Deplorably late yet again, and this time I blame…me! Wow, Adelaide E actually taking responsibility for her actions. Stop the presses! Any who, as always, I apologize and you may email me scolding messages as you wish.
DragonNight: Well, a phrase is a phrase is a phrase. Nope, it does not explain nor reason that part whatsoever, but it's always fun to be purposely redundant! Not true, but something Rik would say to get a rise outta Rita! Thanks for taking the time to read! :0)
Rayv: Aw, I blush! Thank you for the compliment, and I'm trying not to make it too lovey-dovey, but that non-idiotic heroines comment was very nice! Some people really didn't approve of Rita's boy choice, so I was pleasantly surprised. Thank you!
Taye: Thanks for your review(s!) Here I was thinking ch 12 was craptacular! Here's more (duh, as if you haven't figured it out!)
Lilith: Short chapters are a pain, and I'm being an arse about them, I know. I can't help it though; the brain just blanks on me sometimes! Any who, this chapter should make you a bit happier!
Nikki: Hiya! I know this isn't ASAP, but I hope you read and review any way (and those "it's great" comments are wonderful!)
Neona-deniker: You have no idea how relieved I was to see your review. I knew you wouldn't be very happy about it, which was why I decided not to request a comment—grieving time, which was something all Jared-lovers needed. I am sorry though, and I'm glad you liked the writing style. And to answer your questions…would you believe that I don't know yet? Wow, it's so easy to lie when typing! Any who, the end is soon and/or distant, depending on one's opinion. Again, not very helpful, is it? Thank you, thank you for reviewing!
Sweetie Pie: For a second there, I actually thought you really felt sorry for him. Any who, I firmly believe in everyone getting their comeuppance. Thanx much.
Vague Verity
Chapter 13
"Unarm, Eros, the long day's task is done,
~*~*~*~
New York
She awoke to the sharp jab in her right arm. Maria's eyes flew open, and she saw Javier injecting something into it. Her regular, beaten twin bed gone; she found that she rested on a taller hospital bed. The curtains drawn, the fluorescent lights above them made her home more impersonal.
Instinctively, she pulled away. "Stop that," she ordered, disconcerted, and held her arm. "What are you doing? Where's Valdis?"
With surprising strength for such a spindly pansy, he drew her arm back, and emptied the syringe's contents into a vein. "You need this. Valdis is outside."
Why did he look so grim? Maria studied him worriedly as he left the room. Relief came in the form of a red haired soul mate. Her husband walked calmly into the room, and drew up a chair beside her. A small smile rested on his lips, and Maria spied some cigars on his pocket. It wasn't the face of a man who was worried.
"Valdis, what did the she-man just put into my arm?"
"It was just catalyst," he replied blandly, taking her hand. "You're not exactly on schedule."
Maria frowned, and her gaze shifted from his face to their joined hands. There were no false feelings from his part. She tried to withdraw, but he kept her hands captured. He even smiled when they both heard Sabrina and Javier vying for the clicker.
Maybe there really wasn't anything to worry about. Maria wondered if she had overreacted on the plane. If something dire was to take place, Valdis would not smile as he did now. And she imagined that, should problems arise, Javier would presently tell her, and scold her for the times she had snuck out. And Sabrina…the witch would be in tears. There probably wasn't anything wrong. There was probably was no need of writing a will.
"But," she couldn't help beginning, "Valdis, my water broke yesterday. Shouldn't they be out by now?"
Valdis smiled again, and clasped both her hands. "You really haven't listened when I've said Eldson babies are—"
"So freakin' strong. Yeah, Valdis I've listened."
He leaned on the edge of the bed. "My oldest brother. Do you know how long it took mother to pop him out?"
Maria shifted, and studied him with renewed interest. He had never spoken about his family before now. "Umm…five hours."
"Fifteen. Guess how long it took for Fyodor."
Ah, she knew that name. One of their first violent connections showed her the blurred images of people he had killed. His elder brother one of them. Which, Maria justified later on, wasn't so much of a loss.
