Same Words, Different Situation - Part 10
Guys. This is it. This is the last Chapter. 10 of 10. It took me over a year and a half, but it's finished. I really hope for all of you that it was worth the wait. Special thanks to glitterbats who has been the Papa D to my Vesca on LJ and AIM (literally, we RP them) and teh_kittykat who has beta'd certain parts and cowrote part of chapter 9, AND has given me ideas throughout. Thanks to everyone who has gotten into this. I really hope you guys enjoyed it. And I hope you like this last part. Enjoy! Now. Without any further ado...
Title: Same Words, Different Situation - Chapter 10
Fandom: Petshop of Horrors
Rating: PG-13 to R for the entire thing. Probably in the end it rates an R, for Vincent's mouth alone.
Archive: Ask and ye shall be as gods receive
Warning: Lots of profanity, flashbacks, reincarnation, possible errors about certain medical professions
Spoilers:Volume 10 of the Petshop of Horrors manga is mentioned, and will likely continue to be so. The Papa D/Vesca side story from Shin Petshop of Horrors might also be referenced
It really was perfect weather for a funeral. Overcast, cold, and with a constant steady drizzle of sleet. The ground was mostly frozen, and covered with a light dusting of snow from a few days before.
The mourners were mostly staff from St. Rita's Hospital. They were talking about the deceased, as was normal for a funeral. If you were listening, you could hear such phrases as "drove the motorcycle off the overpass" and "fell asleep at the wheel" and "very drunk."
Even Madeline was wearing black, which was all but unheard of for her. And she knelt down, placing a flower on the fresh grave. Then she started coughing when she smelled cigarettes. She turned, glaring at Vincent who was standing against a tree, under an umbrella, smoking.
"You jerk! You aren't supposed to smoke at a funeral!" she hissed.
"Considering that he died by stealing my motorcycle, he should be glad I'm doing anything for him at all," Vincent growled. "C'mere, Maddy, you're going to catch cold like that. You look half frozen already."
She sighed, brushing herself off, and she took one last look at Tony Harris's grave before walking over to Vincent.
"Aren't you even the slightest bit sad that he's gone?" she asked after a moment or two.
Vincent started leading her away from the crowd of mourners. He seemed to be thinking about it.
"Nothing I did could help him. Maddy, I'm honestly surprised it took this long. He'd been poisoning himself since I was born. Maybe before, I dunno. But he was half in the bottle my whole life. Sometimes a lot more than half. We never understood each other. And a lot of the time I hated him. I can't remember much of the love part, but I'm sure it was there when I was little," Vincent admitted.
"Vincent," Madeline murmured, biting her lip.
"It's okay," Vincent said, waving her off. "Well, maybe not, but it's gonna have to be, I think. It's kind of sad, really. The only mourners that are here are my friends, and that's more for moral support for me or whatever."
"You still have all of us," Madeline said, hugging him a little.
"Yeah. Thank god for that, Maddy. Sometimes, I think that you and the cat, and the others at St. Rita's are all I have to count on."
"Don't forget your harem of little girl patients who you played White Knight for," Madeline teased, grinning impishly.
"Yeah, well, they kind of fall into the St. Rita's group," Vincent said, shrugging. "Speaking of which, I got a card from Sarah the other day. She sent me a card, and some flowers."
"So that's where those weird colored poinsettias came from," Madeline mused.
"They aren't weird colored. They're rainbow colored. She wanted to have rainbow leaves and flowers, remember?" He was still pleased with how Sarah's case had turned out. He had managed to save her, even without D's help.
"What about D?" Maddy asked after a few quiet moments.
"Let's not talk about D, all right?" Vincent asked, shaking his head. "Not today."
And not after him being gone with no word at all for over a year and a half. Vincent wasn't sure if he was ever coming back. But it didn't matter. He was past that. Apart from the sleepless nights, and the occasional wondering where D was, and what he was doing, Vincent had put D behind him. Mostly because thinking about him either hurt or pissed Vincent off.
"All right," Madeline conceded. Then, a hint of her normal impish smile touched her features. "So... is there going to be a party now?" she asked.
"You mean a wake? Yeah. Best sendoff I can think of," Vincent said. "C'mon. Let's get to the car where it's warm."
He led her to the limo then. Maybe the weather would improve, even if Christmas was on the way. He just hoped that Christmas would be quiet this year. No father to haul him to mass, and hopefully no emergencies this year. Nothing too big anyway. Now all he had to hope was that his scars would stop aching from the cold weather. But that was probably a vain hope. And he didn't think Santa could deliver anyway.
