Well. Where were we? I keep having to reintroduce this story because it takes me so long to get to and through each part... in the large, it’s about the ethics of the use of advanced technology in athletic competition. But in the more-important small, it’s also about a Myka and a Helena trying to work out their own ethical differences, with regard to both that technology and a whole host of other issues, including their romantic past and possible—but not assured—romantic future. In the previous part, these two would-be ethicists seemed to have found themselves at the put-up-or-shut-up point, in that Helena had just asked Myka “What now?” There are a lot of answers to that question, and this part commences some forward-and-back time-shifting in order to explore them... I did a lot of that in part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7a, part 7b, part 8, part 9a, part 9b, and part 10.
Run 11a
Myka stood next to Steve, as tall and strong as she knew how to stand. For once, he needed her support: a tiny but significant wrinkle of solemnity creased his brow, marring his usual placid air yet fitting the momentous nature of this, his wedding day.
Fitting, too—in both senses—was his bespoke tuxedo, which rendered him even more handsome than usual... Myka allowed herself to feel a little pulse of handsome of her own, for her dark suit, a softer echo of his, was equally bespoke, its smooth silk an expensive privilege against her skin.
The suit’s so-careful design, its so-intentional function, made her think of Deceits... a slightly incongruous thought, and yet: as they had turned Myka into A Runner, this suit turned her into A Best Person. She allowed as how she was always going to have needed some help with that latter. In this case, she welcomed the augmentation.
The wedding was a bigger event that she had thought it would be, and she’d remarked on that to Steve when suit-fittings and other prefatory activities seemed to escalate. “Bigger than I’d thought,” he agreed, “but Liam’s parents said ‘go all out,’ with the checkbook to back it up, so we did. Who turns down a party?”
Who turns down a party. Funny that he would put it that way...
****
When Helena had asked “What now”, Myka had enjoyed a flash of certainty... because the moment their hands had touched, everything had seemed so very obvious. And based on that, “what now” had to in fact be a question about where, not what, for how could they not be on the same page of escalation?
An instant later, the where answer struck her just as certainly: “We’re actually in a hotel,” Myka said. “Right this minute, that’s where we are. In a hotel.”
Helena didn’t say anything.
The lack of reaction gave Myka pause. “And it has rooms?” she offered, but with less conviction.
“My plane boards in less than two hours,” Helena said. A stolid utterance. Unmoved.
So much so, in fact, that Myka’s initial response was to snap to match it, adopting a correspondingly aloof “If you’re unmoved, then so am I” stance—but no. That was counterproductive. Helena just wasn’t convinced yet, and who could blame her? All right, then: Myka would have to do more to establish her truth. “Are you saying we need more time than that?” she asked, trying for light, yet feeling her grip on certainty slacken. Trying harder, she said, “But also, people sometimes miss planes.”
Wrong response: Helena’s jaw took on a clench; her lips, a press. (Her jaw. Her lips.)
“I’ve told my father I’ll be home soon,” she said. “He told me I should come round.”
Myka couldn’t quite locate the genre of wrong into which her “people sometimes miss planes” play had fallen, but she did know that she had always been on the same continent—in the same country, even—as her father. And “he told me I should come round” sounded less like an obligation than that “should” suggested, more like... something sought? As if Helena were pleased by, yet defensive about being pleased by, having been told to “come round.”
How could Myka even begin to think of putting herself in the way of that?
But she had to think of it, so she did think of it, because what she sought was right here, right now—her breathing matching Myka’s as it always did, always had done, even when they could not bridge such expanses as a broken-glass-hazard hallway, or a dangerously not-quite-deserted elevator lobby—with no guarantee she ever would be again. And even now, Myka was sure that if she pressed, Helena would be moved. That inadvertent hand-touch, with the generating jump it had delivered to Myka: Helena had to have felt it too.
Had to think, had to have felt; so much had to, and so Myka fell, fast, into a consequent, seemingly inevitable, had to: she had to try the touch again—try it this time deliberately, moving her hand to Helena’s, moving her hand against Helena’s—and there again was the jump, the rush, and Myka’s heart jumped and rushed too, because surely now—
—but Helena flinched. She withdrew her hand. “Don’t,” she said.
This simple slip of my skin on your skin unfolds an entire world and you say “Don’t”? A world-destroying prohibition. “Don’t now? Or don’t ever?”
“Don’t now,” Helena said. “I can’t speak to ever.”
Was that a reprieve? If so, it was far, far less of one than Myka wanted. “Can I speak to ever?”
“I’m sure you can.”
Those words, overlain with a slight satirical cant, were reminiscent of Helena’s historical didactic streak. Intentionally? With hope, Myka re-inquired, parodically dark: “May I?”
That got a half-smile. It seemed a break... into which Myka placed, with some sadness, “You don’t believe me.”
“I want to believe you,” Helena said, the half-smile reducing by half. A quarter-smile... too fractional. Not really a smile at all. Not anymore.
The diminishing hurt Myka’s heart. “But it’s risky,” she said, adding, “that want?” As if it were a guess and not a statement of absolute truth.
“Yes. I see what you’re doing.”
Well, this should be illuminating. Or something. “What am I doing?”
