The Muse Collection

Fine. She was fine. She’d been dead only a few hours ago. The reminder cast a shadow over him, dimming every light in his eyes. And suddenly he was lost in a nightmare that he’d lived. He recalled how the colour drained from the world, leaving him emptier than he’d been before he’d met her. The world seemed crueler than he’d ever known it and the memory of it haunted him. He hadn’t been able to sleep. Did she realize? Did she realize how much power she had over him? That he couldn’t stop trembling at the idea of her heart stopping and the life leaving her body forever?

Did Claire know that he could destroy him without ever touching him?

‘I assume you’ll want to drive yourself.’

His attention drifted back to the world, to the living self of Claire that stood before him. Pale unlike any normal human, but with colour enough in her cheeks to tell him that she was alive. And her eyes, that stormy grey-blue that were the first colour he’d ever seen,  they held understanding in them. They knew of the hesitation that he had and they held the same fears. Was it presumptuous of Roy to guess that she was just as affected to be in his presence and he was in hers? He wondered if there was a type of soulmate intuition. He wondered if he should even risk any more presumptions after what had happened so many months ago. There were still so many questions about who they were to each other that they hadn’t had a chance to be answered before he’d jumped to conclusions and hurt them both.

He could only nod in response, not trusting the words in his mouth. While Roy had refused to keep running from her, it would take him time to trust all that they were. To do more than hold their relationship that a delicate butterfly that could be broken or fly away. It was simply the _love_ that he could no longer deny for the life of him.

‘Meet me around back, by the orchard. The path will be lit up.’

“I’ll see you then,” Roy murmured, watching her turn away.

‘Don’t go,’ he wanted to say, and didn’t. It would surely kill him - this pain at having her near and the pain of having her far. This paradox he would never understand. When Claire entered her car, he forced himself to turn away.

Roy had spent many days and nights preparing himself to go on outings with her, whether they were dates or just company for jobs that William sent out. Yet he couldn’t figure out what was appropriate to this one. Was this a date? No… it wouldn’t be. He still had no idea what he was walking into - if it was good or bad. So, in the end, he settled for business casual and black. It was the type of wear that he would use when he went out on what would either turn out to be peaceful or aggressive business negotiations. Then Roy arranged his hair to be far more orderly than it had been when she’d come before, as he’d been practically disheveled before. Without his magic, the golden brown and nicely cut hair that he favoured was replaced with the natural raven-black from his birth. After that, he could only pace and wait as the minutes ticked by. His powers were still evading him so he settled to walk to his car and do what he could to stay calm and collected as he drove to her directions.

He came to a garden. It was closed off and beautiful, the type of place he would have easily settled in. His hand itched to grow the flowers and bushes that much bigger and brighter for Claire, if only he could sense his magic. But magic or not, Roy still felt the familiar and welcoming embrace of nature’s life as he stepped through and followed the lights. It kept him at peace, even as his heart hammered in his chest. He followed the glow and the sound of a gurgling fountain to come to an even more beautiful, concealed area. His eyes widened as he took it in. For a moment, all fear left him and all he could think of was how much the place reminded him of home - of memories that he’d shared with Claire. The flowers were reminiscent of Scotland and the willows concealed the area the way they used to conceal his mountain escape. His eyes finally settled on the paved area where the black cushions welcomed him towards garden comfort. And there he saw her - the tall, lithe body with her long, platinum hair. Roy held his breath as Claire turned to face him. But he wasn’t afraid any longer. He found his courage as he approached her.

“Did you arrange this place yourself?” He asked. Roy held her gaze, a mixture of hope and uncertainty in his eyes. “It’s brilliant… I just- I wonder why.”

------ As Roy entered her garden, Claire would’ve sworn the air left her lungs in one burst. He’d always seemed so at home among nature, which only made sense, but to see him in this, her most private of places....it felt like he was coming home. To her home. His movements seemed less tense here, and she couldn’t help the tiny smile that flitted across her face at a being in his element. Despite her nerves, she had to admire the beauty of him, especially here, in this moment. His hair seemed deeper, and though he wore his usual black, there was a radiant darkness to him.

She inhaled deeply as he approached, nodding slowly. At least she didn’t have to figure out a segue to explaining the garden’s purpose, her purpose in bringing him here. “I’ve always had gardens,” she began, clearing her voice to rid it of the slight tremble that shook her words. “I don’t have to explain their benefits to you, I’m sure. But this one is special. It’s only mine. Not even William has set foot in here. You’re the only visitor.” Claire paused, then pointed toward the far end of the garden. “Those are for my poisons. Then there’s all my night blooming flowers. Some for bouquets around the house, some for cooking or perfumes. They’ve been here for years, but these,” she paused again, pointing to the flowers that more immediately surrounded them, “these I planted after I met you. Planted them because of you.” 

Glancing behind her, Claire moved to take a seat on the bench behind them, not entirely trusting her legs. “After you showed me your home with that illusion room. There wasn’t a flower the same shade as your eyes, so I settled for the next best thing - Scottish bluebell.” She gestured with one hand to the plants that surrounded them, a veritable carpet of soft periwinkle, that shade somewhere between blue and purple she’d come to love.

A deep breath escaped her, and she forced herself to meet his eyes. Could he see that her knuckles were white as she gripped the cushion beneath her? Did he notice she’d not been able to stop bouncing her foot since she’d sat, tapping the concrete quietly? “I almost destroyed it after...we’d fought.” The words were delicate; she didn’t want to dredge up bad blood, only explain herself as best she could, make sure she was honest with him before they decided to do...whatever it was they were going to do. She knew she wouldn’t do it at all if she didn’t do it now, that this was her last chance to try and salvage anything with Roy. Even just his respect, perhaps his presence now and then. Her chest was tight at the thought of losing him again, so she instead braced herself and plowed forward.

