CONTAINS CONTENT:
Fighting violence, mild language, extreme grief, trauma.
{{Unedited}}
“No, mon amie,” Chamber’s sad voice was heard, whispered in Austin’s ear piece.
Marielle was certain that the world had stopped spinning. There were images flooding her mind from the last five months layering on top of one another and jolting through her in waves.
For a moment, no one said anything. The shock was too great, everyone was holding their breaths. “Okay,-” she whispered, and she sniffled, “-okay, Austin, get up,” she said with a small smile like he was playing. “Austin?” Klara dropped down beside her, putting a shaking hand on Marielle’s shoulder. “Austin…”
“He’s gone,” Klara squeaked.
“No… no, he’s not.” She grabbed at his collar and tried to gently shake him a little, he remained lifeless, eyes staring. “Austin!” Wei Ling was running to them. “Austin, come back,” she peeped. Then she lifted him off the ground and cradled his lifeless body to her chest. “Austin!” She screeched, reality dawning. –I love you; I love you, come back. Nothing. Her fingers threaded his blood-soaked hair and she began to sob like a small child. Marielle felt the strings of their deep connection begin to cut, break, and start to fall away as it continued to drip out of her. He wasn’t with her anymore. “Austin,” she whispered. His eyes were fixed on the horizon. “A-Austin… Get up,” she said, brokenly. She looked down at her hands, slick with dark, glistening red, and felt her insides twist in unspeakable horror as the fog started to lift. He was dead.
Vincent burst through the doorway – Jeanine’s wall now dissolved – and jerked to a stop when he saw the scene. “Oh no,” he whispered.
Wei Ling dropped beside Marielle, and put her hands on Austin. “I can still feel him! I can still feel him! Oh, God, Marielle! I have no ability, I have nothing!” She was shouting. Wei Ling stood, pulling at her dark hair, and looked around at the buildings, unsure of what to do.
“Austin…” Marielle peeped, and she was going limp against him, praying that he’d just take her with him.
Vincent slid in behind Marielle and put his hands to her back. She didn’t even acknowledge him. A bullet rung out from somewhere, careening off the concrete nearby and Sabine whirled, shooting at their attacker. “It’s Vyse,” she said in everyone’s earpieces.
“I’ll hold her off,” Klara replied, standing, and taking aim at the space.
Then Sabine turned, and went for the spike, which everyone had momentarily forgotten about, and ran it back to them.
Wei Ling eyes flickered with realization, and she whirled. “Sage!” She shouted. It echoed off the buildings. “Sage! He has seconds! He’s not like Tundra! He’s good! Please!”
Marielle stumbled back in shock, still staring at her shaking blood-soaked hands and she could feel Austin dribbling out of her moment by moment, less and less. He was leaving her. “Please! She loves him! She loves him!” She sobbed. “Like you loved Sasha!” She yelled, brokenly.
Vincent closed his eyes tightly, resting his temple on the cement block as he listened to Marielle’s wails of anguish. Her sounds weren’t even human anymore, she’d devolved into some kind of wounded animal, wailing in agony. Vincent was familiar with those sounds; his spirit, soul, and heart had made those sounds for days after he’d lost Marielle. She was saying without words everything that he needed to know. That was it. It was done. She loved him, but she was in love with Austin and now he was gone.
Sage heard what Wei Ling said, let out a long sigh, and deciding her fate, she revealed herself from just inside the offices and rushed to the scene, wreathed in shimmering gold.
Sage erected a wall behind her as she came and fell at his body.
With a soaked expression, she reached down and touched Austin’s slack jawed face. “You won’t die today,” she said, tenderly forcing a soft smile and she gave him everything, pouring into him every ounce of power that she could muster.
Again, the party stilled, watching, hoping, praying.
Heat radiated, life re-entered Austin’s veins, and a bright green glow burned in his eyes before he took in a sharp breath and sat up wincing, grasping at his chest like something had slithered up his front. Then his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and fell flat against the ground with a relieved sigh. “That…sucked…” he groaned.
Marielle threw herself on him, sobbing. He wrapped an arm around her. -I’m okay, darling. Nothing… He narrowed his eyes, curiously. Then he focused inwardly for a moment. He couldn’t feel her anymore. He couldn’t hear her, either. There was no time with think about this. “I’m okay,” he whispered, pressing her into him.
Vincent swallowed and looked away.
“Austin, are you okay?” Chamber asked in his earpiece, but everyone could hear.
“Oui, mon frère.”
“Thank God.”
More bullets broke up the scene and everyone skittered away from each other.
Wei Ling thrust her hand out, grabbing Sage’s, and Sage met tear-soaked eyes with Wei Ling. “Thank you,” she whispered. Sage gave her a small bow. “Get far away, and never come back. We’re blowing the place, and killing Cory. You’re free.” Wei Ling added. Sage nodded and left the area, disappearing.
“Plant,” Vincent said to Sabine.
Sabine nodded, and stuck the spike into the ground at the cement blocks, a few feet back from the fountain. As she knelt, however, a bullet came whizzing toward her, striking her in the upper shoulder.
She yelped, and fell back against the ground, drawing her larger gun. She quickly scanned the area, and pulled a bandage from her belt to wrap the wound, pulling it tight with her teeth.
