Wow. I never thought this chapter would ever be finished. But look, here it is. Go me! Finally. ::sigh:: I don't know how great it is, but it's here. Hopefully everybody hasn't forgotten this fic entirely by now. :-) Read and review if you're so inclined. I always appreciate feedback/critiques/compliments/scathing flames, etc.

Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. If they were, I wouldn't be wasting my time writing this drivel, because I'd be too busy attempting to get myself published. I own nothing worth having, so there's no point in suing, I promise. Also, the chapter title is from the song “Rendezvous” by Matt Caplan. Just trying to give credit where credit is due. ^_^

Through My Blood

By Alison

Chapter Ten: Who Knows Why I See What I See

I trampled down the stairs, through the front door of our building, and onto the sidewalk, letting huge gasps of outside air fill my lungs. The street signs became blurs of color as I sped past them. I didn't know where I was going -- or thought I didn't, anyway. Only when I reached the entrance to an all-too-familiar subway station did I realize, with startling clarity, why I had chosen this particular path.

I glanced around the immediate area; with a sigh of relief, I found that I was alone. Mark must have woken me up early, while everybody else in the city -- particularly, the one person I was afraid of seeing -- was still in bed. Maybe fate was looking out for me, even if I couldn't control my own damn impulses.

“Back for more?” a smarmy voice inquired from behind me.

Fuck you too, Fate, I thought angrily. Well, this time I wasn't going to give in. I shot the man what I hoped was a withering glare. “Actually, I'm just on my way uptown.”

He smirked. “Sure you are. How much you need? A gram? Two?”

“Look, I don't even have any cash, okay?”

My response didn't even cause him to miss a beat. “I'll hook you up this time. Free of charge.”

I, on the other hand, was caught completely off-guard. This guy really wanted my business back. I'd never heard him offer anyone free smack, at least not after their first time. “I -- really?” I cursed myself for allowing my voice to crack with vulnerability. But Christ... could I resist what he was offering?

Judging by the look on his face, he knew I'd fallen right into his hands. Instantly his demeanor switched to an almost seductive charm. “Really. All you gotta do is say the word.” He pulled out a small bag, flashing it tantalizingly in front of me before returning it to the safety of his jacket lining. “You can't resist this. You need it.” He took a step toward me, his breath warm and heavy on my face. “You need the feel of it flowing into your body, the rush of pleasure--” he whispered the word slowly into my ear, and I gave a small moan -- “that you can't get anywhere else. You know you want it.”

And suddenly I noticed how close we were, nearly touching. I'd seen him flirt with customers before, but they were always the young, attractive women -- certainly not me. My head was spinning. What alternate universe had I just stepped into?

His hand snaked around my waist, and I felt him slip something into my back pocket, pulling my body to his in the process. I closed my eyes and prayed silently for the shivering to stop. “I don't want your drugs,” I murmured, aware of how fucking pathetic and unconvincing I sounded.

“What do you want then, loverboy? Is the scrawny little boyfriend not doing it for you anymore?”

My head jerked back with a snap. Our eyes met and I knew what we both were thinking: he had just said the wrong thing. The delicate grasp he'd held on me slipped away.

”Get the fuck away from me,” I muttered.

Afraid to admit defeat, he dropped the subtle seduction in favor of raw force. Before I could react, he had me up against the wall of a nearby building, pressing his hips hard against mine. I fought back the urge to vomit. “Just taking the fucking drugs. You couldn't resist them before, and you can't now. Your stupid camera boy has nothing on this shit.”

I shook my head in disgust and, using every scrap of energy I possessed, pushed him off of me. “Leave me the hell alone. I'm not gonna put up with your shit anymore. And don't you ever talk about Mark again, or you will regret it.” I grabbed his shirt collar and twisted until it choked his neck.

His cool exterior seemed to crack for just a moment. Probably hadn't ever had a client threaten him before -- he had too much control over them for that to happen.

But he didn't control me.

The notion hit me with some force. I was in control of myself. Not the drug dealer, not an addiction, not some invisible fate, not anyone or anything but myself.

I didn't need his drugs. And I wasn't going to take them.

Reaching into my back pocket, I grabbed the plastic bag and threw it down the sidewalk. He drew in a sharp breath as I released my grip on his shirt, looking around furtively. Afraid somebody might have seen him and ruined his reputation, I guess.