*~*~*
December 24th. 9:37 PM. Vincent was working the ER Shift yet again. He wouldn't be off until tomorrow morning at 8 AM. He still wasn't a huge fan of Christmas, but at least this year his father wouldn't be coming by to try to drag him to mass.
He had actually just finished a surgery, and the patient had been stitched up, bandaged, and wheeled off to recovery. The poor man was a victim of a Christmas party gone bad, and Vincent was planning on visiting him later. As it was, he was still covered in blood and about to scrub it off when he heard a commotion going on outside.
"Um sir, madam... you can't go in there. Dr. Harris is in the middle of surgery," Vincent heard one of the nurses protest.
"I don't care. I do think that Dr. Harris will agree to see me."
Vincent paused, before stalking out and finding himself face to face with a nurse who was arguing with D.
"What the hell is going on?!" he demanded.
"Dr. Harris, I tried to warn him, I mean her, I mean this person," the nurse said, clearly flustered.
"Fuck," Vincent said eloquently, before stalking back into the other room and slamming the door when he went.
Derek, who had been out on a coffee break, walked in just in time to see that exchange. "So," he said to D, "you two know each other, huh?"
D blinked, looking at Derek. The young doctor was unfamiliar. "Who are you?"
"Me? I'm... going this way, actually. I have rounds to do before the end of my shift," Derek said grinning. "Beware of Vincent. He's cranky. But you already saw that."
And with that, Derek headed off, not even giving D a chance to respond.
"Yes, I suppose I did," D murmured.
Vincent stalked out of the other room about 10 minutes later. He had his jacket on.
"Dr. Harris, where are you going?" one of the nurses asked.
"Out for a cigarette. I'll be right back," Vincent said. And he cast around looking for D. Who was, he noticed, nowhere around at present. Which suited him just fine.
He went out to smoke and was on what had to be his third cigarette when he heard footsteps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and swore softly when he saw D behind him.
"What the fuck do you want?" he growled. "In case you didn't notice, I'm on shift. I don't have time to hear your goddamn explanation of why the hell you left or why the fuck you came back. You think you'd learn the concept of timing eventually."
"Vincent," D murmured. That was about as far as he got before the surgeon cut him off again.
"Oh, so you've been gone for a fucking year and a half and all the sudden it's 'Vincent' again?" Vincent asked, blowing out some smoke.
"Would you prefer I started calling you Dr. Harris again?!" D snapped.
"Fuck," Vincent muttered, dropping his cigarette and crushing it out. Then he sighed. "You and I need to talk. We really do. But I'm on shift. And I don't have the time to just leave and have the goddamn heart to heart that we need to have. Or whatever." He drew his jacket around him further. His arms ached. And he was cold. "I get off tomorrow at eight. We can do this over breakfast if you want. But I don't have the time to do it now. My patients come first."
And with that, he turned to go back inside.
D s stunned. He'd been expecting Vincent's anger. But he'd also expected Vincent to want to have it out then and there. But Vincent hadn't followed him when he left. So perhaps he shouldn't have been so surprised.
"I have to get back," Vincent said quietly.
"Vincent. Wait. We need to talk."
"I know. But I can't right now. I'm not Vesca Howell, D. I'm not going to drop everything for you. Do you get that yet? Or do you have to leave again for another few years to get it to sink in?"
D stared at Vincent, gaping like a fish out of water.
"Tomorrow morning. And that's your Christmas present. Night, D," Vincent said, before heading back inside. He had patients to care for after all. He didn't have time to argue with D all night.
And here he thought it would be a quiet Christmas. He really should have known better.
*~*~*
This was quickly turning into the worst Christmas ever.
Vincent had informed D that the kami would be the one buying breakfast before taking them to a diner that he liked to frequent. It was one of those holes in the wall that really was open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. Because of this, it was the kind of place that attracted crazies on Christmas day because most normal people were home with their families.
Currently, Vincent was sipping coffee and listening to the war that the people at two nearby tables were having with the tabletop jukeboxes. The soundtrack was flipping wildly between 80's music and Christmas carols. At the moment, Rick Astley was cheerfully informing the patrons of the diner that they knew the game and were going to play it.
Vincent was seriously thinking of killing all parties involved. He sighed, wishing that he could smoke in this place.
"You wanted to talk, D. So... talk. Before I kill those people playing with the jukeboxes."
"Their taste in music definitely leaves something to be desired," the Count agreed. But that was all he said. And Vincent sighed, before finishing his coffee.
