Time, Death & Scar Tissue...

Author's Note: I am not a Latin scholar, so these phrases were obtained from an online translation program. Translations are at the end of the chapter if the meaning isn't clear from the context. Again, if anyone wishes to correct me, I always enjoy learning new things.
psyche b.

20. A Gasp of Curiosity

LaCroix woke with a start, though he didn't know why at first. Then he heard it. Kathryn gasped harshly for breath. She was still sleeping but her back was arched and she was at the edge of the bed. He touched her shoulder softly.

“Kathryn.” He listened and could hear her heart pounding. Whatever she was dreaming she was terrified. “Kathryn.” He repeated, louder this time.

“OPEM MIHI! LUCIUS, OPEM*!” She cried. She was still gasping and struggling with whatever nightmare she was having, but her words and the clear terror they held stunned him almost as much as the words themselves. For a moment he couldn't move. She gasped once more and he could tell that her mind was fighting toward wakefulness. He turned the light on and grasped her upper arms, shaking her gently.

“Kathryn!” She opened her eyes and at first the look of surprised recognition made him think that she was awake. Looking closer though he realized she was still sleeping. He shook her once more and that look faded as her eyes focused on him. Without a word she curled up against him and he could feel her body shaking. She was still gasping, though now she was trying to catch her breath.

He held her gently, eventually resting against the headboard with her cradled against his chest. The scent of her terror was clear in his nostrils, but that was the only thing that was clear to him at that moment.

He hadn't dreamed since his conversion, and while he had gotten used to the small sounds and movements she made in her sleep the intensity of this nightmare was something he didn't have a reference for. He had read that in sleep the unconscious attempted to master what the conscious mind could not, perhaps she was attempting to master something frightening. What that was he couldn't imagine.

He might not dream, but his own waking was not instantaneous. He told himself that his half-sleeping mind was shocked by the situation and had interpreted something mumbled as clear speech, and then he had spun meaning into the look in her eyes as she regained consciousness. It was a logical, rational explanation. And he couldn't make himself believe a word of it, not now anyway.

He stroked her back and felt Kathryn calming slowly. He pulled the blanket up around her shoulders.

“I'm sorry.” She said when she finally stopped shaking. If his hearing had been less acute he might have missed it.

“Why? As far as I know, dreams and nightmares are out of the control of the sleeper.” He stroked her cheek softly and stretched out again. He still held her close.

“Because I should have warned you that I have a recurring nightmare.” He could feel her tears against his skin and he tightened his arms around her.

“It's still not your fault.” He kissed the side of her head softly. “What do you dream about that's so terrifying?”

“I don't even know, I have a few impressions when I wake up, but they're so disjointed the dream could be about anything really.” He stroked her back softly and he felt some of the tension leaving her muscles.

“Tell me.” He said softly when it became clear that she wasn’t going to volunteer the information.

“I have the impression of pain in my back. I know that I can't breathe, and I feel like there's something over my face because I can feel some kind of rough fabric in the dream, and it’s so dark. I’ve been told that sometimes I call out, but I don't ever remember doing it or what I say. The only other impression I get is of struggling and feeling like I'm about to die.” He kissed the top of her head softly. “I should start sleeping at home again.” She said softly.

“No you shouldn't. Waking alone from such a dream must be terrifying for you.” He wasn't about to let her go, he was comfortable having her next to him now. And the more she told him, the more certain he became that this was somehow tied to the feelings of familiarity that had been tugging that the edges of his consciousness ever since that first night, though he was still thoroughly confused about that. There were things about her that brought Fleur into sharp focus, and others that weren’t part of Fleur at all. This new facet only added to the confusion.

“It is, but I've managed ever since I can remember. It's not fair to wake you up every time my unconscious goes haywire.” Her arms were tight around him, even as she talked about letting go. He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes.

“When will you learn that you are mine? I am here to shelter you, guide you and care for you and all of those things know no schedule.” He kissed her softly and felt her arch against him. “Are you still afraid?”

“No.” She looked confused by that answer. “Usually I would be, but with you I feel safe.”

