CONTAINS CONTENT:
Brief language, difficult topics regarding marital abuse, sexual topics.
{{Un-edited}}
Marielle helped Sabine pick out a dress, which felt utterly surreal and in truth, they didn’t say much to one another. When Sabine tried on a black wedding gown that seemed too demure and frilly, and stood on the pedestal in front of the mirror practically frowning, she turned back to Han and Marielle.
Han was stretched, knees parted, elbows over the back of the sofa and shrugged dismissively.
Marielle shook her head at Sabine and the dress. “Be you,” she reminded.
Sabine turned back to the mirror with new, determined fire in her eyes and stomped off the pedestal to the darker gowns. She dragged a few of them aside until her eyes found one and she looked it over. At first, nervousness flickered in her gaze then she steeled herself, took it to the changing room, and emerged about two minutes later looking like an utter goddess.
A gunmetal gown with a slim silhouette, strong shoulders, and a wide partially off the shoulder heart-shaped neckline that was to die for. The way the back folded around her shoulders made her look like she was wearing a partial cape even though no fabric was hanging. She looked like the villain that she wanted to be with the hidden heart of gold. She glanced at Marielle and raised a brow, salaciously.
“That,” Marielle agreed concretely. She knew that Sabine would wear green accents.
Sabine turned to the mirror, put her hands on her hips, and gave herself a seductive smile.
***
“I guess this is your bachelorette party.” Marielle had said when her, Han, and Sabine had all gone to get drinks.
They had discussed the ceremony; Sabine didn’t want fuss at all. Liam was marrying them before he took off to go be with extended family for the holiday in a small, cozy ceremony at the back of the courtyard near where Sasha, Tala, and Kirra were buried. To anyone who might have said that this was a weird choice, Sabine simply said something to the effect of, “I want all of those who are important to me present.”
Marielle said goodbye to them both feeling good about the time they’d spent together, and came into her apartment.
Her eyes fell on Vincent, painting again, as she removed her shoes and sat on the couch. “Should I make dinner?” she asked. “Or do you want to go out?”
He was silent for a moment, looking the easel before him over. She still couldn’t see it, and his body language told her that he had no intentions of showing her. “I want to ask you something and I want you to be as honest with me, as I am trying to be with you.”
Her heart began to race but all that she said was, “okay.”
“What happened during your affair?”
She sighed and looked off. She’d been dreading this particular question, hoping that it would simply die. “We can’t leave that in the past?”
“You haven’t,” he flicked his gaze to hers. “Neither has he.” He gestured with his head outward as if to an imaginary Austin.
She took a deep breath in and looked down into her lap. She knew this. She knew that neither of them could truly let it go. She hadn’t kissed him, or been overly affectionate, but their connection made it nearly impossible not to think things, replay moments, and a million other things. “You read the contract.”
“I want to know,” he replied quickly dragging his gaze back to the painting and picking at something with a thin brush. Then he cleaned it and set it aside.
“Vincent,-” she murmured painfully, “-you don’t.”
“Tell me.”
She let out a long, exasperated sigh. “We made out a lot.”
“And?”
“And he can read my thoughts,” she growled dejectedly, giving him a look and a tone that said that she was forcing herself to say these things and didn’t want to be. “So, it was pleasant.”
“Did you tell one another that you loved each other?”
“Yes. A lot,” she replied tightly.
He sighed, mouth twisting, and closed his eyes, which were now glittering. “Because you are still in love with him.”
“I am,” she replied with a nod. “But I haven’t said such things to him since then.” He lightly cleared his throat and took some red paint from the palette and started in a different spot. “I made it clear that I would do nothing until this was all over, and that I was with you and wouldn’t be going back to him.”
“You want to, though.”
She shrugged a shoulder, and waited a beat. “What did you expect would happen, Vincent?” She sighed. Felix rubbed against her legs, then jumped up. “In all other dimensions I am married to Austin and we are desperately in love.”