“I was particularly drunk one night after that, and came out here to do just that but...couldn’t.” Her voice was soft, and she swallowed. “It was like being surrounded by you. By calm, peace...the things I’ve really only felt with you. And...I couldn’t let that go. I still...I can’t do it even now. So I came out here to sit instead, to try and heal.” Lips pursed against the flood of emotions she wanted to voice but didn’t have the experience to translate into words. “This place is where I feel the most myself, and I couldn’t get rid of these flowers. Not when being with you is the only other time I’ve felt that way.” 

‘I guess you’ll just need to give me a dozen or so more rides to places, or beat me at a few more games I thought I was an expert at.’

Rose had chuckled at that, grinning at the memory. 

‘You don’t owe me for that, you know I know you joke, but you seem like the type to believe in something like a life debt.’

All manner of amusement faded as she frowned, brows furrowing. No one would have easily pegged Rose to be intense or dramatic so she was surprised with how Markus seemed to think so. The truth was, she was afraid for people to leave as her parents had; she had always done what it took to keep those she cared about from disappearing. From Jonah, a man to which she quite literally owed her life to, to friends that she might have simply failed in some way or another. Even the simplest act of forgetting to pay someone back would make Rose rush to find the money in any way possible and buy them extra lunch or dinner to boot. And she never forgot when she made a mistake, or when someone had done her a kindness. Memory of an elephant, they liked to tell her.

‘It wasn’t anything really chivalrous, just me making sure no one had to die at the hand of those jokers. I would’ve done it for anyone.’

Smiling again, Rose glanced over briefly.

‘Although I guess I do like you a bit more than a random passerby.’

“I would hope so,” she muttered, the smile withstanding. “I don’t stick my neck out at my job for just anyone…” Rose didn’t wait for his instructions to turn into the correct street. “That being said, I do have to make a confession that I may have peaked over my coworker’s shoulder and saw your address in your documents already so you don’t actually have to tell me…” She slowed the car down as a few buildings came into view. “This it?” 

Something solemn flickered over Rose’s face at his words and Markus wondered if he’d made some awful misstep. Before he could think too hard about it, however, she turned that sunshiny smile at him and returned his quip with one of her own. Not for the first time, Markus doubted whether or not she ever stayed mad or upset for more than a few minutes at a time. Maybe she was just exceptionally good at hiding it; there was, after all, more to this girl than met the eye. He’d already learned that the hard way.

“Look at you, abusing your privilege,” he chuckled after she’d spoken again, not at all upset by her actions. Though he’d never been the most tech savvy individual, Markus knew that his address was certainly public information and, more importantly, that Rose wouldn’t do anything nefarious with it. She was more likely to send him gifts than use it against him. If they pulled up to a bunch of flowers and chocolates on his doorstep, Markus wouldn’t be surprised.

He craned his neck to see past her shoulder and gave a little nod. “Home sweet home,” he said, with no small amount of self-deprecation. It was not a grand apartment complex, and nowhere near the nicest place he’d lived in his years on this earth. But, for the time being, it was where he slept and stored his shit, and that made it home as far as he was concerned. He undid his seatbelt with a swift motion and turned a cocky grin to Rose as he opened the car door.

His body felt alight with the desire to run. Running was something Roy Murdoch did best. Running from his family’s killer in the Scottish Highlands, running from various wars, running for the fae court in West Hollow, running from various enemies throughout the years. Evasion was an art he had perfected. Evading hurt, death and, worst of all: loss. True loss could not be felt if you had no connections to anyone. Everything had been black and white in every sense of the word. To do, to not do, the good, the bad, the exact plans he had for every scenario he might come across. He never could have suspected that someone would bring him so much colour. With colour came brilliance, beauty and joy unlike anything else but also the fact that life was not so simple as black and white anymore. He could be afraid to love but want it nothing more in the world. He could never feel braver than when he was at his most vulnerable.

He could wish to run now when all he knew all he wanted to do was stay with her. Love was such a complicated paradox.

He hated it. But he couldn’t deny it any longer. Spilling his truth had taken every ounce of his strength and he stood stark still even as his muscles itched with the desire to turn away before she could punish that vulnerability. Before, perhaps, she could snap or brush away his apology. Her hesitation was agony with every microsecond. Roy was restless with fear. His eyes darted away from her in the moment it took for her to respond.

‘Can you come by the estate tomorrow night? I…I think I have something to show you.’

He looked back at Claire, puzzled and anxious.

‘Or…maybe tonight? I can call William, make sure he’s gone. I’m not sure how long my nerve will last…’

“I —” A beat. He exhaled some of his tension and found himself nodding. “Of course,” he said hoarsely. Did she want to hurt him? Kill him? Question him further about what he had done to her? It didn’t matter. If he was walking into death and destruction or salvation and mercy, Roy decided he was done with running. He clear his throat and continued. “I can do that. Tonight.” An inquisitive, suddenly worried pause. “Is something wrong with the spell? With…” You. What if this was only that they needed him again? It wouldn’t matter if they did, he’d go regardless. But the thought of something that might have gone wrong sent his pulse in a frenzy.

She knew that pause in his words, that look on his face; she could hear his quickened heartbeat as he accepted her invitation. He was tense. Not unjustly so, she thought. Did nerves plague him? Was he afraid or excited? Was it a mixture of relief and anxiety that flooded him as it did her? There was no way of knowing without asking, and Claire didn’t think she was quite ready for that yet.

Claire shook her head briefly, glad of a straightforward question with an easy answer. “No, the spell...I’m fine.” She flashed him a small, reassuring smile, absently wondering the last time she’d actually smiled and meant it. Certainly not since she and Roy had parted after their fight and that was at least a lifetime ago, it felt. Every bit of colored vision since then had been a painful reminder of what they’d had, and she’d found it difficult to summon up enough cheer to force a smile.

“I assume you’ll want to drive yourself,” she said to interrupt her own thoughts, shuddering internally at how tense that car ride would’ve been. Just the two of them, stuck in a confined space with the suffocating weight of recent events between them. It would’ve been almost as bad as reliving their fight, something she wanted to contain to her nightmares rather than real life. Clearing her throat, Claire started the engine to her car again.