"Sixteen?"
"Twenty eight. And Alain took thirty four. I, of course, took the cake with seventy hours. Which was why, I suppose, she made sure I was the last baby she had."
Maria eyes widened. "I'm going to be in labour for three days?"
"Not necessarily. Technology's far more advanced these days. I just felt you had a right to know that we Eldson's are…"
"Too god damn stubborn to leave the womb?"
"I was going to say strong, but that'll do."
She pulled her hands away, and smacked his forehead. "Why the hell do they have to be that way?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. It's just how it's always been with the Eldson boys."
"And what about Eldson girls?" Now Valdis had a look of concentration.
"I don't think there's ever been an Eldson girl," he said aloud thoughtfully. The fact resulted in another smack on the head.
"Stop lying."
"I don't lie."
"Well, tell one now. I don't like being the first one with an Eldson girl."
"I think it's unavoidable. As far as I know, there has been no female born into the family."
"Wonderful. The first female is a product of you and me. More stubborn than all boys put together. Making her twice as smart as the guys. She'll figure out a way to stay inside, evil little—"
"Maria," he chided. Valdis was well aware of his novice at parenthood, but he knew for a fact that mothers-to-be were not supposed to describe their children like one described the Children of the Corn. With a sigh, Maria calmed herself down. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, she asked:
"Why am I on a hospital bed?"
"Javier recommended it. He recommended everything else, too. Efficient little man." Maria eyed her husband resentfully. Valdis was not supposed to have an opinion opposite to hers.
"That's a bunch of malarkey," she began when the first contraction crashed down on her.
~*~*~*~
They couldn't have put her here for people to forget. Why would they supply new clothes every so often? Verity had stopped playing for now, and sat huddled on her cot. Over her tropical garments, she wore the coarse sweater and slacks. Verity pulled the blanket up to her neck and drew her knees up to her chest.
Then her glasses slipped off her nose, and bounced to the floor. Again. Well, that was what she got for chipping off the ends. She had seen the antics of Alcatraz inmates in psychology class. One method of surviving solitary confinement she learned was to toss a button somewhere, and then spend hours looking for it. Seeing that no buttons were available, Rita had chipped the stems of her glasses. Not all that entertaining, but at least she had a goal for long periods at a time.
It was too cold to lean forward and pick them up. There was nothing to see in the dank cell any way. That was the bane above all, because surely sight would have proved useful. Maybe to see how high the ceiling was. Or the condition of the imprisoning bricks. If she concentrated very hard, Verity was sure she could pick at the mortar with the legs of her glasses.
Or she could think of delusional ways of escape. Wonderful. Sixteen years old and turning senile. Of course, there was always that last resort, saved for when she was sure she would die from boredom…
"This is the song that doesn't end. And it goes on and on my friend. Some people sta-arted singing it, not knowing what it was. But they'll continue singing it forever just because…This is the song that doesn't end. And it goes on and on my friend—"
Her head turned sharply. She thought she heard scratching. For several minutes, she sat waiting.
Nothing.
Not a single sound, just as it had been since the first day in here. She let out a long breath.
There it was again. A scratch, scratch, scratch. There, on the left wall.
Oh goodness. Oh goodness gracious. There were rats. She hadn't seen them before, nor had she heard them. But she knew there'd be rats. It was too good to be true, to be stuck in a rat free prison. But she didn't imagine they'd sound so large…
"Who's there?"
Rats weren't supposed to communicate in an urgent, multi-accented male voice. Sounded young too.
Rita, keeping the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, crawled to the edge of the cot, closer to the wall. More sounds of scraping came. So it definitely wasn't a rat, nor any other creepy crawly.
"If any body's there…"
"Adrian?" Verity scrambled off the cot. The walls felt cold and rough as she groped her way to the corner. "Adrian," she said again, relieved. "Adrian, I'm trapped in here—"
"So am I," he answered flatly. Her hopes plummeted. "Back up."
