The Game, a cruel intentions fanfic

Nope. I still don't own Cruel Intentions. Roger Kumble does. Like I said, I wish I had Sebastian though.

I put the past into the ground.

I saw the future as a cloud.

If there's still time to turn around,

I'm going to.

It's just, one day I fell asleep...

And all day, all night I dream

I am the first one I deceive

If I can make myself believe the rest is easy

-Bright Eyes

You are in pain.

Not just the tolerable and annoying sort of pain wherein your only reaction is a grimace and a twinge of annoyance, but the kind of pain that reverberates through your entire body like the waves of an ocean during a merciless storm. You briefly wonder if there is something you can take for this pain and furthermore, you wonder very much about the darkness that currently enshrouded you. Maybe if you see your stepsister you'll ask her for some of her precious pain killers. She has a lot of those stashed somewhere in her room although you can never figure out why. She's not in pain. She doesn't feel anything at all.

Maybe her pain is psychological, like you once told her back in the days when you didn't love Annette Hargrove and it had only been you and Kathryn. After all, a few loose screws in that head of hers would certainly account for a lot of things, like her lack of morals and the like. She had rolled her green eyes and smacked you with the magazine she'd been reading. You smiled at her and your laughter escaped your chest easily. Those were good times.

Great times. You missed your sister. No, wait. That sounded wrong. Stepsister, because it would be wrong of you to call Kathryn your sister. A brother doesn't think about his sister naked. He doesn't get jealous when he sees another man touching her, and he most certainly doesn't want to have her on her back while he pounded her with his cock.

Your head feels like someone had slammed a sledgehammer against it. Maybe someone did. Maybe Kathryn did. You wouldn't really be surprised if she did. Speaking of which, where was she? What happened? What was wrong? Why is it dark? Why are you in excruciating pain?

As you blink, you see a small dot of light from a distance. By instinct, you follow it. You'd like to leave the darkness behind, only you stop. Your veins begin to pulsate and your heart starts beating faster.

This is what you hear:

"Unfortunately, I don't fuck losers."

"Kathryn. Did you hit her?"

"Kathryn? Oh Christ, she got to you, too?"

"Did you hit her?"

"Ronald, you don't know what you're talking about."

Little by little you start to remember the day, but then as it dawns on you, you suddenly wish you didn't remember anything at all. You start walking, no, limping toward that light, wondering where everybody was. You're also wondering why you feel like crying even though you haven't shed a tear in years. As you stuff your hands in your pockets, you feel that pack of cigarettes and you almost smile. You feel somewhat better. Just a smidgen. You try to fully smile but you can't, because you feel this enormous pang of sadness like you had lost something very important to you and yet you don't know what it is.

There is a faint steady beeping somewhere in that empty and dark world you're currently in but you have no idea what it is. As you grow closer to that light, you shut your blue eyes and this is what you see:

A cab. Annette's horrified expression. Like a sacrificial lamb to be slaughtered. An offering to your twisted game with Kathryn.

This is what you hear:

Another car. Faintly, with squealing brakes just behind you. You don't know what kind of car it is because you don't look. Someone's running toward you, probably Ronald trying to be heroic and shit.

This is what you feel:

The ground on your feet as you ran. Annette's body against your hands as you pushed and another force that causes you to fly and come crashing down against the pavement. A pair of arms around your waist. You're lying down with someone. A girl. Annette? Fuck. It hurts. Everything hurts.

This is what you hear:

"No!"

Your own voice screaming. Someone else is shouting for help as well.

This is what you see:

Blood and bruises. A yellow cab. The devil in disguise. The saint. The sinner.

You light the cigarette, only you can't anymore because a shock enters your body and you find yourself suddenly wide awake. You sit up in bed covered in sweat and again that pain is present, especially in your chest because you fell forward and the pavement met your chest in a brutal manner. You run your hands through your hair and you realize that you had screamed as you woke up because your mouth is wide open and there is someone who entered your room.

It's her.

She looks at you with green eyes and you feel your heart skip a beat even though you're supposed to hate her. Why can't you fully hate her? Why can't it be a one way trip, why can't you go to that point of no return with Kathryn?

Kathryn looks the same, only… She seems to act differently. In what seems to be a gesture you never thought possible, she climbs into bed and she touches your face to wipe the sweat off. Normally it would have disgusted her but not this Kathryn. What happened that made her act this way?

