A/N I woke up this morning with this little story running through my head. It wouldn't leave me alone, so here you go—a one-shot. Hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer for entire story: I do not own the characters, the world they're based in or the foundation plot/dialogue. I only own the dialogue and plot changes I've created.
The ballroom was in utter and complete chaos. Guardians were trying to subdue Tasha, who refused to surrender. She was fighting back, kicking and punching, determined not to give up—not to give in without a fight. The surrounding Moroi were terrified, trying to get away, pushing and shoving to distance themselves from the fight.
A loud crack echoed through the room—a gunshot. Holding a handgun she must have seized from the guardian she'd knocked disabled, Tasha grabbed the first hostage she could—the little blonde who had terrorized Rose at Saint Vlad's so long ago.
ʺDon't move!ʺ Tasha yelled at the encroaching guardians. The gun was at the girls head—Dimitri felt shocked by how quickly things had escalated. How had he never seen this coming? How did he not realize that his friend was so unstable?
Tasha began to slowly creep towards the door, dragging the Moroi girl along beside her. She didn't see the girls narrowed eyes—didn't feel the girls muscles tensing under her grasping hand.
Lissa's voice called out, trying to defuse the situation. ʺTasha, please don't—ʺ
A sixth sense warned him—unfortunately, he did not immediately grasp what was about to happen. Breaking one of his cardinal rules, he didn't instantaneously react to the ominous premonition that flared through his brain—despite the fact that it tensed his muscles and pumped adrenaline through his system, preparing him for what was to come.
Rose broke out of her captorsʹ hands and threw herself in front of Lissa.
Words echoed through him, lessons that had been drummed into him since he was a tiny boy. Words that had been his creed—his gospel—for the majority of his life.
They come first.
No! His heart, his soul—every fiber of his being—railed against the thought. No! She comes first. Always. Eternally.
As he threw himself forward, a lesson he'd tried so hard to teach her flashed across his mind—don't hesitate—mocking him. Tormenting him as he heard the most horrifying sound he could imagine.
The gun went off
He'd hesitated, for just a nanosecond too long.
He braced himself, praying he would feel the hot, burning pain of the bullet passing through flesh and organs, but it never came.
Oh God, how he wished it had. Rolling over to face what lay behind him, he felt his world shatter into a billion tiny pieces. He'd hesitated, debating over which life to safe, and it had cost him everything.
"Rose? Roza?" There was agony in his voice. "No… NO!"
Lissa cradled the woman he loved in her arms, tears streaming down her pale cheeks as Rose stared up at her, a pain filled expression of shock on her beautiful face. He bent over her, and her eyes—already glazing—flicked to him, her lips twitching as she attempted to smile. Her eyes spoke volumes, filled with so many things—love, forgiveness, sorrow—even as she attempted—in vain—to speak.
In that instant, he finally understood. She'd meant every word she had said. She really had forgiven him— and she wanted him to do the same, she was willing him to do it right now, her beautiful brown eyes begging him to let go of all the atrocities he'd committed. And for just an instant, he did. He felt the weight of the world begin to slide from his back. That is, until the look in her eyes changed to one of peaceful resignation—then his self-hatred slammed back into him, because he'd failed her, yet again.
He sensed that she was giving up, preparing to let death claim her, and it tore at his soul. "No! Fight, Roza! Stay with me! You're strong—hang on, please Roza, hang on. Don't leave me. I love you!"
Lissa was jerked to her feet, pulled back into a throng of guardians. Dimitri's eyes locked with hers, as they both realized there was no way she would be able to break free—no way to heal Rose, to save her. At the same instant, Adrian's voice reached his ears, the other man's curses carrying over the crowd as he fought to try and break free of the men restraining him. No one would allow them to approach Rose, and she was fading, dying a little more with each passing second.
Scooping her up as gently as he could, he put into play another of the lessons he'd given her—one of the first.
He ran.
Cradling her fragile, almost lifeless body against his chest, he put everything he had into making it outside, praying a medical team would be forthcoming. His prayers were answered a moment later when they took her from his arms, beginning resuscitation as they rushed her to the on-site hospital facilities.
