Time, Death & Scar Tissue...

52. Bleak House

When she was halfway home, Kathryn's cell phone started to play he Moonlight Sonata. She turned it off and kept driving. Her first idea was to head back toward Boston, but she left her bag and everything else when she ran. The only reason she still had the phone was because she had forgotten it in the first place. She didn't think that she'd make it anyway. Now that the barriers were gone, the weight of it all was oppressive. She tried to shut it out long enough to just get to the house.

She arrived on autopilot, and walked in to a ringing phone. She knew who it was without looking at the caller ID. Her first instinct was to just turn off the ringer and not answer, but something in her wouldn't allow that.

“H-hello?” Her voice trembled.

“Kathryn-” The voice that had given her so much comfort, sounded ragged around the edges.

“Please-”

“You have to listen-” The pain she heard there brought a fresh flood of tears.

“I need-” She bit back a sob. “It's too much. I can't process – everything that's happened.”

“Let me help you.”

“No!” The word came out in a sob. She took a ragged breath. “I need some time to sort it all out.”

“How long?” The words were hollow and empty. The sound made her heart hurt.

“I don't know.” Her voice quivered and she sank down against the wall, her head resting against the side of cupboards. “Can I call you tomorrow?”

“Of course.” His voice sounded resigned to the idea that he would never hear from her again. “Are you staying there?”

“Yes.” Kathryn answered without thinking. In spite of everything that happened, everything she had seen and remembered, she still trusted him. There was a long pause, and she was fairly certain that she knew what was coming.

“Kathryn, you can't-”

“I'm not going to tell anyone.” The thought hadn't even crossed her mind really. “I...I just need to sort through this.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

LaCroix hung up the phone and leaned back into the chair, his eyes closed. He was still spattered with Russell's gore. He could still smell Kathryn's vomit and the utter terror that poured off of her in waves. And it was all his fault. He'd waited too long to bring her across. He'd gotten sloppy with her safety. He'd fallen into complacency, and it had nearly consumed her. It took him a moment to acknowledge the soft sound of the door opening.

“What?” He didn't open his eyes, he didn't need to.

“It's done.” Kellen said from the door. “Do you want me to leave her things?”

“Yes.” He wasn't sure what she'd left out there. “Then arrange for someone to go to her house. Someone you trust.” Kellen was silent.

“You want him to-?”

“Watch.” LaCroix said, his voice still flat. “No one gets as far as her front walk, vampire or otherwise. You'll arrange for one of your mortals to do the same during the day. If she leaves, follow her.” Kellen didn't move.

“If she knows-” Kellen started carefully. LaCroix opened his eyes and fixed an icy stare on the man in front of him. Kellen fell silent again.

“You presume to lecture me?” The quiet voice nearly froze the air between them.

“Of course not.” Kellen said quickly.

“Then you have arrangements to make.” Kellen nodded and started out the door. “I expect that someone will be in place within thirty minutes.” LaCroix added.

“That may not be-” LaCroix's eyes narrowed, stopping Kellen again. “Thirty minutes.” Kellen agreed.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Kathryn stood in front of the full-length mirror wearing only a towel. She'd avoided the mirror when she first got onto the shower, but by the time the water ran cold she knew she couldn't avoid it forever. When she dressed that evening, she had seen a small bruise at the point where her neck joined her shoulder. At the time, she assumed it was simply a passion mark. Now she knew that's what Lucien wanted her to think. She moved her wet hair aside and saw four small punctures. One set was nearly healed, the others were freshly scabbed.

She remembered getting them vividly now. That evening she woke up to his fingers pressing inside her. It was one of her favorite ways to wake up and the memory brought a little smile to her lips now. In the moment before his release, he'd bitten down on her shoulder. She remembered the pain, but it wasn't nearly as bad as she would have expected. She ran a finger over the marks tentatively, expecting some residual ache. She found none.

The shock had worn off, but the confusion had deepened. She left the towel in the basket and curled up in bed. She couldn't even put a name to all her feelings. Part of her was mad as hell at him for not only doing it, but hiding it from her. On the other hand she had no idea when he should have told her, or if she would have believed him if he had. She was at least as scared as she was angry, but even that had another side to it. Obviously, he could have killed her any time he wanted, but he hadn't. She was hurt that he had lied. She missed him. When she thought of him actually taking her blood she knew she should be horrified, but she couldn't quite manage that. The feelings of comfort and connection came rushing back. She knew that those had been real, although she didn't know how she knew.

Kathryn doubted she would sleep, but she closed her eyes. Maybe by the time the next evening came she could understand at least some of her feelings.

*~*~*~*~*~*

LaCroix only left the apartment to feed. In his darkest hours, feeding served two purposes. One was obvious; blood sustained his life. The other was more emotional; he could try and make someone else hurt as much as he did.

