Sway, Swaying, Suede


A/N: As for the last chapter…

Malcolm DIED!

…Am I still alive? No? Okay...

This chapter has been dedicated to the loyal R.L.N.Tonks. It's also thanks to her for the wonderful Lia Breedlove!


Pierce. Break. Anguish.

Pain. Puncture. Echo.

Pound. Pound… Pound.

Again. All over. Cycle.

Discomfort.

Swimming. Struggling… Drowning.

Gasping. Everything's a blur. There's the slight touch of glistening snowflakes on burning skin. Or that's what it feels like from this position. There's a soft sound on the air. The snow as it makes its way down on the slight breathy air?

No. It's a voice… a far off voice, distorted and grotesque, but a voice all the same.

No… no, no. Screaming. Screeching. Writhing. Fighting. There's nothing going on, and the world's ending at them same time. There's a squelching, smothering shot of fear in the air. The bottle's already broken so the alcohol's everywhere. But that shot… that one shot. It just landed on the very edges of his lips.

And Malcolm jumped. He couldn't move. Slowly, he tried to feel his fingers. Damn, the snow was cold. But… why was he outside? Metal. Tinted. DrippingOozing. Thickened and oppressing… it's blood and it's everywhere. He can smell it. It's tickling his nose, pricking his teeth painfully like that of cold ice cream on your front teeth. And he can feel that, too. His eyes are dilated.

Malcolm jumped again at the smell… what was it? Carefully, tenderly, he tried to move and succeeded in… absolutely nothing… There it was again, though. As he tried to move… began to think… Pound. Pound… Pound. Pound. On again, off again. It was his head… or something in his head. Maybe something wasn't working right…

He couldn't think straight. Everything was thick. And confusing and loud and… basically everything it shouldn't be. And he forgot where he was suddenly. Nothing was… everything. And everything had become a crazy—mixed up—conglomerated mess of fucking nothing. Damn, he was so confused.

There was a cold hand against his face. It was swollen, his face. Swollen in pain and discomfort, but it was so numb. He could barely feel the fingers explore way, way above him. And he didn't know… it was like feeling a bird's wings flutter awkwardly against your cheek. And it was far, far away, above him.

"Malcolm." Like a ghost whispering in his ear, he heard a woman's voice. Whose? Who was that? It seemed so familiar and so foreign at the same time. He felt his head loll to the side, and it landed painfully on something cold… numbing, freezing cold. Damn, where the hell was he?! "Malcolm. Malcolm. Malcolm. It's okay." He couldn't see, but suddenly he could hear? Pounding, pounding… he was going to punch the person who had made his head pound like this…

Tonks! She chanted his name over and over as if it would bring him back to the very edge of life, to the very surface where complete, whole portions of thought were reachable. It hurt to think, couldn't he just fall back into unconsciousness?

With the pounding headache he had right now, it was almost unthinkable, considering he could hardly think in the first place. There it was once again—the numb feeling of someone else's flesh on his. He couldn't know who it was. The only thing he knew was that there was blood surrounding his entire body, engulfing him in the sweet stench. He was practically drowning in it. It was Tonks' hand that pulled him to the surface. "Merlin, are you okay? Malcolm, look at me, dammit! Answer me! God I was so fucking worried about you! Hey! Hello?!" He felt far away from her calling voice it was surprising he could hear her at all.

That was when he decided he was tired of being sucked down and into unconsciousness.

He pulled himself out.

Carefully he opened his eyes to see her stricken face. Her eyes were practically rimmed with fire, traced in darkened circles as if she hadn't even had the imagination to think of sleep the night before. He forgot all about the position he was trapped in on her kitchen floor he was worried about her. His left hand was too heavy, however, for him to raise it, cup her face and comfort her. It was just… hopeless. "Help me up." Did he even say that?

"Help me up, love." She frantically grabbed his upper arm and he immediately regretted asking. Pain seared through his neck. What the hell?

"What happened?" She beat him to asking what the hell had happened. He barely took the time to shake his head, the damned pounding of his oncoming, relentless headache had returned. Trying again and again they eventually wound up on the closest of the two couches in the sitting room. Thank. God. That was the only thing that came to his mind.

His hand gingerly made it way up to the very back of his head, the sole source of the thumping… Pain. "God. DAMN! I'll kill that mother fucking bastard! Where the hell is Xavier?!" he spat.

Tonks blinked a few times after her eyes fluctuated between widening and narrowing in the matter of a couple minutes. "I don't know. He hasn't been here all day. I thought he may have gone out—"

"I'll kill him!" the werewolf hissed under his breath. A snarl escaped unscathed from Malcolm's throat.

"Hey." He looked wildly at her, like a trapped, angered, caged animal. His eyes glowed bright golden in the light of the room. And suddenly they dimmed as Tonks' lips met his scratchy cheek. "It's okay." She muttered against his throat as he closed his eyes willingly. He could give into this if only his head wasn't… pounding.

Tonks' hands had—at some point—made their way up to the back of his neck. It was there where her fingertips pressed tenderly, gently and receded to let the pain ebb every few seconds. "Mmm, Tonks." Malcolm's face hardened at the sudden bout of pain that filled his head. What in the hell was wrong with him?! Did he have a fucking concussion for Christ's bleeding sake?!

