Disclaimer: Nothing here is mine.
A/N: This is just a short little one-shot I wrote while trying to get into Christophe's head. Includes mentions of Dru/Christophe, Christophe/Elizabeth, and Dru/Graves. Takes place post-Jealousy but pre-Defiance.
Shades of Darkness
It was torture, watching her drag herself through the motions, as if even the simple, daily routines were too much without the loup-garou next to her. The only time she came alive was when they were sparring, and Christophe knew it was only because she was imagining he was Sergej.
Or, more likely, Anna.
Christophe could tell whenever she was thinking of Anna because a certain kind of darkness entered her eyes. It wasn't the same darkness he saw whenever she thought of the wulf, a sort of agonized despair. No, it was the vengeful sort, the kind that said something cherished had been taken away, and the world would pay for its greed. It was a darkness Christophe was familiar with.
He had wondered, at first. Christophe had seen the way the wulf looked at her, knew that he would never leave her side willingly. And yet, when he arrived at the Schola, she was alone, the loup-garou seemingly vanished. She had refused to talk about it, her jaw set in an expression not unlike Elizabeth's had been, once, and Christophe knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth, so to speak. All that mattered was the fact that he was gone, and Christophe was all too willing to take his place.
Of course, the wulf had never left them, not really. Even as they spoke of other things, even as they fought for their lives and clung to each other, Christophe knew she was thinking of him. It was a bitter sort of realization, clinging to the roof of his mouth and making him gag. Did she think of the wulf when she kissed him? It was one question Christophe hoped never to have answered.
Naturally, it was worse than it had ever been with Elizabeth, because she could tear him apart in ways Elizabeth never could. Elizabeth had left him too, in the end, tears staining her face as she told him. It had hurt, yes, because he knew that she was the weight keeping him from flying off the face earth and into the darkness stretching far above their heads. Who knew what he would become without her there to ground him?
Yet he had survived, barely. Christophe did not think he could survive this, not in any way that mattered.
He knew that he loved her. He also knew that he was manipulating her. It hurt him, deeply, but the Council needed a leader. A svetocha. How ironic, then, that she would be the one needed in this time of crisis, for Christophe knew how it felt to lose something so precious you were willing to wage a war on the world in order to bring it back. He did not think she would have done so for him.
He suspected he deserved it, after spending countless decades serving under Sergej- living as a glutter, as the wulfen liked to derisively refer to it. Looking at her, he knew this was his penance, and his redemption: to understand her feelings for the wulf with perfect clarity, because it was what he felt for her. Like her mother, she was his light in a world that previously had none.
Unfortunately, Christophe had spent far too much time in the shadows to serve as anyone else's light.
FIN
A/N: Phew! Heavy stuff. Thanks for reading, and don't forget to let me know what you think.