She fingered the wall, and found a hole about the size of her hand. "Why?" she asked, confused. It certainly wasn't large enough for him to crawl through.
"So I could shift and then get to your cell. I need room—"
"No!" Rita bit her lip at the volume of her voice. "No," she repeated, calmer. "I don't want you in here."
"Oh, for god's sake, Verity," he began, exasperated. She kneeled so that she was face to face with the hole. Even then, darkness stole any view she might have had of him.
"No," she insisted, "you stay in your own cell. I don't want us in the same room."
"Verity, be reasonable," he implored, his tone softening slightly. "I need to find a way out."
"Find a way out in your own cell."
"And what will you do? Crawl through this crack in the wall to get to it?"
Rita frowned at his logic, and waited for him to continue.
"And I can't escape from this cell," he admitted grudgingly. "There are…devices, spells to keep me from tunneling up."
"What makes you think my cell doesn't have them?"
He sighed impatiently, and continued to grate at the opening. "Why waste magic on a whole dungeon when you only need the half done?"
The question threw her off. "What? How do you know?" She felt a light touch on her sleeve and pulled back immediately. Rita watched, curious, and sat on the back of her legs. "Adrian, how do you know?"
"Because, Verity, every good dragon needs a good dungeon. You need cells for your enemies of the occult, and then cells for the magic impaired. I just wish we were in mine right now. At least then I knew which ones were inescapable." Rita could imagine him grimacing by now.
"But," she protested delicately, "if your cell had been prepared like that, wouldn't mine be also? I mean, like this is the side where the magic was set?"
The scratching stopped. "You're right," he said after some time. "I don't understand why they'd put you on this side…but you're right." Then he asked a very bizarre question. "You haven't been here for a few years, have you?"
"What?"
"I said, you haven't—"
"I know what you said," she snapped, irritated. "Why on earth would you ask such a stupid question? Of course not."
She sensed his hurt by her comment, and refused to have any qualms by her tone. This was the villainous drug dealer, for goodness sake. She wasn't supposed to feel guilty about any damage done to him. Her feet began to fall asleep, but Rita was reluctant to leave the corner. Communication with something alive was delicious, albeit her odious soul mate.
"Adrian?"
"Yes?" His voice was surprisingly eager. Verity leaned on the wall facing him, contrarily dismal.
"If you can't find a way out, then it's impossible, isn't it?"
On his side of the barrier, Adrian gave a wry smile. Had she that high an opinion of his strength? He wondered. "Not if you're a witch. They know counter spells and such."
She gave a despairing "Oh," and sighed miserably. For a few seconds, she had been so certain she would be freed. If anybody knew about escaping a dungeon, a dragon should.
"This isn't my cell," he told her, in fear of losing her interest altogether. "Mine is one up and over. I guess to keep us from brainstorming together."
"Much good that would do," she said dolefully. She sighed again, and rose. As she did so, Verity winced at the ache on her knees. Evidently she had been sitting there longer than she thought. After she returned to her cot, Rita tucked herself in tightly.
"Verity?"
Verity frowned, for she had been about to dream herself to a very warm, tropical climate. "What?"
"They didn't hurt you, did they?"
She rolled her eyes and didn't answer. She hoped he had taken the hint, and left her alone to sleep. Conversation, that seemed to tantalizing a few seconds ago, was bothersome at the moment.
But, being the antagonizing creature he was, Adrian asked, "The men were a bit…rough when they got me. Were they…did they…"
"Why do you ask?"
More sounds of rustling. "Well, when I was scratching through the hole, it sounded like you were moaning in pain or something."
Immediately offended, Verity sat upright. His tone was very innocent, but he already his offensive history against him. She knew she wouldn't win any Grammy awards, but she was certain she wasn't that offensive to the ears.
"No," she snapped. "And what would you do if they were less than gentle? Write a very harsh letter and slip it under the door?"
"I was just making sure—"
"Well stop it. I'm trying to sleep."
As she expected, he had run out of patience. "I don't see why you need to be so grumpy…other than the obvious."
