author's notes: whoa, what a monster to get through! but i'm extremely pleased with the result. i have to admit, i might have a weak spot for Hugo. anyway, i hope you all like it, let me know what you think. sorry for all the confusion last chapter, sometimes that's just how i roll. love love LOVE to all of you with your awesomely encouraging comments/reviews! i'll shut up now, and let you read. enjoy!
disclaimer: i own none of these shiny playthings. except a bit of the plot.
ii. ten: lies
He never thought it possible to feel this much. Hugo never believed that love could feel this strong, this all-consuming. This addictive. He's dead convinced that Isabel is the one for him though, the one and only woman to ever give him the will – the desire – to keep fighting for their relationship. He belongs with her.
But everyone has their limit. It's been eight years now, long wonderful years. But enough is enough. He knows that in physical age he's already several years older than Isabel, and he doesn't want that to go any further. He's only now beginning to realise how much he's changed his lifestyle to suit hers better. Maybe it's time for them to be equals.
"Why can't you do this for me?" Hugo asks again, one plea in a long succession of identical requests. Why can't she turn him? Why not, when he's so willing to stay by her side forever? Together for all eternity.
"Hugo, I love you," Isabel answers, and places her hands lovingly on his face. She stays strong and doesn't cry, but the tears in Hugo's eyes break her un-beating heart. "But I will not turn you. I can't."
"OF COURSE you can!" Hugo bats Isabel's hands out of the way violently, and goes through his knees in front of her. He tips his head and exposes his throat to her. "It's easy. You've tasted my blood, Isabel. Turn me. Please." His eyes plead with her further, and he prays that the urgency in his heart echoes through in his words.
"Don't be ridiculous." Isabel rolls her eyes, and walks away, even though it takes her all her strength. She understands why he wants her to turn him, to be with her, forever. But Isabel knows that forever is a long time, and that death, in whatever disguise it comes, changes a person crucially.
Hugo's shouting wakes up Illeana in the middle of the day. She knows that Isabel insists on Hugo carrying on with his normal routine, so the hour doesn't strike her. It's Hugo's feelings that get her every time. No matter how angry he gets, or how hard he shouts, every time, always, his love for Isabel stays strong.
"They're fighting again," Illeana says, because she knows Godric is awake as well. He wants to tell her that she should be grateful for not being able to hear it all, but then he figures she knows better than most what Hugo and Isabel are fighting about. Are fighting for.
He knows he doesn't need so say anything in response, because it's just a random observation, but Illeana's eyes remain open and he knows that there's something bothering her.
"She won't turn him," he says softly. Illeana doesn't move from his arms, or removes her hand from his chest. It means that she knows, or at least realises on some level that Isabel might love Hugo, but something is holding her back. Perhaps it always will.
"Is that why you've only ever turned Eric?" Illeana asks suddenly, as if she's intuitively tuned into his train of thought. She raises her head slightly and looks up at him. "Because the bond between a vampire and his Maker is something deeper than love?"
Her question takes him by surprise, mostly because her amount of insight can still strike him, and because she is absolutely right. The bond between a Maker and his Child was one of responsibility, of undying loyalty, friendship, and yes, ultimately love as well. But even more than that there is a bond that's beyond words, beyond rational thought, beyond understanding. It can easily be called magic.
"Yes," he answers, but he knows that only applies to him. She keeps looking at him, and he stares right back at her, his stare unrelenting, hers a curious interesting one. She wants to tell Godric that they have a bond that's beyond words, one that has been there since she was four years old when he took her from that awful pain-riddled place.
But she keeps such things to herself. For now.
"You told me a long time ago to be patient," Hugo says one day. It comes out of the blue, because usually Hugo likes to pretend Isabel and him are the only ones that know about their fights. Right now though, he can't keep quiet. He's slowly reaching his limit. "Do you remember that?"