You feel like you're going insane. You still hear that beeping sound even though you're in your room.

"You're okay." She says calmly, peering into your eyes. You recognize concern where hatred once rested.

"Wha-What?" You sound like you're about six years old and you got lost. You're confused and you're still in pain. Everything still hurts. Everything hurts so badly and you know that you've lost something important.

She reaches over to the side table where there is an array of pills, the nightgown she's wearing is made of silk and it rides up. It shows her smooth, pale legs and once again your heart does that funny skipping thing again. As she gives you two white pills to drink, you take it from her without any suspicion. For some reason she is acting strange and yet you trust her completely. You trust her with your life. You don't know why, but you do.

"The doctors said you just need to rest."

Then you remember the other girl. The one you wanted to save. Is this why Kathryn is being nice? Does she feel guilty? Oh, God… Did Annette die?

"Annette!" You gasp and your eyes widen. Your chest feels heavy like you're carrying something heavy and you don't know what it is.

"She's fine, Sebastian." She replies stiffly. There is no trace of annoyance on her face when in the past she would have been pissed off at the mere mention of that name.

"I… I saved her?"

For some reason a wry smile graces her beautiful face as she hands you a glass of water. "Yes. Yes, you did. You saved her, fuckwit. You always had to be the hero."

"Where is she?"

"Recuperating, just like you. She's at the hospital. Any more questions about the virgin?"

Ah. Finally, there it is. The annoyance and sarcasm drips from her response while she sits opposite you cross legged. You see a glimpse of her panties. White. How ironic. Kathryn flips her brown hair and you see that her eyes are slightly puffy, like she's been sleeping. There's a bruise on her cheek but you don't know where it came from. The incident is still a bit unclear to you and your mind feels like it's been scrambled. As your eyes meet, her hard expression softens. So does your resolve. For some reason you hate her. For even more reasons, you feel fond of her.

"We had a fight." You whisper softly, touching her bruise. She winces and turns her head slightly. "Did I—?"

"No." she interrupts, pushing your hand away. "It's nothing. I was clumsy. I fell."

"You fell?" It's difficult to ever imagine her tripping. "How? Why? You never fall."

"I was in a hurry, okay? I fell. It was an accident." she snaps, "Stop asking questions."

"My, aren't we bitchy tonight?"

She suddenly grins. Her mischievous smile makes up for the throbbing pain in your chest. Almost. She looks beautiful even if she's just woken up. She leans and shoves you lightly, only the pain intensifies and you give a gasp.

"Bitch!" you grumble.

"Yes, brother. I hate you, too. I hope Ronald fucked you up good."

You'd like to smack her across the face and add to that bruise, only you can't. Why can't you? For some reason you're not even thinking about Annette. For some reason, you've taken Kathryn's word for it and that hearing about how Annette's at the hospital recuperating sounds like the truth. Instead, you glare at her.

"He did. I'm sure you're happy about how I turned out." You remark bitterly.

Then something changes again, like your remark means something more than it really does. She caresses the spot where she shoved you and you feel tingly because her skin feels good when it's rubbed against yours.

"Yes, I am." She replies softly. "I'm happy about how you turned out. I did good, didn't I Valmont?"

"Do you even feel a shred of sympathy or remorse for what you've done?"

Her gaze burrows deep into your soul and you marvel at her beauty for what seems like the millionth time.

"Just take your pills the next time it hurts." She talks like she didn't hear your question. "And stop acting like such a goddamn pussy. You know, I shouldn't even be nice to you. Not after that shit you tried to pull on me."

"What shit?? You basically told me I was a loser.You rejected me. What the fuck are you going on about??"

"Of course I'd reject you! I could plainly see you loved her! Do you really think I would have wanted you to fuck me if I knew you were thinking about her?" her voice rises several notches and finally you feel a sense of familiarity at the way her face contorted into something threatening. Ah, this is the Kathryn you know.

"I wouldn't have thought about her while I was fucking you!"

"Sure," she scoffs, "What about after you fucked me? Well, Sebastian? What about then? What would have happened?"

You stare at her. You can't think of anything to say.

"Yes, I thought so. You arrogant, selfish bastard." She hisses, gritting her teeth. "You… You don't deserve—"

"This is your fault!" You grip her arm tightly, snarling at her. You confusion is replaced with anger and despite the fact that the beeping sound still echoed in your ear, you ignore it. "You were the one who made that fucking bet! We were happy, Kathryn! Goddamn you, bitch! WE WERE HAPPY!"

