Chapter 8 As Painful As Truth

Vincent looked at his watch, and Sarah followed his gaze. Jesus Christ! Six a.m.!

"We need to sleep," he said.

Meaning…? You'll let me live? "Yes, I really need to!" she sighed. Her head spun as she rose. She was a lot drunker than she had realized. Stumbling, she hit her knee on the corner of the small table, which made her swear and hop on one leg. Then her shoulder had a close and painful encounter with the door frame, before Sarah more or less dove into her bedroom and wrapped herself in the cool sheets in her bed.

Finally! She stretched and made herself comfortable as she dozed off. He could sleep wherever he wanted, or preferably just leave, go somewhere else.

Her eyes, which were almost closed, flew open as Vincent too came into the room and went over to the window. He'd turned off the lights in the living room, and now he was gazing for a moment at the clear blue morning sky. Squinting, Sarah watched his silhouette. Suddenly, he pulled the strap that kept her curtain up, momentarily turning the room dusky. Vincent undid his tie and threw it over a chair as he surveyed the room. The same routine everywhere he went, she'd noticed. Sarah gasped as he bent towards her bed and shoved it a couple of feet, so that the length of it was along the wall.

"What're you doin' to my bed?" she slurred.

"Practicalities. Wouldn't want you to run away in the middle of the night…"

"Night's over," she replied sourly.

He smirked. "Indeed. Move."

"Why?"

"I need a lot more space than that," he said, nodding at the narrow rim of bed that was left on his side.

"But…"

"Yes, Sarah," he said, as if speaking to a small child. "I am going to sleep here. I need sleep too, and the couch just won't do. Can't make sure you don't leave if I sleep there." He glanced in her direction with a grin and a meaningful gaze. "Don't worry, I won't touch you." He sat down on the side of the bed as he removed his shoes and started to unbutton the shirt.

Sarah felt a cramp in her belly; a hint of fear mixed with humiliation. This man… This, this…Vincent, was actually going to sleep in the same bed as her.

And he won't touch me…

She didn't know whether she should laugh or cry. It was so sad. She had been so lonely for so long… Jesus, of course he won't touch me, he knows what I've been. She pulled up the blanket further.

It's for the best anyway…

Her breath hitched in her throat as he swiftly removed his shirt and she could, for the first time, see his beautiful, muscular torso. The one she had felt before, like a packet of dynamite hidden under the expensive suit. Between his right scapula and the spine, there was a rather ugly scar, looked almost like a bullet wound… She wasn't sure. He also had several less obvious long scars across his back. Whipped? Has he been whipped?

Vincent rose and stepped out of his pants which he laid, neatly folded, over a chair next to the bed. Finally he placed his gun under the bed, close to where his head would be. Not under the pillow, though, where it would have been possible for her to try to reach it, she noticed. These last actions pulled Sarah out of her trance and she shrank back in the bed, away from him.

Lifting the blanket to get under it, he looked at her. "You gonna sleep in all those clothes?"

"Mmm, I'm too tired anyway…" It was a little lie, but it could pass. She wasn't sure why she felt so shy all of a sudden. Shit! With her background she should've been able to get up and jump naked in front of him, without feeling the least bothered.

It just… feels dangerous

"All right." He shrugged and lay down beside her. The old bed shifted and protested as his heavier frame forced it to sink down more on his side. Sarah struggled to stay in her place and not fall onto him.

They settled, after a few uncomfortable moments, into an arrangement where they didn't lie immediately touching each other.

A minute passed, then Sarah felt an urgent need to pee. She changed position and tried to forget about it, but her bladder kept reminding her. "Vincent."

"Yeah?" He sounded completely awake.

"I need to use the bathroom."

He nodded. "Go."

Sarah crawled out of bed, avoiding the closest route over Vincent's body, and stumbled through the dusky living room. The lights in the bathroom blinded her and she turned them back off. Sitting in the dark, she listened to her own breathing.

Why the hell am I still alive? What happens tomorrow? When will he leave? What if he stays…?

Her head felt heavy and finally she just blanked all thoughts. She had been the master of that… in her previous life… Well… always.

When she was done, she looked up and realized her nightgown was hanging on a hook just in front of her. After quickly switching from her work outfit, the small skirt and blouse, she sighed with relief from the feeling of the cool, soft fabric on her skin. Taking just a few more seconds alone, she ran the toothbrush around her mouth, and splashed some water on her face.

Hesitantly, Sarah tiptoed back to bed, and jumped when she saw that Vincent was looking at her, just two dark eyes in a pale face, and with that grey hair almost invisible on the white pillow.

"Felt good?"

Sarah nodded.

"Mmm, gotta go too." He rose and went for his suit jacket, still slumped over the kitchen bench in the living room, digging in the pocket for something.

Sarah figured it had to be something he needed for the bathroom, and was surprised when he came back to her.

"Sit back, or lie down."

