I know, i know, you all hate me for killing Claire. I'm sorry, but i had too! The story would have just kept going and going with no end in sight if i hadn't :(
Anywho, i hope you enjoy this chapter as best you can. Let me know what you think :)
Disclaimer: I own nothing affiliated with the Morganville Vampire series.
Shane hardly moved for four whole days. Once Michael and Eve managed to pry him away from Claire's body and let the paramedics take her away, they took him home, put him into bed and he'd only gotten up to use the bathroom since. He kept his door locked, he didn't eat, didn't talk, hardly slept.
On the fifth day, things changed. As she had since Claire had died, Eve had woken up before Michael. Nightmares and sorrow kept her up most of the night anyway. She stumbled out of her room and across the hallway, aiming for the bathroom, until she realised Shane's door was wide open. Quietly, she crept over and took a peek in, expecting to see Shane in some kind of heap on his bed, or throwing angry punches at walls. Anything, something other than the nothing he'd been doing since they got him back. Instead, his room was empty, his dirty clothes were on the floor and his wardrobe was open like he'd gotten out a fresh set. Confused, Eve turned and took a walk back across the hallway and knocked on the closed bathroom door, there was no answer there, so she swung the door open. Again, it was empty, but it had that damp in the air and the smell of shower gel and shampoo that said someone had been in there recently.
Eve turned and leaned against the doorway to the bathroom, baffled. Shane hadn't moved in four whole days, now he'd gotten up, showered and changed? She was deep in thought, wondering where he'd gotten too, when she heard the bangs and clashes of dishes and cups from downstairs. The smell of cooking bacon floated up to her slightly. Shane was making breakfast? Quietly, Eve tiptoed across the hallway and let herself into Michael's room. She woke him up with a harsh shake.
'Shane's alive.' She gave him another shake as he opened his groggy eyes. 'Michael, Shane is up, showered, dressed and making bacon.' Michael gave her wide eyes and then sat up on the bed, turning to talk to her.
'Shane's making bacon?'
'Is that seriously all you got from that! Shane is out of bed.' Eve creased her forehead and stared at him, daring him to make the bacon mistake again.
'Oh, yeah, right. Well… We should go see what's going on then. Right?' Eve nodded, stood, grabbed Michael's hand and dragged him out of bed too. They were all set to head out the room, until she realised he was still in just his boxers.
'Erm, clothes Michael?' He just gave her a smirk, nothing like he used to give her, the grief took the edge from it, but it was still there. He turned and pulled a pair of grey joggers on and a dark red t-shirt from the floor. Now they were ready to go.
Shane had heard Eve get up, and then he'd heard her go and get Michael up when she realised he'd finally decided to move again. Painfully, he pulled up his best blank, happy face. Plastering an arrogant smirk and almost sparkly eyes across his face to mask everything that he was feeling. He'd taken a look in the mirror before his shower earlier, it looked like the lights had gone out and nobody was home in his face. There wasn't pain or loss or sadness, just nothing. Blankness. Empty. Like life without Claire.
Shane shook his head hard, dislodging that thought and pulling together his face again, turning back to the frying bacon and scrambled eggs he was cooking on the stove just before Michael and Eve tentatively pushed the door to the kitchen open and stepped in.
'Yo! Bacons almost done, coffee in the pot. Dunno if there's any red stuff in Mike, didn't check.' Shane called. Michael and Eve stood frozen just inside the door watching him. He was acting like nothing at all had changed.
'Shane…' Eve managed to call over too him, Michael was still just watching him with confused eyes. Shane turned around to face them, spatula in hand. He was smiling, but it wasn't as good a cover as he obviously thought it was. There was deep, bruise like circles under his eyes, which were red from either exhaustion or crying. Probably both. His eyes were…nothing. There was nothing there, nothing that was Shane, or any variation of the Shane's they'd seen over the past few years. Just nothing. It was almost worse than the pain that had been there the last time they'd seen him.
'Yeah?' He replied looking at them both,
'You okay, man?' Michael asked, his face wary.
'I'm fine. Hungry. Sit, food's almost done.' With that he turned and began flipping bacon and eggs onto plates and pouring coffee into mugs. Michael apparently just took him at his word, but Eve wasn't that naive, or blind. She crossed the room and reached out to him, putting a hand on his arm. He froze under her touch, hovering with a big spoonful of eggs in his hand.
'Shane..' Eve started again. He dropped the spoon suddenly and whirled around, flinching away from her touch. There was horror and pain and such dreadful things plastered across his face for just a second, then he covered it all up again. Eve sighed as that arrogant smile took the place of his grimace.
'I'm fine, Eve.' Shane said a little curtly, before turning around and piling eggs onto the spoon again to dish out between the three plates.
'All done, grab one guys.' Shane picked up a plate and went to sit in the chair as far away from the one that Claire used to sit in as possible, avoiding looking at it at all. Eve turned to look at Michael who was grabbing his sports bottle of blood out of the microwave and a plate of food from the counter. He just shrugged back at her and moved over to the table, sitting opposite Shane. Eve just sighed again and picked up her own bacon and eggs, resigning herself to breakfast.
Shane did the washing up, which was a surprise to both Michael and Eve, who'd been trying to get him to be domestically helpful for years with no such luck. If he was trying to act asif everything was normal, then he was so not going about this the right way. In fact, it was kind of weirding out Michael, who by the time dinner had come around and Shane had made the weirdest concoction of food ever, and then washed up again, he had decided to say something to him about it. They were all sat in the living room, Shane in the chair as far away from the couch that Claire and he used to cuddle on, pretending to read a paper. Michael cleared his throat and began.