She pulls back her arm and slaps you. For a petite woman she's strong and you feel the pain intensify. She's breathing hard now; her face is no longer calm and impassive like when she first came to your room. She looks like she's about to punch you, her mouth is pressed tightly and her eyes are narrowed.

"WE WOULD STILL HAVE BEEN HAPPY IF YOU DIDN'T CHOOSE HER!" She screams back, jumping from the bed to stand in front of you, crossing her arms over her chest hatefully. "You didn't have to fall for her, you sentimental moron!"

"I LOVED YOU FIRST! I LOVED YOU THE MOST!" You yell back before you can even process the words in your muddled brain of disconnected sights, feelings and sounds. "I fucking loved you the most!"

She stops talking. Stops moving. You hear her let out a gasp and you feel like gasping too. Her eyes widen. Your heart beats faster.

"What?" she asks in a strangled voice. Now she's the one who sounds like she is six years old and lost.

You feel about a thousand and one emotions all wrapped into that single moment with Kathryn.

"I loved you the most."

"Loved?" She gives you a look that you can't read. You hate it when she does that. "Yes," she gives that same smile she did earlier. Like she's amused and sad about something. "that would be the correct tense, wouldn't it?"

You shake your head. You're confused about a lot of things. For instance, you're confused as to what happened and why you can't remember much. You're confused as to why she's acting this way and you're confused about what exactly happened because you can't tell. Did you hit your head? Did you have some form of concussion that's taken your memories? Whatever happened to Ronald? Where was Annette? Was she healing, like Kathryn said? How were you found on the sidewalk? Did Annette have her arms around your waist like how you felt when you were walking in darkness?

But as you look at her and your heart does that funny skipping thing again, you understand that for once in your life, your confusion doesn't reach that territory of your relationship with Kathryn, whom you've had as a sister for years and yet never really felt that familial bond with because you were too busy wanting her and needing her. You hate her and you love her, she almost had you (and Annette) killed for her vindictive actions and yet somehow you can't fully hate her. Oh, you'd very much like to hurt her, maybe slap her around a bit, but you find that you can't. Despite everything, it's still there. It'll never leave. It's like a stain on your inky black heart.

"No. I still do." You tell this more to yourself in amazement than her. "I think I always have."

She smiles slightly, extending out a hand like you've both always done in the past when you sought an apology from each other. "Accept my apology for what happened?"

You stare at her hand dubiously, wondering if she has a knife that will pop out and stab your arm once you reach out but there's nothing. Deep in your gut you know there's nothing, and that what you feel right now is as real as anything you've ever experienced. You take her hand and you can't help but notice how it fits well with yours. As you shake it, she grins again. This time she looks tired. The bruise on her cheek looks worse. You wonder how she fell and then almost smirk as a thought comes to you.

"You know, I would have given my right arm to see you fall and bang your face against the floor."

She blinks. For some reason she doesn't find this funny. She gives you a withering glare before she turns on her heel to walk out the door. As you watch her leave, it's like everything's in slow motion. The closer she gets to the door and the farther she gets from you, the louder the warning bells ring in your head. Thoughts of no don't let her go ring again and again. For some reason you can't explain, you jump from your bed and ignore the pain in your limbs. You half run after her and you place a hand on the opened door, your body is touching hers from behind and you shut the door quietly.

"Don't leave." You say it in her ear like it is a secret. You think it is. It's a rare thing to ask Kathryn not to leave because you know it'll take some of your pride away.

"I have to go sleep now."

"Sleep with me."

She chuckles quietly and turns around to look at you, "Fat chance, pervert."

"Oh, like you're secretly not yearning to fuck me. Give it up, Kathryn. I know you want me."

"Yes," she rolls her eyes, "Because you're such a handsome sight with your face covered with bruises."

You nudge her forehead with yours like when you were children, "Come on, we don't have to fuck."

"We're not going to fuck."

"I'm in horrible pain."

She says something that surprises you.

"You and me both, Valmont."

"What did you say?" you ask but she's taken that route again. She's avoiding questions she doesn't want to answer. She sighs and steps away from the door and you smile as you follow her to your bed. Watching her walk to your bed is feels right, like she's supposed to be there. Like this isn't part of your perverted sexual fantasies of her (only you'll never tell her that you actually have fantasized about her) because for some reason it feels right. For some reason. You always refer to it like that, don't you?

