Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon or anything associated with the Inheritance Cycle.
Claimer: I, SussieKitten, own this plot and the story. Borrow or steal my plot, my original characters (Aksel or Eragon's kid) or story and I will report you. I also own my version of Saphira/Thorn's human appearances.
Warnings: Male and female homosexuality. Heterosexuality. Swearing or strong language. Humour elements – yes, beware the humour, people. If any of this disturbs you, click on the "back" button. I won't tolerate any flames.
A/N A huge thanks to everyone who reviewed and to those that still reads this story.
Warning; there is a possibly disturbing scene in this chapter. Don't worry, there's nothing sexual about it, but it's not a particularly pleasant nightmare you're about to read about. Consider yourself warned, and afterwards, do feel free to tell me if you were horrified or not. Lol.
POISON
Part Four; Cyanide
It wasn't hard to slip his prison mask back on. With Thorn pissed at him, it wasn't hard to push others away. Or maybe Thorn was just tired of his shit, Murtagh couldn't remember which. Normally he would have just put on a blank mask, but now he didn't care. He wanted to be left alone, and this was the only way he knew how.
Orrin hadn't bugged him once, and even Nasuada seemed to stay away, though Murtagh had felt her worried looks. He managed to stay polite towards the customers, though everyone else got a cold shoulder. He wondered how long it was until the boss came to talk to him.
Murtagh had stopped screaming during the nights too. At least, he didn't wake up screaming anymore. But his so tight control on himself had side-effects; bad ones. Before he at least felt rested when he woke up; now he was constantly tired. If he didn't have to throw up when he woke up, it took him ten minutes to stop shuddering.
It wasn't that he refused to acknowledge he had a problem, he knew very well that he had one. He just refused to do something about it.
"Murtagh, this has got to stop!"
But there was someone that wouldn't back down and that he hadn't been able to run from. Tornac.
"Even if I hadn't been talking to Angela, I would have been able to see the toll these nightmares are taking on you!" the older man ranted. "And now you're taking this discomfort out on your friends? No, I cannot allow this to go on!"
Murtagh opened his mouth, but Tornac snapped his fingers two inches away from his nose. He flinched.
"Oh no, I know what you're going to say," Tornac said darkly. The tone sounded so wrong on his old friend. "That they aren't so bad? Wrong. That you can handle them? Wrong again. That you deserve it? Wrong yet again!" He stopped his pacing. "Murtagh, it kills us to see you like this."
Us? Murtagh didn't think anyone but Tornac cared anymore. And apparently that was visible on his face.
"Oh, come off it!" Tornac snorted. "Your friends still care about you even if you treat them like crap. You were doing so well before your nightmares took control."
"I've had them every night since I was arrested, Tornac," Murtagh said tiredly.
"Yes, but with Angela you were learning to let it go."
"That's bullshit," Murtagh snorted.
"Then fine, she was teaching you to let yourself go," he scowled. "You opened up to Thorn, didn't you?"
"The only thing she did right about me."
Tornac appeared before him, his eyes thin and hard with anger. "Don't talk about her like that. She has helped you in more ways than you realise."
"Well, she screwed up in the end, proving that she too is human," Murtagh said distastefully.
Murtagh felt his eyes widen when Tornac's palm stopped inches away from his cheek. Murtagh flinched back.
"We're all human, Murtagh. It's not a bad thing. And we all make mistakes. Do not judge her so quickly."
"I've been practically stalked after that brilliant shared session of hers! Just so some kid could apologise to me. He should have just left me alone," Murtagh drawled. "He actually called me here. Angela must have given him my number. I should have her arrested."
"Oh, so now you're all for prosecuting someone despite your lovely criminal record?" Tornac practically taunted.
Murtagh fell silent.
"If you could just try the pills," Tornac said, suddenly sounding like himself again. "You don't have to decide whether to keep taking them or not, just try it out one night."
He scowled.
"What harm could come of it?"
Lots of things, none which Murtagh felt like mentioning.
"I'll go and pick up the prescription for you, so you don't have to go to her office. Just pick up when she calls and tell her you gave me the green light." Tornac laid a warm hand on his shoulder. "Just one night, and if it doesn't work, we'll leave you alone."
Tornac had left before Murtagh was even aware of having given him his consent.
-:-
Murtagh stared at the small bottle of pills. He had joined Tornac to pick them up, but only because Tornac had insisted and because apparently he had needed to show some ID to get it. The bottle had been standing on his kitchen counter ever since.