“Meet me around back, by the orchard. The path will be lit up.” She pursed her lips and nodded, as though cementing the decision. Before she could say anything else she might regret, Claire rolled up the car window and pulled out her phone, opening her text messages with her brother.

[I have business with Roy tonight at home. Make yourself scarce.]

[Meeting is over. Consider me vanished.]

There had barely been a pause between the delivery of her own message and William’s response, but she’d held her breath waiting regardless. The vampire paused, resting her head against the steering wheel and loosing a long, surprisingly steady breath. Anxiety simmered beneath the surface of her skin, but having made the decision brought her a sense of closure that overrode her nerves.

Her fingers tapped restlessly against the steering wheel the entire drive home, a tattoo that beat in her head for the walk to the back orchards and gardens of the estate. Over the course of her lifetime, Claire had planted countless flowers and gardens, cultivating them all carefully for her purposes - food, poisons, enjoyment. The garden here, however, was by far her favorite. It was grand in an understated sort of way, tucked into a corner of the grounds and surrounded by native trees she’d left mostly untouched since they’d moved there. It was her own private spot, not one open for guests, and it practically screamed her name. A fenced off section contained the plants she grew for poisons; it was flanked by a small orchard of fruit trees and a prettily arranged series of flower beds full of night blooming flowers. The full moon shone down on them, and her fingers habitually brushed the white petals of her moonflowers as she passed.

‘Your parents weren’t soulmates? Huh…’ She shook her head. “No… They could see in color, but they had marks… They just didn’t match. I never knew if it bothered them or not.” Perhaps it might’ve, she thought. Her parents had only been together for a few years, never truly romantic and always obsessive over their work as far as she could remember and as far as Jonah was able to tell her. Rose liked to hope that they really would’ve worked out. She liked to think they loved each other for more than just their work. Mostly, Rose liked to hope for true love regardless of some divine intervention because she didn’t know if she’d ever be lucky enough to find a mark that matched her own. It helped her not to think about it. 

‘Must’ve gotten some looks at school, especially if they went on about being monster fighters.’ Rose chuckled, though looking a bit crestfallen and thoughtful. “Probably,” she replied, letting out a small scoff. She smiled and continued on with the clear intention not to let any sad thoughts get the best of her. Even more than a decade after their death, some things seemed to bring back the emotions of a lonely little orphan, but she’d worked hard to be more than that. It was surprising enough she’d somehow felt comfortable enough to even mention her parents in front of Markus. Her friends knew her as the most vivacious, sweet and cheerful company they could have. Only Jonah, her father for all intents and purposes now, had heard Rose’s sad, honest tales.

As he explained his house, Rose grinned slightly and unlocked her car. They approached while he described his roommate and she started to wonder if they also thought Markus was as weird as she did. Privately, she hoped to meet them. Anything related to her new… friend (?) just seemed to pique her interest more than most things. “Right,” she murmured, opened the door and sliding into the seat. “It’s no problem,” she said with a small sigh. “You save my ass from gangsters at the dock and I… give you a ride from the Police station. We’re… almost even,” she joked lightheartedly.

I never knew if it bothered them or not. Markus wondered how old Rose had been when her parents died, then. Old enough to know what soul mates and marks were, but not old enough to have a deep conversation with her parents about their mismatched set. Or perhaps they just didn’t have that kind of relationship. It brought into sharp relief just how much he didn’t know about the woman. The feeling was a tad disorienting - she was one of the first people he truly enjoyed in quite some time, and yet theirs was still a fairly superficial acquaintance. Given that’s how he’d been with everyone for decades, it wasn’t unusual per se, but it was beginning to feel...lacking. There was more to know about this human, and he wanted to pursue it, if only to satiate his curiosity. He’d just have to fight a few centuries of preservation instincts to do so.

Clearing his throat, he slid into the passenger seat and buckled himself in. “I guess you’ll just need to give me a dozen or so more rides to places,” he chuckled, “or beat me at a few more games I thought I was an expert at.” His grin this time was broad and toothy, brought on by the more pleasant memories of that evening. He stretched his arms as far back as he could, briefly patting his hands along the inside of the car roof before letting them fall back into his lap. One of the downfalls of being as big as he was - never being quite comfortable in a car. Modern things just weren’t built for men of his size, though he wouldn’t trade modern amenities for anything.

‘Why did you bring me back?’

Because I can’t live knowing you’re not in the world. Because I love you. Because you’re worth more than anything I’ve ever found in centuries of living, including my own life. 

None of those words seemed to make it out of his throat. Roy had never thought himself particularly brave. Cunning, yes. Ruthless and ambitious? Absolutely. But brave, especially when it came to speaking the truth of how he felt… no. It didn’t come easy. He was well aware of how ironic that was. A fae who, by nature, was forced to speak nothing but the truth or face physical pain could not be honest about his own emotions. He skirted past them with a practice so honed and perfected over the years that no one had ever truly known him, no one but Claire.

‘I just need closure.’

He looked at her and that mirroring reluctance that he had and it only made his fear of speaking up that much more potent. Could she have moved on? No matter how much Claire could have been grateful and appreciative for what he had done, Roy hadn’t expected her to remember what it was like for them to love one another. He had hurt her. He didn’t deserve it, no matter how much he might have privately hoped and longed for it. But he could try to be honest, especially if it was his last chance.

“I… I was wrong,” he muttered. A beat. “I was wrong for accusing you of doing more than your job that night… For thinking that you weren’t loyal. I apologize.” Roy shook his head, teeth grit so hard that half of him was afraid he’d chip them. Almost every instinct inside him told him that this honesty was dangerous and he fought against himself. “I was afraid. I know that’s no excuse, but I’ve never had someone like you in my life before, Claire, and I made a mistake. Then I thought I was angry at you when I left New York, but I was really angry at what I’d done, what I’d become. And even if I was angry at you - do you really think I could have let you die? I had just returned to the city to finish the last of my business here when I got William’s message…”

Hesitation. He tensed with the memory. Roy’s eyes seemed far away as he recalled the blinding panic that had led him to think of only one thing and one thing only: saving Claire. He’d managed to forget their entire history in that single moment, only remembering that he loved her and he couldn’t live without her. He words spilled out as he thought of it, shaking his head slowly. “I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if… if anything had happened.”

