Time, Death & Scar Tissue...

Mad World by Gary Jules appeared on the Donnie Darko soundtrack in 2002, unfortunately that's all I know about the song.
psyche b.

39. Affect Management

Kathryn stretched against him and tried to force herself to get up. On Christmas Eve day she and her grandmother and Bridey always started preparing the next day's meal so that it would be a little easier for Bridey to pull all together. Usually it was something Kathryn looked forward to, but his arm was around her waist, and she could feel his breath on her shoulder and she couldn't quite convince herself that she should squirm away from him. Besides, it was still so early. She relaxed again, her eyes closed.

This visit was not at all what she expected. Her grandmother actually liked him, and the more time she spent with him the more fond of him she seemed to get. What was even better, he seemed genuinely fond of Minerva as well. One of the things that she had worried about but didn't want to admit to herself was that he would treat her grandmother like he treated most people, like an underling.

He did have his odd moments, though to be fair he had those at home too. The decorations were the latest incident, but the faraway look he got for a moment was unlike anything she had seen before. Later she had asked him if he had been honest in his opinion. He had simply kissed her and asked if she had ever known him to misrepresent an opinion. Of course she hadn't. The familiarity that she had become so used to had changed too. It seemed stronger here for some reason. Kathryn forced herself to open her eyes and started to move out from under his arm carefully.

“No.” He said firmly, his arm tightening around her. She had been too wrapped up in her own thoughts to realize that he had been awake the whole time.

“I have to.” Kathryn said murmured, she turned and kissed him softly. His mouth was soft but that familiar hunger was there.

“Why?” His hands explored her back and hips.

“Because, they expect me to help.” Kathryn's mouth traveled down to the front of his throat, her teeth grazing his skin lightly. It was a silly answer, but at that moment she couldn't think of anything more convincing. It was possible that she didn't want to. He moaned softly, his arms tightened around her and he was silent a moment.

“Not good enough.” He said finally.

“Because it's tradition.” She moaned as his tongue pressed into her mouth. Resisting was getting harder and she knew that's what he was counting on. “And because after there are presents.” She said finally.

“I thought you did that tomorrow evening.” He tweaked a hard nipple gently, Kathryn tensed and shivered. “When the family is gathered together.”

“For the family presents yes.” Kathryn trailed her fingernails down over his torso lightly, feeling him tense. He moved her onto her back. “Grandmother and I always give each other something special before though.”

“You expect me to let you go when I'm not included?” His tongue swirled around her nipple and Kathryn arched. Both of her hands held his head to her breast. She had explained the tradition to him before coming, but that didn't matter to her at that moment. As long as his mouth and hands were on her, all was right with the world.

“Of course you're incl-” She whimpered sharply when he bit down, she pressed against his shoulders and struggled but his arms held her still. Tears trickled down her cheeks, and Kathryn started to sob. “Stop, please.” She whimpered, struggling harder, her fear rising. Her nails bit into his shoulder and as quickly as the pain began it stopped, changing to a soft, suckling pressure. She whimpered and relaxed, her eyes closed. She let the pleasure wash over her, sweeping away the memory of the pain.

The pressure of his mouth was driving her crazy. His fingers teased her other nipple and then trailed lightly down her body, Kathryn squirmed and arched under him. At home she would have cried out, but here, even though everyone would be moving around in the kitchen she couldn't bear to be heard screaming in ecstasy, no matter how natural anyone said it was. She bit down on the pillow to muffle her cry.

“I already have what I want.” Two fingers pushed deep inside her slick passage without warning. Kathryn tensed and twisted under him. When she opened her eyes he was looking down at her, his thumb casually exploring her folds until he found the tiny treasure he was searching for. He teased it softly. That and the movements of his fingers were perfectly calculated to bring her close, but not allow her to finish.

“You can have that anytime.” She breathed, pressing her hips against his hand. She felt his hardness against her thigh.

“Really?” His lips teased hers softly, carefully maintaining her in that state of indescribable need. “So this evening, while we are all gathered in the sitting room, if I tell you that this-” he curled his fingers slightly inside of her and Kathryn almost got the release she was yearning for. “Is what I want you will present me with my gift?”

“Well, not in front of Grandmother.” She whimpered softly, on the edge of begging. She reached down to stroke him but he shifted away from her hand. Kathryn whined softly.

“There was a time when that wasn't so unusual, a mother or grandmother would offer the, shall we say comfort, of the young woman in her care to a man who was considered desirable by the family.” Kathryn was beyond caring that she was squirming obscenely against his hand. “Occasionally, the older woman would watch from a discreet distance, just to make sure the act was complete. Perhaps that's fallen out of favor today though.” His thumb flicked the sensitive bundle of nerve endings lightly, as if considering the prospect. Kathryn whimpered, close to tears. His tongue swept the shell of her ear lightly. “Would you like to finish?”

