|
Coping
Aug 24, 2008 0:29:11 GMT -5
Post by Miss Jack on Aug 24, 2008 0:29:11 GMT -5
“Vince, come on--- slow down,” Jack chased his friend down. He’d left Mary at the circus, but he didn’t want to leave her alone for very long. She had to be in pain, physical and otherwise.
Vince stopped, his back facing Jack, practically carved from stone he was so still and hard. Jack tried to break into his friend’s thoughts, but Vince was blocking with a ferocity bordering on violent.
And then when he did speak, his voice was cold and flat, and every word sounded as though it’d been wrenched from beyond the grave. “It was my fault. It was my weakness that allowed it to happen. Every second I stand here, I am reminded of that fact, of my failing, and—” He checked himself, seeing that the ground had cracked with hints of the undead “So. If you breathe a word of blame,” he continued quietly, “I will not take responsibility for the . . . consequences. Do we understand each other, Jack Ira?”
Jack’s eyes narrowed into a cool glower. “Threatening me?” he asked. “Nobody blamed you until you ran out and abandoned---”
He moved so fast, Jack didn’t see him until the collar of his shirt tightened against his throat, held in Vince’s clenched fists. Though his grip was as hard as steel, Vince’s hands shook. He was smoldering, his shoulders tight and trembling. “Vince---”
“I know,” he snapped. He sounded strangely tired, when Jack had expected simple fury. “I know. Mary suffers because of me. You poor idiot—I can sense her pain, even here. If she . . .”
“She’s going to be okay,” Jack interrupted gently. “Camilla is doing everything she can, and we might have the supplies she needs immediately. At the longest, it will only be six months. She’ll be fine, I promise.”
The topaz hue of Vince’s eyes swam, like he wanted to believe Jack, but didn’t, not really. The expression was strangely childlike and made Jack uneasy.
Vince released Jack, his eyes hooded and unreadable once more. “Where is she?” he asked finally.
“Home.”
-----------------
He stood outside her tent for several, silent minutes. His fingers gripped the fabric of the outside curtain, relaxed, and tensed again. “Mary,” he said quietly, a question as well as an address.
|
|
|
Coping
Aug 24, 2008 0:39:17 GMT -5
Post by Jules on Aug 24, 2008 0:39:17 GMT -5
Lying on her side in her bed, Mary was contemplating then next six months with horror. Her muscles would atrophy, she'd go stir crazy and probably have to move out of the circus and be a burden on someone until Camilla got things under control. What scared her is that she wasn't sure Vince would let her back in once she left. It was like she'd stolen someone's seat. The moment she stood, they'd take it back.
To say the least, Mary had not been expecting Vince's voice, and even more shocking was how quiet it was, how unsure. Usually her name at her tent was simply utilized as a warning that he was coming in. Hardly ever an actual question. And certainly not one she had ever seriously thought about denying, until now. She was furious with him, although she couldn't quite put her finger on why.
But there was something in the quiet mentioning of her name, more permission then he'd ever asked for before. "What?" She tried to keep her voice even, smooth, but there was a harsh jab of anger behind the syllable just the same.
|
|
|
Coping
Aug 24, 2008 0:43:23 GMT -5
Post by Miss Jack on Aug 24, 2008 0:43:23 GMT -5
A soft breath of air he hadn't been aware of holding escaped his lips. He considered his next words carefully, moreso because he didn't know what he was trying to say.
"I want to talk to you."
|
|
|
Coping
Aug 24, 2008 0:48:48 GMT -5
Post by Jules on Aug 24, 2008 0:48:48 GMT -5
Mary took a deep breath, struggling to not say "Well I don't want to talk to you." because she, in all honesty, was curious to hear what he had to say to excuse his asinine behavior. Besides the whole "I'm Vince." excuse.
"Well you can't do it from out there." She grumbled. Geeze, was it that hard for him to even look at her now? What was the matter with him?
|
|
|
Coping
Aug 24, 2008 0:56:18 GMT -5
Post by Miss Jack on Aug 24, 2008 0:56:18 GMT -5
He was surprised to feel relieved. He had given her ample opportunity to turn him away, but he hadn't realized how much he wanted her not to, until she let him in.
He stepped inside, but kept his head down, his hair shadowing the upper part of his face. He knelt beside her and at last tipped his head up, though his eyes remained dark and flat, emotionless. But looking at her and keeping up the mask proved to be too difficult, and he had to avert his gaze again. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry I let this happen to you."
|
|
|
Coping
Aug 24, 2008 1:03:48 GMT -5
Post by Jules on Aug 24, 2008 1:03:48 GMT -5
Mary froze. She'd never ever seen Vince like this before. He was more human then she'd ever seen him. More vulnerable. Some of her fury leaked away while a different kind swelled. He blamed himself, after everything, after calling her the idiot, he blamed himself. Mary sighed, "It's not your fault, Vince." Without quite being able to help it, she found her hand on his cheek. "I was stupid, I should've just pushed you, I wasn't thinking."