"And I don't see why you just can't let me sleep," she retorted angrily.
"I can help you if you are hurt," he protested, his voice raising.
Her volume matched his. "Give it up, Amaro. You couldn't protect me before, you can't now. Just let me sleep!"
When he complied, and she felt his presence become distant, Verity felt the strangest feeling of disappointment wash over her.
~*~*~*~
New York
Oh no. She was dead. Maria knew that if one was floating over oneself, and that others were crying or screaming frantically below, one was dead. Simple as that. Poor Valdis, who was weeping softly. Maria, Maria, Maria, Maria…
"Maria!"
Eye lids fluttering open, she found herself into blue green eyes. Beyond them stood a paper screen, blocking her view from the rest of her body.
"I fell asleep again?"
Valdis eased away from her. "Sort of…funny reaction to the catalyst and stress."
"Hilarious, I'm sure," she replied and glanced at her alarm clock. By now, she had been in labor for almost twenty hours.
"You had a nightmare," he continued, anxious to distract her from the passing time.
Tearing her eyes from the glaring red numbers, she faced him. Her soul mate appeared worried, just as he had in her dream. She smiled, and hoped she did not betray her fretful feelings. "I dreamt Yankees lost in a subway series."
To her immense relief, he laughed. She did not notice him beckoning someone from the door as she tidied her hair.
"Valdis, we can't have me sleeping every five minutes. It's embarrassing."
"Hey now," a new voice protested, "don't knock sleeping. As the good book says, Thou shalt not…um…" Maria heard a female laugh. "Knock sleeping," the boy finished lamely. For a few minutes, Maria sat flabbergasted when Ash's grinning face rose from behind the screen.
"The book of Moron," the girl chimed in.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she exclaimed, eyes wide with alarm. Her surprise increased tenfold when Mary Lynette appeared beside him. The bed ridden girl was obviously appalled by the sight of both of them. "What the hell are both of you doing here?"
Valdis colored slightly by the unreceptive behavior of his wife. "They came to visit," he answered in what he hoped to be a soothing tone, and gave an apologetic smile to his friend. Ash merely rolled his eyes.
Maria's eyes slid to him, the pools of brown bubbling towards irrational anger. "Now of all times? When my contractions are—where the hell are my contractions?" It wasn't so much that she missed the patterned moments of excruciating pain, but she knew they were essential to make the little buggers leave her stomach. Valdis appeared to brace himself, and Maria interrupted. "Wait, make the intruders leave the room."
"Maria!"
"I don't care. If you say anything about my anatomy, they're not going to hear it."
"Amen to that," Ash added as he was towed out of the room.
"This screen isn't for snuff films, is it?" The absence of the contractions was forgotten, because she was sure some disappointing explanation for it. Maria had never found medical dilemmas very amusing. In fact, she had been very close to cringing from Valdis's grave expression until he opened his mouth. He stumbled, stammered, and staggered through his explanation. The technical problems had been named in everything but the precise terms. Valdis nearly bolted out of his skin when she supplied the medical name for "that part" of her body.
"Oh, for god's sake Maria, don't say it like that!"
"But that's what it's called!" There were some more clumsy words, again missing the correct terms. His nervousness pulled at the corners of her mouth. She managed to withhold her laughter, and get the gist of his explanation. She was too narrow at "that part," which Maria accepted as her pelvic region and "certain things" were not dilating as planned, leaving a cesarean, and other drug induced reactions, mandatory.
Then all humor left Maria's countenance. "You are going to cut me open in my boudoir?"
"Not me personally…"
"Valdis, I've been cut open in the stomach. It's not fun. And we can't go to a hospital?"
"Javier said that travel might cause further pain, or more complications, as it is,…"
"Damn Javier, he's just a midwife! Don't I get a say in my own life?"
"Hey, you rhymed—"
"Valdis." Her tone was menacing, and, if he were a man of lesser substance, her gaze would have scorched him to a mere black spot on the carpet. "I do not approve of surgery in a home. I need professional, I need a sanitary hospital room, I need…wider hips!"