'Shane, man, what the hell is going on?' Shane looked up at them both sat across from him with a shocked expression.
'I'm browsing the paper. Why?' Michael gave an exasperated sigh, Shane was being dense on purpose.
'You know that's not what he means, Shane.' Eve whispered, clenching her hands together and looking down.
'Nope, not really.' Shane stared at them with a challenge in his eyes, if they were going to do this, they were going to have to be the ones that said it. Michael drew a deep breath, reached out and took Eve's hand and then met Shane's challenging eyes.
'Claire is dead, Shane.' Shane flinched, Eve flinched, heck even Michael himself flinched as he said the words. The challenge was gone from Shane's eyes now, replaced by anger.
'I know that.' Shane growled out between clenched teeth, his hands curling into fists. Being angry was better than being depressed, he guessed.
'Really? Then what the hell is this acting like everything is fine? Jesus, Shane. We saw nothing of you for four days and now suddenly you're smiling and cooking and cleaning like nothing has changed, like it never happened!' Michael still looked at him with an exasperated expression, silent tears flowed down Eve's cheeks. Shane sprang to his feet and began to pace in front of them, his fists still clenched to his sides.
'What, you'd rather I lost myself over this? Let my grief over take me? 'Cause I can do that too, Mike.' Shane reached the wall on the far side of the room and the horrible pressure had reached an unbelievable level in his body. His fist flew out from his side and stuck the wall, he hit it hard enough that a dent formed as he withdrew, his hand had split and blood ran in thin lines along his knuckles. 'I CAN DO THAT TOO.' Shane turned and screamed at them.
The emotions on his face at that moment where the most horrible things Michael and Eve had ever seen, it made them wish they'd just let him get on with his pretending. There was sorrow, loss, guilt, and pain. So much pain, so much lonely, horrible pain. Tears welled in his eyes, made them shiny in the light, and then spilled in hot, thick lines down his face. He stared at them for a moment more before he whispered;
'Yeah, I can do that too.' With that he turned and ran, outside into the cold, outside into the dark. Away from the safety of the house and out into a world of vampires and possible danger. He figured it'd be safer out here with them, than with his emotions back there in the house.
After fifteen minutes of aimless running, Shane slowed until he found himself outside of one of the ugliest, dirtiest bars that this god-forsaken town had. The only one in town that he knew would keep serving him until he either passed out or left. The last time Shane had been here, the drinks had hardly cost a thing. He knew this wasn't a good idea, but it was his best one for right now.
Michael and Eve had sat frozen for a good ten minutes, both of them crying silent tears, before Michael suggested he go after Shane. They both knew, however, that with the way Shane was running, the way he was feeling, it'd be super hard to find him right now. Instead, they resigned their selves to waiting up for him. An hour passed, then two and then they must have fallen asleep, because the next thing they knew, the bang of the front door slamming shut woke them up and it was three in the morning. It took them both a while before they realised that it must have been Shane coming back, and by the sounds of his stumbling and his mumbling, he was very drunk.
Instead of going straight after him, Michael and Eve sat and waited, listening to where he was going. Somehow, he managed to get all the way up the stairs with the minimum of problems, which in itself was a miracle. They listened as he made his was along the hallway above their heads, expecting him to be going to bed, but when he was just a few footsteps before his own room, he began calling her name.
'Claire!' The sound of him slipping into the wall, then righting himself and taking another step forwards. 'Claire, baby, I'm home. Where are you?' His footsteps continued on until he passed his own bedroom, he was heading for hers. Michael and Eve gave each other panicked looks before both springing to their feet.
'Shit.' Eve whispered as they ran up the stairs towards him, he'd be there by now, he'd have remembered, because nothing of Claire's was left in her room. 'Shit. Shit. Shit.' Eve continued to whisper under her breath. They got to Claire's old room quicker than they'd expected, but not quick enough. Shane was stood at the foot of her bare bed, the wardrobes and draws were all wide open and empty, her laptop was gone and the space between her nightstand and the lamp where her book bag used to be was empty. Michael and Eve stood just a few steps into the room, watching him as he turned around with a panicked look on his face.
'Where's all her stuff? Where's Claire gone? Mikey?'
'Her parents came and took it all two days ago, Shane, while you were still locked up in your room.'
'No, no they shouldn't have done that. It needs to be here, all of it needs to be here for when she comes back.' Eve was sobbing, tears running her eyeliner down her face in lines. Michael took another step towards Shane.
'Shane..' Michael whispered, reaching out a hand. A sudden dawning hit Shane, his eyes glistened with the knowledge of it, his eyes widened and he fought to keep the tears back. He looked so very, very young in that moment. So very young, and so very alone.
'She's-' Shane took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut, letting the first of the tears escaped his eyes and roll down his face. 'She's not coming back, is she? Claire's gone. Claire's dead.' Shane gasped a loud, painful gasp and began to fall forward, Michael was across to him and helping him keep his balance. Slowly, they both fell to their knee's, Shane gripped Michael's elbows and looked him straight in the eyes.
'Claire's dead.' Shane whispered, it wasn't a question, it was a statement. It sounded like this was something he'd just learnt. Michael just nodded and then suddenly Shane was limp against him and he was suddenly both comforting Shane and holding him up. Sobs, huge and horrible sobs, wracked Shane's body and rocked him against Michael, who just kept whispering over and over again;
'I'm so sorry, Shane. God, I'm so sorry.'
