Antivenom
Leo's heart ached more than the bruises on his face or the twisted tendons in his knee. He never in his life expected he'd encounter another betrayal of this magnitude. Something that would drive him to the point of killing the person involved. Or nearly so.
He felt the rage still boiling in him, but Sam's words had sunk in at the last second, "I just couldn't say no. Not to her." And then his goddamn confession and his apology. He couldn't stand to look at him, had left as quickly as he could. The mere thought of his face caused bile to rise up in his throat now.
He should have killed him. The old man would disapprove of his weakness, but he'd have to make him understand. Sam would take himself out of the picture permanently if he knew what was good for him. He'd better be grateful he was given that option. And Leo wouldn't spend the rest of his life torturing himself over having to kill another brother - or someone he'd begun to see as a brother.
How he wished so many times that he could go back in time and give his own brother another chance. To get Manny to admit he'd been wrong. He still couldn't remember who shot first, but his shot had gone straight through Manny's head when he'd been aiming for his heart. So either he was already going down from Manny's shot when he squeezed the trigger, or he wasn't nearly as steady a shot as he'd always believed himself to be.
He gripped the wheel of the car and yelled at the top of his lungs. The car lurched in the air for a split second before he gained control, his chest still heaving over his emotional outburst.
Back at the house he limped into the bathroom and stood in front of the sink staring into the mirror. Congealed blood coated his goatee and was smeared across his cheeks. His shirt was ruined. He ripped it off, buttons flying, and crumpled it up, then threw it into a corner. His hands shook when he turned on the water full blast, steam rising up within seconds to fog the glass in front of him.
He began cleaning up and was gingerly wiping blood from his split lip when he caught movement behind his reflection in the mirror. He braced himself, hands on either side of the sink. His head was throbbing, but the maelstrom inside him was threatening to break out and he feared for her more than anything if that happened.
"I can't see you," he said, clenching his eyes shut. "I can't even fucking look at you right now."
He stood tense and still hoping she would hear and give him space.
"I'm not leaving. Not until you tell me what... what happened." He heard her voice quaver, and could tell she was struggling to control her emotions as much as he was.
"What happened?" he asked, incredulous. He stared in the mirror at her reflection. "Did you love him?" he asked, not even working to hide the bitterness in his tone.
Her face was pinched with suppressed anguish. He was torturing her by not telling her the truth, he knew, and he felt a demented sort of glee at seeing her suffer that little bit.
"No, Leo," she whispered. Her throat worked trying to get out more words. "I could never love anyone but you. Never."
"Then fucking WHY?" he yelled. He raised his right fist up and slammed it into the image of her in the mirror. "Was it worth it? I nearly fucking killed him over you. How does it feel? Do you get off on having me dispose of your toys when you're finished with them?"
"I never knew that was you... before. I - I thought it might have been Papa, but never you. Why did you do it?"
"I will fucking kill any man who so much as looks at you the wrong way. And you know exactly why I had to do what I did today."
"But you didn't... did you?"
He shook his head and scowled at himself in the distorted spiderweb of the mirror then turned the water on again and held his battered hand beneath the cold stream.
"Leo, you're hurt. Let me..."
He flinched when she came up behind him, her gentle touch adding another ingredient to the already volatile morass of emotion inside him. His chest felt tight and he struggled to breathe when she came around to the side. She'd seen him this way before - and not just the night he was shot. He'd come home after other violent run-ins with rival gangs, he knew he wasn't easy to deal with then, either. Fighting made him angry, but he'd never been so close to taking it out on her as he was at this moment.
"You did this to me. To him." He turned his head and looked directly at her for the first time. Her face was pale, uncertain, frightened. He didn't think he'd ever seen her scared before. Was she scared of him? Should she be? Maybe, considering the state of the mirror.
"Let me help... I have medi-gel." She said weakly.
He snapped his hand out and gripped her wrist, yanking her against him. His other hand moved up to grip the back of her neck tightly.
"Do you think some fucking ointment is all it's going to take to fix me up? Look at me." She nodded, staring into his eyes. It wasn't just his face that felt like a bloody bruised mess. He felt it deep inside in a place no high-tech medicine could reach. Only one thing in his life had ever deadened the pain of betrayal.
He could feel her breath coming in quick, short gasps against his swollen lips. His eyes moved from hers down to her mouth, the memory of finding solace in her kiss at war with the knowledge that she had done this to him. He wanted her to feel the pain, even if only the physical side of it.