“Something that I didn’t know when I started all of this,” he sighed. He readjusted his glasses. “Both Mariel-” he stopped himself, “-both you and I believed – because why wouldn’t we – that you probably needed help and rescuing from him.” He sighed and began stroking the painting again. She desperately wanted to know what was on the canvas and where he’d hidden it when it’d disappeared that morning. “The more that I traveled the dimensions, the more that I realized that the Austin from my world was an…anomaly. He was never quite the villain in the other dimensions that he was in my world. In fact, in most worlds that I visited-” a soft, sad smile crossed his face, “-he was actually a pretty good guy.” His expression was distant, lost in moments long gone. “I remember one time- one of the first worlds that I landed in, I found your grave. There was a man standing by it…” he dragged his gaze to hers. “It was Austin. He was crying, but trying to be the man that shed no tears.” He blinked a few times, recalling. “He asked me if I knew you.” Vincent chuckled ironically. “I gave him no answer, I just left. I knew you… I knew you inside and out. I knew your favorite color, and food, and what made you laugh and what made you happy. I knew what made you sad, what to shield your eyes from when we watched movies and televisions shows together. I knew your face in my dreams and then sadly, in my nightmares. I knew how you tasted in the morning, and in the evening. I knew the most intimate sounds that you made for me and how you cried and begged for me… I knew you,” he said looking to her. “My wife.” She closed her eyes and tears fell. “Do you want to know something that is truly difficult for me?” She nodded, although she was uncertain. “I know that one of the reasons that you love Austin is because he is fun… you have fun with him,” he said. Then he rolled his lips in, and popped them back out. “I used to be so much more fun; I used to be more like Chamber,” he said. Then he went distant. “I miss Chamber.”
She cocked her head at him. “You… miss him?”
“I miss being him; the cocky bastard that he is who brings smiles to everyone who hears his jokes and playfulness. I used to joke, and play, and laugh. I still do, but,-” he cleaned a brush, “-losing you tore out my spirit. I spent so long sad, alone, depressed, drunk; with a woman in my bed whose name I wouldn’t remember four days later. I was going mad, Masin,” he said, turning to her, fully. “Mad with grief, mad with heartache.” The little light in the room, mostly focused on the painting played off the side of his face dividing him in two. How strange that he was so divided and even now – Vincent…Chamber… they were the same, but so different. “The day that we were first attacked, I was going to tell you that you were my wife and that I came for you. Austin had just come into the picture and I knew that my window was closing before I lost you. Now, I’ll lose you anyways.” He picked a fan brush from the dozen or so options and dabbed it before making strokes on the page.
“I don’t know that you’ll lose me,” she said tightly. “But you seem intent on making sure it’s the case. You’re sending me away to be with him again… alone. Do you want to talk about that?”
“He proved to me during my travels that so long as he wasn’t a complete psychopath, he was the best person to protect you.” He glared at her, his eyes deadly serious, “and I want you to be happy. I want you to choose.”
“What do you want me to do, Vincent, sleep with him, or something?” Marielle hissed.
Vincent shrugged a shoulder. “Your choices are yours. I don’t own you any more than I own fate, itself. But if you did, I would take that as your answer,” he explained.
“What?”
“I told you at the beginning of all of this, that first night that we made love- if you sleep with Austin, that is my answer. If you want to be with him that badly that you are willing to give him your body in that way, then you don’t want me. You want Austin.” He tossed the brush down angrily.
“Do you know how intimate it is for me to move through him?” she seethed.
Vincent’s eyes locked with hers, both remembering the other night. “I wouldn’t be able to imagine,” he said darkly.
She pulled her gaze away from his, trying to hide her tears. “It’s why I don’t just do that with him,” she sighed. “Because it’s-”
“More intimate than sex,” he said, his tone realizing as he spoke. His brows flicked up for a moment as he crossed his arms and thumbed his bottom lip. He nodded as if surrendering to an idea. “I wanted you to be my wife,” he explained looking in her direction, but she wasn’t looking at him. “I want your answer and I want it before the end of the year,” she opened her mouth to speak and he stopped her, “and I want you to spend Thanksgiving with Austin and his family because I want you to know what you will truly be losing if you decide to be with me.”
“Is this a test?”
“It’s me telling you to finally decide. I won’t wait for you for months, or years. I want you to be content and understand exactly who you are choosing. Go with him, ask him all of the questions in your mind and heart, do the same with me before the end of the year when you come back. Understand everything.” He got up and came to her side, warming her with his touch and stroking her leg. “I want to be happy again, and I want it to be with you. I want to find laughter and jokes again. But I don’t want you, Masin if you don’t fully want me.”
“That’s fair.”