“Oh God yes, please.” Kathryn's voice sounded desperate, it matched perfectly how she was feeling.

“Get on your knees.” His voice was soft and absolutely controlled, as it had been all along. He withdrew his fingers slowly and Kathryn moved into position. He took his time moving behind her, and positioned himself at her entrance. The pillow muffled her cry as he pressed deep inside her. He took her forcefully, but that added to the intensity of her own release. Her world seemed to soften and dim before she felt his mouth close on her shoulder. She lay limp under him, moaning softly.

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The world stayed far away for a few minutes as he shifted her body, when she felt connected with her body again she was resting against his chest. She felt completely sated, sore and, and what? Owned was the only word that came to mind. It sent a shiver through her and he wrapped the covers around her shoulders. One hand stroked her back softly and Kathryn wondered if that was such a bad feeling.

“You have quite a way of keeping me here.” She murmured, kissing his collarbone lightly.

“It worked.” She could hear the little smile in his voice. “Besides, I could have sworn you were enjoying yourself at one point.”

Kathryn blushed deeply and laughed a little.

“Well, maybe just a little.” She looked up at him with a teasing smile, the tiny bit of light leaking in from under the door allowed her to just about make out the shape of his body in the darkness.

“Only a little?” She heard his smile and he pinched her nipple softly. Kathryn was shocked to feel sharp pain instead of sweet pressure. She barely managed to bite back a cry but she did retreat from him. He followed. “What's wrong?” There was concern and guarded uncertainty in his voice.

“I'm not sure, but that hurt a lot.” Kathryn replied, searching for switch of the lamp on her side of the bed in the dark room.

“Stop.” He got up and turned it on. Kathryn blushed deeply and wished she had just managed to be silent as he took the covers away from her breasts. Both of her nipples hardened immediately, one was the usual rosy pink, the other was the deep purple of a bruise. His thumb stroked it softly and she flinched at the discomfort. She had never seen him at a loss for words, but the way he looked at the bruise made it seem to her more like a personal failure than a passionate accident. Kathryn gripped his hand and kissed it softly, she saw surprise around his eyes as he looked at her.

“Having you all the way over there makes me so self conscious, especially when I need you over here.” She said softly, tugging his arm. He settled next to her and Kathryn curled up against him again. After a moment's uncertainty he held onto her as if she might suddenly disappear.

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LaCroix heard the reproaches echo in his mind as he held her. He hurt everyone he touched. Drove away those he claimed to care about. He was incapable of love. He was a blight on the world, a destroyer of innocence and a thousand other evil things that had been hurled at him by Nicholas and countless others. Yet, she didn't pull away from him. She wanted his comfort, even though he had been the one who injured her.

He knew as soon as he felt her breathing change that he wanted her, when he felt her easy response he knew he wouldn't have stopped. His need for her blood had been intense, and he hadn't been as careful as usual in making a small wound. Her struggles should have told him something was wrong, but he didn't realize how forceful he had been until he saw the large scabbed wound. The feeling of one fang puncturing her flesh came back to him and his arms tightened around her. She saw only the bruise because of the suggestions he planted all those months ago, but the bruise alone was bad enough. The sight of the two together seemed to him to be a mark of failure. He had hurt her before, but those times were different. He hadn't lost control he had either misjudged her fragility or had needed to be forceful with her. She shifted slightly and he thought for a panicked moment that she was leaving. The he felt her lips brush the side of his neck.

“I'm not going anywhere.” She said softly. She was stroking his back. How long had it been since someone offered him comfort? How long had it been since he accepted it?

“Kathryn-” He started, trying to think of how to blunder through an apology. Her soft kiss silenced him.

“I don't need to hear you say it, I feel it in the way you hold me.” He looked down at her, searching her face for any sign of fear, anger, rejection or dishonesty. He saw only her steady eyes and a small smile on her lips. “I can live with the occasional bruise, they heal. I couldn't live with asking you to be less passionate.”

He kissed her softly and then uncovered her breasts again, color bloomed in her cheeks as it always did, but she made no move to stop him. He watched her face as he ran his tongue lightly around the injured flesh. The experience of pain was different for vampires. Pain could be inflicted and it was felt in the same way at first, but the discomfort of minor wounds receded quickly. When he struck Elsbeth the first time he knew he was injuring her pride more than her physical body. More severe injuries needed more time, but pain still ebbed much more quickly than it did for mortals. Kathryn trembled, but he could tell it was simply because even that light touch was painful for her. She didn't try to stop him. She didn't ask him not to. He moved back to her mouth and she relaxed and responded to his kiss as she always did.

“You look tired.” She said softly, stroking his cheek. There was concern in her eyes. “That's my fault.”