"I don't see what we could do about any of those…maybe eat more after the operation…"
"And what about the crazy gas?"
"Javier suggested them. He said…"
Maria stopped listening then. Stinky little man, she thought, with Javier in mind. Although she did not completely love her twins, to say the least, she knew didn't want to be hooted up on fun-fun gas when they finally came out. Maria also knew that any lack of consciousness did not mean the operation wouldn't upset her nonexistent heart problem.
Then her husband looked towards the door again, and Maria heard a brisk trot, signaling the entrance of the much loathed midwife.
"All right," Javier started, his voice business-like, "lover boy, out of the room."
"Don't you talk dirty to my husband," Maria lashed out, her rudeness heightened by the drawing operation. She hadn't foreseen the proximity of the ordeal, for Valdis had made it sound at least a few hours away. It was not always pleasant to hear, after a few minutes since awakening, that one was being put to half sleep and being cut open.
Valdis observed her stricken face, and squeezed her hand comfortingly. "It will be all right."
"But Valdis, I don't have a good feeling about this," she told him, her voice more reserved due to the unwanted company in the room. More strangers entered, and Maria feigned interest as Javier introduced the assistants. It was only when they busied themselves with the equipment that she turned to her husband, and asked scathingly, "And where on earth did these bums come from?"
"Maria, they flew from all over the country, by Thierry's special request. Try not to annoy them."
"Of course she won't," they both heard Javier mutter under his breath, "right after I stop smoking." And all occupants knew that the disgruntled midwife was a faithful chimney.
"Valdis, the man is going to murder me," she pleaded desperately, clinging desperately to his hand. "Can't you stay?"
Even as she asked it, her soul mate was rising from her bedside. It happened on television often enough; a husband was supposed to stay and feel all the grievances of childbirth through the physical and verbal abuse of his wife. He had to have some pain while in the family way, after all.
Her husband gave a drawn out "well" and smiled apologetically. "It's been unanimously decided that, under the circumstances, my knee jerk reactions will override any common sense for your part."
"Meaning?"
"One moan of pain from you, or so much a flinch…a nurse might go flying out the window. And we are four stories up."
"That does make sense," Maria admitted, but refused to relinquish his hand. "My professor never came back after you…met him. But, Valdis—" There was no point. She knew that the instant her eyes met his, and she saw the unwavering faith in the ordeal. Her soul mate believed, despite circumstances, that all would end well. And, at the moment, she was too fatigued to disturb his sweet naïveté. Giving one last squeeze, she let go of her second to last comfort and watched Valdis agitatedly exit the room. The very last comfort was that she would be conscious enough to glare at her midwife during the operation.
When Valdis emerged from the room, he saw Sabrina nervously standing in the living room, Ash sitting across from her, trying miserably to control a smirk, and Mary Lynnette sending an intrepid scowl to both of them. When they observed the new presence, Sabrina was the first to speak.
"How was I supposed to know they were soul mates?"
"Even if we weren't," Mary Lynnette cut in icily, "it's still horrible to hit on somebody's boyfriend while she's in the bathroom. Not to mention distasteful. And slutty—"
"Hey, boyfriend-ship isn't binding or anything," Sabrina pointed out stubbornly.
"It was only dinner she offered," Ash added, still smiling.
"And it would have led to more if the little she-devil got her way," Mary Lynnette stated, with a steely gaze towards the witch. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"
The witch was ready to state her right to stay and comfort her friend when Ash interrupted with, "She could always go to the Snows. Mrs. Snow told me to tell Valdis that either we go get the home baked cookies, or she's coming over herself." Valdis gave a look of apprehension. "That's what I thought. She gave a thirty minute window so…"
"Fine, I see where I'm not wanted," Sabrina huffed and grabbed her purse.
"Then why are you still in this country?" Mary Lynnette asked sweetly as the witch breezed out the door.
"Are you gonna be okay?" Mary Lynnette asked Valdis curiously. "With Maria bein' in the other room…cut open and everything?"