Claire wasn't sure what she'd expected from Roy. Yelling, perhaps. Telling her to get the fuck off his property, that he didn't want to see her again. That this was an intrusion and if he'd wanted to be around her, he would've been. An apology hadn't even made the list of possible scenarios she'd mulled over during the drive. And yet, here he was, calmly and directly telling her he’d been in the wrong about his accusations. That he was sorry. She could see the confession was costing Roy a great deal, that it was a struggle in some way - either to talk to her at all, or to say what he was saying. His jaw was tense and she could hear his pulse, a steady but quick beat against his skin.

One long finger ran along the edge of the steering wheel and she let out an unsteady breath. She had been prepared to feel many things: regret, pain, sadness. But not...gratitude. Not hope. His words hit her right in the gut, a blow to her pride and what had felt like righteous anger. She'd wanted an answer, devoid of any emotion that may have gone with it, but she should've known you couldn't divorce the two. Not for something as huge and sacrificial as this. Roy’s lack of pretense had deflated her in the best way possible, but it also left her at a loss for what to say. Thank you felt too small. Anything flippant would be too harsh and dismissive of what he’d done, for which she truly was thankful, even if his action healed and wounded at the same time.

No, this required something grander. The fae had been big enough to own his mistakes, and she owed him the same honesty. Her heart clenched at the plan beginning to form in her thoughts, but she pushed past it. Whether or not Roy still felt anything for her beyond some kind of obligation to keep her alive, she knew it was in her best interest to admit her own feelings in whatever way she could. Her heart’s rebellion was a knee-jerk reaction of self-preservation she would’ve listened to before she met Roy, but that Claire no longer existed. It was a brutal truth she’d come to terms with when color entered her world; there was no avoiding that now. Even if this was the true, bitter end of what they had, she knew deep down that she had to show him.

‘If it makes any difference, you’re the only person I’ve kissed this…year. Maybe 16 months. I was drunk.’ Rose raised her brows, staring at him, unsure whether to be complimented or offended.

‘Look, my point is…just because I’ve kissed a few people doesn’t mean ours meant nothing. I…had a really good time out at the bar, up on the roof. Well, after I was sure you weren’t gonna fall to your death.’ Her lips managed to quirk slightly at that, some amusement hidden in those stoic features. She listened quietly. But though Rose had intended to be serious and not so easily swayed by his charms this time around, she could feel that resolve being peeled away with the softness of his words and the sadness in his eyes. He lifted her chin up gently and it was as though tickling electricity was snaking it’s way through her veins.

Her expression had softened up considerably by the time the crass joke left him. The moment it did, her eyes widened and she scoffed out in disbelief. “Oh, fuck off,” she breathed out, gently stamping her foot over his in a manner that was more playful than anything. Her face was slightly red. But as seemingly delicate and poised as Rose was to most, there was hardly any of that to be found once she’d found herself comfortable with someone. She was grinning afterwards shook her head. “Just… Come on,” she said, gesturing for him to follow as she took steps forward. “I’ll take you back home.”

“… And I wasn’t kidding, y’know,” she stated as they walked to the precinct parking lot. “My mom used to say our family was descended from ‘ancient monster fighters.’” Rose grinned at the term, air quotes easily detected in her tone of voice. “— that we could trace our lineage back to the Vikings and the Celtics. My dad believed in the same things and they weren’t even soulmates. Both of them talked about fairytales and monsters like I could be walking the streets with witches, werewolves and vampires and not know it. And sometimes you’re only slightly less weird than I remember them being so… take that as you will. If I bring you home is it going to be a creepy, dark manor in the middle of the woods?” Her tone was teasing. It was easy to see that Rose could no longer believe he was anything but a normal guy with a past as strange as hers; everything he had said about not being guilty had been taken as true from her. Even from the moment Rose had found out about it, as weird as Markus was, she just couldn’t have suspected that he’d actually killed the girl. Now it felt as though she could logically embrace that bit of unexplainable faith she’d had.

A gruff snort of laughter escaped him at her playful rebuttal. He’d been told to fuck off too many times to count, in too many languages to recall, but never as cutely. Though she still seemed justly skeptical of him, she seemed pacified enough to drop the Spanish Inquisition, and he breathed an inward sigh of relief. That’d been enough intensity for one day, though he wasn’t mad that it’d led to her smiling. It was becoming one of his favorite sights all too quickly, thought that sat a little uncomfortably with him despite their previous conversation. There were certain feelings he hadn’t addressed in the light of day since he’d seen the light of day. Being charming with Rose was not quite the same, he told himself; that wasn’t quite as soul-baring.

Scratching at the back of his head, he willed that train of thought aaaaaaaall the way to the back of his mind “Your parents weren’t soulmates? Huh...” His brows raised briefly, both impressed and a little surprised. People were people and would find ways to hook up no matter what, but in modern years, it’d been much more common for soulmates to have the patience and ability to find one another. Hell, there were even dating apps dedicated to it, which he’d contemplated a time or two before remembering it’d been 1,000 years without a match; why worry now? That train of thought was far too similar to the one he was avoiding, however, and he cleared his throat. 

“Must’ve gotten some looks at school, especially if they went on about being monster fighters.” He waggled both brows at her, as though the idea of such a thing was patently absurd. Internally, he couldn’t help but wonder what her ancestors must’ve done to gain such a long-lived reputation. Where there were vampires, there were vampire hunters, and there had been for ages. It was something worth pursuing with her later.