“Illustrating why you were correct to reject the risk of believing me. Offering an object lesson.”
Oh. Oh. Because Myka had herself said “don’t.” And she had pressed on to “don’t ever,” and she had meant it, and this... was this revenge? Or was Helena willfully, self-protectively, misinterpreting? “And if I am? Offering that... lesson,” Myka said, hoping for some sign.
“Effective,” Helena said. She raised her glass to her mouth and drank. An emphatic swallow.
Myka watched Helena’s throat. Wine in her mouth, descending; what followed. What used to follow. Not a sign, but a reminder: why she was here right now. “And if I’m not?” she asked.
No answer.
“Because I’m not,” Myka said. Helena’s face gave her nothing to go on, neither encouragement nor warning, so she went forward with what she could: “Don’t go. I can’t say it any more plainly.”
“But I am going. I can’t say that any more plainly.” And yet her hard mouth softened—or was Myka only wishing it had?—as she continued, “Dan Badger will call me, you said, so it’s likely I’ll come back.”
“To AAI,” Myka said. She left the now-obvious, cutting corollary—“not to me”—unvoiced.
“Yes,” Helena said. It seemed painfully final.
****
“What is taking him so long?” Steve murmured to Myka, as they stood together. And kept standing. She had walked out first, followed by Steve; Liam and his best person (who was in fact not a person at all, but Rita Hayworth, the couple’s red Afghan hound) were to have emerged next, leading into the true start of the ceremony. But there was as yet no sign of either of the pretty pair.
“His hair,” Myka assured him. “Or his tie. Or Rita’s ears. You love how particular he is.”
“Making me wait,” Steve fretted, that brow wrinkle becoming more pronounced. “At the literal altar.”
“First, we’re in a hotel ballroom, not a church, so not literal. But second, anticipation isn’t so bad.”
She had meant it to mollify, but he gave her a brief, sly smile, its sunshine sneaking through his solemnity. “Isn’t it?” he asked, also sly.
In the moment, she was glad to have distracted him this little bit. Still, if they hadn’t been the focus of several hundred people, she might have given his shoulder a shove. Gently, of course; he wasn’t Pete. As it was, she murmured, “This isn’t about me.”
****
Helena had risen from the bar stool, then leaned down, choreographically perfect, to heft her carry-on bag (elegant, so elegant). As she bent her right arm up to position the bag’s strap over her shoulder, her jacket strained close around that curling biceps. The tight convexity of muscle, another reminder that was not a sign, called out to Myka, and Myka called back: “Wait!”
That did gain Helena’s surprised attention: a prize now, one that Myka wanted to hoard. “What?” Helena asked, and Myka similarly wanted to salt away that slightly breathless question, regardless of whether its slight breathlessness signified annoyance or something more meaningful.
Wavering internally, for the briefest of worries—was she really going to try to call this into being?—she blurted, too fast, too unmeasured, “I have to go to a wedding.”
Helena squinted. Myka found the confusion betrayed by that squint perfect. If she could perpetuate that perfection... “This minute?” Helena asked.
She wasn’t quick enough to come up with any way to perpetuate it. “Of course not,” she said.
“Well, not your own, I hope,” Helena offered.
Whatever Helena was trying with that, it seemed altogether too lightheartedly possessive, given how she had been ready to leave things. But fine: “Why would you hope I wouldn’t have to go to my own wedding?” Myka asked.
“Are we speaking in the realm of the hypothetical or the real?”
That seemed not lighthearted but absurd. “This airport seems pretty real to me. You’re making it that way.” As opposed to the dream it could be if you would just let me get a room.
“I’ll accept that,” Helena answered, as if she’d heard the thought and wanted to affirm Yes that is what I am rejecting. “So this wedding is real as well?”
Nice dodge of why it matters what realm we’re speaking in... or maybe in the end it doesn’t matter at all. Myka sighed. “Of course it’s real. My good friend—best friend—Steve is marrying the man he loves.”
“I’m sure you have a reason for conveying this information,” Helena said. But not as dismissively as she might have done, standing there in her bag-on-shoulder impatience.
Could Helena truly be curious? Was Myka’s flash of an idea actually going to work? She said, “I also have to be in the wedding.”
“That information as well.” Still impatient... but Helena was nevertheless still not moving.
“I need a plus-one.” Myka said. She didn’t, not really. “I’d feel foolish if I were the only person in the wedding without a plus-one.” She wouldn’t, not really. But she paused, waited... because maybe Helena would stop willfully misunderstanding and take the opportunity. Because that would mean that she wanted an opportunity.
But no. Helena said nothing: no taking. Thus no wanting? But Myka, hopeful because Helena was still not moving, began a new push, a true push, with, “Would you consider being my—”
“I can’t.” Helena forced her words over Myka’s, as if letting her finish would be a disaster.
For the length of an inhale—just that—Myka felt herself on the edge of bursting into world-changing tears, unleashing a new violence that would lead her to beg answers from Helena to the most important questions. Tears, violence—but then she exhaled. Fortunately? The small, not-quite-steady question she settled for was, “Why not?”
Helena didn’t answer immediately. Was she trying to hide a truth? Or working out how best to express one? “Because I like this look in your eyes,” she finally said.