"Do we really have to do this like a game of 20 fucking questions?" Vincent asked, before ordering more coffee. "Cause I don't have that many. I only have three."
"And what would those be, Dr. Harris?" D asked, sipping his tea.
"I'm going to ask them one at a time, so that you can't dodge any of them."
"That doesn't surprise me much," the Count said, rolling his eyes.
"Why did you leave?" Vincent asked, point-blank.
The Count shifted, looking uncomfortable. "I... the answer to that is not as important as you seem to think it is," he said finally.
"D, the time for you to dodge the question is over. You came back. So you knew I was going to ask why you left," Vincent pointed out.
D sighed, staring down into his tea. "Old habits die hard, Vincent," he murmured. "The last time I got too close to someone, I ran and I was chased for over twenty years."
"So... what? You wanted me to chase you?" Vincent asked, sounding a little confused.
"No," D said. "Though I was surprised when you didn't."
"I told you I wouldn't. I told you I had too many fucking things to do here."
"I know," the Count sighed. "You were very close. We were. I got scared."
Vincent blinked. He hadn't expected that. Or rather, he hadn't expected D to admit it.
"Scared of what?" he asked carefully after a few moments.
"Being in the revenge business doesn't really leave one much time for romance. Especially romance with people like you, Vincent," the Count said.
"People like me? You mean doctors?" Vincent asked, looking amused.
"No. Humans," the Count said quietly.
"Well... I hate to break it to you... but it doesn't really seem to me like you're really doing the whole revenge thing anymore," Vincent pointed out.
The Count snorted softly. "You've already asked me more than three questions," he teased.
"Yeah, but only one of the questions I originally had. But here's the next one," Vincent said. Really, D had answered that one pretty much to his satisfaction. "Why did you come back?"
The Count shifted, considering this for a few moments. "I read that article you wrote," he said finally. Which in Vincent's mind, really wasn't an answer at all.
"Which one?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.
"The only one I saw by you," the Count said. "The one in Lancet. I had to actually double check to make sure it was you that wrote it."
"Oh. You mean Why the world doesn't need Superman?" Vincent asked, grinning.
"It was still a ridiculous title, but yes," D said.
"Hey, I am still amazed that they published it with that title," Vincent said, shrugging.
Really, he hated doing research, but when he bothered, he went all the way. That article was all about how Caduceus, while it claimed to be on the cutting edge of medical technology, wasn't really necessary because it didn't really help anyone. Caduceus only helped patients who were disgustingly rich or who had some super-rare medical condition that they deemed worthy of studying. The people who really needed cutting edge technology, like the ones that Vincent saw? They couldn't afford Caduceus. And what good was an organization like that when they weren't really helping anyone. Throw in that he'd even gotten Derek to help a little on it... and that would be why Caduceus currently didn't want anything to do with either of them.
"I don't buy it," Vincent said, shaking his head. "That article was published months ago. Besides, you wouldn't have come back just because of that. Not after you left without a word, the way you did."
D sighed softly. "You are not making this easy."
"You didn't make it easy for me when you up and fucking left. Of course I'm not going to make it easy for you," Vincent said, a faint growl in his voice. "You came back, D. You knew there were going to be questions. So now you have to answer them."
"...You didn't follow me," D said quietly after a few minutes ticked by in uncomfortable silence.
Vincent stared at him. "You keep coming back to that. I'm not Vesca fucking Howell. I'm not going to spend 20 some years chasing you around the entire goddamn world just to give your ego a boost. Or whatever getting chased does for you. I had too many fucking things to do here to follow you."
"Perhaps that's the answer then," D said quietly. Because ultimately, Vincent wasn't Vesca. It had taken him running, and Vincent not following for him to finally, finally realize that. And really, he thought that both of them, and their relationship, was better off because of that.
Vincent considered D for a few long moments. And took a sip of his coffee. "So I guess the last question is are you going to stay?" he finally asked.
"I don't think I would have come back, only to run again, Vincent," the Count said. "I'm tired of running."
"So... where does that leave us?"
D sighed, finishing his tea. "I... would like to try it again. If you're willing. I mean... I know we probably just can't pick up where we left off but..."
"What we had was good," Vincent conceded. "I don't believe in happily ever afters, D."
The Count looked uncertain, about to protest, but Vincent wasn't done.
"I do believe in endings that don't suck though. Maybe we can have one of those."
"Maybe we can," the count conceded, with a faint smile.