“I’m not giving you a pass. Again, if you have sex with him, I’ll take that as my answer,” he added. “I’m saying spend real time with him.” He shook his head, sadly. “Understand him, talk to him, get to know him.” He looked off distantly and sighed heavily, “I’m not stupid enough to think that you two won’t engage with one another in some way. I’m sure there will be some… holding or something in there somewhere,” he said under his breath. “But my limit is this- give him your body and I will leave. Start making out with him again? I will leave. I don’t own you and I never asked you to be exclusive with me,-” again he spoke under his breath when he said, “-although I hoped that you would come to that decision on your own without me having to ask you…” He spoke normally again, “but with where we’re at right now I understand that part of you can’t keep yourself from responding to him at least a little.” He met eyes with her again. “Decide.” He quickly took hold of her, pushing her down against the couch so that he could lay over her body part for part. The mix of his hard muscles, and her soft flesh instantly made her head swim as he gripped her shoulders possessively. “Then come home to me, and tell me that you’re mine,” he growled hungrily before he closed his mouth over hers.
In the morning, the painting was hidden again; she had no idea where. She made them coffee, eggs, and toast and they spent the morning together lounging in bed and smiling at one another after little jokes and tickles.
She was happy.
They dragged themselves to Valorant and Marielle spent the better part of the morning talking to Efia who was leaving the country until the end of the year.
Marielle heard Austin come in, but only threw him a -Hello.
-Hey. He said back and that was the end of that conversation for a long while until after Efia left.
-Are you going to the wedding tonight?
-I wasn’t invited. I hope you have fun.
Right, Sabine had said that she couldn’t stand Austin during their training so many long days ago. Marielle was certain that she hadn’t changed her mind about him.
-What are you going to spend your night doing?
-Brushing up on my Chinese. He answered.
-Do you have to learn a new language every time you go somewhere new?
-So, for two weeks after I get an assignment, they train me on specific words and phrases during those fourteen days. I have to be able to order food, check into a hotel, pay for things, order taxi cabs, things of this ilk, and then they train me on words or phrases that I’m looking out for. I continue to study and the longer the assignment lasts, the more my vocabulary grows.
-That’s kind of cool, actually.
-I’ve always thought so. Are you all packed up?
She glanced around her office, and briefly looked at Chocolate the bear with a soft smile. -I think so. Warm jacket, shoes. Anything else?
-Just you.
-Are you looking at this as your last-ditch effort to try and sway me?
-I’m not sure how I’m not supposed to see it that way… but I’m not hopeful about the end result.
Marielle closed a program on her computer and sighed, drumming her lip before she got up and went into his office. He looked up from the computer at her with a slightly confused expression, but he smiled anyway. “Vincent told me to,-” she fought for a way to put this and gesticulated for a moment. “-he didn’t like…give me a pass or something, but he told me to really lean into this time with you. He wants me to get to know you more and try and understand my decisions.”
He leaned back in his chair, slouching a little and lacing his fingers behind his head. “Why are you telling me that? Because now I do have hope again.”
“I just wanted you to know, in case you were wondering why I was being deeper with you on this trip. I want to weigh everything before I say goodbye so I can fully understand whatever my final decision.”
“Interesting considering that I threatened him yesterday.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You threatened Vincent?” He nodded like it was no big thing. “Why? What about?”
“You. I told him that if he was planning to hurt you in any way that I’d tear him apart,” he explained. Then he stood, slipping his hands into his pockets and looking her over. “I understand that you’re attached to him, Marielle, and I understand that you love him, too. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a liar.” Austin leaned his hip against the desk and looked off, distantly. “We haven’t actually spoken to Cory, you know? We know very little about who he is, what he wants, and why he’s here.”
“What Vincent says about all of that is true,” she said, quietly. He cut his eyes to her. “I can tell the difference. What people don’t understand is that I knew that he was lying to me in the beginning. I didn’t know all the answers, obviously, but I knew when something was off.”
“So, you decided to engage with him, anyways?”
“I was drawn to him, Austin, he planned it that way. It wasn’t unlike what you did. Except that he was trying to seduce me into his life, you were trying to seduce me into your bed,” she snipped, coldly. “He made me wait, drawing me out – which made it altogether more desirable for me – he knew what he was doing. You knew that I wanted something like that, but you just couldn’t wait; just kept on pushing. Because your addiction was more important than me.” He looked like she had slit him open. “So, who do you think I would have been more drawn to at the time?”
He narrowed his eyes at her, it was a gut punch that connected, “Don’t do that to me,” he breathed. “Don’t talk to me about who I was, I hate it. I hate all of it. I only want you in my life now, forever.”
“I know.”
“Whether you understand it or not, you feel indebted to Vincent. You don’t feel like you can let him go because of this weird abusive cycle he has you in where he creates all of your problems and then solves them.”
“He doesn’t mean to.”
He shrugged a single shoulder, “mean to or not… he’s your devil and your savior all in one person.”