It looked innocent enough. It was a small orange bottle with a white cap and a white label wrapped around it. The writing was in black and grey, though it was nearly hidden by a white and orange medical sticker. Murtagh cringed when he thought about it. That sticker spelled out his name and his prescribing doctor. He was tempted to rip it off, but he didn't want to get closer to the bottle than he had to.
The night was beginning to fall, and still he had refused to look at the bottle on his kitchen counter.
"Have you managed to stare the bottle into submission yet?"
Murtagh wanted to growl, but forced it down. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Like you haven't been glaring at it like it was planning to attack you," Tornac drawled. "We're not asking you to climb the Beor Mountains. Just one pill. If you don't like the effects of it, you quit."
Murtagh fell silent. He fingered the water glass on the table. He almost fell in a trance at the soft sound his finger made when it circled the rim.
"I know you don't want to, Murtagh, but maybe after a few more sessions with Angela you won't need the pills anymore. This is just a test to see if they work at all," Tornac said softly.
"I'm a guinea pig? Lovely," he drawled.
"This is the only medicine Angela felt comfortable giving you. But if it doesn't work, and you're willing to try again..."
"I won't be, and you know it."
"Just, please Murtagh. Just this once," the older man practically whispered.
Murtagh stood, grabbed the glass of water and moved into the kitchen. He put the glass down and glared at the bottle.
"Just this once," he said and hung up.
He swallowed. Suddenly his mouth seemed dry. He slowly picked up the bottle and, easily getting around the child-proof cap, opened it. He shook one pill out and looked at it. It was small, white and had an oval shape. Murtagh snorted.
He slowly put the pill on his tongue and drank the rest of the water in the glass. He put the glass down with a soft bang.
Murtagh hung his head and laughed hollowly. He reached out and spit into his hand. There it was, a little fuzzy around the edges, but still pristine looking. The damn pill. He clenched his hand into a fist, ignoring the stickiness inside his palm.
He just couldn't do it.
-:-
"You didn't try the pills," Angela sighed.
Murtagh just tilted his head. He wondered what had given him away; that he had said that his night had been normal or that he looked like hell.
"I tried," he admitted. "I couldn't swallow it."
"Because it was too big or because you didn't want to?"
A little bit of both, he wanted to answer, but there was only so much lying he could take.
"Mhm," she hummed. "Maybe you could try to grind it and put it in your food?"
Murtagh shrugged.
"But I think we should focus on why we're here," Angela brushed a piece of hair behind her ear. "Now that I finally have you here, and such."
He wanted to feel guilty, but didn't.
"Have you tried to talk to Mr. Rider, apart from when I...?" she let the sentence hang.
"No," he said bluntly. "I have talked to his friend, however. Apparently she and my best friend's fiancée are one and the same."
Angela blinked. "You don't say."
Murtagh just crossed his arms and shrugged again.
"How is your best friend? You didn't mention him during your last session."
Murtagh pursed his lips. "We're...having a fight."
"Oh," Angela folded her hands. "Why?"
"He thinks I'm being too short with Eragon," he said bluntly.
Angela crocked an eyebrow. "And that's all?"
"He wanted me to start taking the medication, I disagreed, we had an argument and I haven't heard from him since."
"It seems like a fairly easy thing to deal with..." she frowned. "Why aren't you?"
"I'm too proud?" He tilted his head.
"Explaining it away isn't going to help," she said matter-of-factly.
"Then maybe I don't know how."
Angela tapped her pen against the surface of the desk. Murtagh followed the movement.
"How many friends do you have here, Murtagh?"
He jolted slightly. That wasn't random at all. "...Three?"
Angela sighed. "Then why aren't you trying to get back one of them? Three is a precious and small number."
He had been called many things in his life, but a loser?
"Oh, don't put words in my mouth," she tsk'ed. Murtagh blinked. He hadn't even opened his mouth. "I'm saying that when you have such precious friends, you should fight to keep them."
Thorn hadn't fought when he had left twelve years ago. Murtagh scowled. Was this where he was supposed to be the bigger man?
Then again, Thorn didn't know what he had left him to. It wasn't fair to hold him responsible for something he had no idea was going to happen. It was all Murtagh's fault, really, when he thought about it.
"I think we both need time to cool down," he replied finally.
"When was your fight?"
"...A few weeks ago."
Angela tsk'ed. "That time has passed."
Murtagh had never been the one to go to Thorn after they had fought. Thorn had always come to him, smacked him in the back of his head and somehow they had gotten over whatever they had been fighting about. He didn't know how to deal with this.