How was that a reason to say no? “I’ll have this look”—whatever it is, Myka added internally—“at the wedding. I promise.”
“But for how long after?” Helena asked.
Myka could tell her words weren’t intended a real question; rather, they seemed a fatalistic statement, resigned to the idea of some inevitably horrible result. Some let-down of a look in Myka’s eyes.
In their first iteration a horrible result had been—in retrospect—inevitable, or very close to it, but Helena certainly hadn’t wanted to head it off then. “Since when are you this person?” Myka asked, and her utterance was a question.
“Since,” Helena said, and then she stopped—punctuation. She smiled a beatific smile and continued, “Sainting.”
Sainting, Myka fumed internally. I am going to kill everyone at AAI, starting with Dan Badger and working my way down, and I will die jailed, yet content.
But she couldn’t sustain anger; her fume dissolved, forlorn: And also lonely, but apparently lonely is just going to be the baseline.
“It’s for the best,” Helena said, seemingly taking Myka’s hesitation for... hesitation.
“That isn’t what you thought before,” Myka reminded her. If only she could impress upon Helena the renewed importance of every single instance of that “before,” if only, if only, if only... but there was no opportunity, for:
“No, it isn’t,” Helena agreed.
And then she left.
****
When at last Liam began his walk down the aisle, with Rita gliding next to him, he did chime absolute perfection: the tie, the hair, the elegant dog... whatever had made him make Steve wait, it had been worth it. Myka knew that for truth, because Steve, regarding that perfection, wore exactly the dazzled disbelief Myka would have wished for him, if she had known how to wish it, so many law-school years ago.
Standing both as witness to the marriage coming into being before her and as necessarily excluded bystander, Myka found herself prompted to consider what “marriage” really was: Steve and Liam’s in particular, but also marriage as such. For the two impossibly beautiful men here at the non-altar, it was a sign of faith in the future, a belief that the future would be like the past... or, no, a wish that the future could be like the past; that a lovely past, their lovely past, could presage and motivate a lovely future.
She herself suffered from the belief, but she rejected the wish. She clung to a contrary hope: that a disastrous past could motivate—or at least not impede—a diametrically opposed future. That might not be marriage. But it might not not be marriage either. Steve and Liam’s beautiful achievement gave her the space to believe in possibility.
****
As she watched Helena disappear into the airport, Myka had, for that strange, estranging stretch of time thought on how she might leave the bar, go to the hotel’s front desk, hand over her credit card, and let herself disappear, for a day or two or three or a week, taking time out of time, sitting and settling in to mourn her inability to ever, ever, ever do the right thing at the right time where Helena was concerned.
When she had initially approached Helena in the bar, she’d felt the lift of renewed and renewing power, as if her side hustle—no, her main hustle!—really was running the world, as if she could bend any circumstance to her will, as if her presence and her perseverance would certainly, obviously, be enough to convince Helena to stay. Really stay.
So much for power. So much for bending anything at all. Pathetic, she berated herself, and her “disappear” thought was pathetic too: What, seriously, her rational, punitive side asked, would you do in a hotel room, for a day or two or three or a week or any time at all? Sit there?
If she was going to sit somewhere, it should be her desk at work. She could sit, blessedly calmly, at her desk at work. Sit calmly at her desk and work, with no overlay of worry that someone uniquely disconcerting would invade her space.
Be thankful for that.
****
“You seem like you’re alone,” Pete greeted her as she entered her—their—space.
She’d hoped it would be late enough that he’d be gone, but all right, he wasn’t. She tried to not resent his presence... she didn’t quite succeed. But she was able to say, with reasonably good humor, “I’d be lost without your powers of observation.”
“Seriously. You totally would. But also, what’s the story? I’d say what’s the story morning glory, but you look way too droopy to be one of those.”
“They get droopy at night,” Myka informed him. “Morning glories. And it pretty much is night. So why are you still here?”
“Aha, so I got it right the first time: what’s the story, morning glory?”
“When Dan Badger calls Helena, she’ll take whatever job he offers.”
“And?” he prompted, clearly ready for excitement, titillation, outrageousness—something to whisper and shout about every time he got near the elevators.
She hated feeling sorry that she couldn’t give him that reward. “And that’s the story, morning glory.” She had a vague thought that she should try to qualify that with a joke about how he wasn’t droopy and so wasn’t really a morning glory at this time of day. It was beyond her.
“FYI, that isn’t a story at all,” he said, as if that was really going to be news to her. “Stories have beginnings, plus middles—”
“Plus ends. Yes, I know.”
The minute she said “ends,” his demeanor downshifted. “Aw, man. What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Myka told him, honestly.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She knew he meant it sincerely, but all she could manage was, “I don’t know that either. I’ll work it out later.” She felt he needed a boon, so she asked, “How’s Kelly? Are you two engaged yet? When’s the wedding? I like weddings.”
He perked up a little. “You do?”
Obviously she was not yet recalibrated for reality. Anybody’s. But why bother? “Yes,” she said. “In fact I have one in a couple of weeks.”
“You’re getting married?!?” he exclaimed, downshift entirely reversed. “I’m pretty sure that’s the story, morning glory!”