“So are you,” she replied, icily as she scratched at her tattoos. They were bothering her today, making all the noise in her body that she wished would quiet down to at least a whisper. “Interesting how alike you two are.”
“I am not Tundra,” he spat.
“That’s not what I meant.” He looked down, shamefully and deeply in thought. “That’s also something that I think you’d love to delude yourself into believing- that I didn’t know exactly what you were doing from moment one as well.”
“I wanted you to know what I was doing,” he growled. Then he flicked his eyes to her darkly, “because I wanted your answer to be a resounding yes. I told you from moment one, I wanted you to like me because I wanted you to come to bed with me willingly and emphatically.” He looked down at the courtyard for a moment and she knew he was trying to figure out when he wanted to change. “Then I had to go and catch feelings.” He put finger quotes around catch feelings. “Silly me.” Silence passed between them for a few moments as they both thought. -I knew you were different for me the moment that I met you… but I think that I really started to realize how different when I started comforting you during Vincent’s torture. The first time that I held you. The first time that we stayed up in front of the TV and my attention was drawn away from the beautiful woman on the screen to the one in my presence. I knew… I started to know. She took his words internally in silence and said nothing in return. “Anyways,” he said putting his hair behind both of his ears. “Warm coat, long sleeves, something comfortable to sleep in, and whatever else you want,” he said with a sigh, avoiding her eyes again.
She crossed her arms as she looked him over. He looked so good today that her knees felt a bit weak.
She’d thrown on some black pants and a long-sleeved teal peplum shirt which he smirked at when he saw. Was she mirroring him? Hard to tell. He was in beige pants, a black turtle neck, a beige coat and some black, lace up derby shoes. It was acting like a casual suit and it made her want to run her hands under the shirt and find his heartbeat with her fingertips and… she stopped. She was projecting again, wasn’t she?
He was staring at her in that way that said that he’d every last thought she’d had. “You look good, too,” he whispered.
She put her fingertips to the sides of her temples and rubbed, “this is so impossible,” she scoffed under her breath.
“I know… I told you that it would be,” he reminded tightly.
She dropped her hands from her aching head and eyed him. “Whatever, I just wanted you to understand why I might be talking to you more deeply, or-” she fought for a word.
“Intimately?”
She glared at him. “Sure.”
“I feel the love already,” he said sarcastically. Then he leaned over his desk, both hands pressed to the top and sighed. “I don’t want to fight with you, Marielle. I never want to fight with you. What do you want from the next six days?”
Right, she’d forgotten they were going from Wednesday to Monday, almost a full week. “I want to be with you,” she admitted.
“I want to be with you,” he replied with a nod. There was a brief pause. “I will give you whatever you want, Marielle. We’ll talk, we’ll play, we’ll eat good food, we’ll have fun,” he said, excitement lighting up his handsome face. She smiled softly and left after thanking him.
After the sun had gone down and Austin had gone home, there was a small gathering out on the lawn with a few candelabras with flames gently moving in the light breeze as the little gold and yellow drops glowed against the darkness. In the middle of them was a podium, and Liam stood behind it, waiting. John stood on the right in a long black cloak with the hood up. Marielle thought it was perfect.
There were only eight chairs set up; four on one side, and four on the other. Vincent and Marielle occupied two on the left. Han and Hazal sat next to Marielle. Jamie, Wei Ling, Klara, and Tayane sat on the other side.
To Marielle’s surprise, Vincent stood up and went to stand by Liam, where he pulled his violin from under the podium and began to softly play it. She smiled; he played that instrument like he was attached to it from birth. She had no idea that he was going to provide Sabine with her bridal march, but she made her way down to John with a bouquet of billowing, black roses and dark flowers. Her lips were black as coal, and she looked downright villainous in the dress.
Marielle flicked her a supportive look. Sabine gave her the smallest nod, and went to stand with her husband to be, taking his hand.
Liam gave a small speech, Vincent sat down, and threaded his fingers through Marielle’s.
The last wedding that Vincent could remember going to besides his own was… He looked over to Marielle… Marielle and Austin’s.
***
Marielle was about to become Marielle Rancor, and every night Vincent felt more bitterness toward Austin. He was starting to despise him with every fiber of his being, and yet Vincent never left Valorant for too long, in case Marielle needed him.
Then one night he sat at the back of a church watching hatefully as Marielle walked down the aisle in a gorgeous, form fitting, low cut dress. The dress didn’t look like something she picked out, he believed it to be Austin’s doing and the look on Austin’s face when she came toward him and the priest was edging on evil. No one else would have called it evil, but that’s how Vincent interpreted it.