"I...don't know what to say," Murtagh admitted.
Angela hummed. "I suspected as much. Just talk to him. Explain your side of this matter, listen to his side, and then come to an agreement."
Unfortunately, Murtagh knew that what sounded simple always turned out to be the exact opposite.
-:-
Murtagh was ninety-nine per cent certain that he was dreaming. That was odd, because he didn't dream anymore; he just had nightmares.
He was in a cemetery. He had never dreamt that he had been in a cemetery before. In front of him there were six graves; four of them were fresh. For some reason he had flowers in his hands. Murtagh walked up and lay down one flower on each of the fresh graves before backing up again.
That was when the corpses started to show up.
The first was female. She appeared on top of the first grave. Her skin was ashen and clung to her bones. A single gunshot wound stood out horribly in the centre of her chest. Her hair was mattered and hung limply around her face. Her dead blue eyes never left his.
"Why didn't you warn him?" the corpse cried. "He could have saved me. Why didn't you warn him?"
A second corpse appeared beside her. He was tall, almost too tall and his skin was blue. His eyes were clouded over and drops of water were still dripping from his clothes and hair. His blue lips opened. "Why didn't you try to save me? All you had to do was to call. Why didn't you call?"
The third corpse appeared then. Somehow, this one seemed even skinner than the first. The hair was practically gone and his clothes hung around him. They were hospital clothes.
The man reached out his hand, his eyelids dropping over his stark white eyes slightly. "Why didn't you come to see me? I just wanted to see you one last time. Why, Murtagh? Why?"
Strangely enough, the fourth grave remained undisturbed, but Murtagh continued to back up nonetheless. He didn't want to stay if another corpse suddenly appeared from that grave. He flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and nearly tripped over his own feet.
"Why didn't you listen to me, boy?" the corpse growled. His form was riddled with angry red cut marks. A twisted sneer was practically fixed on his face. "Look at what you have done. All you had to do was to die. Why didn't you die, boy?"
Murtagh shook his head and continued to stumble backwards blindly.
"Why didn't you come? Come to me, Murtagh," a second female voice whispered. "Come to me, love."
Murtagh screamed. "GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE!"
Another corpse appeared before him then. The stab wounds were horribly fresh and were still bleeding. His flesh was white, and his eyes were still clouding over, but Murtagh knew he was dead. There was a huge gap in his chest, right above the heart. The heart was gone.
"Why didn't you listen? What did I do wrong? Why did you leave me alone to die?"
He screamed.
-:-
Murtagh stared at the bottle of pills on front of him. He hadn't slept after the last nightmare. It was now one day later, and the clock was slowly ticking closer to the sixth hour of the day.
In the back of his mind, he thought it was stupid of Angela to give him sleeping pills after his second unofficial suicide attempt. He had checked the dosage on the prescription. He didn't know how much he would need, but if he drowned the whole bottle he was sure he would never wake up.
A loud knock on the door startled him. Murtagh dragged a hand through his hair as he stood up. It was six in the morning; not even Tornac visited him this early.
He opened the door and froze.
"Alright, I give. Will you talk to Thorn already!" Saphira hissed.
Murtagh blinked. "How -?"
"Did I know where you live?" Saphira rolled her eyes. "I'm not stupid. But that's not the point. Will you talk to your best friend already?"
He licked his lips. "He doesn't want to talk to me."
"That's bull," the blue eyed woman snorted. "He's a mess because you refuse to talk to him. He's just worried about you."
With good reason too, apparently. Murtagh mentally winced when he thought back to his earlier musings.
"That still doesn't explain what you're doing here this early."
"My morning lecture got cancelled, so I decided to stop by," Saphira said and crossed her arms. "Don't tell me you were still asleep at ten a.m."
It was ten a.m.? Murtagh wanted to laugh. Either his clock was broken, or he had been lost in his musings again.
"I didn't realise it was ten o'clock," Murtagh replied simply.
Saphira's eyes narrowed. Murtagh didn't like it when she took a good look at him. He knew he looked like shit, but there was no need to stare either.
"I can see why he worries," she said finally. "Aren't you sleeping?"
"Define sleeping," he drawled.
Saphira sighed. "Could you please just talk to Thorn? I know you miss him as much as he misses you."
He didn't answer. Saphira shot him a wounded look before looking away. He waited until she was walking away before speaking.
"I don't know what to say."
Saphira stopped. "Only you two know how to fix this," she said, and then she was gone.
-:-
"I had a new nightmare the other day."
