Characters: Daisy/Mason
Genre: Dark
Disclaimer: Dead Like Me and its characters are the creation of Bryan Fuller et al. and copy written under MGM/Showtime/etc. No infringement of their rights is intended. The stories written under the penname Gabigail, however, do belong to me. None are written for profit and are intended for entertainment purposes only.
Sarah McLachlan's Ice assists in illustrating Mason's POV through Daisy's narrative. And the same philosophy as the above disclaimer applies.
Deep, Dark, Needs
I know deep within my very soul that being with Mason is and probably always will be a bad idea. Yet like the constant tide that washes upon the sandy, or in my case rocky beaches, I am drawn to him. I don't know the how's or why's, or if I'm even supposed to understand them, but here I am helping him break into Rube's flat so that he doesn't mess up his latest appointment. Apparently, he lost his Post-it and thought that we might find a clue as to the name, location, and ETD.
"Wow! Colour me impressed!" I exclaim after the door swings open, revealing the world that is Rube, his domain, and I cannot help but feel as though we've just stepped into another time, another era. The walls are deep red; theatre you know? Complimenting the red is the dark hardwood throughout, which aids in creating an exquisite regal setting. To my right, beyond the no doubt antique armour, is a double bed that has this amazing rich raspberry velvet material and is footed by what appears to be cherry wood. I must say that everything in his home is immaculate, no doubt a place for everything and everything in it's place. Mason makes a dash to the liquor.
"You check everywhere else." He says as he pulls at the top of the decanter and inhales its scent. "Old farts like Rube always have the best booze. They've been drinking long enough not to mess with the cheap shit." He says.
"How's this helping?" I ask, giving him a look as he holds out the brandy snuff towards me. I accept it and take a sip, this is the good stuff, I silently muse before taking another.Next thing I know, we're no longer searching for the information that will save his British ass, instead we're dancing. It's funny how too much alcohol in combination with this place just brings out memories of times long past. Mason lets himself fall backwards upon the double bed and I follow suit, lying upon my side. I spend a few minutes convincing him that he looked at the Post-it before shoving it into his pocket.
"And you looked at this one too and this person won't die alone." I say as it suddenly hits him and he grabs his bag and makes a mad dash for the door and probably the location of his Post-it. Oh I hope that's where he's headed, or Rube is going to have his undead ass. I am now left alone to clean up after our disorganised excursion. I hope that Rube doesn't find out that we were snooping, but somehow I cannot help but think that he'll know, he seems to know almost everything. I think to myself as I quickly scan the space and close the door behind me.
Arriving home, I forget that Georgia isn't waiting up for me. She's gone reaper AWAL and is on some sort of Happy Time annual retreat. Rolling my eyes I close the door behind me and shrug out of my jacket, kick off my shoes and head to the living room to gain my bearings.
"You were right luv." Mason says from the couch, the room is so dark that I can hardly make out his outline in the shadows. "I found her before her appointment." He adds quietly. I know he can't see my smile in the dark, but I smile as I flip on a light.
"Mason, are you okay?" I ask, sitting on the coffee table in front of him.
"I don't know." He whimpers shaking his head and dropping it into his hands. I reach out and play with his hair, running my fingers through the chestnut curls. He suddenly looks up at me. His eyes aren't puffy from drinking or doing drugs, which for him would be normal. They're puffy from tears. I've never seen this side of Mason before and if he's ever been this way, he's never shown it.
"What happened Mason?" I prompt him to share whatever it is that's going through his mind. He tilts his head, the light catching his steel eyes. He's like a flame and I a moth, letting myself be mesmerised by him, letting myself be pulled into him. I respond by reaching out again, but this time not to run my fingers through his hair, but to cup his cheek. I know that this past appointment isn't the cause of his melancholy it has to do with something much deeper, something that I know.
The ice is thin come on dive in
underneath my lucid skin.
The cold is lost, forgotten.
Hours pass days pass time stands still
light gets dark and darkness fills
my secret heart forbidden...
He remains quiet, only leaning in towards me, mirroring my previous gesture. His fingers are soft as they lightly brush the hair from my eyes and he closes the distance between us, kissing my forehead gently, a manner that tells me more than his words ever could. There really is more to Mason then meets the eye. I look down at my hands wrapped in his and so much hits me at once. Granted he hasn't been undead for as long as I have, and he has a very odd way of handling it, but he's Mason and I've learned so much about myself through him. But tonight, he's acting so strangely that I'm not sure exactly what to do. I don't have Rube to help him out. It's up to me.
"Mason, you have to tell me what's going on. I'm worried about you."
"Daisy, Daisy, Daisy." He replies in a singsong tone. Before sitting back, a smile caresses his lips and I wonder what's behind it. What has he done? "Rube won't get to display his wrath upon me." He says in Rube's clinical tone.
"I knew you'd find your reap." I reply relaxing slightly and moving to sit beside him on the couch. Unlike the times before, where I've always kept him at a distance, I sit as closely to him as possible, perhaps hoping for something more. I don't know.
"Daisy." He whispers in my ear as he then gently kisses my ear, trailing down my jaw line, before claiming my lips, which I allow him access. I missed the signs in Rube's flat. I'm not going to miss them now, but somehow it's different tonight. It's two desperate dark individuals needing a moment to just be, a moment to let go, to forget what we do, forget who we are, and forget what we're not supposed to do.
I think you worried for me then
the subtler ways that I'd give in
but I know you liked the show.
Tied down to this bed of shame
you tried to move around the pain
but oh your soul is anchored.
Mason truly is unlike any man I've ever known. With all of his imperfections, his very soul is what draws me to him, anchoring me to him. I felt that pull the first time we met at the restaurant. For the record, I will never admit to any of this. We have this odd, to say the least, relationship and I never know what's going to happen next. This is, however, the first time that I've allowed myself to be this close to him. He smells good, a mixture of soap, aftershave and cologne, none of which I thought he ever used. Well, who could tell under the customary smell of a night after drinking. Tonight he will not crawl into the bottom of a bottle, he has me and I have him.
The only comfort is
the moving of the river.
You enter into me
a lie upon your lips.
Offer what you can
I'll take all that I can get
only a fool's here to stay.
Only a fool's here to stay.
Only a fool's here...