“I'm used to you sharing my schedule, but it's not your fault.” He carefully gathered her into his arms again. “Do you have to leave?” He hated to ask the question, he didn't want to let her go.

“I'm going to start a new tradition, sleeping in on Christmas Eve day.” She smiled a little and relaxed against him, her eyes closed. He turned the light out and she sighed comfortably. She moved her hand lightly over his stomach until she found his hand, and she laced her fingers with his. He listened to her breathing deepen and felt her body relax.

LaCroix looked down at her and felt himself drifting toward sleep as well. She was right, he was tired and his exhaustion had contributed to his lack of control. Her forgiveness didn't make it alright, neither did her understanding. She gripped his hand in her sleep and he smiled slightly.

“Who are you Kathryn Paige?” He whispered softly. The need to know was almost a physical ache, but at moments like this he wondered if who she had been in the past was as important as who she was at this moment.

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They both slept a little later than usual, but Kathryn could tell that he was more rested. She was too. Her nipple throbbed dully, but she wasn't about to tell him that. He was upset enough about it, telling him that she was in pain would only make him feel worse. She had noticed that as high as his standards were for others, they were even higher for himself.

Before she dressed he insisted on seeing it. She opened her mouth to protest but he was wearing his 'that was not a request, that was an order' look. Kathryn hated the fact that she still blushed when he looked at her, and in the end he was the one who pushed her nightgown aside. It looked a bit worse than she remembered, but that didn't change her mind about what she said earlier. She loved his intensity and she wouldn't have traded it for anything. She kissed him goodbye in the hall before going into the kitchen.

“Well, it's about time you put in an appearance.” Bridey said.

“Sorry,” Kathryn replied. “My schedule is all turned around and being up so early the past few days made me more tired than I realized. What's left?”

“Precious little.” Bridey was angry, but Kathryn found that she didn't really care why. The last few days Bridey had been thoroughly unpleasant at best and downright rude at worst. If she didn't like Lucien that was fine, but she didn't have to act like a child about it.

“Why don't you do the veggie platter, you always make it look so nice.” Minerva said. Kathryn gathered the vegetables and started washing them.

“And where is he? Too good to get his hands dirty?” Bridey was mixing filling for pies, Minerva was decorating cookies with a pastry bag.

“He's gone out, but he doesn't cook anyway.” Kathryn said, trying to keep the edge out of her voice. Even if he did she wouldn't have asked him to help.

“Doesn't cook, doesn't keep any food in the house, sleeps the whole day away and then goes out and wanders around in the dark of night.” Bridey grumbled.

“Are you getting at something Bridey?” Kathryn couldn't quite control her tone this time. It was all true, but it was none of her business.

“That's a good question.” Minerva put down the pastry bag. “I'd like to hear the answer to that too.”

“All's I'm saying is that there's something wrong with him and you two are too caught up in him to realize it. Sure he can be charming in an oily kinda way. Most of the time he acts like a horse's backside, and that might even be an insult to a perfectly respectable beast.” She was looking at the pie filling. Minerva was about to speak but Kathryn recovered first.

“Bridey, you know I love you, but the fact is you don't have to like him. You also don't have to be insulting and contrary at every turn.” She turned her back to Bridey, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“He doesn't have to talk to me like I'm a slave either.” She countered. “You know he told me to call him Sir? I told him I wouldn't be calling him anything of the kind.”

“That's what his housekeeper calls him, I'm sure he doesn't see it as something unreasonable.” Kathryn cut the celery and carrots into sticks quickly.

“Of course you defend him, he's got your head all turned around. You're not the same person who came home last summer.”

“You're right. I don't think I've ever been so comfortable in my own skin as I am when I'm with him.” Kathryn took a deep breath to steady her hand before starting to trim radishes into roses. She couldn't remember the last time she was this angry at Bridey.

“That's nonsense-”

“I've heard just about enough.” Minerva said firmly. “Bridey, everyone in this house is entitled to their feelings. You don't like him, I accept that and so does Kathryn. You have to accept that Kathryn's relationship is none of your business. If you can't, then I suppose we'll just have to get along without you until they leave.”

“Mrs. B-” Bridey looked stunned. Kathryn was too.

“I'm not going to change my mind Bridey. You are very dear to me, but Kathryn is my family, her happiness is first in my heart. Do we have an understanding?” Minerva was positively cold. Kathryn had seen her speak that way to others, but it was rare and it still shocked her each time. Bridey was silent, considering her response.

“You can't ask me to treat him like everything's fine and happy.” She said finally.

“No, but I will ask you to respect him as my guest.”

“Then yes, we have an understanding.” She turned back to her pie filling.