The others whirled, scanning the space.
“Vyse…” Marielle whispered, looking to Vincent. He nodded.
Jeanine’s voice echoed throughout the area, “Adapt! Or die!” And at this long, black, slithering vines began to push out from the ground and slither their way up everyone’s bodies like snakes, and to their guns.
“Pistols, pistols!” Vincent was crying, as everyone dropped their bigger weapons and pulled their pistols out. Vincent pulled Headhunter out, and Marielle, her own guns.
Everyone was looking left and right, but no one could see Vyse.
“Everyone to me!” Sabine cried.
Vincent knew what she was about to do. “You heard her!” He ordered, gesturing for all of them to go to Sabine.
When they were close enough, Sabine lifted her hands and thick, green gas poured out, surrounding them all in her snake pit. “Masks!” Austin yelled into the mist. Each of them pulled their filter masks from their belt, and fit them over their faces. No one would come into here, and if they tried, they’d have a problem breathing.
“No one is a hero when they’re crying for air,” Sabine growled, bending, and forcing the spike into the ground. But as she was about to activate it, another hail of bullets came through the space.
Several of them, mere inches away from Sabine.
“Get back, Sabine!” Vincent cried, waving her off the spike.
She obeyed with a growl, and stood, taking cover against one of the cement blocks. “We have to activate that thing!” She growled back, adjusting her belt around her wound.
Wei Ling approached her, and gently touched her arm, then shook her head. She still hadn’t had enough time to gain power back. Sabine glared at her, but eventually said, “it’s fine.”
Each of them tried to shift and sway a little to avoid being hit by Jeanine’s attacks.
“Okay, so, what’s the plan, here?” Austin asked, trying to wipe his face with his shirt. There was blood everywhere.
No one seemed to have an answer.
“Cory just spent Sleep Walking; he’s done for the moment.”
“He’s also wounded!” Klara said. “I hit him, but I don’t think I did much damage.” Vincent reached over, high fiving her.
“Jeanine!” Sabine finally called out. The bullets stopped. “I’m sorry!” She said, tearfully. “I’m sorry for all of it!”
Marielle came to her side, and squeezed her hand. “Tell her that she was amazing, and that you should have seen her potential.”
“You’re amazing! And I should have seen your potential!” Sabine repeated.
“Your work was invaluable,” Marielle continued, whispering.
“We needed you! Your work was invaluable! It was priceless!” Sabine cried, tears forming in her eyes. “You… You were priceless, Jeanine,” she concluded. “And I took you for granted. I shouldn’t have done that.”
There was silence. Then another bullet came through and struck Klara in the shoulder. She fell to her knees, grasping it.
Vincent came to Marielle’s side, and she looked up at him with tear filled eyes. “I don’t want to kill her,” she whispered, “but…”
“We have to finish this, and we’re running out of time.”
“Yeah… God, forgive me,” Marielle whispered, glancing up.
Austin sighed. “I’ll watch from here,” he said, nodding at the ground.
Marielle urged Vincent back a little, “You have an idea, love?” he whispered. Sabine was still shouting at Jeanine.
“Yeah, the blocks,” she gestured, I’ll go through them, and plant the spike in the middle.
“You’ll be exposed,” he said with terror in his tone.
She threw a glance at Austin who was glancing away from her.
“Not if you’re there with Tour De Force,” she replied, shakily. She gestured. “From that angle.”
He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Let’s do it,” he replied.
She nodded, taking the spike into her arms.
“I can’t hold this much longer!” Sabine cried, referring to her gas.
“You won’t have to,” Vincent said.
Marielle took in a deep breath, placed herself against one of the blocks, and pressed in until she moved – without being seen – into the middle of the little maze of cement blocks. She slammed the spike into the ground. “Spike planted,” she whispered.
She knew that Jeanine had heard, and in a moment, the helmeted woman poked her head around one of the blocks, looking at Marielle. Marielle looked up at Jeanine, and stood away, quickly.
Jeanine raised her gun. “Say goodbye, Masin,” she growled she said pulling back on the hammer.
The hollow gong sound of Tour De Force ripped through the air, and Jeanine, and she flew before she landed with a thud, face down; a pool of thick red quickly forming around her.
Sabine’s gas dissipated and everyone removed their masks as she went to Jeanine’s body. Jeanine was just barely alive when she reached her, and Sabine bent to her and removed her helmet.
Jeanine was desperately trying to get her gun, not a few inches from her fingertips, but Sabine could see the life leaving her. “I’m so sorry,” Sabine said, eyes rimmed with tears.
Jeanine smiled, ironically; rivulets of red running down her lovely, pale face. “I’ll see you in hell,” she growled, then gurgled, sputtering thick red, and they watched as the life left her eyes.
“It was a good plan, and you executed it well.” Vincent said, taking Marielle briefly against him and kissing her forehead.
Marielle looked away, and bent. She activated the spike, and looked down at the counter. “A little over two minutes.”
Vincent set off a timer on his watch as well, keeping track of the spike time. Then he darted to the fountain, hopped onto the lid, reached into the bucket that Saint Florian was holding, fished something out, and ran it back to Klara. He handed it to her. It was oval, and white with a cord, which she put around her neck. “You’ll know what to do with this,” he whispered. Klara fingered it.