His grip left her wrist and his hand slipped around her waist, pulling her hard against him. At the same second he assaulted her lips, his kiss hard and invasive, the pain of his split lip spiking through him. He tasted blood again but didn't care. He bit down on her lip until she cried out. Her fingers gripped him by the hair, pulling his head back. She looked into his eyes for a second, her own bright with some unknown understanding, and he felt her body's familiar response to his touch. He knew this response, knew she wanted whatever he had to give her. And she was willing to give him whatever he needed in return.
A desperate growl rose up in his chest and he pulled his head away from her hands, taking her reddened lip between his teeth again and sucking. He gripped her by the ass and lifted her, setting her on the bathroom counter.
His hand was between them at her breast, tugging at her buttons. He became frustrated and gripped the soft fabric of her dress and yanked. It came apart with a satisfying rip, her buttons joining the remnants from his own shirt, bouncing and skittering across the polished tile floor.
He bit, he pinched, he squeezed. She cried out, sometimes with pleasure, sometimes pain, but she encouraged him regardless and he was relentless. He gripped her thighs, spreading her wide open, digging his fingers into her pliant flesh as hard as he could before he pounded into her. His strokes were hard, frantic. He wanted her bruised, he needed her to remember.
With each thrust he felt the painful knot in his chest begin to loosen. Each of her feather-light touches, her own gentle kisses against his skin in contrast with his rough, unforgiving touches tugged further at the threads of emotion that choked him.
With his orgasm came a feeling of sick dread as the carefully managed barrier evaporated and he could no longer keep the feelings at bay. His final cry of pleasure faded into anguished sobs against Ramona's shoulder.
He clung to her desperately, unable to stop the flood. She held him, her arms and legs wrapped around him tightly. He felt her body shaking and realized she was crying, too, her hitching voice whispering over and over, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, just please don't leave."
He took a deep breath finally and shushed her. His own misery was spent for now, but she didn't seem finished yet. He slipped his pants the rest of the way off, removing his heavy boots in the process, then lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. Lying naked together had always been the biggest comfort to him and he hoped it was for her, too.
He pulled the blanket over her and held her close, stroking her hair and murmuring soft words to her.
"I love you. I'll always love you. I'll never leave. Never, mi amor. Never."
She let out a ragged sigh and nodded.
"Just promise me I'll never have to kill another man for getting close to you."
"If anyone does I promise he'll deserve it," she said.
He nodded. There was no guarantee, never would be with a woman as beautiful as she was, but he knew she was sincere.
He thought they might both be numb enough for a few hard questions, so he asked the big one.
"Why did you do it?"
She turned her face up to look into his eyes. Her eyelids were red and puffy, the tip of her nose pink from crying.
"Because he reminded me of you at the beginning. Of how you used to make me feel. I missed that. You've changed ever since Papa promoted you and we didn't have to hide. It's a stupid reason. I never stopped loving you. I knew it was a mistake, it was never Sam's fault, but I got lonely while you were gone and he was sweet, he made me feel special, he made me feel..."
He heard the pitch of her voice change and knew she was on the verge of breaking down again. He'd heard enough.
"Shhh," he said, leaning in to kiss her softly on the forehead.
"Why didn't you kill him?" she asked.
"Maybe I have this unrequited need to forgive the people I love whenever they hurt me. I haven't forgiven him yet but maybe - once I know he's gone and we can put it all behind us - I think I might be able to. He was starting to mean something to me. Those others... they didn't."
"Oh," she said very softly. "I'm sorry you lost him because of me. I'm glad you didn't kill him."
"Me, too."
They were both laid bare before each other. More than just naked to the skin, but emotionally exposed in a way they'd never both been at the same time before. When he'd first met her he'd felt this way and had let her in so deep he knew he'd never be able to leave her for the rest of his life. They just held each other now, quiet, their mutual revelations somehow serving as balms to each other's deeper hurts.
Several minutes later she extracted herself from his arms as he dozed. He didn't notice she was gone until he felt the icy chill of the medi-gel as she applied it to his wounded face.
"Do I need to call Doctor Yao?" she asked.
"It's worse than it looks. I'll go see him later about my hand." He held his right hand up to her and she grimaced. It was already swollen and a mottled reddish purple.
"I'll drive you," she said, gently taking his right hand and smearing the clear tingly gel over the swollen knuckles.
He nodded and smiled, enjoying her soft touch on his tender, bruised flesh. This was one of the qualities that had made him fall in love with her. There were so many others, too numerous to list.
"Marry me," he said.
Her breath caught in her throat and she stared at him. Her cheeks flushed and she nodded, then leaned in to kiss him.
"Alright."