"Wonderful way of putting it," Ash commented dryly. "Of course he's gonna be okay. Eldson men are incredibly—"
"Strong," Mary Lynnette finished as she joined her soul mate on the sofa. "I'm with Maria on that—the phrase is getting over used. It's not like Valdis is some sorta Hercules or anything."
"No," the father to be admitted. "But we're durable. We're like an Austin Powers villains. Takes a lot to kill us. And—"
"You're rambling now. Just relax, Valdis. Me and Ash rented a movie."
The news did little to relax him, but he joined the couple any way. "What did you rent…Pride and Prejudice?" The title was said with some incredulity directed to Ash. "You agreed to a British romantic period piece? Do you have any testosterone in you at all? Oh, for god's sake, it starts with lace…"
Ash simply smiled, undisturbed by his friend's complaints.
~*~*~*~
The fact of him was driving her crazy. His being there, just simply sitting a room and up away, made Verity wring her hands. And he seemed content to sit in silence. She, however, was trying mightily to squash an inner battle: to talk, or not to talk? That was the question. So she tried to review.
He was a murderer. He was callous, and selfish, and down right inconsiderate. Although he technically did not carry out the deed, he was fully prepared to slay hundreds of people. He had almost murdered, twice, Jared. He was indirectly responsible for Melissa. And, worst of all, Adrian thought himself blameless on all accounts.
She was not supposed to want to talk to him.
He solved the problem however, despite her caveats to leave her in peace. Not a conversation really, just a simple, "Have you any clue as to why we are here?" From the volume of his voice, she sensed he was back at the little hole in the wall. Verity nearly shook her head and then wondered the purpose of that in the complete darkness. Then she pondered the extent of his vision, and if he had the advantage of seeing her when she could see nothing…
"Verity?"
She had zoned out. Verity pinched herself. She never zoned out. "At first I thought it was you…but you're here…so that ruins it."
"Won't your husband come searching for you?"
Rita chewed at her bottom lip. "How did you know…"
"The whole Night World heard of Councilman Smith's traitorous son. Won't he come look for you?" Adrian repeated.
"No."
"Well why not?"
"Because he's dead," Verity answered flatly. "Will any one come looking for you?"
"No."
"Well why not?" she mimicked his frustrated tone.
"Because every body who would care is dead," he answered, obviously agitated. "Why is it that you reserve all animosity for your soul mate?"
"Because you've done the most damage," she retorted, wondering why she ever wanted to speak to such a man.
"I have not." Verity, always the one to be the "bigger person" and leave things as is, did not respond in hopes of avoiding it altogether. He, of course, was contrary. "And how was traveling the world? Met and surpassed all expectations?"
In a strange moment of exhaustion that simply refused to muster enough energy to snap rudely, Rita merely sighed, "People say traveling the world as if it's wonderful. But…it really wasn't."
"Maybe you traveled with the wrong person?" he answered thoughtfully. Adrian's cautious words, Rita guessed, referred to himself. But the only man she could conjure as the "right" person was…
"Maybe. I'd rather not speak of it," she dismissed him lightly. "And I'm tired right now, so go away."
"Right, I'll just step outside." His tone was acidic, and caused Rita to frown. "Look, we've nothing to do, we might as well try and get that chip off your shoulder."
There was a tense pause before Rita asked, "Where does that phrase come from?"
"Dunno really…but stop sidetracking. You've said so yourself that my treatment to little Tana doesn't really bother you."
"We're most likely going to die here, so what's the point in reconciliation?" Her flippant voice did not reflect the gnawing uneasiness she felt inside.
"I'd rather not die having my soul mate hate me for no good reason."
"No doubt there are hordes of people who hate you, Adrian Amaro. What difference does one more make?"
"A world of difference if that 'one more' is my soul mate."
"Have you reached that mid-life crisis already, and trying to make everybody like you? I don't know what that would be in dragon years…"
"Forget it," he replied brusquely. "Every answer I'd get would probably be evasive any way."
Rita knew it was a purposely provocative statement, but nevertheless she took the bait. "What do you mean by that?"
"Simple," he responded instantly. "Knowing that, in true light, I have the least blame for this mess, you'd rather answer in half truths and almost lies to make me the villain and you damsel in distress."
"I certainly would not paint myself as the damsel in distress!"
"No?"
"No. For instance, rarely do damsels in distress feel the urge to scratch the villain's eyes out. They're too busy being distressed."
"I'm willing to risk it if you let me in your cell."
She wished somebody would smite the man. Or strike him with lightning. Cause a random, isolated earthquake in just his cell. But not kill him, of course, because considering the past year, Verity refused to take death lightly.
It appeared to Rita that her soul mate always had a sly way to make himself sound so darn reasonable. She couldn't produce another threatening quip, she remained silent. He, naturally, continued.
"Let's play a game." The suggestion momentarily stunned Verity, for she hadn't pictured her serious dragon to enjoy little frivolities. The Adrian she remembered hardly ever smiled.
"Unless it involves your mouth being sewed shut, I'm not interested."
"You get to ask me whatever you want. And I'll answer as truthfully as possible."
There had to be a catch, Verity knew it. "And…?"
"I get to ask whatever I want. And you answer as truthfully as possible. An exchange of facts, if you will."
"No!" Her answer was immediate and instinctive. Verity prided herself on privacy. It didn't matter so much if she shared her history with a temporary visitor, or a childhood friend. But this was different, because not only was he a virtual stranger, he was her soul mate. She was sure he would use any information against her. Verity didn't know why she believed that, but she simply did. To leave herself that vulnerable…it was unimaginable.
"Why not?"
"Because…"
"You're scared," he goaded. "You know I'm right."
Rita's features darkened. "You're wrong. I just don't care about you," she said in a clipped, hard voice.
"Not even curious, Verity?"
The emphasis of her name was a cheap shot if she ever heard one. He might as well have brandished the Ten Commandments before her. Knowing her previous policy of honesty, she admitted grudgingly, "Only mildly."
"And even the mildest curiosities are irritating."
Rita gave an exaggerated sigh. Besides, it didn't even sound like game. More like martial diplomacy. "If, and I mean if, we do play, how do I know you're telling the truth?"
"How do I know you'll do the same?" he returned challengingly.
"Fine, we'll swear on something."
"Family?"
"I figured something like you hatched out of an egg."
"Try to lower your pistols for something as serious as this, Verity," Adrian admonished gravely. Verity grabbed her blanket and shuffled closer to the corner. His reply made her bite her tongue. She wished she could tell him she wasn't usually this uncooperative, that she was only this way with him. But that, probably, wouldn't have made him feel any better.
"Fine," came out of her mouth, instead of an apology. "We both swear on family."
"Want to shake on it?" Her soul mate sounded pitifully hopeful.
"Don't push it," she warned, then, when he didn't fill the silence, she asked, "Who goes first?"
"Me."
"Why do you get to go first?" Even to her own ears, Verity thought she was being childish.
"Because I thought of it," he answered, incorrigibly reasonable. "And remember, you must answer truthfully. Hmm…where to begin?"
"How about the beginning?" she suggested bitingly. He seemed to take entirely too much pleasure in making her squirm.
"All right," he accepted amiably. Unfortunately for Verity, he took her word literally. "The beginning of this mess…why do you so obviously hold a grudge about my visits to England when you were getting riding lessons from the stable boy?"
Although she didn't take lightly…that emphasis caused Rita to think that, perhaps, Adrian did deserve to die. A very painful, slow, agonizing…
"Well?" he prompted.
~*~*~*~
Javier told her, ever so tritely, to count backwards from a hundred. She didn't get as far as ninety five before she forgot the rest of the numbers. The room pleasantly blurred, but the general shapes of people and objects Maria could still identify. As much as she feared it, Maria didn't even know the occupants were studying her innards until Javier moved, and revealed a bloody, gloved hand. Her eyes focused slightly on one large, squarish machine directly adjacent to her bed. That hadn't been there before.