Belatedly, he realized she’d spoken of her parents in the past tense; how she remembered them being. He didn’t recall her mentioning them before, which made sense if they were departed. Not wanting to dredge up anything painful, he sidestepped yet another topic of conversation, feeling more than a little awkward. He’d forgotten how to be considerate in most conversations and had apparently gotten rusty at it. Rose’s last question, at least, seemed like safer territory.

The next few days were a blur that consisting of nothing of substance. He was a robot, acting on autopilot to make sure business was running smoothly by phone calls and emails and then making sure he ate food and slept enough. Sleeping had become more and more difficult. Roy had always been bordering on nocturnal but now he found himself tired on both days and nights and living off naps every few hours no matter if the sky was dark or light. Leaving the house wasn’t an option. Leaving the house meant he went to the city and risked seeing the Wandesfords. Leaving the house also meant admitting to himself it was time to catch a plane back to Europe. There was no part of him that truly and genuinely wanted to return to Europe, not without Claire. 

Memories of that day replayed over and over in Roy head no matter how much he tried to drive them away. A colorless world. The sight of those stormy blue-grey eyes. He found himself testing out his magic every other day and wondering if it would ever come back. Thus far there had been no luck but he couldn’t manage to care much about it. Madam Lia, his most trusted witch, stopped by every once in a while after she’d discovered his problem but even she couldn’t give him the motivation he needed to put effort into his magic. “Magic is a muscle that needs physical therapy as much as any other after damage, if you don’t try to get back into it - you’re going to lose it.” He argued that he had already lost it and there was no point in trying. Eventually she stopped arguing with him. Someone who wouldn’t stop arguing with him, however, was that mermaid. Athena Ray managed to find his address and stopped by every few days, even after he finally divulged the story of what happened between him and Claire.

“I know what happened, I just wanted to know what you’re going to do about it. You’re being a coward,” she snapped.

Roy reached for his cup of water and the mermaid willed it to slide over to her instead. “Go see her. At the very least, call her. You know she’s doing as well as you are nowadays. One of you has to stop this…” She willed the glass back to Roy who now stared at it silently.

“It’s none of your business,” he muttered coldly.

“You made it my business when you hurt her,” Athena retorted, getting up and walking over to him. Roy had since come to associate the smell of salty ocean breeze with something threatening. “Man up before you lose the one thing that gives your depressing existence some real meaning.” And with that, Athena left another day.

Another day passed and another. Being pelted with an angry mermaid’s words and his own very loud thoughts over time had left Roy thinking quietly to himself one evening as he stared down at his phone on the table. The truth was inescapable: he couldn’t be alone. Claire had destroyed what he’d once seen as wonderful quiet and solitude and made it into something haunting and terrifying. He knew what he was missing out on and that feeling never left him. Money and magic had never made his life full, it was the promise of sharing that and everything else that he loved with someone that he loved and who loved him in return. Could he survive another century or so knowing that he gave up on the one thing that made him happier than anything else? Could he go on living a half life? After an hour or so of dwelling on his thoughts he found his finger hovering over the call button.

And then came the text. 

You saved my life. You’d best make it up to me.

Roy stared at it for a good minute before he realizing how fast and loudly his heart was beating. And before he knew what he was doing, his trembling fingers hovered over the keyboard on his phone. But there was nothing he could think of to say. Roy growled and shoved the device into his pockets as he walked into his foyer. He snatched the coat of it’s hook and rushed out into the dark, chilly night hoping to get to his car before he lost all his courage. He kept looking down at the text in his phone until he saw the recognizable car in the driveway and froze in place. “Claire,” he breathed out, shocked and suddenly full of equal measures apprehension and joy. She was his very own emotional paradox and she was physically there, within distance of speaking. Yet he couldn’t think of what to say. Relief flooded through him as he could tell that she was back to normal, healthy and okay. “I-” Gulping and shutting off his phone, Roy shoved it into his coat pocket without breaking eye contact. “I was going to…” A sharp sigh. “— I’m glad you’re alright.”

After what felt like hours passed, Claire debated on just leaving. He never had to know she'd even driven to his house, that'd she'd been desperate enough to do so without any kind of real plan. That she'd attempted to look nice, perhaps even pretty, despite hoping he wasn't even home. Then she heard the front door open and his familiar footsteps on the ground; she'd know his gait anywhere. She held her breath then let it out in a slow, measured stream.

A non-committal noise escaped her lips as his words. Did he really care if she was alright? Would he have helped if he didn't care at least a little? Would he have left her again if there was something still between them? Her brain spun the familiar questions around once more. Ultimately, though, speculation was pointless. She'd come to hear the story of that night, not try and rekindle their shaky romance. At least, that was what she'd told herself. Something within her wavered at seeing Roy in person again; he looked skinny, like he'd been sick or sleepless. The sharp lines of his face seemed more pronounced, his eyes more intense. Perhaps she'd simply remembered him more kindly in her dreams.

Silence lapsed between them, a tension she eventually broke. "Why did you bring me back?" Claire asked quietly, resting her head against the inside window frame of the car door. She was too exhausted, in every sense of the word, to dance around the question. There could be only one way to soothe the gnawing at the back of her mind that had been present since she'd nearly died, and she just wanted it done with. The faster this confrontation was over, the faster she could go back to the black hole her life had become and forget about what she and Roy had had.

Though she wanted to follow her question with a dozen more - What did you have to gain? Wouldn't death have been easier for both of us? Why on earth would you listen to my brother? - she didn't. Instead, Claire only rubbed at her temple.