He leaned out of her touch and opened his bleary eyes. It was then he proceeded to kiss her hungrily, greedily. He would be able to ignore the pain if… Malcolm's hands were quick to tangle in her hair, it was wrought and darkened brown. Beautiful, he thought immediately when her scent suddenly filled his nostrils. A deepened growl filled his chest. It erupted when she pulled back. A small smile had curled around her lips. Adorable, Malcolm corrected himself. He dove in for another kiss. His right hand made its way down, playing with the lengthened curls as he reached the edge of her tightened lavender shirt. He smiled against her lips as her breath hitched innocently.

Malcolm then brought his hand up to press against the small of her back—he felt like being an asshole tease anyway. His fingers tightened in her hair, their grip slackening as his hand tickled her back in a lazy, lengthened pattern. His freed hand laced her face as he pulled away. Tonks was straddling Malcolm completely now and he chuckled at the sight. Her hair was mussed—by him of course. He loved the sight it was almost as if Lia…

"Malcolm?" Tonks' quieted voice almost succeeded in making him jump… He couldn't even remember the shocking sensation of complete thought filling his mind but Lia… wonderful, wholesome Lia. No, Tonks wasn't Lia. He wasn't going to make her out to be Lia, it was just wrong. He looked up guiltily into her wondering eyes. "What is it?" she demanded.

"It's…"

She cocked an unanswered brow at his flustered appearance. He really didn't know what to say exactly. "It's nothing," he insisted tonelessly.

"It's not nothing, Malcolm. You and I both know that." Tonks stood quickly up. The said Malcolm followed quickly suit. His gaze fell icily upon her shorter form. His shoulders gave way to exhaustion. Damn, why was he being so… weak.

Shaking his head, he lowered his chin until his gaze struck the floor at her feet. Shrugging, he muttered as he walked down the hall. Tonks couldn't help but let her gaze follow him helplessly, worriedly. "It's really nothing, Tonks." He disappeared into the bedroom on the left, of course—Xavier's bedroom.

To hell with it, she wasn't giving up that easily. He would not just leave her hanging so rudely. She stepped down the hall quickly, her eyed locked on the gleaming doorknob. Trying her hardest to be quiet—that plan was screwed immediately since she remembered he was a werewolf and had excellent hearing. Dammit! Impossibly, she tripped on something. It may as well have been her feet, but a merciful Malcolm had been there to catch her… her breath included. It was caught painfully in her chest and her nails were bringing blood from his shoulders.

"You can let go now, Tonks. I've got you," he whispered.

Tonks wasted no time in replying, "Thank you." Her lips were suddenly on his.

Malcolm had no clue why but his hands wound their way down until they rested firmly on her hips… wasn't he mad just a second ago? The pounding in his head made him give in. He needed the release. Tonks smiled against his lips as he gave in without a fight. Without breaking the kiss, she pushed him to the edge of the bed. The wood bit into his legs, but the pain in his head made up for that and he ignored it completely. He delved deeper into the kiss until Tonks was left gasping. She smartly nipped his shoulder while gaining back her lost breath.

Malcolm raised his head silently. He numbly felt Tonks push him back into the softness of the mattress. Her hands were leaving sparks of fire beneath his tight shirt, but he didn't realize his breath caught in his throat… he was… somewhere… else entirely…

xl

"Malcolm." The soft whisper brought him to easily open his eyes. The soft smile was a given, always implanted on his face. She could see it in the dim candlelight. She absolutely loved it when he was this vulnerable around her… it made her feel… to put it in simple terms, it made her feel quite special. But that wasn't what she was thinking about. Her pallid skin glowed in the light. Malcolm smiled down at her. His arm wrapped beneath her body and soon he brought the other around to envelope her completely.

Lia's hair was soft against his chest. She listened to his steady heartbeat and closed her eyes… Her breath came as a contented sigh. It was just… perfect. Perfect, complete, right. "I love you," Lia whispered finally.

"I love you, too, love." She could hear the smile in his voice.

Overjoyed. That was what their love was. That was what it had always been. At first… she had been so guilty. They had basically needed each other. Through the darkness of that horrid camp… they had individually found each other and together they had ran… away, far away. Far enough away to escape, she hoped. She shuddered involuntarily against his warmed body. He let his gaze wander down in her direction. When she continued to shiver, he turned his head down and kissed her forehead when she looked up at him. She leaned up and he smiled as he brushed his nose against hers—the usual innocence of a werewolf kiss… He chuckled deeply when she giggled.

So sweet, Malcolm thought silently. His lips collided gently with Lia's and each and every one of his thoughts disappeared to hide in the very back of his mind. He couldn't think clearly when they were this close, it was just… completely impossible. And he liked that about Lia. Loved it, adored it, appreciated it. She made everything go away and filled his heart to overflowing with joy. He unconsciously brought his flouncing hands to grip the contours of her jaw, pressing her even closer. She moaned at the contact, closing her eyes as she smiled against his fierce kisses. His hands brought sense-filling flame to her skin; his musky scent immediately filled her nose when she fought for air.