“Because you are. Go back to sleep if you can.” He turned the light down, but not off. His hand still stroked her back softly.

“Thank you.” He could hear the soft quiver in her voice.

“You're welcome, my Kathryn.” The rest would bear further thought, but for right now he could tell she was drifting off again. Her arms relaxed around him slowly and he toyed with the idea of moving her, but decided against it. He relished knowing she came to him for safety because she trusted him, not because he was the lesser of two evils. He decided to let her take that comfort in her own way. It had been a very long time since anyone had.

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Kathryn sat in front of the laptop, her glasses sliding down her nose a bit. While she was pinning up her hair the perfect phrase for an important idea struck her and she simply had to record it before it flitted away again. Much as she had tried in the past, there was simply no way to pin down her inspiration for use at a more convenient time. He was still getting ready anyway.

“Kathryn, you'll miss your flight.” She recognized the tone as disapproval but ignored it.

“I was waiting for you.” She stepped into her shoes and kissed him softly. He looked perfect as usual, and the soft kiss melted the veneer of upset. She was still learning his tones, moods, postures and even slight changes in his scent. Some could be ignored, some could be shifted with a kiss or a touch, and others were best left alone entirely. She didn't fear him exactly, but she got the impression that she would be much better off not trifling with him at certain times. Tonight’s mood was because he didn't want her to go.

The Thanksgiving trip had been an undiscussed sore point since the night three weeks before when she told him about her 'date' with Arnold Hyde. The only other time it was mentioned since was when her grandmother had tried and failed to talk some sense into her father. She knew he wasn't happy about it and he didn't want her to go. He knew she wasn't happy about it either but had every intention of going. Discussion of the matter seemed useless and would have only served to upset both of them. Her dreams had been upset enough in the past few weeks. Her nightmare had returned several times and she could only imagine that it was related to the stress. Kathryn slipped the laptop and the power cord into her carry on bag with her iPod, cell phone and other incidentals. The worst part was that she didn't know if she could make herself get on the plane.

The thought of being without him left a void in her heart and she wasn't entirely sure that she was going to be able to maintain the air that her relationship with him was a casual friendship. His arms slipped around her waist from behind, pulling her back against his chest.

“You'll miss your flight.” His voice was softer and he nuzzled against the side of her neck. She turned and snuggled against him.

“I wouldn’t mind, but my father would have a fit.” She managed a short laugh and he kissed her forehead.

The ride to the airport was mostly silent, although his hand never broke contact with her body.

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LaCroix hated airports. They were too bright, too loud and filled with too many minor functionaries with the egos of emperors. But, he was not about to send her off alone when he was battling to send her off at all. He didn't question that she would return to him, and he didn't think that her feelings would change in the few days they would be apart, but to him it felt rather like leaving what he valued most in the care of someone he had never met and didn't trust.

It was only very recently that he realized how her ability to read him so accurately had become comfortable. Few looked at him without unease or even outright fear. For the most part that was useful and he liked it. He hadn't fully appreciated how isolated that kept him until she fixed that steady gaze on him. It didn't take him long to see that she fixed that same gaze on the world at large and even though she was shy she could give the impression of absolute fearlessness. It made the difficulties of securing her surrender without resorting to simply suppressing her will well worth it.

LaCroix watched her step through the metal detector and set it off. A tight knot of anger formed in his chest to see her step out of line, raise her arms and spread her legs while a pot-bellied toady examined her. He had purchased slaves without such thorough inspection. He noted though that her dignity never slipped. She collected her things, stepped into her shoes and waved to him before disappearing into the crowd.

He left quickly after losing sight of her.

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Kathryn was lonely even before she got to the gate. She reminded herself that this was nothing unusual; she had traveled alone many times before. The difference now was that she was not coming home again to an empty house. It was comforting to know that he would be there to greet her when she got back and she tried to tell herself how few hours it actually was between now and then. Kathryn bought a cup of tepid, overpriced coffee and sat down.

As she looked around she remembered just how much she hated airports. Noise assaulted her ears from every direction. Despots who paced off territories measured in floor tiles were everywhere. The harsh lighting made everyone look as though she should be in the morgue and not an airport. Maybe Lucien's insulated little world had spoiled her more than she realized. He made it so easy to forget that the whole world wasn't softly lit, quiet and safe-feeling.

She looked at the clock and realized that she still had an hour before boarding would start. Kathryn took another sip of the coffee and looked around at the other people gathering at the gate before she started looking for the book she had picked up impulsively while packing. It was an overly romantic piece of fluff that Corey had given her for her last birthday. Lucien had raised an eyebrow when he saw her intended reading material but he hadn't said anything at the time. That all appeared to be academic now though since the book was gone. Finally her fingers brushed against something silky and unfamiliar.

She brought out a small, rectangular object wrapped in deep green silk. It was tied with a ribbon of the same color. She untied the simple bow and tucked the ribbon into her bag. She unfolded the green silk wrapping and found that it was a large scarf. The barest hint of his scent still clung to it and Kathryn found herself smiling. She tucked it into the back as well and looked at the book. She almost laughed out loud when she realized it was Plato's 'Republic'. Kathryn opened the front cover and a short note fell out.

**Some more appropriate reading material for your journey. Think of me...L~**

The mention of appropriate reading material raised her eyebrows. From anyone else it would have drawn ire, not gratitude, but from him it was exactly what she expected. Kathryn dialed his number quickly, barely thinking about what she was going to say.

After a few rings the voicemail picked up. “I am unavailable. Leave a message if you wish.”

“Ego gratias ago vos, Dominus*.” Kathryn was shocked, not only to hear herself speak to him in Latin, but to hear herself call him Dominus. She had done it before, and then she hadn’t realized it was going to come out then either. She ended the call and dearly wished she could somehow get into his voicemail and delete the message before he heard it. It didn't seem to bother him, at least not the last time she said it. She was too close to sleep the first time to know how he reacted. Even if it didn't bother him, it bothered her. She wasn't his property; at least she told herself that she wasn't. There were moments when some small gesture reached something deep inside of her that didn't find the 'property' idea unusual or uncomfortable. This was one of those gestures.

She sighed and looked at the book. It was old, but it wasn't as old as the copy she had seen on his shelves. At least this one seemed approachable. She still had time to kill and she could always hope that he would somehow delete the message without listening to it. She decided she would cling to that idea and opened the book.

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LaCroix replayed the message for the third time, a small smile playing on his lips. He could tell from the tone in her voice that her gratitude was sincere, but also that she was surprised at herself for expressing it quite that way. Perhaps there was even a hint of embarrassment there. The few times she had called him 'Dominus' she had been completely unguarded, either from relaxation or from release or both. He had never mentioned it to her, the fact was he liked hearing it from her and he knew that if he called her attention to it she might censor herself.

He replayed the message.

LaCroix was becoming increasingly certain she had some connection to him in his mortal life, though what it was still eluded him. The dream made him think that she was someone he knew immediately before the eruption and his conversion. Much as he tried to place her though, no one seemed to fit. Only the people closest to him would have used his name and of that select group he didn’t think anyone would have called to him like that. It was true that he might have been a bit preoccupied at the time, but everything else from those moments was still so clear he didn’t think that he would have forgotten someone who obviously meant a great deal to him. Though it seemed contradictory that whoever it was would have referred to him by name, and as Dominus.

He couldn't picture her being a gift from someone wishing to curry favor. If such a woman was good for anything other than sexual gratification then she was most likely a spy sent by the giver. He couldn't picture her as a conquered noblewoman hoping to persuade him to be merciful to her people. She had the aristocratic air, but he couldn't picture her begging him or anyone else for anything. The word was wrong too. He was fairly certain that if she felt conquered she would have used the right word.

His Kathryn didn't feel forced into anything, she simply knew her place. Eventually he would figure out why she knew it as naturally as she did. He listened to her words one more time and felt his lust sharpen. No matter who he found would only provide him with the physical release he needed, but that would allow him to keep his intensity in check when he did have her near him again.

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*Opem mihi – Help me
Ego gratias ago vos, Dominus – I give thanks to you, Master.