Marielle glanced her way, knowing that it was the information that he’d ditched about stopping the infinite worlds. She smiled at him. He’d told the truth. He’d given that up for her.
“Do we know where Cory is?” Austin was asking.
“Maybe he ran?” Wei Ling suggested, glancing around.
“No way to know. Either we all leave now, or we guard spike,” Austin said, scanning the windows and balconies for any movement.
“Everyone out of the area.” Vincent gestured for the party to move.
They all took off, there was a brief standoff in the hallway that led back to the decimated foyer, and after trying not to trip over Efia’s body, a few bullets flew and three guys trying to keep them from leaving went down while Austin shakily held up the back end, watching for Cory. He saw nothing.
“Time? Time?” Klara was calling.
“A minute fifty-eight,” Vincent said, glancing at his watch as he jumped over one of the many bodies in the foyer.
A few seconds later, they all poured out of the building and started to cross the street, still in the blast zone. The moment they broke into the street, however, several men who had planted themselves up in buildings began to fire at them.
The party stood their ground for a moment, firing, and in a drawn-out moment that seemed like an eternity, Vincent watched as a bullet sailed through the air and struck Marielle… in the left leg and she collapsed in agony.
Vincent’s heart felt like it stopped. Her leg… her left leg… The leg that she had cancer in. His thoughts blurred and time slowed.
He rushed to her, pulled her up into his arms against his chest, whispered, “I’ve got you,” and urged them all forward and up the slight incline on the street toward safety.
When they were out of the blast zone, he set Marielle down against a wall as Chamber started speaking in his ear. She groaned, and looked down at the gaping wound as Klara held her from behind, supporting her. “Can you heal her?” he asked Wei Ling.
She nodded, out of breath, and dropped next to Marielle. “It’ll take a moment, but yes.”
Vincent stood, listening to what Chamber was saying and he looked to Sabine and Austin.
He motioned them away while Wei Ling and Klara tended to Marielle.
Vincent leaned in, speaking quickly. “A minute twenty-nine,” he whispered. “Cory is down there, and he’s preparing to defuse the spike. But Chamber’s lost sight of him again.”
“He can’t take him out?” Austin asked.
“Out of bullets, and he can’t get a good shot on him from where he’s at.”
“Dammit,” Sabine spat.
“Someone has to go down there and make sure this thing goes off.”
“Whoever does that… isn’t coming back, are they?” Sabine asked. Vincent shook his head.
“I’ll do it,” Austin whispered, distantly. Vincent’s quizzical expression met Austin’s. “Look, we all know that I can make the shot… I’m the only one who has nothing left, right? Makes sense for me to do it.” He nodded, accepting his defeat. “I can do it, I promise,” he reiterated.
“You already died once today, brother. Are you that intent on making sure the job is done?”
“I’m that intent on making sure that you are all safe,” he insisted, flicking his gaze to Marielle for a moment. Vincent followed his gaze. Austin meant Marielle, but them as well.
“I’m sorry that I’ve misjudged you,” Sabine interjected.
Austin shrugged. “You didn’t,” he insisted, checking his magazine. “I was what you thought.” And Austin turned, nodding to Vincent one final time. He glanced back at Marielle whose attention was drawn to Wei Ling, and smiled adoringly, taking her in. She wasn’t looking at him, and she wasn’t connected to him anymore. He couldn’t feel her.
She was so beautiful, and he didn’t have time to say goodbye.
He whirled, no time to waste now.
Vincent flicked his gaze to Sabine, took in a deep breath of air, and let it out making his decision. He grabbed Austin from behind by his wrist, spun him, and shoved him at Sabine – who caught him – before Vincent took off, sealing his fate. No one else could do this.
Austin reached after him. “No! I can do it!” He cried, eyes wide with terror.
Marielle sat up straight, and slowly stood – as her wound worked the bullet out – realizing what was happening, and as it registered, her eyes grew wide with terror.
The other two women kept her back as Austin and Sabine also joined them.
Vincent pumped his legs, taking the steps in large strides until they burned, taking him to the end of the block, and snapped, dropping himself back at the front entrance of Valorant over the teleporter that he never picked up after they’d first arrived. He rushed into the building, sucking the teleporter back into his arm, starting the countdown on his watch. He barreled through the foyer and back down the hall toward the courtyard.
“Vincent, what are you doing?” Chamber’s calm voice echoed in his ear. No one else was privy to this conversation.
“You know what I’m doing,” Vincent whispered. “Just hold up your end of the deal.”
Chamber sighed, “Okay, Mon amie. It’s been a pleasure.”
Vincent nodded even though Chamber couldn’t see him. Don’t think…don’t think… just get this done.
He tumbled back out into the courtyard and checked his watch for the teleporter countdown. Three…two…one… He flung his teleporter on top of the cement block just behind the spike, then ducked back behind the door, taking in a deep breath, and letting it out, raggedly.
A moment later, Cory stumbled from the cobblestone area, bleeding from the shoulder, and quickly moved toward the spike; defuser in hand. He glanced around, and seeing no one, he dropped beside it and began to stop it.
That was when Vincent snapped, appeared above Cory, and pulled Headhunter from his hand simultaneously.
Cory only had time to look up at Vincent, sheer terror pouring into his glassy, innocent eyes as Vincent smirked. “Got you, you son of a bitch,” Vincent whispered, then he fired into Cory’s face, and the Irishman went down for the final time.
Vincent jumped off the box, and landed. But the moment that his feet touched the ground, he also took a bullet to the left side, just under his heart.
He grunted, and fell back against the cement block, aimed, and fired, killing the goon who had shot at him from behind the fountain. Then he checked the timer on the spike. thirty-five seconds.
He wouldn’t make it back.
Ignoring intense pain, he stood, pulled Tour De Force from his arm, and turning it like a sword, he plunged the end into the ground, bending on one knee, and bowing. “God, you will deal with me however You see fit… I am sorry.” He had shut all the voices in his ear out until this moment. “Austin?” he coughed. “Keep her there.” He knew that Marielle would be trying to come after him.
“No, Vincent, no, you can come back, you have time!” She was crying in his ear.
“I was shot, love. No time,” he whispered. Marielle fell silent for a moment. “And don’t argue with me, I’m not going to spend my last few moments fighting with you.”
“No, you have time!” Marielle sobbed, brokenly.
He lifted his hand and snapped twice, letting her hear. “Nothing, love. Now listen. I’m sorry, Masin. I’m sorry for all of it.”
“Vincent,” she squeaked through more sobs. “I chose you.”
“I know. I love you, too. More than you could ever know. Austin is a good man. He can take care of you, now.” He glanced at the counter. Fifteen seconds. Fifteen seconds was all that God, the universe, and life was offering him to say whatever he needed to say. Marielle was sobbing again. “Oh, I wish that I could touch you,” he breathed. “It’s okay, love. It’s okay.” He forced a smile that he knew that she couldn’t see. “My turn…”
Then he removed the earpiece, shutting them, her cries, her wails, and the rest out. As it came from his ear, he heard one last voice. Sabine’s. “I approve of you.”
He stood, shakily, holding his bleeding side and looked around; he was at the fountain, and if he tried, he could almost make out the visage of a beautiful, tear-streaked face looking at him. Shaking his head, he smiled a little as he looked up at the clear blue sky… he was home. No need to wake up, he wasn’t dreaming. He’d been able to see her again, hold her again, kiss her again and she’d loved him. That was enough. He was just sad that he’d caused so much destruction in his grief. If he could have done it all over again, he would have made different decisions.
With a soft smile on the corner of his mouth, he closed his eyes, recalling a single, dark curl resting next to red painted, smiling lips. He knew every hair by heart… He wouldn’t even feel the blast.
He straightened, keeping his mind on that curl, stood tall, and bent over his right arm giving no one a last bow out.
The spike brightened, and an ear shattering, eerie silence engulfed the area, as the blast began to tear through the space. It rolled, pushing outward in a circle and devouring everything in its path.
Vincent was already gone.
Marielle fell to the ground like her strings had been cut, taking everyone with her a silent scream in her open mouth. Sabine engulfed her in her arms. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I know…”
With silent, stunned tears streaming down his face, Austin stood. “Okay, everybo-” his voice snagged in his throat. He cleared it. “Everyone home,” he whispered, ignoring Chamber as he’d been told.
His only objective now was getting this group back. Then Marielle; who was presently a shell of a person, crumpled on the ground.
He bent, enfolding her limp, lifeless body in his arms, and stood with her. He guided everyone to set their watches, code in, and they all walked back through the portal together.
The team was immediately met with everyone on the other side, excited faces fell and horror crossed everyone’s expressions when they realized that Marielle was limp in Austin’s arms and Vincent wasn’t with them. That was to say nothing of the expressions the party had on their faces. John wrapped himself around Sabine, and Tayane did the same with Klara.
Austin was still holding Marielle, and he walked her up the steps and into the building. He wasn’t sure where she was, but she wasn’t there. She was gone, stunned into another world altogether.
“Vincent?” Han asked gently touching his forearm.
Austin glanced at her, and shook his head. Han pulled back, putting her fingertips to her parted lips as realization hit her. Jamie was there, wrapping his arms around Han from behind. “Everyone go home, rest. We’ll talk soon,” he whispered.
Wei Ling nodded. “I’ll speak with Liam.”
Austin thanked her silently, and he took Marielle out through the building, through the courtyard as an eerie, uncanny feeling wrapped around him. They were just here… a hundred seconds ago. The entire world was different. What had changed? How did it happen?
He took Marielle to the parking garage and to the car where he gently set her in the passenger’s seat, went to his si- Vincent’s side, got in, closed the door, and drove her home.
Austin was on autopilot the whole way to the apartment, but it was the first time that he truly considered the fact that he and Marielle weren’t connected anymore. Her voice wasn’t in his head, and his wasn’t in hers. He couldn’t feel her, and this was causing him to spiral inwardly. What had happened? His mind was a jumbled mess, and there were no thoughts at the same time, and he had no idea how that could be.
Once they pulled up outside her apartment, he went to her side, opened the car, scooped her up and took her into the building, slowly going up the stairs and to her apartment.
