Hiding from the aftermath

[godofcologne]

It had been late, almost sunrise, when Thomas made it back indoors, arms stiff with exertion. He headed upstairs with every intention of cleaning the guns and then collapsing in bed, but the note on his bed changed his plans. The gym bag went under the bed and the kukri went in his hand. Leaving his clothes in yet another pile on the floor, he

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[godofcologne]

She pulled away, the madness untangling itself from the Hunger, and Thomas felt irrationally alone when she did. Her hands on either side of his face relieved some of that loneliness, but then she began speaking and it was as if someone had simultaneously pulled the floor out from under him, kicked him in the gut, and clubbed him over the head.

There was so much fear in her as she spoke; he could feel it in her hands, against his skin, still tingling on his lip where she had kissed him. And then she had put all that he had known in the back of his mind into words, turning those easily repressed vague intuitions and feelings, into crystalline truth. It hurt to hear it so plainly, and he almost flinched as if he'd been slapped.

Silence hung between them as he fought for words, fought the immediate denials that sprung to his lips, fought the urge to run and never look back. He raised his hand and brushed Drusilla's face with the pads of his fingers, meeting her eyes. They were blue again, clear and startling, against his own dark grey. Clear skies and storms. "I can't ask you to, because it would hurt you." The words were simple, but every one of them felt like they had been ripped from somewhere deep inside him.

"I..." The lie caught in his throat; he had promised her the truth. "I... I can't." He pressed his lips to her forehead, closing his eyes, whispering against her skin so that he wouldn't have to look at her even as he felt everything she was feeling, knowing it would cut him like a thousand knives. "I will walk through the gates of Hell for you. I will come for you anywhere if you ask me to. I will storm Olympus itself if it will make you happy."

His eyes were burning, and he braced himself, knowing the knife would fall with his next words. "But what you're asking for, I can't give."

It was selfish of him. He knew it. To feel that brief moment of elation at her words, to know that there was enough left within him to be loved, and yet not be able to offer it back as wholeheartedly. It tore at everything left in him that wasn't hunger and corruption and Thomas feared some little bit of himself died with the words he spoke.

He pressed his lips to her forehead again and tasted of ashes, bitterness on his tongue. He didn't want to pull away, didn't want to meet her eyes and see what he had done with the gift she'd given him. But he did, pulling away slowly, ignoring the insistent burn in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Dru."

[dead_drusilla]

Her eyes were unflinching. "How vain you are."

Slowly, she raised herself uncaring the the white cotton sheets fell away, exposing warm pale flesh. Her head bent forward, and her hair covered her features. Now he knew why she feared, or at least a very small part of it. Her hands were laced in her lap. They were painted a whimsical blue and pink.

It would have probably been easier if she cried. Or if her heart was breaking. He couldn't ask her to, because it would hurt. But lies hurt too. And lies hurt her worse than anything. There was a lie somewhere, and she couldn't even tell where it was.

"I didn't ask you for anything, Thomas." Her voice was quiet. So very remote. But accepting. As if she had been through the talk dozens of times with similar results.

"You twist the blade, even though I didn't ask you to."
The worst part of it all, she thought, was that she forgave him his words. There was such a forgiveness and understanding. An innate sweetness at her core. How very Drusilla of her, to smile as she faced his words. She didn't need to cry, she had already cried for this particular moment. In his arms at Zero.

Tonight was not the night she had seen. The stars were still in the sky, and though she felt like sobbing, all Drusilla did was pull the overs over her when she lay back down. "How selfish I have been to tell you something you hoped you would never hear from me."

Even as she said it, her voice rang with it still. She loved Thomas, and that could not change. Drusilla turned, her body curling in on itself. She looked up at the canopy, and wished she could sleep forever.

[godofcologne]

Thomas didn't move when Dru sat up nor did he say anything in response to her words. Every single word made him flinch, and the fact that there was forgiveness in her words made it worse. When she laid down again, pulling the sheets over her and curling up in on herself, Thomas sat up.

He wanted to reach for her, wanted to touch her, and speak to her, but there was nothing he could say. There was no justification for the fact that whatever he was, vampire, demon, the devil in angel's clothing, he was a being that took what others offered, that inspired such emotion, took them and left them empty, left them dead. The fact that Dru, who had no soul judging by what Isaac had said about Angel, somehow managed to love him but he, with soul intact, could not return it, was bitter knowledge. How much less human did that make him?

The mattress dipped beneath him as he moved, standing up. In a few hours, he would have figured a way to deal with this, but for the moment he couldn't stay. Thomas tried to speak with nothing but apology, but the words came out heavy with sorrow, self-loathing, and care.

"I should leave."

[dead_drusilla]

"No you shouldn't."

The way she moved was like a dance. Fast and flowing, the sheets sliding over her body. There was a hand on his hip, and a kiss to his back. Her body pressed into him, knowing that it would not make him stay. Drusilla knew she couldn't make him stay. It would be cruel of her to, but didn't mean she didn't want to. She knew how this felt, from both sides. Knew and understood so well. A selfishness rose in her, one that wanted to beg him to stay.

"I-" Her voice stopped, and there were dozens of things she could have filled in.

