AN: So apparently I'm not as up to dating as I thought I would be. . . Pshhh sorry. I WENT TO DISNEYLAND AND CALIFORNIA ADVENTURE!! There. Thats my excuse. This really isn't a chapter I particularly like, but whatever.
Alright, well song is "Harder To Breathe," by Maroon 5.
Also, I said in the last chapter that Schuyler could fit the book into her pocket. . . lets say the book is either 3" by 3" and about 1,000 pages, or she's wearing the coat of a 500 pound man(or woman...)to fit the book in her pocket. . . Eh. Anyways, the size of the book is important in later chapters. . .
THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO MI AMOUR SISSA! HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY! She can sing from Grease(which I stubbornly refuse to watch), shares my favorite color, and has such a creative mind, I fear for her safety. . . Luv u Sissa!
"Falling in love is awfully simple, but falling out of love is simply awful." -Anonymous
"How dare you say that my behavior is unacceptable.
So condescending unnecessarily critical.
I have the tendency of getting very physical,
So watch your step, cause if I do you'll need a miracle.
"Schuyler?" he repeated once more, reassuring himself that it was actually her. He glanced back at the door and looked at her alarmed.
"What are you doing in here?"
She opened her mouth to answer, when she realized she hadn't thought of a good enough excuse, and was too distressed to come up with anything. Oliver shook his head, grabbed her hand, and pulled her out of the room. He kept looking around anxiously to see if others had witnessed her coming out of the authorized personnel room.
Schuyler only had to use the glom to know no one had even glanced in their direction. She hadn't focused too much on this, for there was another fixation poking at her conscious.
She couldn't shake the feeling of how erroneous Oliver's hand felt on her own. Now that she had felt what it was like to be with Jack, there was no going back. She had tasted the wine and was now tasting stale Coke. It felt like a disgrace to his memory.
A betrayal.
But, why was she talking like that? It sounded like something you would say about the dead. Jack wasn't dead.
At least, not yet.
They all needed to be aware and watch out for the Silver Bloods. It was only a matter of time before one swooped down and took more people. This reminded her of earlier that day. What had gone on in Charles' office? Where did Forsyth go? How did Jack react to the new information? Had Charles finally realized she wasn't occupying a room in the Force household anymore?
Oliver stopped her in a secluded corner away from other inhabitants.
"I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere, okay?" Uh, where would she go, Oliver?
He took one last look at her and left in the direction they had just come from. She assumed he still had business to attend to, considering he was holding a thick stack of papers and he had something to do with the room he was trying to enter before the shock at seeing her had stopped him.
She sighed at her impending doom. What did he want to talk about? What could he possibly talk about?
To occupy her mind, she pulled Lawrence's book out of her huge pocket. I wonder how long ago this was published, she thought, it looks new. She flipped to the first page. She stared, astonished and confused, as she puzzled over the date published.
Unlike other books, Lawrence's volume listed the month, day, and year of the exact publishing day. What stunned her, was that the book was published little over a month before the events at Corcovado. Had he been working on this while she resided at the Force townhouse? She memorized the name and the address of the publisher and vowed to visit them and inquire about Lawrence's writing. And possibly the reason behind it.
She was starting to get a headache. She gave her head a tiny shake, repelled a little dizziness, and continued on.
Schuyler switched her focus to the next page and found a dedication. She expected it to be to Cordelia. She expected to be anyone Lawrence knew.
Anyone except her.
To my cunning granddaughter Schuyler, It read, I have decided to humor you with putting one of the poems you wrote in my novel.
Fondly, Grandfather
Whaaaaat?
She had never in her life attempted to write poetry, much less show any poetry to Lawrence. What was he talking about? Was it a typo? A misunderstanding? No, it couldn't be, she reasoned, Lawrence wouldn't written anything that didn't have reason. What did it mean? Was he trying to tell her something discreetly? She tried in vain to push the questions aside to another part in her mind and moved on.
She discovered there was a poem- a poem that didn't make much sense to her- and one she had definitely not written.
A message that will stand and deliver,
Things that are known, things that are not.
You need him to survive,
A bout of knowledge is needed at your side.
Beware of the gold that has you enraptured,
Shimmering poison, you'll find yourself captured.
He has what you need, be aware, use it well,
Stop Morningstar from sending us to hell.
Do not forget about the Gates, for I fear,
The time for change is near.
"Things just get more complicated by the minute," she muttered thoroughly confused and frustrated.
"How so?" She jumped, not expecting a response. She scolded herself for being caught off guard. Already dreading what was next, she turned to face a concerned Oliver. She almost hated him for that. Almost hated that he made it so easy for her to feel guilty. Almost hated that he was concerned for her when she couldn't care less about what was happening to him when she was with Jack.
Almost.
What she hated was how there were two. Two. Two of them. Jack and Oliver. She hated how she had two choices. In other people's point of view, two choices were good. Lots of options to choose from. Of course her situation was different. She hated how they both expected her to choose themselves. She hated how she'd be the one to hurt on of them when she did choose.
At least Oliver couldn't read her mind. He was still staring at her while he waited for an answer to his question.
"Numbers." Two.
"Wha-"
"Never mind." Oliver looked at her the way one would when confused and questioning a certain someone's sanity, and finally nodded hesitantly. She motioned for him to say whatever he needed to say.
"So. . . How are you doing?"
"Really, Oliver?"
"I mean it. Are you. . . happy?" She sighed and turned so her back was facing him and rested her head on an ancient bookshelf. Her headache was coming back.