She frowned, not understanding his request, but lay back down on her side of the bed without asking any questions. She gasped a little as he towered her, and took her wrist in his hand. Threading something through the radiator, he then wrapped a narrow plastic strip around her wrist and secured it to the radiator. She heard the small snapping sounds as the strip was tightened.

"Can't trust you not to run away… can I?" He smiled, rose, and left for the bathroom.

No you can't, Vincent…Damnit! She tugged at her wrist, but the bond didn't budge.

"Vincent, you moron!" she shouted when he returned, a few minutes later. Vincent just grinned at her and flipped open a switchblade in his right hand. Before Sarah even got to understand what he was doing, he'd already cut her loose. She quickly pulled her arm back from him and pouted.

"Sleep? Or stay angry?" he teased as he lay down again, pulling the blanket over him.

"Sleep… I guess." Sarah made herself as comfortable as she could on her side of the bed. Considering that a few inches from her lay the most attractive and charismatic man she'd ever been this close to.

he kills people for money!

Somehow that didn't feel as worrying any more as it probably should… For some strange reason she could almost see his motives - not for killing people - but for how he'd ended up like this. Maybe because of their history together… Maybe because all the alcohol had dulled her senses and made her reckless…

Maybe because I'm a lot more like him than he knows…

She shifted, and suddenly her naked thigh brushed against his, and her heart jumped up her throat when she felt the coarse hair on his legs against her softer skin. Immediately moving her leg away, her cheeks blushed with embarrassment. Lying on her back, she tried to regain control over her heart when, in the corner of her eye, she saw that Vincent was looking at her. She stole a quick glance in his direction, and then looked back up at the ceiling.

-

Vincent had propped his head up on one of his hands. Now he just quietly studied her, making her nervous; he was aware of that. It was quite funny. He knew he had an impact on women in general; that he was thought of as good looking. Well, 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder', and he didn't give it much consideration. But he wouldn't be himself if he didn't take advantage of just about anything he could use.

He wasn't completely sure why he was still around – and why she was still alive. Her sudden reappearance in his life had been… interesting and, even if he wasn't completely willing to admit it to himself yet, he wanted more out of her. For at least a short while, he wanted to dwell in the sensation of some kind of belonging.

He still had time.

Biting his lower lip, his gaze traveled up and down her face, and down to the outline of her body under the blanket.

I promised not to touch her…

Well, never been a man of my word.

He leaned in a bit closer, and stifled a smile as he heard the ragged breathing coming from the woman next to him.

Little upset, are you, Sarah?

It had been an amazing evening. He hadn't spoken so much in years. Hell, maybe since he was in his teens and hanging with the only friends he'd ever known; Simon and little Sarah… Not so little any more… He had opened up some to her questions, and she had revealed awful things from her earlier years. Good for her that they were over.

Fucking twisted though, how she, who had always sought adventure, and had seemed to really want to live, now had settled into some low-class-American-waste-of-life style. Her being a prostitute and a junkie, that was just the facts of life; happened to some people. Sometimes even to some of the good people. Especially those who wanted a little more out of life than the others; the sensitive ones. Most of the time a life like that was never made by choice.

But NOW, this was different. This life she had chosen on her own, and it reeked of loneliness, misery… not so much depravity any more as depression. That had finally made him angry. That shook him. He, who never cared about other people… Well, he COULD care, when he chose to.

No one ever saw that side of him, though…

Sarah wasn't the most beautiful woman he'd ever been around. She was way too skinny for his preferences, and she was … plain. Didn't look after herself; just pulled the hair back into a ponytail and wore little or no make up. He looked at her, fascinated by how she refused to look back. He smiled a little inwardly.

Well, she IS soft and warm… and caring…

-

"Sarah" he said, his raspy, soft voice slightly deeper than normal. "Are you cold?" She shook her head, just a little too quickly. "Hurt?" She shook her head again. "Sad?" There was a slight hesitation, before she denied that too.

Sarah jolted when a big, warm hand came up to stroke her face. Then she let herself sink back into the pillow, as his ministrations were so tender, and made her feel so heavy. Sleepy. Vincent kept caressing her face, slowly, sensually, and a whimper wanted to escape from her lips. She needed so desperately for someone to just hold her, to tell her everything was going to be all right... Turning over, she looked at him; he had a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Please…" It slipped from her mouth before she could stop it.

"Please what?" he asked in a soft voice.

She hesitated. "…please, hold me…"

He engulfed her in his strong arms and held her tight. "The night's been tough on you," he whispered.

She pressed her face against his neck and inhaled deeply before letting out a sigh, reveling in the warmth he radiated.

It didn't feel like she'd expected though. The embrace didn't make her calm. With the whole length of her body pressed against his she was, on the contrary, beginning to feel more excited… aroused…

Oh no!

She tried to free herself from his hold, but he didn't let her go.

-

"Stay, