Chapter 12: Closer
Kate congratulated herself for the good job as she closed the door. Not only had she managed to start an argument with Richie, but she had also driven him away once again. All the plans she had made for handling the conversation like an adult had crumbled into pieces, seeing as she had shoved her "morals" in Richie's face. For a girl whose ethics had come from God for the past seventeen years, Kate had thought her reaction to the news about Richie draining animals was rather mild. But then again, things were different now, and Kate had stopped believing in God a while ago, having seen the undeniable evidence the devil had put in front of her eyes.
The fact that she had been recently hanging out with people who weren't exactly "orthodox" didn't do much good either. Especially now that dad was gone: if Kate wanted to keep acting like a true Christian, she had to do it all by herself – which wasn't on the top of her list of priorities. She had better things to do.
Such as not getting into a fight with the only person who still remained in her life.
"Shit," Kate muttered under her breath. She couldn't have helped feeling a little unnerved when she had thought about Richie hunting, biting, killing, but there was nothing she could do about it. And it wasn't like he hadn't killed before – why did it bother her only now?
'Cause now you like him.
'Cause now you're scared.
"I'm not," she said to herself, whispering quietly as if someone might hear her battling with her inner self. But even if she tried convincing herself otherwise, she was afraid. It was actually quite funny, seeing how many times she had been close to dying – she had been threatened, chased after in a maze with no way out, pointed at with a gun and nearly sacrificed, but only now she was really uncertain of what was going to happen to her. There was no one to protect her anymore.
Except Richie.
Sometimes you need a more evil thing to protect you from the most evil.
Kate sighed, and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. She was exhausted, and all she wanted to do was sleep as long as it would take for everything to start making sense. Which would have probably been an eternity, but even that was better than this… thing she had gotten herself tangled into. But no, she had no other choice than to wish for a dreamless sleep, wake up rested and try to start behaving like she wasn't the only person with problems.
She walked into her room, and without even bothering to remove her clothing, she climbed into the bed. She lifted the thin blanket, only then noticing the jacket she had forgotten to give back to Richie. It was lying on top of the bed linen, and already had wrinkles that would have made Seth faint, but Kate knew Richie wouldn't care, and without thinking too much she grabbed the jacket and curled underneath it. She didn't know why she did it, but there was something comforting in the smell of the fabric, and she'd rather sleep under Richie's jacket than the moldy motel sheets. She closed her eyes and let the sleep take over.
Kate woke up in the darkness, not sure what had awakened her. It was darker than when she had gone to bed, so she figured it must have been just before dawn. Richie's jacket was heavy on her, and she felt drowsy, the remains of the thick sleep weighing her down. She turned on her back and stared at the ceiling that appeared to be so black that for a moment she thought she was looking at the starless night sky.
She pulled herself up and sat in the bed, looking around. It was so quiet she was able to hear the thumping of her heart, steadily pumping blood to her veins. She shook Richie's jacket off her shoulders and left the bed, walking slowly to the window. She opened the curtain slightly and peered outside, noticing that the parking lot had disappeared, and the suffocating darkness continued in every direction. She looked at the sky, but the stars and clouds and the moon were gone, leaving behind a tar-black canvas of nothingness.
Suddenly she heard a sound on her right. She turned as fast as she could but it felt as if she had been moving in slow motion – just turning her head seemed to take forever.
There was a dark figure standing in the doorway, and her heart skipped a beat, but then it moved, and Richie stepped into the room. Kate felt a rush of relief going through her.
"Thank God, you're here," she sighed, as Richie walked to her. His skin was white as snow, but his blue eyes were glittering lively like two sapphires, and he even smiled a little. "It's so dark outside, I can't even see the stars."
"It's almost dawn," Richie said, now standing so close to Kate that she could have counted his eyelashes.
There was something different about him.
Kate raised her hand and put it on Richie's chest, instantly feeling the warmth under her palm.
"You're warm," she whispered, raising her gaze to meet Richie's. He didn't say anything, but instead he smiled and placed his own hand on top of hers. His palm, too, felt pleasantly warm, but there was also a weird feeling of something wet dribbling down on her wrist. She looked down and saw a gaping hole in the middle of his hand, blood pulsing steadily out of a wound. The dark liquid was slowly seeping into the red shirt, coloring it black.
"You're bleeding!" she gasped, and backed away. Richie let go of her hand and lowered his own, and that's when she noticed the cut in his stomach too. It was small and round like a bullet wound, but the amount of dark, thick blood flowing out was making Kate nauseous. She gagged and lifted her right hand to cover her mouth, and she saw she was holding a wooden stake. It was covered in the black substance, as was her whole hand and arm up to her elbow. She looked at it horrified and then at Richie who was still smiling, but she could see now it was a sad smile – a smile of a dying man.
"No!" she yelled, threw the stake away and rushed back to him. She put both her hands on Richie's stomach, but it did nothing: her hands were too slippery and there was just too much blood – she couldn't even see where the wound was.
"I must die now, Kate," Richie said calmly, making no effort to help Kate prevent the bleeding. It was a wonder how he was even standing up, he must have lost a lot of blood already.