Because all the reasons have escaped your mind. Then again, does it have to have a reason at all?

As she slips under the covers, you take a sip of water and you pick up the phone to call the hospital just to check on Annette. But then you suddenly forget who you're going to call because once you look at Kathryn, you see that she's staring at you and that she's lifted the covers up for you to get in with her. The simple gesture speaks volumes.

"Did I hit my head pretty hard?" You scratch your head as you climb in, "I'm still hearing that beeping sound. Do you hear it?"

She still doesn't talk. She continues watching you like something about you fascinated her. As you lie down, you glance at her. She's already closing her eyes but once again you feel the need to keep her awake. Like you know that this is very rare and that it has to last. That she just has to keep her eyes open.

"Hey," you nudge her again slightly and her eyes open and then blink several times. She's sleepy. She's beautiful. She's everything Annette isn't and everything that you probably need right now.

"Hmm."

"I know it's impossible for us to not have another fight for the rest of our lives but do you think we could try to not do it often?"

One sleepy green eye opens. A shadow of a smile.

"Why? You're afraid of getting your ass kicked again?"

"Getting my ass kicked? I almost died."

"Pussy."

"I hate fighting with you, okay?"

"Whatever." She drifts back into sleep and you watch her for a few minutes. You wonder about a lot of things now. About Annette. About this thing that you feel for Kathryn. About how Annette makes your heart beat differently and about how Kathryn makes you feel like your heart is running a marathon around your body. You wonder what you'll tell Annette when you visit her tomorrow. You wonder how you can love two women who are as different as night and day. You wonder who you love more.

Her hand moves while she shifts and it brushes against yours. Her little finger twitches and you take her hand. She doesn't move. She only breathes evenly.

Then you don't really wonder that much anymore. It isn't right. It's immoral and wrong. Some people may find it perverted and disgusting, and you'll be condemned in some circles by ignorant people who've no idea whatsoever the extent of what you feel for her. Some people may argue that she's a bitch for doing what she's done and that you're an idiot for forgiving her just like that, but they really can't see. They just can't see very well, that's all. It's difficult for her to ask forgiveness in the first place, can't they realize that?

"Kathryn?"

"Mmmm." She mumbles in her sleep, annoyed. "Valmont, please let me go."

"No."

"I have to go sleep."

"You love me?"

You ask this directly. You sense that now is not the time for double meanings and cleverly phrased questions. Her mouth opens and so do her eyes. Now it's such a deep green you could stare forever into her and never lose interest.

She looks down at your hands joined and gives you a sleepy smile. As she leans forward, you close your eyes and you feel her lips press against yours. It's gentle and warm and it's Kathryn. It's perfect.

"You know the answer to that." She smirks, "Now open your eyes, Valmont. Let me close mine."

"What?" Has she taken anything?

You're beginning to hear things again, did you just think you heard her say that? You wonder if you're going nuts, but it feels like your back is cramped and you hear that beeping getting louder. Was there something in those pills? Were you hallucinating now?

"I said," she whispers, kissing your forehead. "WAKE UP!"

You feel yourself getting thrown back into the darkness you came from and your knees buckle from under you. You crumple to the floor and you feel, hear, and see the following:

A cab. Annette's horrified expression. Like a sacrificial lamb to be slaughtered. An offering to your twisted game with Kathryn.

You don't act. You don't think at all, you just move on impulse.

Only it's not Ronald, is it?

It hurts but you're alive. You're breathing, but you're not lying down with Annette. You're with Kathryn. She's half lying on top of you, her petite body is bloody and broken and there's a trickle of blood dripping from her mouth. Her arms are around your waist, for the person who pushed you just as you pushed Annette, her strength seems gone. Now she's just limp and unconscious.

"No!"

Your own voice screaming. Someone else is shouting for help as well.

It was Annette. Then it was Ronald. They're fine. But you're not. You're not saying anything at all. Kathryn doesn't speak either. You're too parched to say anything because you want to cry so badly but you can't because you're in pain and so is she…

Blood and bruises. A yellow cab. The devil in disguise. The saint. The sinner.

The saint. Annette. The sinner. Kathryn.

"No," you croak again and you try to turn around to hold her against you like you always did when she got too drunk or too high to take care of herself. You manage to do it, God knows how, but you do. Annette helps you turn around and you push her away slightly, you feel like you've broken a rib but you clumsily hold your stepsister in your arms to try to get her to wake up, but she's not moving at all.