He had no idea where she was, but it wasn’t here. He couldn’t blame her in the slightest; his mind had no thoughts or misgivings about romance. No, if he was going to spend the next three weeks with her, most of it was going to be taking care of her in ways that were difficult to articulate. Maybe at times, impossible… He looked down at her in his arms as he stood in her living room in stunned silence… like right now. It was so quiet.
Looking her over, he cataloged the dirt, grime, and blood caked onto her face and body. The way that her hair was brittle and coated with dust and dried bits of blood. There were large smudges across her face, and a few bruises accompanying them and they were getting darker by the minute. He shook his head. It just wouldn’t do.
Austin walked her into the bathroom, stood her up, and knelt at the tub, turning it on, and testing the water until it was hot enough to be comfortable and soothing. He plugged it, and stood, looking down at her. “Marielle, I want to help clean you up, but I need your consent here,” he whispered. Her eyes were locked on nowhere and nothing, something just beyond reality that he couldn’t reach. “Marielle, please,” he breathed, reaching up and cupping her cheek. “Please.” She was gone. He took in a ragged breath, he just couldn’t leave her like this, but at the same time he didn’t want to violate her in any way. “Darling,” he whispered, and that broke him, finally tears pricked the sides of his eyes. “Darling, let me back in,” he begged. “I can help.” He glanced back at the tub, it was nearly full, so he bent and turned it off, the steady drip echoed as it slowly disappeared and it being the only sound in the room was unnerving. “I can take you to your bed, but… you’re covered here, and I just want to help,” he tried.
She swallowed hard, as she glanced down at her arms. The moment she saw the blood, her eyes widened, she took in a shocked, fast breath and this sent her into a panic. “Austin?” She cried. It was mostly his blood, after all. He reached out, grabbing her, and pulling her against him. “Austin, are you okay?” She asked, pounding her fists against his chest.
“I’m here, I’m here.”
Her breathing was so erratic that he was concerned that she’d hurt herself, so he held her tightly. “Are you okay? Are you okay?” She kept saying.
“I’m fine, I’m here. I’m really here, Marielle, it’s okay.”
“I can’t feel you!” She squealed through sobs.
“Here,” he took her hand and put it to his heart. “Feel that? I’m alive.”
She was staring at him now, as if coming out of a fever dream, then her eyes fell on the ring on her finger. “Oh… No…” Her legs collapsed from under her and he bent, keeping her from falling, and set her on the toilet, but she’d gone limp, and instead, he pulled her back into him, his chin resting perfectly on top of her head. “Vin-…”
He closed his eyes, and gently rocked her. “Yes, darling,” he answered her unspoken question.
“Vincent’s dead.”
He tried to bite back the wave of tears, “yes, darling,” he repeated, a little softer.
“Wh-why are you here?” she asked, looking back up at him. She was so confused.
And for a moment he wasn’t sure how she meant this. Was she asking why was he alive and not Vincent? Was she asking why he was in her house? Was she completely outside of reality? He felt like maybe it was all the above, and he tucked her back into his arms and under his chin. “I’ll be here as long as I can be,” he breathed and he gently swayed. “While you’re talking to me, I want to help you get clean, but I need your consent. Will you let me help you? Or do you think you can do this yourself?” She didn’t answer, she was slipping away, again. He pulled her back just a tad. “Can I take your clothes off? To help you get clean? I won’t touch you in any way that’s inappropriate, I promise. I just want to help. Will you let me undress you to help you into the tub?”
She nodded, then her mind started to get distant again. “Yes.”
He swallowed hard, and looked down now that she’d said yes, it was going to be more difficult than he’d initially thought. Not because he was so full of lust, but because he’d never seen her fully nude. He’d try and be as respectful as he could, but his hands were shaking as he tried to lift her shirt.
Her eyes glazed again; she was leaving.
He breathed out. Come on, Austin, you can do this. You have to take care of her.
He nodded, setting his mind and actions as he lifted her shirt, thick with sweat, blood, dirt, and God knew what else, and then slowly reached behind her to unclasp her bra. It fell to the floor away from her and he swallowed and kept his eyes on her face. That part wasn’t so hard, he’d seen that much of her before, but considering how deeply both of their emotions were burning right now, he felt himself wanting to slip into that space that allowed him to lust, and get excited if it meant feeling anything other than what he felt right now. He shook the ideas out of his head… focus.
“Focus now…” she whispered as if she could still hear his thoughts. “Eyes off me…” But she said it as if still lost in wonderland, distant and detached.
A tear slipped out in response to her words and he knelt. Trembling, he worked the buttons on her pants, and then the zipper. “Hold onto me,” he whispered, and he sniffled. She put her hand on his shoulder, even though she wasn’t looking at him so he could slip her leg out, and then the other. He paused, “okay,” he breathed shakily, and he tenderly guided her out of the last part so that she was now fully nude before him and he stood quickly before he got any further ideas.
He bent and pulled her up into his arms so he could take her to the tub and gently set her down into the water.
Once in the tub, all that she did was sit and stare, and he took in a shaky breath. He wasn’t staring, but was she beautiful.