Need you. Want you. Apologize. Love you. Should have pretended otherwise.

"It's not your fault." Drusilla took a step back, her hands falling to her sides. There was nothing but warmth and understanding for him. No hints of jealousy. Nothing but an unconditional love that she could not take back. It was no one's fault. It was simply how it happened.

"I will see you later, won't I? And tomorrow there shall be a party." She sounded very much like herself. Carefree and impish. A mad girl in a sane world, where the whole night would be filled with nothing but laughter and kisses and light from the sky.

"It will be small and grand. A birthday party. For the house." When Drusilla crossed in front of Thomas, she looked like she was already picking up pieces of herself. He didn't have to stay. Not if he wanted to go.

[godofcologne]

What Thomas wanted and what Thomas thought he should have were often polar opposites. He should leave, should run far far away before he hurt her with another truthful word, before she forgave him again for things he couldn't forgive himself for. He wanted to stay, to make her smile and touch until the distance between them didn't feel so raw and bleeding.

Harry was right. Justine was right. He was a romantic idiot.

He heard her words and didn't hear them, instead reaching for her and kissing her, slowly, tentatively. His teeth nibbled lightly on her bottom lip, never deepening the kiss unless she wanted it. "There should be dancing," he said. "Will you--" 'Wait for me?' 'Forgive me?' 'Cast me aside and love Edward and Lacrimosa and someone else who can give you everything?' "Will you dance with me?"

[dead_drusilla]

No one could give Drusilla everything, even if she herself gave everything. It was just something she accepted. Drusilla didn't want summers in Chicago, or a happy quiet home for the two of them. She didn't ask for anything except perhaps warm thoughts. A night spent together banishing the demons they both faced.

It was hard to face him, and even harder to kiss him. As she always did with him, Drusilla wrapped her arms around his neck, and leaned backwards, taking in the warmth of his touch. She didn't even bother to cover up the feelings that came with it. Desire, and a supreme bittersweet taste that covered everything.

It left her wanting more. Drusilla thought that she felt so very whole and broken all at the same time. The feeling wouldn't last long. It couldn't. "I will always dance with you Thomas, you have only to ask me, and I will cross the floor for you."

[godofcologne]

His arms wrapped around Dru's waist instinctively, pressing every inch of skin he could reach. Desire and something else, something he couldn't put a name to, sang to him, and tasted like ashes and honey. One hand slid down to rest at the small of Dru's back and the other trailed up her spine, caressed her shoulder, and down her arm until it held her hand. Thomas swayed lightly, bringing her with him in a silent waltz.

"You've given me too much already," he said, lips at her ear. "I shouldn't have asked." The smile on his lips was sad, apologetic, even though she couldn't see it. "Let me cross the floor for you." Let me give you everything you ask me for.

[dead_drusilla]

Love was a paradox. It left her full and empty, it cut her deep and sewed her up. On tiptoe she followed him, one leg behind the other slow and filled with quiet grace. To be near him now was to find the music in silence. Whole orchestras saturated in emotion. It struck her to create something for him, to render the room a ballroom, to render the world theirs. To show him how much she cherished even the simplest touch. But she worried it would carry the same taste of longing, delicious and unending.

Drusilla pressed against Thomas, a faint smile on her lips. Loving Thomas was like walking through the most dangerous of gardens. She might never get to the actual roses or taste the sweetness of the blackberries, but it was glorious to try and she'd accept the cuts and tears that came with it. "And I would still give you more," she whispered, a small laugh on the end of it, "If only because you deserve it." And perhaps it made her happy, even when it hurt.

[godofcologne]

When Dru pressed against him, more skin against skin, everything she felt fell into sharper relief. There was that bittersweet longing as before, the desire. But there was something beneath it all, a faint infinite sweetness, the tiniest tendril of joy. He wanted that to be all Dru felt, that hint of happiness, but Thomas refrained from reaching for that shining thread, not wanting to sully the purity of it with the Hunger's touch.

"If you fill my head with sweet things like that, I will become unbearable to live with," he teased softly, feeling a little of his equilibrium return, having found something besides a longing he could not ease in her touch. "And Edward tells me regularly that I am impossible as it is." He kissed her hair, a light brush of silk against his lips even as he swayed to unheard music, guiding them both back towards her bed. "Another party? At this rate we will never do anything but dance and drink ever again."

[dead_drusilla]

"It is the house's birthday, Thomas. So we must have a party. There will be cake. But no death." Delicate hands ran down the front of his body before she allowed herself to fall backwards onto her bed, bouncing on impact.

It was a romantic picture, her dark hair splayed over the rumpled bedclothes. Her eyes opened slowly, and she looked at him with a pang and a flood of happiness. It hurt to love him, it hurt but she understood it. Accepted it, and it made the hurt ebb. Drusilla would never be able to stop looking at him the way she did now. As if everything he was was the most perfect thing that had been created.

There was a peaceful smile on her lips, and a laugh in her voice, "Is that such a bad thing Thomas? Dancing and drinking and-" Loving. "Enjoying each other?"