He had no one else to blame this time. No one insisted that Kathryn would be destroyed by association with him. No one had slaughtered her as he believed Niobe was slaughtered. She had simply seen him as he really was, and it had been too much.

Staying in the apartment had its own perils. Her scent was everywhere. Her perfume teased his memory. The scent of her hair on her pillows reminded him that she should have been there. Walking by her clothes brought images of her in them. All of it gave the impression that she would simply walk back in as if she had only spent the evening out. He couldn't allow himself to believe that would happen. Experience had taught him that hope was the one thing he couldn't afford. Letting go of it seemed like more than he could bear this time. Especially since he knew what the ultimate ending would have to be.

Besides, deep down, he still knew she was his.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Kathryn flipped through the stack of pages in her hands. She didn't know that she had even kept them, much less what drew her into the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet. True, she had been wandering around the house for the last few days like a lost ghost. She'd been opening drawers, looking through closets and searching through boxes in the basement. She had no idea what she was hoping to find, but it had been almost an obsession. She told herself that with her hands busy her mind would have time to sort through everything. In a way, that was true.

She flipped through the pages. Professor Howlett's notes were still there in his boldly flowing style and green pen. It was a translation of a description of a bloody uprising in Gaul and centered on the actions of a Lucius Terentius, who, at that point, had not yet become a general. His actions there would lead to the Emperor Vespasian making that elevation.

Looking at it again, she clearly remembered writing it. She'd become fascinated with the man at the center of it. Rereading certain segments of the text even after the assignment was turned in and graded. There was just something so REAL about him. She told herself that it was how the historian had described him, bringing him to life even after so much time had passed. Her roommate teased her that she was in love with a guy who was a pile of dust somewhere. Now, rereading her own work, something about it nagged at her.

Logically, she didn't think it was possible, but logic had been pretty much thrown out the window in the past few days. She found a large envelope and wrote a quick note. She clipped the note to the cover-page and went downstairs.

Kathryn knew she was being watched. He hadn't come right out and told her, but he had told her that she needn't worry about a reappearance of someone else like William Russell. She hoped that was the only reason. She pulled a fleece jacket out of the closet, and stepped into a pair of old sneakers. The men in the car looked positively shocked when she trotted across the street, directly to them. He looked at his partner, unsure what to do when Kathryn tapped on the window and then took several steps back. The second man shrugged.

“Miss Paige?” He asked. Her mouth went dry and she found she had no idea how to say it.

“You're-” She started again. “Lucien sent you here.”

“Yes.” He said, waiting to find out what she was going to say.

“Can you take this to him?” She stepped a little closer and held out the envelope. “Please?” The two men looked at each other.

“Miss Paige, if you have something to tell him, it would be better if you spoke to him in person.”

“I can't. Please, this isn't something I can explain, he has to see it.” Her heart was starting to pound. Neither of them moved. “It's not a goodbye letter or anything like that.” The man nearest her took the envelope.

“We can't both leave.” He said. The his partner got out of the car. Kathryn took several steps back. He walked around the car slowly.

“Miss Paige, if I so much as touch your sleeve he'll have my head.” She could tell from the look on his face that he wasn't exaggerating. She sighed.

“I'm sorry.” She said. He nodded. “Thank you.” She said to the one still in the car.

“You're welcome.” He started the car and pulled away. Kathryn trotted back inside.

*~*~*~*~*~*

She was still surprising him. He wanted her to be aware that Kellen's men were present. LaCroix never thought for one minute that she would approach one of them, let alone request that he deliver something. The very idea made him smile a little. It was an expression that had become unfamiliar in the past few nights.

The note was cryptic:
“I know you've seen this, you probably have a copy of it somewhere. I need to know....well, either it will make sense and you'll know what I need to know, or it won't and I'll still know.

Yours,
Kathryn”

She was right, he had a copy of it at the retreat. He hadn't glanced at it in centuries though. Why should he when his memory of that campaign was clearer than the author's vision of it? It was, in the scheme of things, a small part of a relatively minor history by someone whose name was lost to time. He wondered how she had come across it. The translation wasn't nearly as accurate as she could produce now, and that was duly noted by her teacher. It was clear from the comments though that whoever this instructor was, he had some affection for Kathryn. He noted that the professor had noticed Kathryn's affection for her subject as well.

He shouldn't have been surprised. After everything, he should have been more surprised that she hadn't looked at him one evening and said “You know who you remind me of?”. The little smile touched his lips again. Still, how would he tell her? She'd been coping reasonably well with the rest of it, considering the trauma that surrounded her understanding. He could tell that much from their brief phone conversations. He dialed her number.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded uncertain.

“You had difficulty with verb tenses in the beginning, didn't you?” He said. The sort of half-laugh was the most relaxed she had sounded in days.

