Harry

They used to call us the Three Musketeers. Always the three of us, together, all for one and one for all.

That was a long time ago. Years.

Now . . . there are still three of us. But, there are also two of them. Rather than the third musketeer, I'm the third wheel.

Not that I can fault them for what they have.

I've even heard someone call it fate. Who knew? Soulmates in the Delta Quadrant.

I can't fault them. Not even when they're sickeningly sweet or threatening to kill each other.

We used to be three.

Subtraction. Or addition. Hurts.

*END*

Back to Main Page or Back to Drabbles Page