"God, no please God…" you mumble. Your voice comes in garbled sentences. You're drifting in and out of consciousness. You hear the ambulance.

You take hold of Kathryn's unmoving hand and hold on as tightly as you can, but when you hear the sirens growing louder, the beeping sound does too.

You wake up. You open your eyes and that cramp in your back makes sense. You sit up from the wooden chair you've placed next to Kathryn's bed and the sudden movement causes you to wince and curse. The beeping sound is now steady in volume and you stare at the machine that's monitoring Kathryn's heart rate. It's getting fainter. Whoever knew she had one?

You did. Oh, God… You did.

You look at her and you realize that you're holding her hand like you did in your dream of her lying down next to you in bed. Her hand feels cold and small against yours and you stand up and try to blink the stinging feeling of upcoming tears from your eyes. You'd give anything to hear her call you a fucking pussy again.

But she doesn't.

"I'm in horrible pain."

"You and me both, Valmont."

"Kathryn, I don't beg… You know that, right?" Your voice is pleading. You're scared. You've never been more scared than you are at that moment. "But I'm begging you right now. Please don't go. Please wake up. No more games, okay? Please, just… Please…"

The beeping goes slower. Fainter.

You're crying now. You're yelling for the doctors to come but you involuntarily clutch your side. Your rib. It's broken. Just like everything else about you.

"You know, I would have given my right arm to see you fall and bang your face against the floor."

No! You'd give your right arm to have her safe! Fuck! No! God please DON'T DO THIS!

"I'm sure you're happy about how I turned out."

"Yes, I am. I'm happy about how you turned out. I did good, didn't I Valmont?"

There's a monotone. The alarm goes off and the doctors come rushing in, followed by the nurses. You're pushed gently aside and you land on the chair, hard. Nobody pays attention to the fact that you sneaked out of your room even though you're supposed to be resting. They're all tending to her. You're in shock.

DAMN YOU DON'T DO THIS PLEASE KATHRYN DON'T!

"Did I—?"

"No. It's nothing. I was clumsy. I fell."

"You fell? How? Why? You never fall."

"I was in a hurry, okay? I fell. It was an accident."

You feel guilty and raw. She was in a hurry to get to you. The doctors have pulled out the paddles. The nurse has applied the gel. He's rubbing the paddles together, the nurse turns on the machine.

"I have to go sleep."

You're crying. Sobbing like the most pathetic person alive. Your pride is gone. Annette comes in and she wraps her arms around you, she's trying to support you. Trying to understand your grief. But she can't. She'll never understand anything.

The doctor places the paddles on her chest. Her body bounces a few inches from the bed but the beep is still in monotone. You're crying, your feet are kicking wildly and Annette's trying her best to keep you still because you're hurt and you might make it worse. She doesn't understand! IT CAN'T BE WORSE THAN IT ALREADY IS!

"You were the one who made that fucking bet! We were happy, Kathryn! Goddamn you, bitch! WE WERE HAPPY!"

WE WERE HAPPY! Jesus Christ, we were happy! PLEASE DON'T DO THIS TO US!

The doctor tries again. Her body is as limp as it had ever been. It bounces off the bed a few inches but that fucking machine never changes its sound.

Please, Kathryn… Please no more games…

One last try. The doctor frowns in determination and rubs the paddles together before he presses it against her chest. You're sobbing brokenly against a stunned Annette.

It never changes. That tone is still flat. She's still gone and she'll never come back. The doctors have given up. Annette's trying to restrain you and she is joined by the rest of the nurses. You want to take the paddles and do it yourself, to prove them wrong! She can still come back!

But it's too late now. You're stunned and hurt and betrayed and frozen.

Your world is as it was, submerged in darkness. There is that light you'll always run after but never really reach.

"You love me?

"You know the answer to that."

Game over.

That game you were both so fond of playing? It's gone. It'll never be played again. Nobody wins. Nobody ever does.

A/N: Merry Christmas, people. Let me apologize the first version of this had typos. If you're rereading this, I hope I've corrected everything. I should probably explain. When I get an idea for a story, I feel like I fall into a trance and by the time I finish, it's hours later. By then I'm too tired to recheck and I'm too excited to post because I feel like I've gotten somewhere different this time with that particular idea. Hmm. That's it. Thanks for reading.