“I still do sometimes.” She admitted. He heard her sit and take a deep breath. “I'm imagining things, aren't I?” The question sounded almost hopeful.

“No, you're not.” The line was silent for so long that he wondered if she was still there. Finally, he heard her take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“How?”

“Survival of the fittest, my Kathryn.” The silence was back.

“Can I call you tomorrow night?” She asked.

“How much longer will you be gone?” He had avoided the subject, but his patience was not eternal.

“No more than three days.” She said. He had no idea where she got the figure form. He didn't allow himself to dwell on it. There was a limit, and he would see to it that it wasn't pushed back.

“Then we'll talk tomorrow.” She said goodbye and hung up. He sat back, his eyes closed.

*~*~*~*~*~*

On the second day, Kathryn looked around the house and knew she had to go back. It was the same house she had lived in before she knew him. It held the objects that were meaningful to her, reflected her tastes, was arranged to suit the way she lived, but it was no longer home. All the spirit was gone. That was back at the apartment. She didn't know what going back would mean, but she wasn't able to stay away any longer.

To say she missed him was inaccurate. She ached for him. For his voice. For his scent. For the way he would hold her while she was falling asleep. In honest moments, she realized she even missed the feeling of him taking her blood. Dwelling on that still made her shiver, but at least now she could admit it to herself.

Something in her wouldn't just allow her to call him and tell him that she was on her way back. She knew if she left, his sentries would call him before she even got to the end of the street, and follow her the whole way back, probably reporting what songs were playing on the radio. She sat a little ways back from the window, watching the car. She knew they didn't usually leave until their replacements were coming down the street. She thought about distracting them somehow, but that didn't seem like it would work.

The sun was nearly down when she saw Mr. Kennely driving down the street in a car that looked remarkably like the one usually used by her watchers. The other pair must have been confused too, because they pulled away. Kathryn seized the opportunity, she figured she had ten minutes at the most and she wasn't going to waste a single one. She grabbed her keys and was out the door before she could second guess herself.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“SHE WHAT?” LaCroix roared. Kellen cringed.

“Apparently there was some sort of mix-up with the change-over.” Kellen explained without looking him in the eye. “She must have left then, because when the night shift arrived there were no signs of life in the house.”

“She's a mortal woman! Twenty years younger than either of the men you assigned to watch her during the day, and you expect me to believe that she just 'slipped away'?” LaCroix advanced toward the other man.

“She must have.” There was a tremor in Kellen's voice. “Because another of my men saw her when he was driving here half an hour ago. He mentioned it because he didn't see anyone following her and that struck him as odd, given the situation.”

“Find her. I don't care how you do it.” LaCroix walked out into the club. He knew Kathryn hated the idea of being watched over. She'd angrily told him more than once that she was not a child. He had thought, with all she had seen, she would understand the need for caution. He would feed and find Kellen again when his head was a bit clearer.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Kathryn drove around until nearly midnight before she drove back toward the club. She'd called her grandmother in that time, just because she usually did every few days. Part of her worried that it would be the last time she got to talk Minerva. She knew her grandmother picked up on the stress in her voice, but she hadn't said anything about it. Kathryn found herself wondering if Lucien had already called Minerva at some point. The rest of the time, she stuck to places she had never been before. If she was going to look for someone, she would look in places they usually go.

As soon as she drove in to the courtyard, several lights came on banishing all but the smallest shadows. Kathryn couldn't help but think that if those lights had been in place the other night, she would still be blissfully ignorant. She wasn't sure if that sounded good or not. Kathryn let herself in quietly, not certain if he would be in is study or not. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or not when he wasn't. She went upstairs, but didn't find him there either. She couldn't face going into the club to find him, certainly not dressed in old, mismatched sweats. She went into the bathroom and turned on the water in the tub.

*~*~*~*~*~*

LaCroix spent most of the night in smoldering anger. Kellen had sent a number of men out to find her, all had failed. He thought he caught her scent a little more strongly in the office, but he dismissed it as worry for her and wishful thinking. When he climbed the stairs he caught the scent again, this time mingled with her bath gel. He stopped and listened. At first he heard nothing, then he found the sound of her heartbeat. He moved silently toward the bedroom and found her asleep on the bed.

He lingered in the door, just watching. He could see that she was wearing one of his shirts, a throw covered her legs. The shirt was an affectation of hers. He had noticed it meant she was upset. Right now though, she was sound asleep. He walked downstairs silently and told Kellen to stop looking. He went back upstairs and watched from the shadows in the hall again. If she were there and sleeping, he was fairly certain that she meant to stay. Hopefully, she knew what that would mean.

When her brow began to knit, LaCroix stepped forward. The sharp whimper that followed spurred him to action. He sat behind her and lifted her trembling body into his arms.

Even though she was still sleeping, she held on as if he might evaporate.