Just as quickly, he resumed his trademark menacing glare. “You're gonna regret that,” he spat, furious. Had it been a few years earlier -- hell, earlier that day, even -- his words might have struck some sort of fright or worry within me. But now, the only emotion I recognized, churning in the pit of my stomach, was revulsion.

God, I hated him.

“Fuck you,” I muttered, shoving him away from me. He stumbled backward for half a second before regaining his balance. He stared at me, and I wondered whether he was going to fight back or just leave with part of his pride intact.

Well, I didn't have time for his stupid decisions.

I turned away and walked down 14th Street toward Avenue B, not turning to check my back. I wasn't scared of him. There were more important things to do than worry about that scum.

Like make up with Mark, a voice in my head prodded.

But something was keeping me from returning to the loft. Instead of turning onto 11th Street when I reached it, I kept going. Soon I found myself at the park on 10th. Some kids were playing basketball, and they glanced curiously at me as I passed their court.

The park was quiet, save for a steady breeze that rustled the tree branches and the distant chatter of the basketball game. I was alone, finally. For the first time since I'd fled the loft, I could focus on my thoughts.

My mind, of course, settled immediately on the subject of Mark. (I should have known that being alone with my thoughts wouldn't be the most peaceful, happy activity.)

Why had I run away from him? Hadn't he given me exactly what I wanted?

What did I want?

Well, that much was easy enough. Him. I wanted Mark. I wanted to love him and to be with him forever.

But that was exactly the problem. Forever couldn't possible happen, not for me. I would do something to hurt him -- or vice versa, though the former seemed far more likely -- and we'd break up, and I would lose him. I hated the idea. It was better to stop it now, before I knew what I would be missing.

That's a fucking joke, I thought bitterly. I did know what I would be missing, no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise. I had already tasted his lips on my own, kissed away his warm tears, fallen asleep tucked safely in his arms, even heard him say those three tiny words that held the entire world in their meaning.

He loved me. And I loved him. So we should be together, right? That's the way these things are supposed to work.

Why was I so afraid to accept that?

“Dammit, Roger, what the hell is your problem?”

I looked up to find Mark, panting heavily, his face flushed and glistening with sweat. Christ, he looked sexy like--

Cut it out! Now is hardly the time for those thoughts. I tore my eyes away, forcing them to stare at the cracked cement beneath my feet.

“Well? I asked what your problem is!” He sounded almost frantic. Mark was rarely, if ever, this confrontational. I didn't know how to react.

“You can't just do this, you know!” he continued breathlessly. “You can't just say what you said back there, then run away and make me search the entire fucking East Village to find you!”

The nagging voice in my head begged, Stay calm, Roger, stay calm. I promptly ignored it and leapt to my feet. If Mark wanted confrontation, I would damn well give it to him.

“Then what can I do, huh? Tell me how you think this is supposed to work!”

Rather than allow my shouting to fuel his anger like I'd expected, Mark slipped suddenly back to the quiet, gentle voice-of-reason method he usually used with me. His hand found my arm and this time, I didn't flinch away. “Come home with me. Please. You can't run from everything your entire life.” I made the mistake -- though maybe it was a blessing in disguise -- of looking into his eyes, wide and pure and imploring... and impossible to resist, hard as I tried.

I swallowed a lump in my throat and sank back down to the bench. “I'm scared,” I murmured. Just saying it seemed to drain all the energy from my body.

Mark settled beside me, our arms still in light contact. “I know. But I've always taken care of you, haven't I? And I'm not about to stop.”

“But I... what if I don't always have you?”

“What if the sun doesn't rise tomorrow? What if the earth stops spinning?” I opened my mouth to protest, but he continued before I could get a word in edgewise. “I don't know everything, Roge. I just know that I love you, and you love me, so we should be together. That's the way these things are supposed to work, right?”

A smile approached the corners of my lips, pulling them upwards. Mark smiled back, unable to mask the slight confusion on his face. “What? Why are you giving me that dopey romantic look? It wasn't that poetic. Kinda cliche, really.”

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and slid closer to him. “Shut up and kiss me.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “You know, maybe you should stop watching all those TV movies--”

I leaned in and pressed my mouth to his, cutting the sentence short. His lips were soft and yielding against my own, as though trying to absorb and memorize every touch, every taste that he could.

It was almost like floating, I decided. The world had begun whirling twice as fast, leaving me dizzy and breathless when the kiss finally ended. The silly grin that had invaded my face now felt like it would never disappear.