"No! You can't die, you're immortal," Kate uttered, pressing her hands on his hot, wet skin. "Where is the cut, Richie? I can't find it, where is it?" She was starting to panic, feeling the dread choking her and making it difficult to breathe.
"I need to go," Richie whispered, his eyes darkening as the life in him started to fade away. Blood was flowing on Kate's hands, warm and sticky and as black as the night surrounding them.
"No."
"You're gonna let me."
"No!"
Kate gasped for air.
She was back in the bed, tangled in the sheets. She yanked herself free and sat up, trying to focus her eyes on something. Feeling disoriented, she got off the bed and stumbled to the bedroom door, expecting to see Richie's body lying somewhere. Where is he? Where? she thought, looking frantically around in the hallway. Her legs felt shaky and she had to support herself against the doorframe. Suddenly she heard a sound on her left and turned around quickly just in time to see Richie stepping inside through the front door. He hardly had time to close the door before Kate rushed to him.
"Wha–" he uttered as Kate felt around his chest and stomach, looking for the wounds, but there was nothing there – he wasn't bleeding, his shirt was intact and the skin underneath her palms felt… cold. She blinked a couple of times, shaking off the remains of sleep. The reality of the situation slowly sank in.
It had been a dream.
Just an awful, awful dream.
"Kate?" a voice said somewhere above her head and she looked up. Richie was staring down at her, a crease between his eyebrows. Kate was very aware of her hands, still pressed against Richie's body, but she didn't want to move them away. The dream was still fresh on her mind, and she could still literally smell the blood. She couldn't let go of him: what if he started to bleed again?
Kate could see Richie's lips moving, and only then she grasped that he was talking to her.
"What?" she blurted.
"What's wrong? You're shaking." Richie was looking at her carefully, obviously more puzzled than bothered by Kate's groping.
"I–" Kate started and swallowed hard before continuing, "Nothing. I had a nightmare. I dreamt that you were… alive. But you were dying. Your hand was bleeding and your… I thought I did it."
Kate knew she was blabbering, but she had to say it aloud, she had to get it out of her head.
"You know I can't die," Richie said, and if Kate hadn't known better, she would have said he even tried to sound comforting.
"Of course I know, but… it felt so real."
"It was just a dream. I'm here now."
"Yeah…"
Kate slid her right hand across Richie's chest on top of his heart, and kept it there for a while, making sure there was nothing there, no warmth, no movement – just stillness. She would have never thought it would calm her down the way it did.
"Please don't go away," she whispered to the back of her own hand.
Richie let out a sigh.
"I don't have anywhere to go."
Just like me, Kate thought. She, too, sighed and finally let her hand fall down. She didn't step back though, remaining close enough to feel the coldness radiating from Richie. She needed it to convince her that she was awake now, and he wasn't going to die and he wasn't going to leave her. She noticed it was getting lighter and lighter in the room, the grey shadows slowly turning back into colors. It wasn't as bright as it used to be in the morning, so Kate assumed the weather remained cloudy. She yawned, not feeling the slightest bit rested, and finally took a step back out of Richie's cold zone. She was too tired to even feel embarrassed.
Richie was looking at her with a strange expression on his pale face, and she didn't really know whether it was a good or a bad thing. Then again, when did she ever?
"Are you okay now?" he asked carefully as if fearing that Kate could fall back into his arms any minute. She nodded, but couldn't prevent another yawn from escaping her mouth.
"I think I need to sleep some more," she said and rubbed her eyes. But what's the point if I keep having nightmares?
Richie used his right hand to smooth his dark hair that looked messier than usual (maybe due to the humidity), and Kate knew he didn't do it out of self-awareness – he probably just wanted something to do with his hands.
"Well, I'm gonna stay here," he said. "It's too bright outside anyway."
She nodded again, feeling strangely relieved, even though Richie was the main star of her bad dreams. She knew there was a reason for it, and the constant fighting certainly wouldn't make their relationship any sweeter – not in the real life or in her subconsciousness. She also acknowledged she should probably apologize to Richie for the nasty things she had said earlier, so she used some of her remaining energy to concentrate on the thought I'm sorry, and you better be damn sorry as well, hoping he would hear it and save her from saying it aloud.
Kate wasn't sure if her thoughts reached Richie, but he did reward her with yet another puzzled stare.
"So…" she said, breaking the silence. "I guess I'm going back to bed now." She almost thought about asking Richie to accompany her – just in case the nightmares would return – but she was able to stop the thinking process before it got too explicit. There was no privacy in her head when she was with Richie, so it was important to keep her thoughts as vague as possible. She wouldn't want something like that to just slip out of her head.
"Sure," Richie answered, seemingly oblivious to Kate's inner deliberations. He ran his hand through his hair again, looking a little restless.
Kate nodded (maybe more to herself than him), and walked into her bedroom. She turned around to close the door behind her and to cast a final look at Richie, who was still standing in the same spot. Kate smiled at him briefly, and just when she pushed the door closed, she accidentally let one thought flee.
It felt good to be so close.
A/N: Yes yes, finally it's getting somewhere. I should have warned this fic is going to be slow.