Angela startled. She blinked owlishly at him. Apparently she couldn't believe he was sharing information willingly. Well, he couldn't either, so he didn't blame her.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He didn't, actually, but Murtagh figured it was best if he did.
"I was in a cemetery and I saw dead people," he said. He wasn't sure if he wanted to elaborate.
"Just random dead people?" Angela tapped her pen against her writing pad.
"I saw my father, Tornac..." he licked his lips. "I heard my mother..."
"Go on," she coached softly.
"Thorn and his fiancée..." he looked away.
"And?"
"Just those five," he lied. "And I could see the way they had died."
Angela frowned.
"My father looked like the last time I saw him...Saphira had been shot, Thorn had drowned...Tornac had died from his cancer..." his voice lowered until it was just a whisper.
"These people are obviously important to you. You're scared that the ones that are still alive will leave," Angela murmured. "And the dead still haunt you."
"Thorn's fiancée means nothing to me," Murtagh frowned.
"Not yet, but maybe she will soon."
"I'm going to try the pill tonight."
Angela smiled.
-:-
Murtagh had lied. He hadn't been able to swallow the little pill; it had come straight up again. It was like his own body was punishing him. And he knew that his taste buds were far too sensitive, so he couldn't trick himself to eat it with something else.
It was close to eight in the morning, and it was the second night that week he hadn't slept. The night before, just hours before he had gone to Angela, he had had another nightmare. He had shaken himself awake before the dream could come to an end. That damn cemetery wouldn't leave him alone.
Murtagh slouched even further, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. He had found himself walking around seven a.m., and his feet had taken him to the college. It was practically deserted so early in the morning, but Murtagh had been able to watch professors and lecturers step out of their cars and walk inside, all looking in need of a good cup of coffee. A few students had arrived with their car or bicycle, but not many. Murtagh suspected it was too early yet.
A bus drove past him then and rolled to a stop at the bus stop across the road. Dozens of students stepped out and started to walk towards the college, some faster than others. He didn't pay attention to any of them. That was, until a very familiar face suddenly came into view.
The brunet was walking among several others, yet he stood out somehow. He ruffled a hand through his hair and, unlike the others, jumped over the large puddle in the middle of the sidewalk. The brunet then turned and waited. A blonde slipped through the crowd just a few paces behind him. Murtagh watched them share a private grin and walk towards the college.
His heart was suddenly aching. Murtagh stood up and left before it was inclined to do something else.
-:-
There had always been music in Arya's bar, but Murtagh often ignore it. Like the conversation and laughter around him, he treated it as white noise. But that day, the song playing suddenly slammed right into his ears and refused to stop bugging him until he listened.
So he did.
As the second chorus began, he had almost memorized most of the lyrics. As he was alone behind the counter, he didn't even notice it when he started to hum along.
"You have a nice voice."
He froze. He reminded himself not to glare at the customers until they had ordered and paid before looking up.
"Did you take singing lessons as a child?" the girl purred. "Or maybe you're playing in a band?"
Murtagh stared at her blankly. "Your order?"
"Give me one Sex on the Beach and one Knock Me Down and Fuck Me," the girl leered at him.
Murtagh found two glasses and began to mix the drinks. He saw her pout out of the corner of his eye and was tempted to sigh. Why did people insist on flirting with him? There was nothing interesting about him.
He finished the drinks, pushed them towards the girl and told her the price. She gave him the money, winked at him and left. Murtagh snorted and put it into the register.
"Someone sure has a fan base," Orrin commented innocently.
Murtagh crocked an eyebrow.
"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but...are you gay?"
Murtagh rolled his eyes and put away the bottles he had used earlier. "Why do you ask?"
"Because every girl that has come in here and flirted with you has left empty-handed," Orrin said dryly.
"I could be in a committed relationship," Murtagh shrugged.
"Doubtfully. No offense, but..."
Yeah, who was he kidding? How could he be in a committed relationship when he barely had friends? What a joke.
"It's none of your business," he answered finally.
Orrin shrugged and leaned onto the counter. "If you're interested, I know a few guys -"
"I'm not," Murtagh cut in quickly. And really, he wasn't. His libido was practically non-existent these days, and then there was the whole deal with him being almost unable to commit to someone. Yeah, he was far from interested.
"Cool," Orrin gave him a half-grin. "But if you ever want a date, just let me know."
Murtagh picked up a few empty bottles and walked past him without answering.
"Ah, your favourite customer is back!" Orrin called after him.