[godofcologne]

The sight of Dru with tumbling dark hair wild against the white sheets and laughter in her voice made warmth flood through Thomas and he laughed with her, sitting on the bed next to her. "Not at all," he answered, drinking her in, grey eyes darkening as he did. "Not when you paint such a beautiful picture with your words, dear Dru."

[dead_drusilla]

"That is my secret talent." She put a finger to her lips, as she nudged his thigh with her knee. "Sssh, my darling. Tell no one, or everyone will want me to paint fancies out of verbs and phrases. And then it will not be secret or special."

And so it was that She had fallen in love with Love. Everchanging. Double sided. But as he was next to her, she remained whole and unsplit. Lightness where the could be darkness. Woe to the coming day when She lacks Her unbeaten heart. The absence of love is nothing to want and everything to fear.

"How silly we would be," Drusilla said with a pleased smile, "If we were not afraid. Or lacking in love. What a bleak exsistence the centuries would be. There is nothing wrong with fear and love."

[godofcologne]

Dru's words made Thomas blink, made him suddenly think of Lara and Lord Raith and the rest of his family. What a bleak existence the centuries would be without love. He was different from the rest of them, he'd known, but it had always seemed a failing, a weakness. The words she offered gave him hope that maybe it wouldn't be. The fact that he may have been given the answer from the mad-sounding words of a budding goddess seemed... appropriate.

Thomas stretched out on the bed next to Dru, raising his thumb to caress her lip. He leaned over then and kissed her, still lightly, offering but not demanding. "I promise I won't tell anyone," he said against her lips, and there was gratefulness hidden under the laughter in his voice. He kissed her again. "My lips are sealed."

[dead_drusilla]

There was one thought foremost in her mind. How lucky she was. Not Drusilla, but Justine. How fantastically lucky she was, wherever she was. She deserved more. They all deserved more. Drusilla wondered if she could do something about that. There may come a time in which all she had was more. Should they not be the first to receive it? Of course. She was a romantic too.

The simplicity of having Thomas' body next to her own was an unexpected joy. There had been a fear that he would never again lay with her in just that way. A fear that everything she had said would make him run. But for now, he was still there coaxing desire out of her sadness and beauty from a longing that would never quite go away.

"I don't believe you," she laughingly whispered. The love and delight in her touch, was something Drusilla couldn't help.

"No Thomas, your lips are never quite sealed," her voice was light filled with the simple pleasure of being exactly where she was at exactly the right time, bruised heart and all. "Not at all, but here, let me help."

The light fleeting touches over his arms and chest, the soft kisses to his neck; they all served a purpose. If only he realized how much there was in him to love.

No, she could not ask him to return it, but only to accept it. Accept that so many people saw so many shining things in him. She led small kisses from his shoulder to his cheek, and finally to his lips. Drusilla decided that if she could do that one thing, it would not matter that he could not give her anything in return.

[godofcologne]

The light touches of her fingers against his skin and the delicious feel of her kisses to his neck drew a wanting sigh from Thomas. "You are always welcome to help, lovely Dru." Without conscious thought, his hands were all of a sudden full of her hair and her skin even as he was filled with the taste of her, soft and yielding with depths as changing and constant as the sea and hidden sharpness.

Her kiss was so full that it left him breathless, and Thomas couldn't help but pull away, to look into Drusilla's eyes and smile. "What would you like to do, Dru? Face the night? Or shall we stay and laze in bed?"

[dead_drusilla]

Sunshine.

She felt it, something deep and familiar, underneath the love underneath the desire and lust. His question remained unanswered while she took Thomas in. How marvelous every part of him seemed to her. His grey eyes and his now tousled hair. How perfect he seemed in all his flaws. To touch him sent a pang to her, and the desire to do things. To be things. Better.

Good.

The breath caught in her throat, making her realize she breathed, That seemed to happen so often now. Drusilla ignored it. Thomas brought out an innate goodness. But there was no soul. You couldn't be good without a soul. But she loved without one. Thomas was proof. Edward was proof. Lacrimosa was proof.

Drusilla wasn't good. Though the more looked at him, the more she realized she may no longer be evil. She had prided herself on her wickedness her entire undead life. The meanest. the cruelest. The nastiest. But here in Thomas' arms, she was the vampire she could have been without Angel's influence.

There was a great confusion, and though she tried, Drusilla could not kiss it away. There was within her, an ever spreading goodness. Balancing the dark loveliness with light.

"I must explore the night and all of its whispers Thomas. Though I'd gladly spend all night exploring you." She kissed his cheek, and tapped his nose with a smile. Her emotions went into double time, and she did not want to be the cause of a headache, even if all of the emotions she was spilling out were light and glory. Reluctantly she left his side and padded into her bathroom, turning on the shower until steam rose.

"You know Thomas," Drusilla said softly, peeking her head out from around the door, "You never have to sleep alone while you're here." With a smiled, she retreated back into the bathroom. Her hands shook as she opened the kitten printed shower curtain, and stepped into the near scalding water.

It didn't wash away the goodness. It remained, having been there under the pain and hurt and twisting of centuries. It would never go away, and the more she realized it, the more it grew.

Maybe Thomas had given her something after all.