The television in the living room is on, but the voice of the newsreader hardly registers. in other news: a tragic car accident in Dallas claimed three lives today. paramedics...
"Yes. Of course," Illeana answers, and sits down next to him on the sofa. "I meant that. She needs time."
reverend Theodore Newlin, his wife...
She lies.
It makes her into the biggest hypocrite in the world, but she can't bring herself to tell Hugo the truth. They come so easily, the lies, and Illeana can't help but wonder that all the lies she once discovered in others served the exact same purpose; to prevent her heart from breaking.
...and their 18-month year old daughter Bethany, all pronounced dead on arrival at Baylor University Medical Centre...
"Do you really think she'll turn me?" There's a hope in his voice that he only allows himself to have because he knows Illeana, and he trusts her. "When she's ready?" He looks up at her, wide-eyed and desperate for affirmation.
there were a total of seven other casualties as well in the freak accident, apparently caused when a freeway sign...
"Of course." She looks at him, her eyes sad, for him, for her. More lies roll off her tongue, because she knows Isabel won't ever grant him his wish. "And if you don't trust that, believe me when I tell you that she loves you very much." Not a lie, but not helpful either.
"I guess I can take your word for that," he says, but lies as well. He cares for Illeana, but he knows she cares enough about him to tell him exactly what he wants to hear. He can't be sure she's lying, but it's possible.
"You can," she nods, and gets up from the sofa. She needs to get away, before all the wrong words escape her lips.
"Ana?" he says, and she turns towards his voice. "Thank you," he smiles softly, unconvincingly, but for Illeana he's willing to make the same effort as for Isabel.
A twisted tinge of guilt ripples through her.
When Illeana walks out of the room, leaving Hugo alone with his own thoughts, she meets Stan in the hallway. She looks at him carefully. He only gives her a hard stare back. "He's pathetic," Stan says, and crosses his arms over his chest; he'd been listening in on the conversation, mostly out of amusement. "Isabel will never turn him."
"I know," Illeana says softly, and stares at her feet. Stan doesn't understand, how she can continue to nourish this foolish fantasy that Hugo is and always will be the only one for Isabel? He's seen her past lovers, all the same pathetic excuses for men. "It's called hope, Stan," Illeana explains. He snickers. "But don't worry, it's only a human emotion."
He'll give her this: even though she's clearly learned her place in the nest, girl knows how and when to speak her mind.
Another few days pass, and tensions rise further between Hugo and Isabel. He begins to despair, but tries to hide it as best as he can, because after everything that's happened, and even everything that hasn't, he knows that Isabel loves him. He holds onto that thought feverishly.
"You know I love you, right?" he whispers in her ear, and he hears her huff a smile.
"Of course I do." Isabel turns in his arms and looks at him. "You know I do."
A few hours later, voices are heard across the entire house: Hugo and Isabel, fighting again. Godric can hear it. Illeana can feel it.
"She won't allow someone else to do it, will she?" Illeana has been awake for hours, the lies she told Hugo days earlier constantly on her mind. She is a hypocrite, but could she really break Hugo's heart?
"No," is all Godric answers. She knows his reasons, just like she suspects he understands her further silence. She's known all this time what kind of hesitations are holding back Isabel. It's not real love that she feels for Hugo, for her; what Godric feels for her. It's not real.
Hugo's and Illeana's love is complete, well-rounded, irrational, because in the end that's exactly what Illeana knows love to be. Irrational. But Isabel's love, Godric's; that was love with reservations. Love with an expiration date. It's a hole they keep inside themselves before ever meeting a loved one, a place-holder because they know one day their loved one won't be there, will perish and die, with or without them by their sides.
It's conditional love, rather than the unconditional kind that humans feel. It's perishable love, dying from the moment it starts. Because it has to. Illeana feels Hugo's heart breaking because Isabel doesn't seem to realise that there is one way out of that, one way to turn conditional into unconditional. And that's turning Hugo. But Isabel will never do that. She lost understanding of that kind of love a long time ago.