He knelt at the corner of the tub and rolled his sleeves up before grabbing her rag. Then he reached for the soap, and paused… he realized that he was covered in blood as well… his blood. He paused looking down into his hands, brown, slicked with sticky red; he let out a sound that was like a panicked, gasping laugh as another wave of emotion rolled over him. He’d died. He’d died, and he had seen the light at the end of the tunnel just before he was pulled back.
Standing, he removed his shirt, which he now realized had several holes in it. How many times had Sabine shot him? He wasn’t going to count right now, but it was more than twice. Then he took off his own pants and boxers, and crawled into the tub behind her.
She was so small that she fit into the front, and him in the back. She wasn’t looking at him, so he felt no need to be modest or fearful, though he would have trusted her with his nudity a long time ago.
Sniffing as he held back more frantic tears, he took the rag again, and started to lather it with soap before he put it to her back – her smooth, gorgeous back, covered in bruises and varying spots of brown – and started to gently rub.
She was soundless, but it took him a moment to realize that he was silently sobbing as he scrubbed. His own ragged breaths and sniffles were echoing as water droplets created their own unique music accompanied by his sounds.
The last time that they were in here, and a rag was involved, he’d said, what are we doing, here?
Taking care of each other. She had replied.
That seemed like years ago. He never thought anything would come to this.
Vincent was dead.
He continued to scrub down her back. He was gentle and persistent, but no matter how much soap he used, it seemed like nothing was fully coming off. Or was it merely that he knew that they were now both stained and traumatized and that nothing was going to remove that stain, ever?
Vincent had died…for him. For her.
For a moment, he stopped, and sobbed against her back. She barely stirred, and leaned forward a little to give him more space. But he gently pulled her back into him as they rested against the back of the tub together. He glanced down at her nakedness. “Oh, God, Marielle, you’re so perfect,” he sighed through staccato sobs. “I’m not looking. I mean, I looked, but I’m not staring, you know?” he whispered, gently planting a kiss on her temple, and using the rag to clean her neck and shoulders front, and back.
She didn’t respond, she was off somewhere that he couldn’t get to and it was driving him crazy. He wanted to be there with her. He didn’t care how sad, tragic, hopeless, or desolate it was. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t haunting her mind anymore, and it was killing him. That’s how close he came to really dying… another moment and he would have been gone. The only reason that he hadn’t was because so much of him had been inside of her, and it had been slowly leaking out as he lay there, drifting toward his maker. One or two more drops and he’d have been gone for good. She’d saved his life a few times now, but now he couldn’t hear her anymore. He couldn’t feel her. Where had she gone? “Marielle, you told me that you couldn’t feel me. It’s because I’m not inside of you, anymore. The parts of me that were there were dripping out of you as I died. You kept me alive again,” he explained, referring to their encounter with Tundra and how she’d kept his heart going then. He ditched the rag long enough to wrap his arms around her and squeeze. “You kept me alive again, darling.”
“I couldn’t keep him alive…” she said, but she was quickly gone again.
“No, he wanted you to be alive.”
“With you,” she breathed.
“You are with me. And I’m with you.”
She swallowed again, “Are you alive? Or … ar- are you haunting me?”
“I’m not haunting your mind anymore, darling. If you want me back, you have to come back inside of me,” he sighed. “Or at least, I think that’s how this works.”
“No, you’re free now.”
He shook his head against her temple. “I don’t want to be. Marielle, give me my prison again,” he begged, through throated cries. She felt limp again, and distant. “I can help… I can help,” he was whispering, and he kissed her temple again.
“Vincent,” she breathed.
He couldn’t blame her. He couldn’t even feel jealous or upset, all he could do was cry against her.
After a moment, he bent her forward, “I’m going to wash your hair,” he whispered. He paused, noting how dark the water in the tub was, and how now that his hands were clean, he could see how much his knuckles were bright red and torn. He didn’t feel any pain, but he knew that would hurt the moment he really let it sink in.
Taking some shampoo from the side of the tub, he helped splash some water onto her hair and then lathered the soap into it. “There you go,” he cooed, trying to massage her scalp as he went. Then he used his hands to pour some water over her dark locks until it appeared free from any traces of white or bubbles. “There, nice and clean.”
He used his hands to scrub water and soap on his own face, and then in his hair before he stood, grabbed a towel, patted off, and wrapped it around his lower half.
Then he reached down, helping her to stand and kneeling again, put a towel around her back, bringing it to the front of her and tucking it off so she was now in a little dress. He found the smallest smirk on his lips; she looked cute, but her eyes were nowhere local, which took away any hint of happiness he might have felt. “Marielle, I can help. Just connect us again, I can come in there. I can fight the demons,” he whispered.
Tears welled in her eyes and she closed them tightly. “I’m so tired, Vincent,” she whispered, distantly.
His face contorted in agony and he nodded. What did he do? Pretend to be Vincent to comfort her? Did she even know that he wasn’t? He felt so lost. Without the ability to read her mind or her thoughts, he didn’t know what she needed. Although he felt like right now it probably wouldn’t help anyway because her internal monologue was probably just emptiness, or screaming, or some combination of both.
“Okay, love,” he breathed shakily, and he stood and put his arms under her legs, and scooped her up, taking her to the bedroom, where he sat her on the bed for a moment and looked around.