The lightheadedness of his kiss… she loved it. Her eyes opened when he breathlessly leaned out of the kiss. There was the trace of a smile around his lips; his hair was a glowing halo of a mess as it flowed above her. His strong arms were all around her as he looked down at her. He straddled her waist, all of his weight practiced in his arms and knees. It wasn't another moment later that Lia had leaned up to capture his lips in as just a fierce kiss as his. Malcolm relaxed some of his weight from his knees, knowing just what kind of response he would receive… Lia's hands came to wrap around his neck. She tried getting closer and closer until her chest was pressed flush against his.

Their heartbeats synchronized and Malcolm couldn't help but smile. It was just… sweet. And though he never thought he would ever be happy, he loved that as well… She made him… complete. And as much a cliché as it was, it was sweet. He couldn't help but love it. He loved being happy. And he loved his Lia.

xli

Malcolm rolled his eyes at himself for being so… young. Stupid, he thought silently. Maybe it was having Tonks draped, sleeping and breathing steadily across his chest that his thoughts had turned from itching sweet to negative. He couldn't help it. Lia was… He brought his free right hand up and rubbed his eyes… hard. Smirking at the pain of the pressure, Malcolm pushed up from the bed's embrace, leaving Tonks to sigh as she found a cold pillow instead of his warm, bare chest.

Bare… his bare feet padded on the wood floor and the door protested at his leaving. The squeaking of the hinges was continuously screaming at him as he made his way down the dark hallway… it was still nighttime.

Duh, Malcolm would have said it aloud if there hadn't been the sound of movement ahead of him. He found his way to the kitchen, his hand falling immediately on the closest switch. It was the hall light. And there… Xavier stood ghostly in front of him. He was sure that was what he had looked like earlier that evening. Caught… trapped… with only the hall light to witness his caught stature alert face.

But Xavier was anything but alert because Malcolm's fist caught the vampire before he could even react. He stood his ground, but his face was drawn, tired… pallid. His eyes were empty, even when the light from the hall fell upon him at a perfect angle. Xavier didn't bother to hold up his hand to keep Malcolm from talking. No "I can explain" or apology. So Malcolm went with what first came to his mind…

"I ought to kill you, dammit!"

Xavier's lips almost quirked at the words, but the only thing Malcolm did was deepen his frown. Well, not Malcolm completely, for Tonks appeared behind him at that moment. "Where've you been, eh?" she asked softly, nothing tinting her tone as her voice fell as bare upon his ears as the hall light on his figure. He blinked and let his gaze weave down to the tile of the floor. Malcolm didn't so much as move… blink or breathe. He was completely motionless. Everything was about to fall apart, he knew. Xavier wasn't mad, but he sure as hell fucking was.

A throaty growl rose, quiet and undaunted by the unmoving, seemingly uncaring Xavier. He still looked at the floor. He knew what he did was wrong. Damn, he'd known better than to attack like that.

Blinking once, twice, Malcolm jerked himself away from the sight of the vampire. He paced quickly, trying hard not to slip on the slickness of the floor. His feet suddenly held him firmly in place once Xavier's nearly inaudible voice reached him. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry will never make up for this, Xavier! I thought you had left me here to die!" he spat relentlessly. "I thought you were going to be the reason I was going to die." His voice lowered considerably while Tonks watched the both of them grapple with what to say next.

"How's your head?" the vampire asked, ignoring the explosion of anger. Malcolm would have to live with his anger… vampires were known to blow a fuse, too. He had emotions, too, and he had suddenly lost control of them… Shit happens, Xavier told himself. His face was still emotionless as Malcolm paused. The anger was scrawled hastily on his face still and it was then—when Xavier had hesitated in studying the werewolf—that Malcolm made to move closer. The strength of a warm hand wrapped tightly around Xavier's throat. There was a slight, earsplitting scream, but Xavier didn't bother to find Tonks' frightened figure somewhere beyond where Malcolm was standing now.

It was his voice in Xavier's ear, "It fucking hurts." Tears had welled in his eyes at the stiffening pain in his neck, in every one of his limbs. He subdued himself to Malcolm's anger, knowing good and damn well he could probably be killed, trampled, stomped beneath it. But the hint of laughter in the werewolf's voice let him know otherwise…

It was Tonks' voice, however, that pulled Malcolm's hand away from his throat. "Malcolm…"

Xavier's frail figure was suddenly brittle as Malcolm clutched both of his arms in his winding grasp. The vampire could almost feel his upper arms bruising under the pressure. "God… dammit." Malcolm bowed his head as the tears—with a mind of their own—fell away from Xavier's face. Malcolm had leaned forward until his forehead rested against Xavier's chest. He felt the tightened pull of his skin healing as the tears dried. The throbbing pain left as he pulled the vampire into a light embrace. His arms were relaxed for he knew Xavier had probably been "beaten" by a baseball bat…

At the werewolf's practiced touch, it was then that a smile finally reached his lips, "I'm sorry." With a laugh, the words echoed through everyone.

"I ought to kill you, Xavier."


TBC


Moony73