"You're not even considering it, are you?" It feels like all she's being doing lately is ask questions she already knows the answer too. But she can't help herself. She might understand emotions, but she can't understand conditions. Is it that Isabel fears Hugo will become her equal, or does she simply not love him deeply enough?
If the bond between a vampire and his Maker truly goes beyond all rationality, maybe it's the one thing Illeana will never be able to understand.
"This is not up for discussion, Ana," Isabel answers, looking at her strongly. Isabel knows Illeana and Godric have been worried about her relationship with Hugo, but she won't let herself be commanded. "I won't allow it."
"Can I at least ask you why?" Illeana feels her heart leap up in revolt, partly out of anger, partly out of sheer frustration. Were all vampires just essentially stubborn?
"Why is it important to you?"
"Because first of all, I care about Hugo." She's sure about that much. She cares too much for him to continue the lies, because sooner or later he will start seeing through them, and hold her deception against her. She can't have that. "And what you're doing to him isn't fair. If you're not going to turn him, the least you can do is tell him the truth."
Yes, truth, the one and only thing she has ever asked of Isabel, of Godric. Truth, the one thing she can't give Hugo; that's Isabel's responsibility.
"And second?" Isabel sighs. Illeana feels like she might as well be talking to a brick wall; Isabel isn't even listening to her seriously.
"I..." Illeana shakes her head. She knows what comes second, but she'd had no intention of continuing her statement. Unfortunately Isabel was far smarter than that.
"It's Godric, isn't it?" Isabel asks. Her dark-brown eyes keep Illeana pinned in place. Isabel has seen this coming for such a long time, but she suspects the thought only surfaces because Hugo and her have been fighting so much. "Do you want him to turn you?" Isabel's heart would have skipped a beat if it had been capable of such a thing.
"I... no," Illeana shakes her head, frowning. "I don't know." She turns away from Isabel, more confused than ever; these are things she's never even admitted to herself. "It's complicated."
"Yes. It is," Isabel answers calmly, but her feelings are everything but. To be honest, she doesn't like the idea of Illeana turning any more than the idea of Hugo becoming one of them. They're not natural, vampires, how can she put Hugo or Illeana through that?
It is confluence of circumstances. The 'accident'. The fighting. The betrayal. Hugo reaches his limit. He realises that he's changed his entire life, his routine, to be with Isabel. Yes, he loves her, adores her, worships her, but he can't be with her when all he will do is age, and she will remain the same. He can't see an easy way out, because he knows he's too attached to Isabel to simply walk away.
That's why he turns to the Fellowship of the Sun.
He thinks they'll offer him a way out, a support-group that he can depend on to pull him out this vicious circle of habits.
Instead, they ask him to betray Godric. Betray Illeana. Betray Isabel.
He does.
"There you are," Illeana says when she finds Godric outside by the pool. The sun has just set behind the horizon. She walks over to him, entwines her fingers with his, and puts her head down on his shoulder. She can hear him smile softly.
"I didn't want to wake you," he says, but keeps staring out in front of him. He'd watched her sleep for a while, but then decided it was best she rested well. "Not now that the house is so calm."
Illeana smiles too; he knows her too well. She hasn't known this house to be empty in the four years she's spend in it. It's even more silent now, no voices, no emotions but hers and Godric's. This is true peace.
"It's hard to believe we're actually alone." Isabel and Hugo had gone to the hotel Camilla to spend some quality time together. Illeana and Godric were alone in the house for the first time. It seemed like such an oddity, all this peace and quiet all of a sudden, no anger, or hunger, or loud voices. Just peace. Only peace.
"Why don't you get something to eat?" he looks at her lovingly, and she gives him a soft smile back. She squeezes his hand lightly. Sometimes she forgets she actually needs food to stay alive; it's so easy to forget about her own needs when she's with Godric.