Okay, there was reality, right there meeting the road. “Not the story, because not my wedding. Why do people keep thinking it’s mine?”
“People? Who’s ‘people’?” But he knew. She could see it in his rising eyebrows.
He was altogether too quick sometimes. “Never mind,” she said. “Never mind about weddings at all. Just tell me some work to do, and I’ll do it.”
Now he snickered. “Oh, I’ll tell you some work to do. That’s really why I’m still here. And trust me, you’ll laugh when you hear what it is.”
“I could use a laugh. Hit me.”
“We’re supposed to rejigger the Mechanical Aids guidelines.”
Okay, maybe she wasn’t only not recalibrated to reality, Pete’s anyway, but also untethered from it entirely, because: “That isn’t funny.”
“It is when you hear the reason: they’re worried somebody’s going to try to claim they need Deceits—or something like ’em—as an aid. I gotta say, it’s times like this I can’t believe how lucky I got, you being a lawyer. You know how many back-and-forths I used to have to do with Legal before anything got finalized, back in the pre-Myka beforetimes?”
“I’m not a lawyer,” Myka said, and uttering those words for the second time this day did hurt... but she had to be honest: she was at the same time delighted. For did she take pride in consistently saving Certification and Compliance from having to go back and forth? Of course she did. She’d always thought, and now she had some real confirmation, that this was why she’d got her AAI job in the first place: to make this department work more efficiently.
It wasn’t the reward she’d wanted, wished for, dreamed of, to end her day, but it was what she had. In her first Helena aftermath, she’d had her anger but no job; in this one, she had a hollow where her anger had once been, but she did have a job. She had work to do—useful, valuable work.
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Summary: There is always darkness before the light.
Warning: Angry Roman, nose breaking, someone gets shot, language, sex
Roman, kicked the man in front of him in the back of the knee, he crumpled to the floor. Standing over him, he kicked him in the stomach, a few times. The man howled in agony. “You come to my club and drug my girl?”
Despite whimpering in agony he remained tight lipped.
“Now one more time, what the fuck did you do to her?” Roman, twisted and looked down at him.
“I knocked her out.” Said the man who Victor held at gun point.
The man, he kicked was still writhing on the ground. “Stop fucking moaning.” He kicked him again.
“She would have run up to you if we hadn’t.”
“How did you knock her out?”
The man grew silent.
He went to the man, and pointed his gun at him. “Fucking tell me.”
“Chloroform.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“Who sent you?”
“We....we can’t tell you that.” The man on the ground managed to mumble.
Roman, knelt down and grabbed the man he had been kicking, by his hair lifting him up. “You see this?”
“Please...please..don’t.” The man managed to get out.
“Watch?” He pointed the gun at the girl and the other guy. “Victor, make him kneel. Doll-face make her fucking kneel.”
There was a bit of a struggle but the man was soon kneeling and so was the woman who came with them.
He pulled back the hammer. “You gonna tell me who fucking sent you?”
“I...I can’t.”
“Wrong answer.” He met Victor’s eyes, and motioned for him to act. Victor pulled the trigger.
The gunshot sounded more like an explosion as it bounced off the walls. A scream ran out then, the man crumbled to the ground. His arm hung loose after the bullet connected with his shoulder.
Roman, looked back at the man he was holding. “Are you going to tell me now?”
The man visibly swallowed. “Tommy Three Digits.”
“See was that so hard.”
Roman, looked up at Victor. “That asshole kept me on the phone. That fucker. He’s gonna pay.”
Off to the side, you convulsed and made a horrible sound behind Roman. He glanced back at you and despite the anger that was hot in his vains, anguish filled him seeing you like that. “What the fuck did you do to her?” He slammed the butt of the gun into the man’s nose, breaking it. He screamed out in agony clutching his face
Letting the guy go, he went over to you. You were ashen, he holstered his gun. He pulled you up, in front of him. “Y/N, talk to me. Y/N.” Your head lolled from side to side. There was no determined line of vision in your eyes. Your eyes were watery and a milky like substance drooled from a corner of your mouth.
“How much chloroform did you fucking give her?” Roman hollered.
Roman, gently put you down on your side. He went back to the man whose nose he broke was whimpering. The other many was holding. His arm, blood running over his fingers they he held over the gunshot. Going, over to him Roman took his gun back out. He aimed and shot the man in the head.
The girl freed herself from Victor’s girl’s hands. “Why did you do that?” She looked up at him with anger in eyes. She went and grabbed the dead man to her, rocking him to her chest. “You...you animal.”
Roman, shrugged. “None of you had to fuck with us. You could all still be alive. Talk to Tommy Three Digits.”
You moaned softly. He looked back at you again. Your whole body, convulsed again. Liquid now exploded from your mouth. It had a putrid, acrid smell, that immediately filled the air. Not caring, Roman went over kneeling beside you. He pulled you up again, searching your eyes. “Baby...baby.” Your watery eyes finally met his. “Roman?”You said weakly.
“Yes!” He immediately, held you to him. You felt brittle in his arms as if you could break at any moment.
“Get them the fuck out of here. They can have one bag of food.”
He closed his eyes, leaning his head against yours. Feeling you breath against his throat, melted alot of his fear that he had not realized filled him.