Murtagh shouldered his way into the back. He put the bottles next to the others and walked back out. He didn't care if Saphira was back, he didn't care if Eragon or even Thorn was with her. All he wanted to do was to survive the last hour of his shift and go home to sleep.
Never mind that he wasn't getting a lot of sleep lately, he just wanted to crash.
"What will it be?" Orrin was asking as the door swung shut behind him.
"Oh, nothing. I was looking for – ah, Murtagh, hello."
He was really getting sick of this. Murtagh held back a wince and walked behind the counter. Orrin slipped out and started to gather empty glasses and bottles around in the bar at a very slow pace. Murtagh met Saphira's eyes fearlessly.
"It's been a week. Have you talked to him?" Saphira raised an eyebrow, daring him to lie.
Murtagh shook his head. He barely had the courage to stay asleep for more than two hours, much less to talk to his best friend.
"Well, at least you're honest," she pursed her lips. "Thorn really wants to talk to you."
"He has legs of his own," Murtagh drawled.
"You're both stubborn morons, so no one is willing to make the first move."
This time, Murtagh added silently. Thorn always had in the past. He wondered what had changed. He had probably stepped out of line or something like that.
"Are you here alone?" Murtagh drawled.
Saphira paused. She blinked and shook her head. Well, damn, apparently distractions didn't work on her.
"Could you try to catch him after class tomorrow? It'd mean a lot to him if you took the initiative to talk," she said softly.
"Why tomorrow?" he asked.
"We're meeting our wedding planner tomorrow afternoon, and I'd like my fiancé to be smiling for once," Saphira said with a small sad smile.
Murtagh frowned.
"His class ends at two. Please be there," she said and left as quickly as she had come.
Murtagh stared after her for a minute before going back to work.
-:-
He had actually gone soft, he thought to himself as he found himself back in the bench he had sat in not even a week ago. The clock was ten to two, and all he had to do now was to wait.
A small part of him - alright, a large part of him couldn't believe he was doing this. He had never been very skilled when it came to confrontations. He didn't hate them, but he didn't like them either, and therefore he stayed clear of them as much as he could. But Murtagh supposed that confrontations sometimes were inevitable.
The things he was willing to do for his friend.
Murtagh continued to stare into the air until he finally saw people start to mill out of the college. He checked his watch. Sure enough, it was 2:02. Perfect. Now he just had to watch out.
Thorn was easy enough to find. Murtagh stood up before he realised who was beside him. He stiffened. He could recognise that brown hair anywhere by now, for some strange reason. There wasn't anything particularly eye-catching about Eragon, but somehow...
Murtagh squared his shoulders and crossed the road. He would just have to wait until Thorn walked to his car to talk to him. At least, he hoped that was how Thorn travelled to the school. He did not want to talk to the redhead when Eragon was present.
It was Thorn that noticed him first. The redhead suddenly paused, and Murtagh could hear Eragon ask what was wrong.
"Nothing. You just go ahead. I'll catch up with you later," Thorn murmured.
Eragon said something else, but a wannabe rapper walked past him, and all Murtagh could hear was the annoying rap beat flowing from the guy's headphones.
"See you tomorrow."
Murtagh saw Eragon nod before he walked towards the stop. Murtagh made sure to stay out of sight as he walked up to Thorn. The redhead watched him blankly.
He stopped when there was only a foot between them. Murtagh nodded. A long second passed before Thorn nodded back.
"Saphira told me where to find you."
Thorn's eyes lit up in recognition. "And?"
Murtagh scowled. "I'm...sorry." Thorn blinked in shock. "I was a fool. I didn't mean it. If anything, I need your help more than I need Angela's."
Thorn smiled slightly. "I shouldn't have pushed you so bad. You do things on your own time. I should have remembered that."
Murtagh shrugged. "It's no big deal."
"Obviously it is. You look like hell," Thorn crocked an eyebrow.
Murtagh waved him off. "I'll survive."
"The hell you will." Oh yes, Thorn was most certainly back. "When was the last time you had a good night sleep?"
"...Thirteen years ago?"
Thorn rolled his eyes. "I mean, after you got out of prison."
"...A month ago, maybe."
Suddenly Thorn didn't look too happy anymore. "Murtagh -"
"I tried the pills," he interrupted him. "I can't swallow them."
Thorn fell silent. He opened his mouth, but closed it again a second later. He raked a hand through his hair and frowned. "So you've actually tried them?"
Murtagh rolled his eyes. Since when did he bother to lie about such things?
"Alright. Well, I'm sure we can do something to correct that," Thorn nodded and grabbed his shoulder. "Just you wait and see. I'll have you popping those pills in no time," he winked.