Illeana detangles her hand from Godric's reluctantly, but she's happy to find the same hesitation in him. It's only a shadow of her reluctance, but it's there. Despite her worries about Hugo, about Isabel, she's never been happier then right here in this moment. Strange how things work out sometimes.
She should have known – from experience and the past – that things like that don't always last.
She decides to get dressed properly first, so she's up in the bedroom when she finds her heart in sudden distress. Something's off, but she doesn't pin it down fast enough. "Godric," she manages to breathe before a hand covers her mouth from behind, another strong arm around her torso, and she's being dragged downstairs again.
She screams, but it's lost in an entanglement of arms and emotions. Illeana reaches back for his face, struggling violently, but the only thing her fingers meet with is fabric; her attacker is wearing a mask. She despairs, because his hands are covered as well, and her voice just won't do right now.
"Let me GO!" she screams when she feels her lips being freed, but another fear grabs her almost just as fast. A cold steel knife against her throat.
"Let her go." Godric's voice makes her heart leap up, but it's a sigh of relief that doesn't calm her down one bit. Three other men join them in the living room, all armed with stakes, guns, and God-knows what else to kill the both of them.
"One move and she's dead, fangs," her attacker says. Godric assesses the situation in a matter of seconds. There's a knife to Illeana's throat, and he can already smell blood; the bastard is cutting her. He can't move, not without running the risk of Illeana dying. A cut like that, he's not sure even his blood will bring her back.
"What do you want?" Godric asks. Illeana whimpers, a raspy steel pain cutting through the skin at her throat. She already knows she's bleeding. She can't think, she can't move, she can't use her ability. This is worse than that one time Stan had her in a stranglehold; he was just trying to make a point. This time, she knows she'll die if Godric or her make the wrong move.
"We came here for you."
"I'll go willingly," Godric says. His life doesn't matter, not now. Illeana has her entire life ahead of her. He loves her enough to let her go like this. His life for hers. That doesn't sound like a bad trade at all. "Just leave her unharmed," he insists.
"Godric. No," Illeana croaks.
"Hold out your hands," one of the other men says, and Illeana can hear the rattling of silver chains. No no no not like this. She can't lose him like this.
"You leave her unharmed," Godric says, to make sure that they stay true to their word. Illeana can't tell anymore at this point, her fear is all but consuming her.
"Scout's honour, fangs," the man answers, rattling the silver chains to taunt him further. Godric holds out his hands, and when the silver touches his bare skin, it sizzles. Illeana closes her eyes, and wills Godric pains away.
She fails.
Another chain is wrapped around his neck, and they shackle him by his ankles as well. Illeana feels tears well up in her eyes, and the pain that the knife causes tips her over the edge. Tears escape her eyes strongly when she sees Godric go through his knees. He tries to hide his pain from her, if only to appear strong for her.
"Alright," the man behind her says, and the other three lift Godric from the ground. The knife leaves her throat, and Illeana allows herself a breath. "Let's haul your pretty ass in too," he whispers in her ear.
"NO!" Illeana screams again, and struggles free from her attackers arms. She only manages to take a few steps before two strong arms encircle her again. "Godric!" she shouts, and sees how the three other men carry him out of the house. They lock eyes for a single second – defeat in his, anguish in hers – before he disappears from her sight altogether.
"Oh, I get it. You're a feisty one, aren't ya?" her attacker says.
Illeana elbows him in the ribs, and he releases her quickly, but she can't make a run for it. He grabs her arm before she even manages to get her bearings, whirling her around, and hits her hard across the face.
The whole world spins around her. She raises a hand to her eye, and finds blood on her skin when she looks at it. Her knees buckle underneath her, and gravity pulls her towards the ground.
She passes out on the floor.
When she wakes up, she's lost. She's in a dark room. A cell.
Alone.
we've been waiting all our lives
for things we've always had
but have no eyes to see.
something new is going to happen,
the most natural thing
but nothing we'd expect.
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