Opening, his eyes. He looked back at the girl who was openly weeping. “Hey, you snap out of it. You didn’t have to come here and he did not have to chloroform my girl.” He looked at Victor, “Get them the fuck out of here. “You tell Tommy three Digits, he fucked up.”
*****
Easily, he held you close to him as he carried you to the elevator.
“Roman?” You asked, your voice sounding far away, distant. “Roman?”
“Daddy, is taking care of you.” Guilt riddled him, you had told him to take care of business upstairs. But he could have fucking stayed with you. Next time, he would go with his instincts.
“Ok.” You said simply.
He walked with you to the master bath. He wanted to get you cleaned up.
“Stay right here.” He said softly, as he put your down on the bench in the bathroom.
He stripped of his suit-jacket, his holster and his gloves. He sprinkled your favorite bath-salts into the tub. Turning the faucets just so he made sure the tub would be at a good temperature.
“Roman,” you called your voice was wavering in strength.
He came back to you. Kneeling in front of you. “Yes, baby?”
“I don’t feel so good.”
He brought you over to the toilet, holding your hair. Your body convulsed again, more acrid smelling liquid flew out of your body. He reassuringly he ran his hand up abd down your back. His face wrinkled. He would make them pay for making this come from you. You did it one more time before the dry heaves came.
He brought you back to the bench. You began to look like yourself oldself, even color began to fill your cheeks again. He filled one of the glasses in the bathroom with some cool water. “This will help you.” He handed you the glass and holdong your hands he brought it to your lips. “Can you hold it?”
“I will try.”
******
Victor, did not want to give them the bag of food but he had to do what Roman told them to do.
“Your glad, boss didn’t want me to take his face.” He hissed at them before locking and fortifying the door once again.
“Victor, should I go and check on Roman and Y/N or do you want me to help with the clean up?”
“No, go and check on her. Tell him, if he wants I will go into that blizzard and make them pay. I do not care.”
“If you do, I am coming with you.”
“Tell him that.”
*****
“I should have stayed with you baby.” You heard Roman say.
“Roman, it’s not your fault.” You replied.
Some water splashed, peaking around the corner you watched as they shared a kiss. You were in the tub and Roman hung in from outside of it washing you.
“Close your eyes.” You heard him whisper.
Looking, you saw as Roman rinsed the shampoo from your hair.
You gave them a moment, then knocked on the door.
“Yes!” Roman, said. He sounded tired.
*****
Roman, turned to the knocking and saw Doll-Face, standing there. “Yes!”
“Victor wanted me to check on you and Her.”
“She is feeling much better.”
“My head is killing me, Doll-face but I am good.” You whispered.
“Good. Roman, what would you like Victor and I to do?”
Roman, looked at you and back at Victor’s girl. He gestured with his hand. “One moment.” Getting up he grabbed two glasses, one with fresh water. The other held your tooth brush and toothpaste.
“I am sure you have been wanting these baby.” He gave them to you. “Do you think you can managed for a moment?”
You gave a soft smile and nodded. “Yes.”
“Ok, good. I will be right beside the door.” He assured you. “Now, excuse me, baby.” He said to you. He went over to where Victor’s girl stood.
He walked a little past her and into the hall. “I can’t expect you to get involved.”
“After, what just happened to her I am invested. She has become my friend.”
“If that is what you wish.”
She nodded.
“Alright, clean house. If you see the girl, she still has a pass along with any other girls, wives children...what have you. Anyone else is free game. However,” he held a finger up. “Bring Tommy Three Digits, here. Tie him up. We’ll keep him in the vip lounge.”
“We got this,” she smiled at him. “Boss.”
“Just don’t let Carmine hear you.”
She chuckled.
“Alright, go and have fun.”
“We’ll be more than happy to handle this.” She looked past Roman. “See you, later Y/N I am glad you are doing better.
******
Inside, you felt like there was a fog hanging over you. Whatever, they had done to you, left you feeling like your entire being turned to jelly.
You could barely, hold...use the toothbrush but you managed. The fresh mint was refreshing to your senses. It helped to clear your head further.
Though, one thing was certain in your heart. Roman was your rock. You had no idea what you would do if he wasn’t in your life at the moment.
As he came back to you, after talking to Zsasz’s girl you smiled up at him. You were certain that he broke the agreement that all of the Rogues had made at the beginning of this lockdown. You hoped it wouldn’t cause a kernel resentment towards you. This could cause a bloody war.
You took his hands as he came to kneel beside the tub. “I am sorry you had to break the agreement.”
He shrugged. “I’d kill all of Gotham if it meant you would be safe.” He swallowed.
“Roman.” You shook uncontrollably as your emotions ran up and down your body for him. You wrapped your arms around him, you burrowed into his shoulder. You pulled back. You cupped his face with both your hands. “Tell me what you did.”
He looked at you, the force behind the look made you shudder.
“I broke the one guys nose. And the man, who did this to you,” A smirk curled his lips. “No longer walks among us. This lockdown has a new casualty.”
You shook again, it hit you right in your center. He had done this for you repeatedly. Breaking his code. Things were supposed to remain and be strictly business.
First, Jareth after he destroyed your studio. Then the man who felt you up, beat you up during the kidnapping. And this man, who had come up behind you and drugged.