His mind was unfocused, unable to fully process the things he had gone through within the expanse of barely an hour. He could not feel anymore fear or gratefulness or sympathy. There was only relief. There was relief and some numbing, empty feeling that kept him from fully breaking down at the idea of leaving it all again, of returning to that existence he’d made for himself without Claire. She had ruined his life. There was a time where Roy was content and satisfied within a life of solitude and adventure - where he found purpose with his business and among his collection of magic. But now everything was bleak. Now every treasure he had, every success he earned and every possession that he claimed only made him feel lonelier than he ever was before. There was no purpose to life without someone there to share in the riches and the happiness, he realized that now. All his life had been over a century of nothing but a life half lived, trying to find feeling with things that only distracted him from the emptiness. Now presented with the opportunity to be that man again, he took it, regardless of the knowledge that he did not want it. He took it because it felt safer than feeling of rejection and loss that he had felt a few months back he and Claire had tended. It felt safer than feeling all that fear and hopelessness that had made a home in his skin the very moment that he thought Claire was gone forever. There was so much to feel - it was simply better to be numb to it all.

Movement and sound. It hit him like a revitalizing energy; it electrocuted his senses back to life. Roy stumbled back up from the floor to look over at the table as Claire stirred and her eyes opened. Without thinking, he simply looked to see that she was okay; it was all that had been wanting. Those startlingly bright blue-grey eyes of her’s met his and he felt the breath falter in his lungs and skin prickle like tingles of electricity in his veins. She looked at him. Their eyes met and for that slice of time, that measure of a second, he felt peace. That true, unexplainable peace that tasted like home and which lasted only as long as she looked at him. Her head lolled back to the side as unconsciousness took her again and Roy exhaled the breath he had been holding in. 

Frozen in place for a few minutes, he stared at as William and the doctor assessed her state. He loved Claire more than anything. Why was he leaving? After looking at her, after meeting her gaze, leaving her after what she’d been through felt so senseless - all he wanted to do was be at her side. But William turned to look at him and is words brought back the reality that he’d felt only a moment ago. ‘I won’t say a thing. But you should.’ Surely that Roy Murdoch that had decided to go without a word had had more sense. Surely he was right. This emotional, childish part of him could not be counted on, Roy thought. He gulped and hesitated in place, face stony and unreadable. 

‘She at least deserves to know how she’s still alive. Maybe you deserve her thanks. Maybe you both deserve each other as punishment.’

“As long as she’s alright, nothing else matters,” Roy muttered, buttoning the coat that he’d never even had time to take off. He turned around, walking towards the door and only pausing for a moment. “Take care, William,” he added, not looking back. He walked out. 

As Roy turned and left, William felt something within him break with unbearable sadness. His chest was heavy with unspoken mourning, with pain he knew his sister would feel upon waking fully. He also knew his feeling these things would do nothing to lessen Claire’s burden, just as he knew he couldn’t stop himself from trying to do so regardless. Letting out an eternally long sigh, the vampire brought his attention back to Claire and the doctor busy hooking her up to other monitors and checking her vitals.

The siblings spent another night there, safely tucked away in Dr. Stoker’s vampire-approved chambers, until Claire was able to move on her own accord. She’d been dealt a heavy blow, and even with her accelerated healing, it would take some time to fully recover. Weakened as she was, Claire only wanted to return home, to be left to lick her wounds, literal and physical. Once they’d reached the privacy of William’s car, however, she rolled exhausted eyes to him. “Was...Roy there? Or was...was I dreaming?” 

The elder Wandesford paused as he started the engine and started them on the path home. “He was not a dream, dear heart. He helped...no. I helped him save you.” He sniffed delicately and pulled onto the street. Claire didn’t press further, slipping into silence.

------

The next several days were a blur of painkillers, alcohol, and sleep. Even when Claire would normally be waking, she slept. It was the best way to heal, but it also meant she didn’t have to think or feel anything. Sleep was a blessed numbness that she desperately needed. And yet...she still dreamed. Some of them were bloody, in vibrant color, a distortion of her recent failings. UV lights, gun shots, Roy sneering at their mutual deception and leaving her behind. Some were soft and ensnaring, reminders of the thrills and gentle moments she’d shared with the fae. His eyes. His eyes. Welcoming, shrewd, piercing her own. Claire woke in a cold sweat more than once, no matter what the dream had been. The alcohol didn’t help, but she drank it anyway.

Curled up in her bed and lost between the sheets, Claire tried to recall if Roy had looked happy for that moment she’d seen him in the doctor’s basement. Was he surprised? Pained? Frustrated?  How much of her memory was faulty, given what had happened? Not being able to trust her recollection of things was maddening, an itch under her skin that she couldn’t quite reach no matter how she contorted or what she damaged in the process. It was enough to drive her to one conclusion: she needed to speak to Roy. It took her another week after coming to this decision to act upon it.

Despite what had happened to Claire, William still had business to attend to, even more so now as there was vengeance to be had for damages caused to his family. Knowing he’d set a meeting for that Saturday, Claire worked up the energy to shower and put on something presentable, if casual. She’d always felt she could hide in bulky sweaters, and feeling bolstered by that idea, she picked out the biggest one she owned; it felt like slipping into armor, and she needed it. Makeup, too, was armor, and it hid how lifeless she’d felt since nearly dying. How drained of color her world felt once again, despite the fact her vision swam with vibrant hues, a constant reminder of her attachment to Roy.

There were dozens of cars at the manse, and enough people milling around that her presence went unnoted. Without so much as a nod of hello to anyone, she grabbed a set of keys from the massive board in the garage, not caring what she wound up in; in this case, the destination was more important than the journey. Knowing full well she could be wrong, Claire nonetheless took a deep breath and headed toward Roy’s woodland home. She would never forgive herself if she didn’t at least hear the story of what had happened, learn why he’d even bothered to give her a second chance. Her heart was in her throat for the entire winding drive and her palms were sweaty against the steering wheel. Her stomach rebelled at the idea of being so emotionally vulnerable once more when they’d both proven this wasn’t something they could do.

And yet....yet you must. 

It was with a long, unsteady breath that she finally brought the car to a halt in Roy’s driveway and killed the engine. One hand, only trembling slightly, pulled her phone out of her purse and unlocked the screen. She repeated the process at least 10 times, mind going blank as she tried to think of what she would even say. She’d done the work of driving there - a task her healing body was not currently thanking her for - yet her mind refused to put anything to words. From where she sat, she had no way of knowing if anyone was even home, if all this was pointless after all. Finally, she shook her head and typed the first thing that came to mind.