Vincent smiled and breakfast finally arrived. Maybe this wasn't going to be the worst Christmas ever. It was turning into one that was actually tolerable. And maybe he and D would actually have an ending that didn't suck. Those were always much more interesting than a happily ever after. No matter what the stories said.
If the Rain Comes (Prequel ficlet)
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Who says you can't go home? - Part 9.5
Title: Same Words, Different Situation - Chapter 10
Fandom: Petshop of Horrors
Rating: PG-13 to R for the entire thing. Probably in the end it rates an R, for Vincent's mouth alone.
Archive: Ask and ye shall be as gods receive
Warning: Lots of profanity, flashbacks, reincarnation, possible errors about certain medical professions
Spoilers:Volume 10 of the Petshop of Horrors manga is mentioned, and will likely continue to be so. The Papa D/Vesca side story from Shin Petshop of Horrors might also be referenced
It really was perfect weather for a funeral. Overcast, cold, and with a constant steady drizzle of sleet. The ground was mostly frozen, and covered with a light dusting of snow from a few days before.
The mourners were mostly staff from St. Rita's Hospital. They were talking about the deceased, as was normal for a funeral. If you were listening, you could hear such phrases as "drove the motorcycle off the overpass" and "fell asleep at the wheel" and "very drunk."
Even Madeline was wearing black, which was all but unheard of for her. And she knelt down, placing a flower on the fresh grave. Then she started coughing when she smelled cigarettes. She turned, glaring at Vincent who was standing against a tree, under an umbrella, smoking.
"You jerk! You aren't supposed to smoke at a funeral!" she hissed.
"Considering that he died by stealing my motorcycle, he should be glad I'm doing anything for him at all," Vincent growled. "C'mere, Maddy, you're going to catch cold like that. You look half frozen already."
She sighed, brushing herself off, and she took one last look at Tony Harris's grave before walking over to Vincent.
"Aren't you even the slightest bit sad that he's gone?" she asked after a moment or two.
Vincent started leading her away from the crowd of mourners. He seemed to be thinking about it.
"Nothing I did could help him. Maddy, I'm honestly surprised it took this long. He'd been poisoning himself since I was born. Maybe before, I dunno. But he was half in the bottle my whole life. Sometimes a lot more than half. We never understood each other. And a lot of the time I hated him. I can't remember much of the love part, but I'm sure it was there when I was little," Vincent admitted.
"Vincent," Madeline murmured, biting her lip.
"It's okay," Vincent said, waving her off. "Well, maybe not, but it's gonna have to be, I think. It's kind of sad, really. The only mourners that are here are my friends, and that's more for moral support for me or whatever."
"You still have all of us," Madeline said, hugging him a little.
"Yeah. Thank god for that, Maddy. Sometimes, I think that you and the cat, and the others at St. Rita's are all I have to count on."
"Don't forget your harem of little girl patients who you played White Knight for," Madeline teased, grinning impishly.
"Yeah, well, they kind of fall into the St. Rita's group," Vincent said, shrugging. "Speaking of which, I got a card from Sarah the other day. She sent me a card, and some flowers."
"So that's where those weird colored poinsettias came from," Madeline mused.
"They aren't weird colored. They're rainbow colored. She wanted to have rainbow leaves and flowers, remember?" He was still pleased with how Sarah's case had turned out. He had managed to save her, even without D's help.
"What about D?" Maddy asked after a few quiet moments.
"Let's not talk about D, all right?" Vincent asked, shaking his head. "Not today."
And not after him being gone with no word at all for over a year and a half. Vincent wasn't sure if he was ever coming back. But it didn't matter. He was past that. Apart from the sleepless nights, and the occasional wondering where D was, and what he was doing, Vincent had put D behind him. Mostly because thinking about him either hurt or pissed Vincent off.
"All right," Madeline conceded. Then, a hint of her normal impish smile touched her features. "So... is there going to be a party now?" she asked.
"You mean a wake? Yeah. Best sendoff I can think of," Vincent said. "C'mon. Let's get to the car where it's warm."
He led her to the limo then. Maybe the weather would improve, even if Christmas was on the way. He just hoped that Christmas would be quiet this year. No father to haul him to mass, and hopefully no emergencies this year. Nothing too big anyway. Now all he had to hope was that his scars would stop aching from the cold weather. But that was probably a vain hope. And he didn't think Santa could deliver anyway.
*~*~*
December 24th. 9:37 PM. Vincent was working the ER Shift yet again. He wouldn't be off until tomorrow morning at 8 AM. He still wasn't a huge fan of Christmas, but at least this year his father wouldn't be coming by to try to drag him to mass.