Roman’s smirk had fallen. Something, tugged at his eyes...his mouth. You had lost yourself in the delicious memory of how he took care of these men after they violated you.
As your eyes met his, he spoke. “You have finally become disgusted or afraid of me?” He said, his voice devoid of regret. It was simply empty. It sliced through your heart.
“No!” You punctuated your words with kisses. “No! Not at all! Roman, I love you!” You kissed his mouth...his cheeks...his nose..his forehead...his chin.
You saw the spark ignite in his eyes the more you pressed your lips against his chiseled features. His lips finally began pressing back themselves.
You cupped his cheeks once again. “I need you, Roman...I need you more then I ever needed you before.”
He slowly stood up and helped you as you stepped out of the bath. He grabbed a towel he toweled you dry. You steadied yourself on his shoulders as he did your legs. He tossed the towel, then he picked you up. Going through the doorway, he carried you. The placing you on the bed, he stripped away at the rest his clothes.
He came over and climbed on top of you. Your limbs and legs entwined holding each other as close as a breath. Your lips finding each other, they did the speaking along with your tongues. Dancing and moving to their own rhythm expressing the love between the two of you.
A giggled broke between the two of you when your rolled as one til you reached the middle of the bed. Your lips meeting once again, speaking for the two of you.
You felt as his hand caressing you as he moved it down your body till it came between the two of you. A moan came forth from the two of you as you were finally one again. His hand, his arm pulled you close again.
Together your moved, your moans mingling. Your fingers entwining in his hair, his scalp warm to your fingers. Your breathed in his breath....he breathed in yours. Your bodies sliding against each other as your bodies tight building in the pleasure the two of brought and gave the other.
“Roman,” his name broke your lips, coming from deep within you. Your moans growing louder.
“Y/N,” he moaned, your name. His moans grew more ragged, you could feel as his body was tightening.
There was no questions, there was no pleas and tonight there would be no holding back.
His lips were kissing and pulling at the sensitive skin of your throat when you shook as you drew close.
Tears, filled your eyes which you could not stop then flower as you called out his name holding him closer still, your nails dug into the soft flesh of his back.
He kissed the tears away, and gave your impossibly deeper kiss which had been salty at first but then sweetened once again, taste of only him. As you felt trembles run over his body. His eyes, such a clear blue, a blue that one could swim in. He tightened even closer to you, shaking. Your drank in his moans, kissing his chin and jaw as it went slack as your me burst from his mouth. “I love you.” He breathed.
“I love you too...so much.” Your kisses broke as each spasmed rolled out from his body.
Rolling as one a final time, your found yourself astride him. Gently, moving with some reluctance, you were two again. Though, with no hesitation, he held you two him and your legs entwined.
Some time went by as you laid like this, your breathing finally evened out yet your hearts still raced for each other.
“I thought I lost you, when I saw you laying there not moving.” His thumb caressed the contours of your face. “Then I surely thought you were going to die right there in my arms. You were so far away.”
You flattened his hand against your cheek. “I am not going anywhere.”
Once again, your lip spoke more of the words that could not be found to be voiced.
******
Victor, had cleaned the place and brought back to how it had been moments again by the tome you came back down to him.
“Thank you for doing that, Victor.”
He smiled, “Anything for my doll-face.” He leaned against the mop. “How is she doing?”
You smiled, “She looked much better.” “Good. And what did Roman have to say?”“He gave us the go ahead.” “We can’t make you join our fight.”
Sitting off to the side, you sipped your drink and watched as Thomas, played pool with a random human. Stopping, a moment he leaned over. “Hi baby. Do you think I can make this shot?”
You nodded. “I think so.”
You delighted in watching him play. Life had changed so much over the centuries. As much as you were Thomas’s there was so much you could do now that before would have been unthinkable.
This was an elegant place, very old and established. You remember that there had been a time when it had been a men’s only establishment. Now, things were different.
That was why you had followed Alywin’s whims for so long. Without him, your ability to exist would have been rather bad. You never saw him around his other creations, but you knew he enjoyed having you around. You didn’t know yet how, but you had to find some way to get him to finally leave you and Thomas alone.
Your musings were interrupted when the scent of a ghoul, it tickled your nose. Rolling, your eyes it wasn’t as if there was any food laying around. Getting up, you went into the other room, where the air had grown thick with cigar smoke to get another drink.
“I’ll have another one please.”
The barman smiled and nodded. He had a good memory and made excellent drinks. He always added an extra cherry.
“Excuse me, but have you been here before?” A voice asked, its timber that was familiar but sometimes, human voices did that.
Turning, you realized you did in fact know who it belonged to. You remained cool. You had no desire to open that door. He had been a tool you needed. He was nothing more.
“Only, recently.”
“I don’t know about that.” He persisted.
You smiled at the barman and took your drink.
“Sorry to disappoint. I only just moved to the city.” You began to walk away, when his warm human hand grabbed your arm.
“You’re still cool to the touch.”
You looked at him and your arm and back again, he let you go.
“I have bad circulation.” You continued to walk away, but he caught you in the hallway.
“Look, I have a flawless memory despite now being in my seventies. I know you, but you haven’t aged.” He whispered the last bit.
