he couldn't shake the feeling that he might never see any of them again.

Two months later he got a letter from Julie telling him that Simon would be getting a little brother. Maybe there was hope after all.

May 1863
He heard the sounds of moaning all around him. The last thing he remembered was being on the battlefield, the bullet slamming into his chest, praying he wouldn't die. Was this hell?

He slowly opened his eyes. It was dark, but he could see a few people around. A man stood beside him. "Is this hell?" he asked the man.

The man laughed softly. "Might as well be," he said. "Damn yankees."

"Where am I?"

"You're a prisoner now," the man told him. He paused. "My name's Eddie." He held out his hand.

"I'm Marc." He reached for Eddie's hand, but he was too weak.

"I should see if the doctor is around," Eddie said. He started to get up, but the door opened and another man walked in. A yankee officer. Eddie spit on the floor. "Rotten bastard," he whispered. "Stay away from him," he told Marc.

Marc looked at the man. He seemed to radiate pure evil. He shivered slightly as the man moved closer to him. He smiled coldly. "You will do," he said.

Marc looked at Eddie, but he seemed just as confused.

~*~

Julie knew something was wrong as soon as she saw Thomas. His eyes were sad. "It's Marc," he said.

"Is he dead?" she asked. _Please don't let him be dead,_ she pleaded. She placed a hand on her stomach and felt the baby kick. At least she had the children.

"No," Thomas said. "Not yet. He's been hurt. There was a bad battle, General Jackson was hurt pretty bad, too. Marc was taken prisoner by the yankees."

The room seemed to swirl around her and her legs felt weak. Thomas grabbed her before she could fall. He held her, comforting her. This wasn't right. He shouldn't be holding her like this. He gently led her to a chair and set her down.

How could he tell her the rest? How could he tell her that the yankees were going to hang Marc?

~*~

He couldn't quite believe it. They were going to hang him for no reason other than he was a Southerner. What would happen to Julie and the children? He would never get to see their new baby. Would Simon remember him?

This whole bloody war had gotten out of hand. People were dying everyday and it was all for nothing. As much as he believed in the Southern Cause, he knew they couldn't win. The men were tired. They had lost two good generals and lots of good soldiers, too.

If only he could see Julie one last time, he knew he could face the rope unafraid.

An officer approached him. "You have a visitor," he said. He led him outside.

Julie was standing there, a weak smile on her tear stained face. She was wearing a black dress, already in mourning for him. He hated to see her hurting like this. Even in mourning she was beautiful.

She threw her arms around him, sobbing against him. "Oh, Marc, I'm going to miss you," she sobbed.

He held her, holding back his own tears. Never show a weakness in front of the enemy. "It's okay," he told her. "I'm not afraid to die."

"But I'm afraid to lose you," she said. "I've never loved anyone but you. I will never love anyone again."

"And I never loved anyone but you." He kissed her softly. "You have to keep my memory alive for the children." He reached for a folded piece of paper in his pocket. "Give this to them. Tell them I loved them."

She took the paper from him. This was real. He was going to die. "How do I go on without you?"

"I'll be watching over you and the children, I promise. I won't leave you. Bury me next to the baby. That's what I want."

She nodded sadly. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too," he said and kissed her one last time. This is what he wanted to remember, his love, his only love.

The officer came up to them. "You'll have to go now, ma'am. Someone will show you out."

Julie nodded sadly and reluctantly pulled out of Marc's embrace. At the gate, she turned back and waved at him. He waved back, wishing he could be with her.

The execution was scheduled for one o'clock. He had one hour. He had rejected the noon meal. He wasn't hungry, hadn't been hungry in days. He had gotten used to it.

He lay on his small cot, preparing himself for the inevitable. He was going to die, he would never see Julie or Simon again. He would never see Angela again. He would never see the baby that was due soon. Even though he was young, he still felt he had lived a good life. He had loved someone and she had loved him. That love had produced three children. The loss of their daughter had only brought them closer. How could Julie go on without him?

She had the children. That could keep her going. She was young, she was pretty, she could find another husband easily.

No, he didn't want anyone else to love her. She was his, only his.

His time was up. With one last prayer, he was led to the rope.

His lasts thoughts were of Julie and the children as they slipped the rope around his neck. He was dying for his family and his country. A noble cause.

It was quick and surprisingly painless. The officer who had ordered the execution smiled at the sight. One less rebel. That's how he saw it. He was happy to see the young man hang. Why this one, he wasn't sure. He didn't question these things.

His body was sent home and he was buried beside his daughter. Julie spent many days beside his grave and everybody knew she wouldn't last much longer. If only she could hang on until the baby's birth, then maybe she would be okay.

~*~

It was a difficult birth, just like the last time. Angela stayed with her as they waited for the doctor to arrive. She was bleeding badly and Angela was afraid she would lose them both before the doctor arrived. She gently placed a cool cloth on Julie's forehead and held her hand. "You have to hang on," she said. "At least for the baby."

Julie screamed as another pain ripped through her. She wished once again that Marc was with her, but he had been dead for two months now. He was dead and still the war went on. It wasn't fair.

The pain subsided for right now. She grasped Angela's hand. "Promise me," she said.

"Promise you what?" Angela asked.

"Promise me you'll take care of the children for me," she said. "Please. I know it's what Marc would want."

Fear gripped her. She knew this would happen. Julie was going to die. "I promise," she said.

Julie relaxed, glad that her children would be taken care of. She knew this was the end. She loved Marc too much to be away from him. The only thing that had kept her going the last two months was the baby. She had to hold on until the baby was born.

Just a few more hours.

The doctor arrived soon. He knew it wasn't good. She was fading fast. The baby was putting too much stress on her. At least it wasn't turned like the first baby. That one had haunted for a long time. He had spent many a sleepless night wondering if he had somehow caused the baby to die.

Now he just wanted to try to save Julie.

The birth was the easy part. A little girl, healthy with a bit of dark hair and a good set of lungs. Angela cleaned her, wrapped her in a blanket, and handed her to Julie. She smiled at the baby. "She's beautiful," she said. "Take good care of her."

"I will," Angela said. "Simon wants to see you."

She nodded. "Please, I want to see him."

Angela brought Simon into the room. Julie smiled at him. "You have a sister, Simon," she told him.

"Mama, I'm scared," Simon said. "I had a dream about Daddy. He said you were leaving."

"Don't be scared. Angela is going to take care of you now. I'll be with Daddy, watching over you."

"I love you, Mama."

"I love you, too, Simon. Be good for Angela."

Simon nodded and hugged her. Then Angela led him out of the room. She sat next to Julie's bed. "How do you know you're going to die?" she asked.

"I saw Marc. He told me." She looked at the baby and kissed her softly. Then she handed her to Angela. "Don't mourn for me, I'll be with Marc." And then she was gone.

They buried her two days later beside Marc. Everybody said it was sad, how she died from missing him. Never was a cliché more true.