Murtagh wrinkled his nose. Suddenly he missed not having Thorn over his shoulder 24/7.
-:-
He had forgotten why he was there. There had to be a reason he was willing to submit himself to this torture.
"You don't need me," Murtagh repeated.
Saphira tsk'ed. "Of course I do. You're Thorn's best friend. You know what he likes," she said and took down another dress.
Murtagh wanted to groan. "I don't know him that well anymore."
"That's why Eragon's meeting us here," Saphira said distractedly and let out a soft squeal of delight. "Oh, this one is perfect."
"Yes, it quite is, isn't it?"
Murtagh actually groaned. Great, now the saleswomen of doom were upon them.
"Do you need any help?" the woman smiled almost too widely.
"Yes, do you -"
Murtagh blocked out the rest. He considered starting to wear a sign that said 'antisocial'. Apparently looking the part wasn't enough anymore.
He sat down and watched Saphira and the saleswoman talk eagerly as they looked through the lines of dresses. Suddenly he remembered what Saphira had said earlier.
"Eragon's coming?"
Saphira turned to look at him. "Why, yes."
"Shouldn't you ask your girl friends for opinions?" Murtagh suggested.
"Well, I would, but they're all busy today," Saphira said and walked into the changing room. "Don't go anywhere!"
Murtagh leaned back into the chair and prepared himself for a very long afternoon.
"I never really got that new tradition where the bride asks the groom for his opinions on the dress," the saleswoman remarked innocently.
Pah, innocent his ass. Murtagh didn't even bother to look at her when he answered. "I'm not the groom."
"No?"
Murtagh didn't have to look at her to picture the predatory look on her face. He had unfortunately gotten used to them by now. That didn't mean he didn't hate them, though.
"No, but she wanted to borrow my queer eye for the afternoon," he looked at her with a smirk. So what if he was lying? To her the difference between asexual and gay was non-existent. Either way she wasn't his type.
The woman looked quite disappointed. Murtagh turned away from her again and thanked the gods that there weren't any salesmen in the shop. That really was a double-edged blade to use.
The bell over the door chimed merrily. Murtagh flinched. He hated that sound.
"They're right over there, sir." Murtagh stiffened. He looked around himself. He and Saphira were the only ones in the shop. That meant –
"Oh."
Eragon had arrived. Great, just great.
"Is that you, Eragon?" Saphira called out.
"Um, yeah!" Eragon replied.
"Great! Make sure Murtagh doesn't go anywhere!"
Well fuck, there went his escape opportunity. Murtagh sat back down.
"..." Eragon shifted slightly.
Murtagh heard him take a seat in the chair beside him. No, scratch that - two seats away from him. No lingering hatred there, nope.
"Hi."
Well, at least the kid was still polite. "Hello." It only made sense that he was polite back, right?
The minute between Eragon arriving and Saphira stepping out of the changing room was the longest Murtagh had ever experienced.
"So, what do you guys think?" Saphira smiled prettily.
Murtagh crossed his arms. He heard Eragon give his compliments, but he wasn't so sure. Sure, it was nice, but...
"No," he shook his head.
Saphira blinked. She was the one who had wanted him to come, and Murtagh never did anything half-cocked.
"The skirt's too wide. You'll waddle down the aisle." What? What the hell was he saying? Since when had he become an expert?
Judging by the look on Saphira's face, which probably was mirrored by Eragon, told him that they were thinking the same.
"Um, okay," Saphira blinked again. "I thought you were only kidding earlier," she said and walked back into the changing room.
Murtagh stiffened. She had heard him? Great. Thorn was never going to let him live that one down.
The silence that followed almost made him wish that Eragon had commented on Saphira's comment. Really, was it possible for two strangers to be that awkward around each other? Murtagh closed his eyes and cursed himself for getting up that day.
The next two hours were excruciating. Murtagh was almost ready to give up and say 'yes, that is the dress' to the next one, never mind if it made her look blown up or not.
Thankfully, he didn't have to. The next one was actually perfect. Well, there you go.
"So?" Saphira bit her lip.
"It's...wow," Eragon breathed.
Well, now he had nothing to say. Murtagh rolled his eyes. Saphira looked at him hopefully. He gave a small nod.
Saphira smiled widely. Suddenly Murtagh saw what Thorn saw in her. She actually was beautiful.
"See, I told you I would need your help," Saphira winked and went back in to get out of the dress. Murtagh snorted loudly. Judging by her giggle, she heard it too.