You put your drink down. You were getting annoyed now. Ages ago, you had hired him to help you get a better handle on your Egyptian. The immortals there, looked down those that didn’t know their language. If you were a woman it was even worse. You had been wanting to go back to Cairo, so you reasoned it was time to freshen up on some things.
Walking towards him, unease finally began to fill him. “Do not make me call on the mighty Anubis?” You said smoothly in the dialect he had taught you all those years ago.
His pulse picked up considerably when he heard you. His back bumped into the wood paneled wall, it startled him and his eyes grew even larger. You remembered how superstitious he had been, you leaned in close. “ ‘ana 'uwnadd” (I am the undead in Arabic)
He grew pale and moving fast, he was out on the sidewalk and was running to his apartment on the west side.
Chuckling, you retrieved your drink and went back to watch Thomas play pool. The stench of the ghoul assaulted you as you walked back.
As you walked in, you caught sight of her standing incredibly close to him. He had won the game, and she was showing him how happy she was for him.
Looking her over, you immediately could see why they had a past, she actually looked like she could be a distant relative. Who knows, you never kept up with your family. It had been to painful.
She was quite pretty, well for a ghoul. She most likely had reminded him of you, when they met. Perhaps that had been the allure.
You could hear, how she was trying rekindle something, she basically offering herself to him. You could equally feel his annoyance but also his amusement. That part furthered the foul mood your former tool had brought out in you.
You finished your drink, you honestly don’t know why. It wasn’t as if it would diminish the annoyance level that had been building in you.
In the back of your mind, you shouldn’t care. Thomas and you were going to renew your vows. Just mere thoughts of earlier and you wanted him all over again. But right now, all this tore you to pieces, you had to leave. So grabbing your purse, you left. You barely looked at him and her as you did.
The night air felt good, since you were not searching anything out all the scents merged and nothing was too over powering.
As you walked, you recalled conjuring your reflections. You smiled, remembering how you both looked in each others arms.
It had weakened you though. Sure, he brought you a fresh meal and having a nip of him had filled you but creating your reflections took its toll. You were emotionally and physically drained.
Insecurities, anguish worthy of centuries sliced away at you. You knew there had been ones that brought a smile to his face or had kept his bed warm. She was probably one of them, since she resembled you so much.
“Y/N. What’s the matter?” Thomas, spun you around, grabbing you by your upper arms.
“I don’t know.” You said weakly, you wilted in his grasp.
He enveloped you in his arms. The two of you stayed just liked that. You needed it. “I’m sorry if I upset you.” He said, against your hair. Pulling, back he met your eyes.
“I am just in such a weaken state, I...I...”
“What do you mean?” Concern, etched itself across his face.
“Conjuring, our reflection makes me weak.” You told him.
“Then don’t do it or do it and” a smirked curled his lips. “Bite me, then watch what you do to me baby.”
Your lips curled, “I never thought of that.”
“We will get you a meal or two that will be all yours. Then I want you finally to not just feel what you do to me, but I want you to watch as well.”
“I will like that a lot.” You whispered.
He cupped your cheek. “Till then...” he said excitedly and he began swaying and moving easily with you.
“Thomas?”
“We never got to dancing.” He said simply.
Following, his lead on those dark sidewalks in the middle of New York City, came easily. He twirled you twirled, dipped and you held each other close. Your giggles, became one as bubbled forth.
Your mood began to lift, you knew with absolute certainty that you would always follow his lead.
Summary: The trails of being together a dead body still bothers Alex.
Warning: sex on the beach
The sounds of traffic was so far away, it was the sounds of crashing waves that surrounded the you. As you shivered under Alex’s arms, he pulled the extra blanket around the two of you.
“Y/N, you do want to run away with me right?” You could hints of the Alex that had been so shattered by disposing of Hugo. It caused so much pain in your heart to hear.
Turning, you could see the echoes of that pain and anguish. You cupped and caressed his cheek.
Leaning, in close you nuzzled him. “You want to disappear? I’ll disappear with you.” You whispered and gently you began to kiss and gently nibble on his throat. You loved the taste of him. Reaching between you, you made quick work of the buttons of his flannel shirt. You let your hand caress and seek the warmth of his torso.
His arm around your hips tightened.
“You feel so good.” You whispered.
In the fading light of the autumn sun, you met his stormy blue eyes and you kissed him. Deepening it, you made small sound that only came from the pleasure of kissing him.
You could taste the flavored coffee he had drank earlier in the day, mixing with his own taste. Sighing as you kissed him, you let your fingers nestle into his soft strands.
You jumped slightly as you felt his cold hand slip up your thigh, under your dress. “My hand is cold baby. I need to warm it up.” He whispered and kissed you again.
Feeling playful yourself, you slipped you hand under his t-shirt. Then he was the one who jumped slightly “I was cold too.” You whispered giving him kisses again till it deepened once again.
With a soft move, he brought your legs over his while keeping them under the warm blanket. “I want, I need to hold you close.”
Easily you wrapped both arm around his throat, while your head dropped back as his lips made you melt while speeding your heart up. You lost yourself in feeling his lips on your throat. Your eyes were half closed. “Alex.” You breathed.