He had no clothing here, and his shirt was shredded. He could put the pants back on, but they’d need a wash first. Maybe three washes.
He didn’t like it, but he pulled on one of Vincent’s t-shirts, and some of his sweatpants. It’d have to do until he could go get his own clothes.
Then he helped her slip into a dark t-shirt and into some stretchy shorts that he assumed were meant for sleep. When he helped pull them up onto her, he knelt at the foot of the bed, and kissed the inside of her thigh, just above the knee, pausing. It was just a simple, gentle kiss to reassure her, but it set other things off in him. Don’t take advantage of her right now. She can’t consent the right way. He told himself. So, he stood away, and went to the kitchen for a moment, assuring her that he’d be right back even though he was certain that she didn’t hear him, anyway.
He left, grabbed two bottles of water from her fridge and came back to her. She was in the same position on the bed. It was like she was afraid to move; like moving might cause another bomb to go off, or another monster to pop out.
He knelt in front of her. “Marielle, the monsters are all gone. Cory’s dead.”
“So is he,” she peeped.
Austin nodded. “Do you know who I am?”
“Yeah,” she whispered, tucking away from him, and laying on her side in the fetal position. “But sometimes you’re him.”
He sighed, heavily. This was going to be hard. “Marielle, you need to drink. We haven’t drank in a long time, and you need to do it,” he whispered, sitting her back up by gently pulling her by her arm.
“I don’t want to,” she said, pushing him away.
“Come on, darling.” She pushed him away again. “Marielle, I’m not fighting you on this, you can’t go to the hospital or …”
“Die?” He took in a ragged breath. “Just let me die, Austin. I don’t want to be here anymore.”
“No!” he barked through gritted teeth as he stood, and took her cheek to his stomach. The calm, nonchalant tone that she’d used to say this shook him to the core. “No. I’m still here, Marielle. I still love you.” He put his fingers into her wet hair and combed it back. “Do you still love me?” he asked. He forced her to look at him. She was so lost, where ever she was. “Do you love me?” She nodded, exhaustedly. “Then you’ll do as I say. Not because I want to control you, I don’t. Because I need to save you from yourself right now.” He took one of the bottles of water, and opened it. “Now, drink.” She didn’t move or obey him. “Drink, Marielle.” She closed her eyes, drifting again. “Marielle, drink this and we can go to sleep, and I’ll hold you, and protect you until I can’t anymore.” He pleaded, tipping it to her lips. A little spilled. “Just drink, and we’ll sleep. I know how tired you are. I know.” Her cracked lips lightly parted, and he poured a little in between them. “There you go. More, come on.” She wasn’t swallowing, just collecting. “Swallow, darling.” She tried to obey, but the moment that she did, it all came up, and then some, and she vomited.
He dropped to his knees, taking the towel that he’d discarded and cleaning her up. At first, he was on autopilot, just wiping the mess away, then he broke down entirely, and fell against the mattress, crying. How could he help her? She was broken beyond repair.
He was annoyed, but not with her. He wanted to help her, and couldn’t. He couldn’t be in her dreams, or her nightmares, or her thoughts. How the hell did he help her? He caught a glance of himself in her mirror and nearly shuddered. He hardly recognized his own face. How the hell did he help himself?
Growling, he stood, forcing himself to continue to clean up.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Marielle was whimpering.
“No, darling,” he said, going to her. His heart shattering. “I’m not upset with you. I’m upset that this is happening to you.” He pat her mouth dry, and wiped her up. “You don’t need to apologize, I’m not disgusted.” Once again, he helped her out of her shirt, and into a new one. This time he couldn’t stop himself from looking, but the moment he caught himself eyeing her breasts, he glanced away. She was so damn beautiful. This wasn’t time for that, though. She didn’t feel safe. He needed to help make her feel safe.
She was silently sobbing, and shaking.
What could he do? What would Vincent do? He didn’t know, exactly, but he felt like Vincent was haunting the space that he was currently in. “What do I do, Vincent?” he barely whispered.
She was curled around her own knees looking dead.
He leaned back on his knees and tapped the side of his head for a few moments as if trying to conjure up a clear thought, and for a moment, the only thing that he could think about were the curves of her body and how her breasts had just looked when he’d removed her shirt again. Stop it. This isn’t the time. God, am I so sick that I can’t even figure out how to stop thinking about sex when it’s the wrong time? He sighed. No, I’m hurting, and sex was how I used to deal with this crap even if I didn’t realize that that’s what it was. So, I’d never have to feel. Oh, God, I’m feeling now, and I don’t know how to handle it. Please, help me.
It was like something clicked in him a moment later. He got no lightning bolts, or marquees scrolling across the back of his eyelids, but with confidence, he bent down to her right ear and planted a gentle kiss on her lobe before he swallowed hard, parted his lips, and said, “Marielle… be silent.” Her eyes fluttered closed, and then opened again, looking a bit clearer. “Be…silent,” he ordered sternly.
Her expression cleared a little more and she turned to look at him. “Hey,” she said rolling slightly more onto her back.
He gave her a soft, sad smile. “Hey,” he whispered.
“Are you real?” she asked, reaching up and touching his cheek. “I thought you died.”
“I did. Sage brought me back.”