[You saved my life. You’d best make it up to me.]

After reassuring William, he’d became quiet once more. The exhaustion hit as the remaining adrenaline faded away where he sat. Roy stared at the ground, finding the bits of colour within the dull grey of the floor. Those light blue-grey eyes of Claires… how he longed to see them. Yet, after what had happened he could no longer bare to look up to where she lay. Now knowing that she was safe, the memory of months alone and months regretting the things he’d said and done to her came crawling back with shame. The decision was felt like instinct rather than decided within his conscious thoughts and it felt like a rock sinking in the pit of his stomach.

William’s voice again. Roy took a breath as he started to look up. He hesitated before silently grasping the offered drink if only to be polite. But it lay untouched within his hands on his lap as the other two men set to fussing about the room and Claire. The decision stood that he had to go, he had to give her the space that he figured she’d been content with. There was no part of Roy that wanted Claire to feel as though she owed him anything for helping to save her life. Or perhaps it was simply a selfish desire to not have to look her in her eyes and hear her voice just to be told to leave again, because he wasn’t sure what would be more painful: to hear those words coming from her or to have to walk away after speaking to her again. 

William spoke again and Roy looked up once more. Silent afterwards as he leaned up against the wall with his hand to carefully get up on stiff legs that still felt like lead. “It wasn’t for you,” he said quietly. “And it wasn’t for me either.” A glance in Claire’s direction which he immediately regret. Roy kept his eyes carefully trained on his former associate afterwards. “I’m not expecting Claire to change her mind just because I came to help her.” His skin still felt cold. And when he tried to summon a bit of warmth to his hands, it was clear that the elemental magic he usually possessed would be dormant for some time while he recovered strength. Or it was gone. He wasn’t sure, nor did he care at the moment. All that meant was Roy would be going directly home and be forced to stay out of work for a bit, which he didn’t mind yet. “I’m going to go. You don’t have to mention I was here; in fact, I’d be grateful if you didn’t.”

There was rebuke in Roy’s words, and William would be lying if he said it didn’t sting at least a little. The both of them had Claire’s best interests at heart, and that apparently did not necessarily require niceties toward one another. Swallowing his pride, William, too, stood and nursed the cup of coffee; it was good for heat, if not for drinking. “Fair,” he said tersely, though his next words were cut off as he caught faint movement on the table.

A long, shuddering sigh left Claire’s body and she lay still for several heartbeats before both eyes struggled to flutter open. William turned at the sound of her breath, feeling his heart leap into his throat. The doctor, too, seemed surprised and he took a step back in case anything violent accompanied her stirring. At first, Claire’s gaze was unfocused, directed at somewhere at the space above her brother’s head. Some part of her seemed to recognize Roy’s presence, however, and those blue-grey orbs fixated on the fae’s face. She inhaled, deep and uneven. Her lips parted ever so slightly, into something that could’ve been a smile, and then she once again succumbed to unconsciousness. It was a strange sight, the peaceful expression on her bloodied body as she lay limp again. Like some medieval battlefield painting of a saint’s last battle.

After waiting several minutes to see if Claire would fully wake, William finally turned back to Roy, still pondering his last words. He hesitated, chewing his lower lip, and then let out a quick breath. “I won’t say a thing. But you should.” He was too tired to try and walk the many lines his relationship with Roy involved: the respect of a business partner, a fellow immortal and man; the wary protectiveness of Claire’s brother; the command of Roy’s previous employer. His heart was aching for his sister, and it was the only thing he could act on. In that moment, he was certain she’d want to hear about Roy’s actions...but not from William. No, if she was going to go through what tonight’s events entailed, it was best she go through it with her soulmate. Like it or not, that was the role they still occupied for one another. Fate did not need William’s intervention, it seemed.

“Of course I was worried, you idiot,” she muttered. In her soft, calm voice it always seemed strange to people when she blurting out the rare insult. Most of the time, like in the current situation, it was only a way for her to relieve some of her own stress. It was half playfully, but it didn’t mean that she wasn’t annoyed Markus had had to put himself in such a situation. Rose grabbed his arm and steered him off with her to exit the building. There were too many people she knew lingered about

Rose thought of the last time she’d seen Markus, the unexpected but pleasant kiss on the rooftop. She thought of the first time they’d met and the unbelievable way he’d been able to get rid of an entire group of mobsters. It hurt her head to wonder who this man truly was. Jonah, the man who had practically raised her and who she trusted more than anyone, would have surely told her to steer clear. Roselyn, however, had never been one to be careful. Like the parents that who had so carelessly lost their life, their daughter had a habit of letting a curious brain and enormous heart rule the survival instincts she should have had.

The moment they were outside it was a back door, a way that most of the police took to get to the parking lot. It was empty at the moment and Rose stopped by the wall to cross her arms and look up at him. Blue eyes scanned him like a hard-to-read book. “You know… I don’t know what sort of people you get with or- or what sorts of situations you like getting yourself into. I know you’re strange and mysterious and definitely lying to me, or at least keeping something from me… but I care about you. You know?” She proclaimed, almost annoyed. “And I’m willing to tell you anything. I don’t invite just anyone to parties with my friends or to dance or… I don’t just kiss random people, Markus. I just… I want you to tell me the truth because you can trust me. I feel like there’s a wall with you and I’m stuck on the wrong side of it.”

He blinked in surprise at Rose’s vehement words, allowing himself to be dragged off while he finished chewing thoughtfully on another handful of the stolen trail mix. It was easy for him to forget just how seriously mortals could take certain events, ones that rolled off his back without a second thought. Sure, being pulled down to the station was annoying, but it was no real threat to his person or lifestyle. He could easily up and leave if things became too complicated for his liking, as he’d done a thousand times in the past. Although, the thought of leaving the city when he’d just gotten so cozy didn’t thrill him. Especially since it would likely mean leaving Rose behind as well. His brows furrowed at the idea as they came to a stop outside the building. 