"Am I happy?" She repeated and thought, "About a year ago. When I was clueless, ignored by everyone, and didn't know of the perplexing, malevolent, and twisted things I would be introduced to. And you know the scary part? I'm not talking about my experiences with vampires. I'm talking about the wretched fixation, and obsession that would consume me in time: Love. Something that captured me and tied me down with two motives. And you know they have names. So, not to ramble any more than I have, I'll answer your question. I was happy."
Before his eyes, Oliver saw Schuyler age. The events she had gone through recently hadn't seemed to affect her image, but looks can be deceiving. It wasn't fair. A normal Blue Blood being inducted into the Blue Blood history wouldn't have gone through what Schuyler had endured.
One part of her little speech bothered him.
"I didn't ignore you," he muttered. She bristled at his statement. He made it sound like an accusation. A hidden meaning that said: "You're not giving me enough credit."
You drain me dry and make me wonder why I'm even here,
This double vision I was seeing, is finally clear.
You want to stay, but you know very well I want you gone,
Not fit to tread the ground that I'm walking on.
"No, you didn't, but-"
"I didn't pretend to love you one minute and then disregard you the next," he continued. She glared at him with vehemence in her eyes. That was directed at Jack and he knew it. She felt fury bubble up inside of her as Oliver belittled Jack.
"At least he didn't ask me to choose. He didn't question whether it was him or you," she retaliated.
"At least? What does that mean?"
"He wasn't putting me down, Oliver. He encouraged our love, all the while you're raving that I shouldn't have made you my human familiar because you're too attached, and now you're fighting for me?"
"What else am I supposed to do?! You just said yourself, I'm attached. And I let you make me your familiar, and you thank me by hooking up with another guy?"
"It wasn't supposed to be like that! Human familiars are like a service to Blue Bloods. You were a mistake!"
Schuyler grasped what she had just implied.
Or was it what she had just realized?
What you are doing is screwing things up inside my head,
You should know better, you never listened to a word I said.
Clutching your pillow and writhing in a naked sweat,
Hoping somebody someday will do you like I did.
"Oliver-"
"So that was what you were playing the whole time? Once you discovered you had 'noble' blood, you ditched the best friend act and began to think of us as 'service'?"
"I didn't mean-"
"I think what you meant came clearly. And if you're ever in need of some 'service,' again, I'm sure there will be willing participants for you." Unlike himself.
"Just get out, Schuyler."
"Ollie-"
"Don't call me that."
She glanced at him, hurt and remorseful. She hadn't meant to say those offending things to Oliver, but it was the truth wasn't it? God, she was starting to sound like, well, Mimi. It was a turn of the tables: this time Schuyler was hurt and paying up for her actions.
Does it kill?
Does it burn?
Is it painful to learn,
That it's me that has all the control.
Schuyler looked at Oliver, who was- not fuming, but looking more peeved and disappointed. She had let him down.
Now everyone would know who she chose.
"I guess I'll just leave now," she murmured quietly. He nodded, still not looking at her.
As she turned to duck behind a bookshelf and escape, the world tilted at a twisted angle and her head spun. She stumbled over her feet and caught herself just before she rammed her head into an ancient bookshelf. Her movement caused dust to fly, which she started to cough violently on.
"Schuyler?"
The fluorescents glowed radioactively and the spines of books stung her vision with vivid colors. The world began to twirl around her as she crumpled to the ground. She felt arms around her waist and tried to tell Oliver that he needed to let her go, but gasps and stuttering coughs were the only noises that emanated from her mouth.
"Schuyler?! Schuyler, can you hear me?!" His voice was right in her ear. She repeated the words over and over in her head until they sounded as warped and distorted as a car twisted around a tree.
Oliver's- was it Oliver? She didn't actually know anymore- face loomed up above her. It seemed to stretch and stretch until his face was the only thing within her vision. Blocking her vision.
His face was the last thing she saw as she let the bright, loud, and swirling colors take her away.
Does it thrill?
Does it sting?
When you feel what I bring,
And you wish that you had me to hold.
Hyperactive thrumming.
Many beeps coming one after the other continuously screaming in her ear. She winced and moved restlessly as she tried to get away from the incessant beeping. Something held her down by the wrist, and another captured her hand.
She opened her eyes and faced a blank white ceiling. To her right and left machines were bleeping, making noise, and blinking brightly. She glanced at her wrist to see an IV connected to it. Her hand, however, was held by another hand.
Oliver's hand.
He perked up when he saw she had her eyes open. He grasped her hand tighter. As if I was going anywhere.
"Schuyler," he breathed in relief. Okay? Wasn't he just throwing his wrath out at her a minute ago? Or was it longer? "I'm glad to see you're awake. You're in the hospital sweetheart."
"I gathered," she tried to sound sarcastic, but it came out breathless.
"I called Aunt Pat when you fainted. It's mostly my fault that you're in here," he sighed. She was about to comment when something interrupted.
Footsteps were heard outside in the hall and muffled voices were heard. The door swung open and Schuyler had a strange sense of déjà vu.
And in walked Jack Force.
And like a little girl cries in the face, of a monster that lives in her dreams.
Is there anyone out there?
Because it's getting harder and harder to breathe.
Is there anyone out there, because it's getting harder, and harder to breathe."
AN: You'll never get away from Jack in this story! MUAHAHAHA!! So I was gonna stop right after she fainted, but eh, why not give you more? I also hinted earlier on that that was gonna happen. Headaches anyone? And so she had déjà vu because when she was in the library Oliver came in and the door swung open, just like it did with Jack.
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