If it was anyone's fault, really, it was the stupid kid who blew up the place, but still. What she'd done hadn't been the brightest thing she'd ever accomplished. "I'll be okay." I hope.
|
|
|
Coping
Aug 24, 2008 1:11:59 GMT -5
Post by Miss Jack on Aug 24, 2008 1:11:59 GMT -5
Vince didn't shy away from her touch, but it stung like an undeserved caress through his bandages. His eyes glinted once before settling back into their dark mask. "No," he said in a low, hard voice. "You shouldn't have had to protect me at all. I should have seen it. Been there..... for you."
His shoulders rose and fell as he took a calming breath. How many times could he replay the scene over in his head? He was supposed to protect her, and he didn't. It didn't change anything, and working himself into another self-loathing rage wouldn't help.
|
|
|
Coping
Aug 24, 2008 1:18:14 GMT -5
Post by Jules on Aug 24, 2008 1:18:14 GMT -5
This was not at all what she'd been expecting from him. Sometimes she got the impression he cared for her in his own way, or at the very least that she'd grown on him, but she hadn't really thought it ran as deep as this. He seemed tormented by the idea, when she'd been expecting him to come berate her about strategy and remaining collected in an emergency and so on and so forth.
"Vince...I'm allowed." For once Mary was trying incredibly hard to get her words right. "I'm allowed to protect you and you're allowed to be saved. You would've done the same for any of the Cold Shadow."
And, she was starting to realize, probably her.
|
|
|
Coping
Aug 24, 2008 1:27:16 GMT -5
Post by Miss Jack on Aug 24, 2008 1:27:16 GMT -5
He hesitated, and the tiniest bit of his usual self broke through. Still as stubborn as ever, at least; not listening to him at all. He shook his head, a hint of a smirk flickering over his lips, then disappearing.
"It shouldn't be like this," he said quietly. Perhaps he was allowed to be saved, but not at the risk of her own safety. "And no," he added in reference to Cold Shadow. "It's not the same." He would risk his life for them, but he'd never felt like this any time one of them got injured. He couldn't explain it, but it was different.
|
|
|
Coping
Aug 24, 2008 8:37:38 GMT -5
Post by Jules on Aug 24, 2008 8:37:38 GMT -5
"But it is. It's not even permanent. I'll be fine." She would be, Camilla had promised. And of course it wasn't the same. She'd only been living with him one hundred and fifty years, but nothing compared to his Cold Shadow. Mary was surprised at the little spurt of envy.
"Right, sorry." She replied stiffly, "Look, I'll get out of your hair as soon as I find someone who can take me. I can't ask you to nurse me and I really can't do this on my own." She didn't want to leave, the reluctance was clear in her tone and manner, but it didn't matter. There was such a thing as being too stubborn and staying here with no one to help counted.
|
|
|
Coping
Aug 24, 2008 11:51:42 GMT -5
Post by Miss Jack on Aug 24, 2008 11:51:42 GMT -5
He frowned, confused, until understanding sank in, and then a half-hearted glare took the place of the frown. She misread him as often as she understood him, and usually he was content to let her wayward mind go whichever direction it chose. But he couldn't let his meaning rest on chance. The guilt tearing at him would give him no rest if he didn't.
He hesitated for only a moment before reaching up and cupping both sides of her face in his hands; force her to look at him, to see him. "It's different," he repeated, "because it's worse."
|
|
|
Coping
Aug 24, 2008 20:09:27 GMT -5
Post by Jules on Aug 24, 2008 20:09:27 GMT -5
He must be really feeling guilty if he was touching her of his own free will. Maybe she should give him a bit of a break. It truly wasn't his fault and this was clearly why he'd decided to stalk away when he had. Which was all still kind of surprising, Vince was hardly open with what few emotions he did possess. She smiled softly, but didn't say anything (she didn't want to scare him away).
After a moment though, she realized she'd have to ask for Vince's help in one or two things after all and she should get it over with while he was here. While she was here. She sighed.
"If you could just help me pack, and umm...get there, I won't be anymore trouble. I'm sure I could stay at the--' wince '--hospital."
|
|
|
Coping
Aug 24, 2008 20:22:41 GMT -5
Post by Miss Jack on Aug 24, 2008 20:22:41 GMT -5
He dropped his hands, studying her silently. "If that's what you want," he said tonelessly. He could understand why she wouldn't want to stay here, for multiple reasons, his presence being the primary. He glanced around the room. "What do you need packed?"
|
|
|
Coping
Aug 24, 2008 20:31:25 GMT -5
Post by Jules on Aug 24, 2008 20:31:25 GMT -5
"Right Vince, I'm just dying to stay at a hospital in Dreamland for six months. It's practical, is all. I can't ask you to take care of me, you have more important things to take care of." She really, really didn't want to leave but there wasn't much of a choice.
"I'm guessing they'll force me into a fugly hospital gown, but a few pieces of my own would be nice. Maybe a deck of cards?" She was going to have to take up knitting or something, just so she wouldn't go crazy. She'd taken joy in a daily, early-morning run, in the ache in muscles she could no longer feel.
|
|
|
Coping
Aug 24, 2008 20:48:19 GMT -5
Post by Miss Jack on Aug 24, 2008 20:48:19 GMT -5
He considered this for a moment. He had no talent for compassion. No practice in kindness. Offering his services promised to be both painful and awkward, but the possibility of living with only himself for company for half a year was equally frightening.
"I want you to stay," he said slowly, inwardly cringing, proud of himself for not commanding or threatening.
|
|