He had actually just finished a surgery, and the patient had been stitched up, bandaged, and wheeled off to recovery. The poor man was a victim of a Christmas party gone bad, and Vincent was planning on visiting him later. As it was, he was still covered in blood and about to scrub it off when he heard a commotion going on outside.
"Um sir, madam... you can't go in there. Dr. Harris is in the middle of surgery," Vincent heard one of the nurses protest.
"I don't care. I do think that Dr. Harris will agree to see me."
Vincent paused, before stalking out and finding himself face to face with a nurse who was arguing with D.
"What the hell is going on?!" he demanded.
"Dr. Harris, I tried to warn him, I mean her, I mean this person," the nurse said, clearly flustered.
"Fuck," Vincent said eloquently, before stalking back into the other room and slamming the door when he went.
Derek, who had been out on a coffee break, walked in just in time to see that exchange. "So," he said to D, "you two know each other, huh?"
D blinked, looking at Derek. The young doctor was unfamiliar. "Who are you?"
"Me? I'm... going this way, actually. I have rounds to do before the end of my shift," Derek said grinning. "Beware of Vincent. He's cranky. But you already saw that."
And with that, Derek headed off, not even giving D a chance to respond.
"Yes, I suppose I did," D murmured.
Vincent stalked out of the other room about 10 minutes later. He had his jacket on.
"Dr. Harris, where are you going?" one of the nurses asked.
"Out for a cigarette. I'll be right back," Vincent said. And he cast around looking for D. Who was, he noticed, nowhere around at present. Which suited him just fine.
He went out to smoke and was on what had to be his third cigarette when he heard footsteps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and swore softly when he saw D behind him.
"What the fuck do you want?" he growled. "In case you didn't notice, I'm on shift. I don't have time to hear your goddamn explanation of why the hell you left or why the fuck you came back. You think you'd learn the concept of timing eventually."
"Vincent," D murmured. That was about as far as he got before the surgeon cut him off again.
"Oh, so you've been gone for a fucking year and a half and all the sudden it's 'Vincent' again?" Vincent asked, blowing out some smoke.
"Would you prefer I started calling you Dr. Harris again?!" D snapped.
"Fuck," Vincent muttered, dropping his cigarette and crushing it out. Then he sighed. "You and I need to talk. We really do. But I'm on shift. And I don't have the time to just leave and have the goddamn heart to heart that we need to have. Or whatever." He drew his jacket around him further. His arms ached. And he was cold. "I get off tomorrow at eight. We can do this over breakfast if you want. But I don't have the time to do it now. My patients come first."
And with that, he turned to go back inside.
D s stunned. He'd been expecting Vincent's anger. But he'd also expected Vincent to want to have it out then and there. But Vincent hadn't followed him when he left. So perhaps he shouldn't have been so surprised.
"I have to get back," Vincent said quietly.
"Vincent. Wait. We need to talk."
"I know. But I can't right now. I'm not Vesca Howell, D. I'm not going to drop everything for you. Do you get that yet? Or do you have to leave again for another few years to get it to sink in?"
D stared at Vincent, gaping like a fish out of water.
"Tomorrow morning. And that's your Christmas present. Night, D," Vincent said, before heading back inside. He had patients to care for after all. He didn't have time to argue with D all night.
And here he thought it would be a quiet Christmas. He really should have known better.
*~*~*
This was quickly turning into the worst Christmas ever.
Vincent had informed D that the kami would be the one buying breakfast before taking them to a diner that he liked to frequent. It was one of those holes in the wall that really was open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. Because of this, it was the kind of place that attracted crazies on Christmas day because most normal people were home with their families.
Currently, Vincent was sipping coffee and listening to the war that the people at two nearby tables were having with the tabletop jukeboxes. The soundtrack was flipping wildly between 80's music and Christmas carols. At the moment, Rick Astley was cheerfully informing the patrons of the diner that they knew the game and were going to play it.
Vincent was seriously thinking of killing all parties involved. He sighed, wishing that he could smoke in this place.
"You wanted to talk, D. So... talk. Before I kill those people playing with the jukeboxes."
"Their taste in music definitely leaves something to be desired," the Count agreed. But that was all he said. And Vincent sighed, before finishing his coffee.
"Do we really have to do this like a game of 20 fucking questions?" Vincent asked, before ordering more coffee. "Cause I don't have that many. I only have three."
"And what would those be, Dr. Harris?" D asked, sipping his tea.
"I'm going to ask them one at a time, so that you can't dodge any of them."