Well good, he had meant for her to.
"You were serious."
Why God, why him? Murtagh only just caught himself before he groaned out loud again. Damn persistent women. Maybe he was gay?
"I was," Murtagh replied dryly.
The woman sighed sadly. "Well, you two look very cute. I hope you're happy together."
Murtagh stared after her. Just what had she implied? And judging by Eragon's splutter, he had caught the meaning behind her words too. Damn troublesome woman!
"What was that!" Eragon choked out.
Murtagh figured he owed it to the kid to at least look at him when he answered. "She thinks I'm gay. I didn't bother to correct her."
"Next time, do!"
Murtagh wasn't sure what hurt more; that Eragon was disgusted by the thought of them being a couple, that he was homophobic, or the fact that it actually hurt to hear him say that. He stood up and pushed the thought away. Why did he care? It wasn't like he was going to see much of Eragon after the wedding.
...Wait. When had he agreed to attend again? Damn. Thorn probably had tricked him into saying yes right after he had gotten up from a night pretending to sleep. That accounted for why he was stuck picking out Saphira's wedding dress in the first place.
Either he had to start sleeping, or remember to take a tape recorder with him wherever he went. Murtagh wanted no more surprises in his life.
He shook his head. "Tell her I'm leaving," he said nonchalantly and left the shop without further ado.
-:-
"So, since when were you gay?"
He knew it. Murtagh dragged a hand through his hair and sighed. Damn, Saphira sure worked fast. It had only been a day.
"Since women started hitting on me in bridal shops," Murtagh drawled.
"So it's just a cover?" Thorn crocked an eyebrow.
Murtagh pulled the blanket off himself and laid it messily over the back of the couch. Yet another night spent on the couch. Well, he didn't want to associate his bed with not sleeping, per Angela's orders, so he wandered off to the couch instead. Apparently a few very boring and very strange night-time shows actually managed to put him to sleep. That only gave him even stranger nightmares, but that was ok. Some of them actually were hilarious. It helped him cope, strangely enough.
"I guess so," he shrugged.
"Until you step into a gay bar, because then you're straight?" Thorn asked dryly.
"Pretty much," he replied. He didn't see what the big deal was. He just wasn't sexually active. It wasn't like the world was going to end because he wasn't getting any.
"Then what are you?"
Hmm, to tell the truth or not to tell the truth. Well, if Thorn planned to force him to attend his bachelor party, something Murtagh feared he would, it was best to tell the truth.
"Asexual."
Thorn stared at him in disbelief. "Maybe there are some things beside your nightmares that Angela can help you with."
And just what was he implying? That his fucked up childhood made him not want to be sexually active? ...Alright, so maybe that wasn't so far off.
"Whatever," he waved him off and padded into the bedroom.
He later cursed himself for not having told Thorn to keep his mouth shut.
-:-
"Is there something else you would like to talk about?"
Murtagh stared at her blankly. No, there wasn't, but obviously Angela thought so. And when he thought back to last week's happenings, he cursed himself. Thorn could have blabbed to Tornac, because apparently they did chat when they bumped into each other, and Tornac could easily have blabbed to Angela. Was nothing sacred anymore?
Nothing probably was when it came to murderers.
"No," he told her simply. If she wanted to talk about his sexuality, or lack of thereof, then she would have to bring it up.
"Alright," she scribbled something down. "How is your drinking?"
"I don't drink anymore," he said honestly. And he didn't. The one liquor bottle he had left in his apartment he planned to give to Thorn at the bachelor party, and he had left it in Tornac's hands just to be safe. He didn't drink at the bar, and he didn't buy beers or shop at the liquor store.
"Good," Angela smiled. "And what about your dreams?"
She was moving through their usual conversation at high-speed. If he were to guess, Murtagh believed she would bring up his lack of sexuality before the end of the session.
"They're no longer just about him."
Angela's smile widened just a fracture. "Good, good."
"And I've started to stop lying in bed waiting to fall asleep."
Why was he feeding her with so much information? Maybe he hoped to distract her from what she obviously planned to take up later?
"Even better," she nodded. "But you're still unable to take the pills?"
He nodded once. They still tasted like shit and wouldn't go down no matter what he tried to swallow them with.
"Alright. At least you're still trying...?" she trailed off.
He nodded in answer. He tried occasionally, but he had mostly given up.
"Mhm. And seeing as you're talking to you best friend again, I don't think we have anything else to talk about today," she brushed a piece of hair behind her ear. "Unless, of course, you have something you wish to discuss?"