Watching them frantically trying to save the most important person in his life, he was filled with an overwhelming need. At that moment, the only thing he wanted—besides his Roza—was his mother. Like a small child, he longed for her to gather him in her warm, loving embrace. To kiss his forehead as she stroked his hair, rocking him and soothing him—promising him everything would be alright. That Rose would be fine.
He began walking at a fast pace, his mind racing, memories slamming into him like a battering ram. That long ago night in the cabin, when he'd finally allowed himself to claim her—and in turn, to give himself to her, wholly, joining them together. The feeling of completion he'd experienced as their bodies became one, at long last matching the fusion of their souls. The utter contentment as afterwards, her head rested on his chest as he held her so tightly to him, never wanting to let her go. He remembered kissing her forehead, running his fingers through the dark, silky hair that he loved so much—and he remembered what he'd promised her.
"I love you, Roza. I'll always be here for you. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."
He'd failed her. Again.
He snapped out of his daze, realizing a large building loomed before him, the door a mere foot away. It was not the destination he'd intended—he'd been heading for the hospital. Not this place. The place where he'd spoken such hateful words, words that had shattered Rose's heart just as surely as Tasha's bullets had.
Even now, the lingering scent of incense hung in the air. Stepping inside he paused, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the muted candlelight before slowly making his way towards the alter. At the last minute something caught his eye, causing him to veer off towards a small alcove—one he'd never noticed before. As he stared at the beautifully painted statue of the Blessed Virgin Mother that stood before him, his longing for his own mother returned full force. Dropping to his knees, he pressed his forehead against the cool stone foot of the statue, words spilling out of him in a rush of quite Russian.
"Blessed mother, I beg you. Intercede on my behalf with your beloved Son. Save her, please. Heal my Roza." His shoulders shook as he released all the pent up agony that was consuming him. "I tried—I tried so hard to do the right things, but I failed. I am not a good man. I have sinned in so many ways. I have murdered. Killed. Tortured the one I love. But Roza, she is good. She's done nothing wrong. I wasted so much time—so much time when we should have been together. Please, please let her live. I beg you, Mother. Help her. Take me instead. I deserve death, she doesn't"
A wash of intense emotion surged through him, feeling like… light. The feeling of peace and love that echoed through him reminded him of the feeling he'd had when Lissa had freed his soul, saving it from the clutches of the dark being that had claimed it. Only this was more, so much more—it felt as if his entire body were floating upwards, as if he were wrapped in an embrace of… pure rapture.
The entire time he was experiencing the rush wondrous feelings, Rose's voice echoed through his head, evoking their conversation in the back pew.
"Don't you think that if God can supposedly forgive you, it's kind of egotistical for you not to forgive yourself?"
"How long have you been waiting to use that line on me?"
"Actually, it just came to me. Pretty good, huh? I bet you thought I wasn't paying attention."
"You weren't. You never do. You were watching me."
"You didn't answer my question."
"It's irrelevant. I don't have to forgive myself even if God does. And I'm not sure He would."
"That priest just said God would. He said God forgives everything. Are you calling the priest a liar? That's pretty sacrilegious."
"Rose, you're the one being sacrilegious. You're twisting these people's faith for your own purposes. You've never believed in any of this. You still don't."
"I believe that the dead can come back to life. The proof is sitting right next to me. If that's true, then I think you forgiving yourself isn't that much more of a leap."
The final layer of guilt that had lingered within him evaporated—in that instant, he felt completely reborn. Finally, he knew he'd been truly forgiven for every horrible act he'd committed. Forgiven not just by his Roza, but by his God as well.
Pressing his lips against the foot of the statue where his forehead had been resting, he gave thanks. As he left the church, fear brushed against him, worry that Rose might not make it, but he brushed it aside. She would live. When she woke up—and he knew she'd wake up—he'd tell her he irrevocably understood the meaning of forgiveness. They'd been granted another miracle—another chance to be together. This time, he made a vow to God that he'd waste not one single second of it.