Part of him wanted to make some joke about her leading him somewhere private --All you had to do was ask, you know--but the expression on Rose’s face, coupled with her wounded words, wiped any thought of levity from him. Fuck. Once again, his past was coming to bite him in the ass. This right here was half the reason he usually avoided attachments; it meant he didn’t have to worry about coming up with cover stories or dealing with people’s suspicions. But here he was, somehow having earned the trust of this petite blonde angel, and he was already letting her down.

Aggravated with the whole situation, and with himself, he reached up and rubbed at his face. A sigh escaped him and he moved to lean against the wall next to Rose. “I’m not lying to you, Rose,” he said softly, hoping she could hear the sincerity in his words and the fact he’d used her real name. “All the gods that ever were and ever will be as my witness,” he continued, raising one hand as though swearing an oath, “I had nothing to do with the death of that woman. I was just at that bar when shit happened, that’s all.” Broad shoulders rose in a shrug. There were a million other things he couldn’t tell her, shouldn’t tell her, and he wished he could also say with any honesty that he wasn’t hiding anything from her. Markus had a reputation for being brutally honest, but there were some truths that couldn’t see the light of day. That wall she sensed was for her own protection and she was most assuredly on the right side of it.. It’s for her own good, he reminded himself. Even if he did trust her.

One corner of his lips quirked up in a faint smile as he latched on to something else she’d said in an attempt to lighten the mood a bit. “It’s good to know you don’t just go kissing random passers-by, though. Bad for your health,” he said, chuckling faintly. He found himself feeling a bit possessive at the idea of her sharing a special moment with another, but that was perhaps another truth best left buried. Fewer hurt feelings if things soured the way he expected them to. She said she was willing to tell him anything now, that she cared for him now, but the vampire had learned that rarely lasted. That was the other half of why he avoided attachments.

Gone, gone, gone… No. She wasn’t gone.

Roy couldn’t feel his fingers any longer. Coldness had seeped into his bones and everything in his body seemed to be slowing down or giving up except for his heart. Bless the thing - it beat at double it’s natural speed in a last ditch effort to maintain the body that was set to shut down at any moment. It was that heart that kept him strong enough to stand on his two feet and keep his hand on the totem long enough to see and hear that heaving gasp from Claire. Pale and tired but he kept his hand on the totem and maintained the quiet spell. He looked at the doctor instead of stopping, hoping for some indication that she was strong enough - that there was life in her, not just the semblance of it.

‘There is life in that body yet, boys, though you’d best quit before you lose your own, fae.’

Letting out a haggard exhale, Roy did not lift his hand, he merely let it fall weakly to his side. Staggered backwards, his legs shook as he let himself slide down the wall to sit on the floor and gather himself. Immediately he felt his fingers warm up, the blurriness in his mind ebbing away. He could only stare at the bed where Claire still lay as the truth started to settle in. She’d be okay. She had to be okay. She would be okay. The horrible argument they’d had and the months that he’d spent away from her were all but forgotten in that moment. For that moment, nothing else mattered.

He barely heard the doctor’s voice as he said they had to wait. He sat on the cold floor staring up at the bed and realized, for the first time since he let go of the totem, that there was some colour flooding back into his vision. Slowly but surely it expanded from the sides of his vision until it reached the middle. He let out a dry sob when it did, a scoff of air leaving his lips and his body untensing so he bent his back slightly. Too tired for tears, too tired for anything but letting the relief take him as he stared at the ground. “… There’s colour,” Roy breathed out weakly, barely audible. He was only now realizing that William was still there. That the brother of his soulmate would have wanted to know that his little sister was going to wake up.

Dreamlike, William’s feet dragged him to the corner the doctor indicated, stopping only once he’d run himself into one of the chairs. He sat down with a heavy breath, completely ignoring the coffee and indeed anything else. Claire was a fighter, always had been, and there was now a chance that she may make it through this. He knew better than to get his hopes up just yet, but a faint sense of relief flooded through him nonetheless and he let out a long sigh. Whatever had seen him through until just then -a cocktail of adrenaline, stubbornness, and caffeine- faded and had left him feeling more than exhausted. He’d never understood the term bone tired until then, and he hadn’t even done that much, truthfully.

It’d been Roy who did the heavy lifting. William’s initial feelings of failure, of being an insufficient protector, clashed with the realization that Claire may no longer need him in that role. The cognitive dissonance of that thought made his head hurt and he rubbed at his temples before closing his eyes. Claire was his sister, and they were closer than most other siblings he knew. She would always need him, as he would always need her, but...she was not helpless. And she was not alone. It was, perhaps, no longer them against the world. Was that such a bad thing?

He hadn’t realized he was staring unblinkingly at Roy until he spoke, and even then, it took several moments for the meaning of his words to sink in. There’s colour. Claire was indeed holding on. While William had no words for his relief, it was a moment tinted with reminders of his own loss. For him, the world was still just shades of grey and he suspected it always would be. Did one get a second soul mate? Did one’s heart ever mend over the loss of one? He pushed that thought away, along with the throbbing pain of grief that never seemed to leave him, and nodded.

“Thank you,” he breathed at long last, scanning Roy’s face for a moment rather than numbly staring at it. The words were too small for what he wanted to convey. They didn’t capture the gut wrenching panic that had been quelled by Roy’s actions. They were too insignificant for the life debt both he and Claire now owed the fae, yet William knew they were the only words suited for the job. More often than not, William was a man of action rather than words, but there was equally no act he could perform that would repay Roy for what he’d given. So instead, William roused his weary self and managed to set the coffee pot to brewing. Its percolating was oddly loud, one of the only sounds in the basement room, and it was rhythmic enough for William to zone out to until it was finished. He filled two cups, grabbed a handful of individually packaged sugar and creamers, and joined Roy on the floor.