“Wait...” You put a hand over his as you felt his fingers on your panties.
“Baby, there is no one here.” He whispered.
“But..but..” You swallowed.
He softly, chuckled as you felt his fingers again the wet fabric. “I love how wet I can make you.” He whispered against his lips.
He had managed to to make you want more. It did not take much. “Touch me, Alex.”
You could see the smirk, that curled those lips. “Oh, so you want me to touch you now baby?”
“Please.”
His fingers slowly moved against panties. As you moved gently against his teasing touch, you held onto him tighter. You could feel the cool night breeze as he now be finally pulled your panties off and he stuffed them into his jeans.
“Allow me.” You moved, so you could straddle him sitting on his thighs while draping your arms around his throat once again.
“Baby, look at you” He whispered, looking up at you as you settled and then your lips met. You gasped against his lips as his fingers grazed you once again.
Sliding easily against him as you kissed increased your passion for him. Reaching between you, your hand drifted down till you felt him. “Oh, Alex.”
“That’s what you do to me, baby.”
A soft moan came from you. You felt yourself get wetter as you felt him pressing against his jeans.
You sat back a little, “Alex, please.”
He smirked in the growing twilight. His eyes glinted in muted light.
“So my baby no longer shy?” His fingers teasing you pulled another moan.
“Yes.” He reached between you undoing his belt and pulling his jeans down.
Your name broke his lips as you slipped down on him, arching as you did. Settling, you began moving. His hands slid under your dress, squeezing and holding your hips. You pulled down the front of your dress, undoing the front clasp of your bra, and your breasts bounced free.
Bending, your head down you met his lips and kissed him. Your tongues, lips finally consumed by your passions. You were already so aroused, it was not long till you felt yourself getting close. You whimpered as the cool breeze, swirled around you arousing you further. His lips and tongue left your mouth, it felt as if he was going to devour you.
You whimpered, “Alex, that feel so good.”
He squeezed and moved you closer to him.
You gasp and a sharp moan was ripped from you as you found yourself under him. “Oh Alex. Yes..yes...” you panted.
As he moved within you, you felt every thrust. He pulled all sorts of sounds from you.
“Baby,” His eyes met yours.
“I’m all...” Your words became a passionate. “yours.” You shook hard under him. “I’m gonna cum Alex...” you moaned.
“Cum, for me Y/N I want to hear what I do to you.”
You gasped and moaned under, filling as if it was being ripped from you came. His lips moved up your throat, his breath warm as he trembled.
Alex growled, he gasped and called out as you felt him cum hard inside you. You made moaned under him. Breathless you both laid there.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to walk.”
He chuckled and kissed your shoulder. “I’ve gotta do that to you more often.”
******
“Did Slimer from Ghostbusters throw up on you?” He chuckled.
“Maybe? I was thinking it’s a relative of slimmer. What do you think of it?”
He rose an eyebrow.
You desperately pulled down what little you could of the neon green fabric. “Alex, it is rather different, isn’t it?”
He came over you, “Actually, you could wear this just for me.” He smirked as be came over to you.
You playfully pushed him away. “Maybe.” Giggling you disappeared back into the fitting room. You came out with another dress, but you both shook your heads about that one. Too casual. The next one rained glitter with every move you made. So that was a solid no.
Finally you slipped on the was one and you gasped. It was flowed and even twirled a little. You loved it. You had to hold it up since you didn’t have ant heels on. You hoped Alex would like it too. He stood up and came over. “Wow,” he whispered. “You look amazing.”
Thankfully, finding Alex a tux was not that hard. He came out with the first jacket. He looked so dashing. You came up behind him, and wrapped your arms around him. “You look so handsome.” You met his eyes in the mirror. He smiled back at her. His lips curled up the one side. “Don’t I?” You playfully pushed him.
With your perfect dress, the one that was a distant relative of Slimmer and Alex’s tuxedo, the two of you continued to walk around the boutiques.
*****
The two of you found a quaint sit down Chinese restaurant to eat at. Taking a booth in the back, you both ordered heaps of food.
With his brow furrowed, he fed you a dumpling. This time he succeeded. You made a happy sound as you happily chewed it. “I did it.” He smiled.
You surveyed the plates, “what would you like?”
His eyes lit up. “I’ll have some of that sweet and sour chicken.”
“Would you like me dip it into some sauce?”
His eye lit up. “Yes.”
“I can do that.” You smiled sweetly.
You held the chopsticks like so, then you went in for the piece of chicken. That was easy, now to dip it in the sauce. You took a breath. Gently, you dabbed at the sauce.
“Oh, a little more then that baby.”
“Ok.” You pressed your lips together. The chicken began to slip but you got it. You held it a little tighter then you brought it over to him. He opened his mouth just enough. He grabbed the piece and happily chewed.
“We got this!” You smiled at him. “Alex, come here.” He leaned in, then you did as well. Though, instead you gently licked away the spot of sauce at the crook of his mouth.
“You two, happy couple. Would you two like fresh donuts for dessert “
You and Alex looked at each other and nodded.
“We’d love that.” He sighed, “I am so glad you’re here by my side. He placed a kiss on your temple.
“Me too.” Sighing, you wrapped your arms around his middle.
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