For the next hour they finished up the preparations in silence. Kathryn was thoroughly confused about her feelings. Bridey wasn't the type to take an instant dislike to someone for no reason, but Kathryn wasn't about to structure her life around someone else's opinion of how she SHOULD feel. At least her grandmother agreed with that much, but it wasn't easy being in the middle of such tension. It hurt her to think she might have driven a wedge between the two women who had practically raised her after her mother died. Once everything was put away she retreated to small room where her grandmother kept the piano.

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LaCroix heard her playing as soon as he got in. Hunting had taken longer than he expected. It seemed that most of the street people had taken refuge in some shelter or other to pass the holiday with others of their own ilk and those who used this time of year to ease their own guilt. He had considered taking someone a bit higher up on the social ladder until a shivering boy approached him asking if he wanted a 'date'. Not being one to refuse such a kind offer he allowed the lad to lead him to privacy, and then he led the boy into death. Sometimes it was deliciously simple.

She was playing Beethoven, but she was close to the end of the piece. He followed the direction of the music, arriving at the door just in time to hear the music change to something he was unfamiliar with. He leaned against the door frame, watching her back, noticing again there was no music spread out in front of her. He found himself hoping that she would sing, and she didn't disappoint.

“All around me are familiar faces,
Worn out places, worn out faces,
Bright and early for the daily races,
Going nowhere, Going nowhere
Their tears are filling up their glasses,
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow”

Her voice was stronger than before, probably because she wasn't self-conscious about him listening. It also struck him that it was much sadder. The song was darker than he had expected to hear from her as well, but it moved him, as her voice had before. He wondered if he would have felt the same had someone else been singing the same song.

“And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad
That the dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it's a very very
Mad World, Mad World.”

LaCroix laid his hand on her shoulder softly, and she stopped playing and looked at him. He could tell she'd been crying.

“When did you get back?” She forced a smile made room for him on the bench.

“A few minutes ago.” He kissed her softly and sat down. “You have such a beautiful voice.”

“Thanks.” She blushed and looked away, trying to hide the fact that she was wiping her eyes.

“Is it the song that made you cry?” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and she leaned against him. He knew it wasn't the song, but he found that if he was too direct she tended to retreat.

“No, it's nothing.” She shook her head a little.

“No it isn't. I've known a many women who cried over nothing, you're not one of them.” He lifted her chin and brushed a tear away.

“Just an ugly scene with Bridey.” She looked away and sighed deeply. “She was mad and I was mad and Grandmother told her to cope or leave.”

“That sounds like a reasonable solution to me.” She turned toward him and rested more against his shoulder. LaCroix brushed the hair out of her face. “But it doesn't please you.”

“I don't know, it makes me feel like some kind of instigator.” He rubbed the back of her neck softly.

“What did she choose?” He asked softly.

“To stay, as long as we knew she wasn't happy.” He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes.

“Her happiness doesn't matter.” He knew their disagreement had been about him, even if Kathryn had tactfully avoided mentioning it. Frankly, he didn't care what a servant thought. He did care that the discord affected Kathryn so deeply. She smiled slightly.

“Grandmother said something like that.”

“Minerva is a wise woman.” He kissed her softly and thought a moment. “Do you have a piano in your house?” He could tell she was taken off guard by the question and that was precisely what he wanted. He was very good with practical matters and even though she made it much easier for him to reach his emotional side he still wasn't entirely comfortable with dwelling on it.

“Yes, sort of. Why?”

“I'm not sure I understand that answer.” He chuckled and a soft blush colored her cheeks.

“I have an upright that belonged to the people who lived there before, but several of the keys don't work. The man who tunes it says it would cost more than the piano is worth to get them fixed and I haven't been able to convince myself that I should spend the money on it. So you kind of have to use your imagination sometimes when I play.” She laughed a little.

“When we get back to the apartment we'll find one that's intact. I think I would like to listen to you play on a regular basis.” He smiled slightly and she shook her head.

“I would love that, but upstairs there's no place for a piano, I don't even know how you would get one in-” He touched a finger to her lips lightly.

“I always get what I want Kathryn.” He kissed her softly and felt her relax against him. That wasn't completely accurate, but it was close enough for his purposes. “Do you know the four hand arrangement of Tchaikovsky’s Waltz of the Flowers?”

“I think so; it's been awhile since I've tried to play it though.” He began and she picked it up perfectly.

“You do know it.” The piano had merely been a curiosity for him. He was skilled enough, having nothing but time made it exceptionally easy to become skilled at all the little interests that mortals spent their lives perfecting. He knew that his own playing lacked emotion, and it had never been a pleasure to him like it was to her. This was one of the few pieces he clearly remembered, and probably only because of his teacher. The middle-aged woman could not have be described as lovely by any stretch of the imagination, but when she was playing this particular piece her whole face seemed to change and that had always fascinated him. Kathryn seemed more relaxed, and that was all he was really interested in anyway.