“I don’t feel you,” she said in a panicked tone. “Why don’t I feel you? Are you a ghost?”
He pressed the back of her hand with his. “No, no, darling, no.” He swallowed, trying to help her understand, “I left you. When I died, our connection was broken. I’m really here, I’m just not in there anymore.”
“Oh,” she said as if she finally understood.
“Let me back in, and I can try to help,” he begged.
“What if I want to be free from you?” she asked.
He let out a sigh, eyes rolling back into his head for a moment. He was afraid of this. “If that’s what you really want,” he said with a nod, “it’d just be easier to help you.”
She looked around as if realizing where she was, “Where’s Vincent?” she whispered.
“Oh, darling,” he said brokenly. He barely got the words out again, “He’s dead.”
“I know,” she said turning onto her side again. “I won’t get married now, I guess,” she said, listlessly.
His eyes closed tightly. “You can marry me,” he suggested. “It’s all I want.”
“You’re my best friend. I can’t think about more right now.”
He nodded, understanding, then he reached for the water again, “can we try to drink again?” he asked.
She agreed and he helped her take several large swallows until she finished the bottle. He gave her an adoring smile. “Good girl,” he breathed. “Good girl.” She fell back against the bed again. “Do you want to sleep now, darling?” She nodded, feeling like she’d be unable to. He guided her back down to the mattress on her back, and hovered over her. “What can I do?” Her thoughts were blank, he was losing her again. So, he did what she always asked him to do and filled the room with lacey, white snowflakes, sending a chill up their spines and causing her to briefly look at them all. The tears in her eyes never stopped, only went through varying cycles of large, and small, a little, or a lot.
He rolled to his side and pulled her into him, trying to mold as much of her body against his as possible, and pressing her so firmly there, that he was afraid for a moment that he was hurting her. “You’re safe, Marielle. Vincent and I made sure that you were safe. Now you’re safe with me.” She was shaking and he nestled into her. “I can’t get you any closer unless…” he stopped, he wasn’t trying to push her, just comfort her. He didn’t go on. “Only if you need to hide.”
She said nothing, but her shaking was becoming almost violent. “You’re safe, Marielle. You’re safe.” He stroked her hair, and threaded their fingers together. “You’re safe. You’re in my arms, and my arms are strong enough to keep you safe.”
For the next several hours, she went through a cycle that seemed never ending. She’d just barely drifted off before she heard his voice. “My turn…” and a blast nearly knocked her back, and she’d awaken, tearing away from Austin, and screaming for him at the same time. Screaming for Vincent, and clawing at the darkness.
Austin would grab her, steady her, pull her to him, and hush her, rocking her until she stabilized, drifted off, and the whole thing repeated. This happened six times before he grabbed her wrists, smashed her against his chest and sobbed with her. “Marielle I might be able to help if you let me back in. I’m not trying to force or push this, I want you to find peace,” he whimpered through waves of tears. “You’re suffering and I can’t stand it. I’m helpless against your mind.” He said, his chest drenched from her tears. “Let me come in and try and help you away from the blast.” She was unable to speak through her sobs. “Let me be your voice.” She balled her fists against his chest. “Do you trust me?” he breathed. She nodded. “You’ve always trusted me more than you trusted him, haven’t you? You know that I won’t hurt you.” She nodded again. “Then give me my prison again.”
She shook her head a firm and a clear no. “But I do miss you,” she whimpered.
He squeezed her. “I’m right here.”
“I miss you in here,” she patted her chest.
“Then come back to me. Give me my prison again. We can start over, it’s our choice this time,” he explained, looking down into her eyes. “I choose this.”
“I’m scared.”
He pushed his lips together and shook his head slowly. She looked like a child. “So am I,” he admitted.
“What if I come back and it’s too much for me right now?”
“What if you come back and I have another dream and you reject me forever? I’m terrified, Marielle. But I want to share this with you. Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? Trust? Intimacy?”
She pulled back and fell like dead weight against the bed. “I’m not ready.”
He breathed out, not wanting to pressure her, but wanting to help her and feeling trapped somewhere in the middle. “Okay, Marielle,” he whispered. “But I can’t come in there and save you.”
“Then just keep doing what you’re doing.”
“I can try,” he got up and whispered that he’d be back. When he returned, he had a mug of warm milk, and he handed it to her. She tearfully took it, and stared into it like she had never seen a mug or milk before in her life and wasn’t sure what to do with it. What struck him the most was how young she looked in her eyes and expression. “Do you want me to sing to you?” he asked. She closed her eyes, tears dropping from both, and nodded, distantly. “Okay, darling,” he whispered. Then proceeded to sing The Music of the Night. All she could do was cry. When he was done, he gently urged her to drink. She obeyed. “Good girl,” he breathed, brushing some of her hair back from her face.
“I’ll always be your good girl,” she whispered brokenly, through her tears.
He smiled sadly. He wasn’t sure if she was remembering the same thing that he was, or making a declaration. When he’d said it, it had been a promise. He was always going to be her good boy. It was written on his finger right now. He couldn’t hear her thoughts, so he wasn’t sure. But when she was done drinking, he took the cup from her, set it aside, and curled around her again, trying to urge her to sleep.
This time, she sunk into a hole and didn’t come back out for over twenty hours.