"That doesn't surprise me much," the Count said, rolling his eyes.
"Why did you leave?" Vincent asked, point-blank.
The Count shifted, looking uncomfortable. "I... the answer to that is not as important as you seem to think it is," he said finally.
"D, the time for you to dodge the question is over. You came back. So you knew I was going to ask why you left," Vincent pointed out.
D sighed, staring down into his tea. "Old habits die hard, Vincent," he murmured. "The last time I got too close to someone, I ran and I was chased for over twenty years."
"So... what? You wanted me to chase you?" Vincent asked, sounding a little confused.
"No," D said. "Though I was surprised when you didn't."
"I told you I wouldn't. I told you I had too many fucking things to do here."
"I know," the Count sighed. "You were very close. We were. I got scared."
Vincent blinked. He hadn't expected that. Or rather, he hadn't expected D to admit it.
"Scared of what?" he asked carefully after a few moments.
"Being in the revenge business doesn't really leave one much time for romance. Especially romance with people like you, Vincent," the Count said.
"People like me? You mean doctors?" Vincent asked, looking amused.
"No. Humans," the Count said quietly.
"Well... I hate to break it to you... but it doesn't really seem to me like you're really doing the whole revenge thing anymore," Vincent pointed out.
The Count snorted softly. "You've already asked me more than three questions," he teased.
"Yeah, but only one of the questions I originally had. But here's the next one," Vincent said. Really, D had answered that one pretty much to his satisfaction. "Why did you come back?"
The Count shifted, considering this for a few moments. "I read that article you wrote," he said finally. Which in Vincent's mind, really wasn't an answer at all.
"Which one?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.
"The only one I saw by you," the Count said. "The one in Lancet. I had to actually double check to make sure it was you that wrote it."
"Oh. You mean Why the world doesn't need Superman?" Vincent asked, grinning.
"It was still a ridiculous title, but yes," D said.
"Hey, I am still amazed that they published it with that title," Vincent said, shrugging.
Really, he hated doing research, but when he bothered, he went all the way. That article was all about how Caduceus, while it claimed to be on the cutting edge of medical technology, wasn't really necessary because it didn't really help anyone. Caduceus only helped patients who were disgustingly rich or who had some super-rare medical condition that they deemed worthy of studying. The people who really needed cutting edge technology, like the ones that Vincent saw? They couldn't afford Caduceus. And what good was an organization like that when they weren't really helping anyone. Throw in that he'd even gotten Derek to help a little on it... and that would be why Caduceus currently didn't want anything to do with either of them.
"I don't buy it," Vincent said, shaking his head. "That article was published months ago. Besides, you wouldn't have come back just because of that. Not after you left without a word, the way you did."
D sighed softly. "You are not making this easy."
"You didn't make it easy for me when you up and fucking left. Of course I'm not going to make it easy for you," Vincent said, a faint growl in his voice. "You came back, D. You knew there were going to be questions. So now you have to answer them."
"...You didn't follow me," D said quietly after a few minutes ticked by in uncomfortable silence.
Vincent stared at him. "You keep coming back to that. I'm not Vesca fucking Howell. I'm not going to spend 20 some years chasing you around the entire goddamn world just to give your ego a boost. Or whatever getting chased does for you. I had too many fucking things to do here to follow you."
"Perhaps that's the answer then," D said quietly. Because ultimately, Vincent wasn't Vesca. It had taken him running, and Vincent not following for him to finally, finally realize that. And really, he thought that both of them, and their relationship, was better off because of that.
Vincent considered D for a few long moments. And took a sip of his coffee. "So I guess the last question is are you going to stay?" he finally asked.
"I don't think I would have come back, only to run again, Vincent," the Count said. "I'm tired of running."
"So... where does that leave us?"
D sighed, finishing his tea. "I... would like to try it again. If you're willing. I mean... I know we probably just can't pick up where we left off but..."
"What we had was good," Vincent conceded. "I don't believe in happily ever afters, D."
The Count looked uncertain, about to protest, but Vincent wasn't done.
"I do believe in endings that don't suck though. Maybe we can have one of those."
"Maybe we can," the count conceded, with a faint smile.
Vincent smiled and breakfast finally arrived. Maybe this wasn't going to be the worst Christmas ever. It was turning into one that was actually tolerable. And maybe he and D would actually have an ending that didn't suck. Those were always much more interesting than a happily ever after. No matter what the stories said.
If the Rain Comes (Prequel ficlet)
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Who says you can't go home? - Part 9.5