I know what that is, she thought dreamily. They have it on all the tv shows, when a patient goes flat line and then they put jelly on the handle bar things and rub it together and then they send electricity…Maria's eyebrows drew together, and she chewed the inside of her cheek in puzzlement. Valdis wouldn't have been so confident if he had seen that.
Then she wondered the reason of its being there. To scare the daylights out of her? Not likely, as her bed room was as crowded already. But it couldn't have been for the operation, she rationalized silently. Maria knew that Javier, as experienced as he was, couldn't very well send detrimental volts through her body without shocking her children.
Which is why you're not supposed to think about that now, her mind told her. Maria's eyes widened in surprise. That part of her subconscious had been blessedly silent, and usually harshly critical of her actions. Maria had never been soothing to herself.
Don't focus on that, the voice of reason continued. If you get cardiac arrest, they can't help you right away. They have to help the twins. You might die.
So it had lost its criticisms and sarcasm. The last three words sounded too foreboding for her liking. Maria still didn't appreciate the pessimism. She dismissed the saturnine suggestion with a shake of her head. The paper cap one nurse placed on her head scraped audibly against her pillow. That stupid voice, with its stupid finality, was to be ignored. She chose instead to listen to the high pitched beeps that echoed calmly against the walls. To fit a song with its rhythm would have been fun, but the sounds refused to hold a steady beat. Sometimes slow, sometimes fast, sometimes normal…
That's your heart you idiot. Didn't I tell you not to think of that? Didn't I?
You're not the boss of me, Maria shot back, and then wondered just how much truth was in that statement. Voices in her head weren't separate beings, but more like her personal coworkers.
Shut up. You keep making yourself nervous, you have to leave Valdis. Forever.
The threat was brutally effective. She was sure her inner voice was simply being dramatic, but focused on the tranquil, white ceiling above her.
Whatever Javier had given her was lovely, or so Maria believed. She wondered if it, whatever it was, came in chewable tablets. It would have been wonderful if there was a cherry flavored miracle drug…
Jesus please us, what was that? Maria thought, slightly panicked. She knew it wasn't wise to become so jittery, but the loud, infant cry startled her.
That's just a baby. Calm yourself down.
But she couldn't. Now when it was crying so desperately, and sounded so vulnerable. The beeps, now strangely distant, became warbled in her ears.
Oh no, she wanted to cry out. Give it to me. But the words couldn't find their way to her lips, and even her eyelids seemed heavy and clumsy. The only things that worked properly were her ears. And she could hear everything, every little hurtful thing. It let out another pained shriek, and Maria then heard a gurgled sound. Like a cough.
Give it to me. Without quite knowing it, she had let tears stream down her face. Irrational, she shifted, just her shoulders. But it was enough for Javier to glance at her, genuine concern etched in his eyes. Maria didn't notice him. She only noticed the terrible screams filling the room, and then a second joined it.
Blood pounded in her ears. She felt as if all the problems she had been having had manifested into one large heavy bulk, sitting inconveniently on her chest. But the infants would help her with that. She wanted her babies, she needed them desperately.
Somebody give me my babies. They're choking, they're coughing…
Other raised voices joined her infants' cries, and Maria's mind barely registered the swift movements of those around her. They didn't understand. They only heard the irregular beeps. They hadn't heard the babies crying out for their mother. All Maria needed was her babies, and then they'd see. Then they'd see that she'd be fine, as long as they gave her the babies.
Then, for a fraction of a second, Maria craned her neck high enough over the screen, just when awful hands were pushing her down. It was a little girl. She had stopped crying. She was sleeping with enviable peace, with wispy hair peeping out of the blanket.
Oh, Maria realized as darkness clouded her vision, she's not evil. She's not a damned thing.
~*~*~*~
And we must sleep."
Shakespeare
SES
R H
O O
H E For luck.
Not too bad, I hope? Please review!