He stayed quiet, and prayed that no one saw his fists clench in rage, his jealousy, or his lust for the bride but by this point, there wasn’t a soul at Valorant that didn’t know that he was secretly in love with Marielle.
Even Austin knew, he just pretended not to, and gloated whenever Vincent was nearby; kissing Marielle, or making sure that Vincent could hear them being intimate in his office, Vincent’s own office that had been assigned to him was only a few down.
Vincent felt his heart shatter and when he finally unclenched his right, white knuckled hand. He noted that Hazal’s was not too far away. Hazal wasn’t going to take Vincent’s hand, that would be weird, but the gesture was saying I’m here, which Vincent was grateful for, and needed. Especially when Marielle said those two horrible words. I do.
He had been there by Marielle’s request, and when the bride and groom stood outside afterwards waiting for everyone to walk by and congratulate them, Vincent went straight to Marielle, ignoring Austin altogether – he was talking to someone else anyway – and her eyes lit up with delight and adoration. “You came!” She said, excitedly reaching for his hands which he took.
He wanted her eyes to light up that way for him, not because of him. “I couldn’t miss it… not for you,” he whispered, going in and giving her a kiss on the cheek that lingered.
When he pulled back, she saw the look in his eyes; the grief. “Oh, Vincent you will find someone,” she whispered.
“Il n’y a personne comme toi,” he whispered back.
She gave him a soft smile and turned to the next person, disregarding him further. He’d never tried to seduce her, or force her away from Austin, but she knew as well as everyone else his feelings for her.
Nine months later, Marielle was visibly changed, and one day Vincent caught her after Austin had gone somewhere early, leaving her behind at work. She thought she was alone in one of the break rooms and he came and sat beside her. She quickly wiped tears away and when she did, her wrist came out of her sweater enough for him to see a blooming purple bruise.
Hot fire blinded him from his clear headedness. He leaned in toward her, gently whispering. “Marielle… is he hurting you?”
She scoffed. “What a question,” she said dismissively.
He straightened. “But that’s not an answer.”
“It’s our business,” she replied coldly, eating some of her salad. She refused to meet eyes with him.
“Masin,” he breathed, lower, and more gently. He could see her stiffen at him calling her that. “Is he hurting you?” Her eyes asked him what do you mean? “Is Austin Rancor putting his hands on you?” Vincent clarified. She shirked away a bit. “Is he beating you?”
She broke, unable to keep quiet any longer and sobbed quietly for a moment. “He says it’s about respect.”
Vincent looked off, his brown eyes growing dark with silent fury. “That son of a bitch,” he whispered. “I’ll kill him,” he added standing from the break room table and starting away. She grabbed his wrist, and the feel of her fingers was intoxicating regardless of context. He froze, his breath hitching; even now he wanted so much more. Could he sit back down, pull her to him and kiss her? He’d give her the kind of kiss that would make her weak in the knees and beg for more. He refrained. “No! Don’t hurt him. Please? It’s our business, let us handle it.”
“Masin, he’s hurting you,” Vincent said gently, but through gritted teeth.
She was still holding onto his wrist. “Vincent, please. He’s getting help. You know the kind of job that he has. You know what his mother did to him, it’s killing him, and he can’t get out of the government contract.”
As if noticing for the first time that she was touching him, she let go and turned away.
Vincent bit his bottom lip, terrified to ask the next question that was burning a hole through his brain. “Is he,” he cocked his head to one side and cracked his neck, feeling the tension rise in him. “Does he force you?” he didn’t want to say the other word. It would be too much. She was silent, staring at the wall with her fingers pressed against her mouth, which meant yes. He sat down, slowly, and took her wrist into his hand, pulling it away from her lips. He merely stared at her for several long moments, trying to make her understand that he was able to keep her safe. “If he touches you again, he dies.”
***
“I do,” came from Sabine’s scarlet lips and John leaned in and kissed her as he took her against him.
Everyone stood and clapped and after a moment, John swept her off her feet. As if knowing what was about to happen, Sabine looked to Marielle, grinned, tossed her the bouquet, and John vanished with his bride in his arms.
Marielle guessed that they were teleporting to the guest rooms for some private time as she looked down at the flowers in her hands, considering what they meant and… who they were meant to be about.
Vincent gave her a soft smile, obviously praying that her spouse was him.
The next day, Marielle got on a plane with Austin.