"My friends don't respect my privacy, but that's about it," he shrugged.
Angela blushed slightly. Hn, he had been right. Figures.
"Well, I'm sure they only want what they believe is best for you."
"What's best for me is to be able to have some privacy," he crocked an eyebrow.
"Perhaps you should tell them that?" she said and pushed her glasses up her nose.
"I do. They just don't listen."
"Ah." She put her pen down. "But then I guess we're done here."
He nodded. He pushed himself up at the same time as she did. "I want to ask you something before you leave."
This couldn't be good.
"I want you to reconsider a shared session."
He stiffened. After everything she knew he had been through with Eragon, she still wanted him to?
"Not necessarily with Mr. Rider, but I want you to give it another go. You've come very far, but we both know you're keeping something from me," Angela said gravely.
"And you think I'll open up to a complete stranger?" he drawled.
"It's not unheard of," she shrugged. "In most cases, people find it easier to talk to a complete stranger as opposed to someone they know."
"Then I guess you can rule out Eragon." Murtagh shouldered on his jacket. "We can no longer be viewed as strangers."
Something flickered in Angela's eyes. "Oh?"
"Thorn and Saphira are determined to keep me in their lives. The kid and I are...acquaintances at best. And not very good ones," he stared at her pointedly. "I get shoved his way enough by my friends. Don't you start too."
Angela looked down before looking back up. She nodded. "I'll see you in three weeks."
He nodded sharply. He left without sparing the waiting room a glance.
-:-
It had been a while, but as he hung over the toilet seat, he guessed it was due. He spat out the last residue of vomit in his mouth and flushed. He pointedly didn't look into the mirror as he washed his mouth and face.
He spat out the last of the toothpaste when he heard the front door open. A visitor. Great. For a second he actually wished it was a burglar rather than one of his friends.
"Go away," he called out and put away the toothbrush.
"My, aren't we being rude this morning?"
Murtagh just grunted. He finished attempting to look more human and padded out of the bathroom.
"Rough night?" Tornac asked.
Murtagh didn't even bother to answer. He knew he looked like shit. He walked into the kitchen and poured a cup of the coffee Tornac had obviously made while Murtagh had been in the bathroom.
"You could always ask Angela for a different prescription..." the other trailed off.
Murtagh looked at him.
Tornac scowled. "Why are you so against this?"
Murtagh shrugged.
Tornac circled the rim of his coffee cup with his finger. Murtagh took small sips from his own.
"There is one thing we haven't tried," Tornac spoke up suddenly.
Murtagh frowned. He opened his mouth, but was cut off.
"It's not a drug," Tornac smiled. "Just plain old body heat."
Murtagh blinked. "...Are you asking me to take a bed mate?"
The blond laughed. "No, but I'm telling you that's the one thing we haven't tried. Talking doesn't help, you can't swallow the medication...you've never actually tried to share your bed with someone before. Who knows, it might help."
Murtagh doubted that. Besides... "I'm not interested in a relationship, and I can't just ask a random person on the street if they want to sleep beside me at night."
Tornac frowned. "I wasn't talking about a random person, but if you aren't interested in a relationship..."
Murtagh just shrugged. He wasn't. And he doubted anyone was interested in him on a longer basis than a one-night stand.
"I know that look," the older man scowled. "Stop looking down on yourself."
Murtagh rolled his eyes. "I wasn't."
"You were," Tornac snorted. "You cannot think about yourself and not bash yourself. It's your speciality," he sighed. "There has to be something you like about yourself."
"No."
"Be sure to let Angela know."
As if. The less ammunition she had on him, the better.
A/N As you can see, this was where I finally brought some humour in. It's not a lot, but it's some, and that should make up for the, uh, bucket-load of angst and suspense? Right? Ahem.
I'm sorry for the lack of updates and replies. Life has been crazy busy lately with my trip to Las Vegas, my Creative Writing course and my other college course exam. *faint* I'd love to say that things are slowing down, but they're really not. C. W. is as busy as ever even though I have the week off from my English course. But I had to take a break, so I went here and figured I'd give you all a treat. I hope you liked it.
About Obsession: Yes, I know it's been ages since I updated. I'm working on a way to make it work, because a lot of things are going on right now and my beta is very busy himself.
About Now I've Seen It All: I know it's been ages since I updated this one too, but here I'm having a bit of a writer's block on this piece. I haven't finished the next chapter yet. As my beta here is the same as the one for Obsession, I don't know when I'll be able to update this either. I'll let you all know.
And that's all for now, I think. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. See you again soon!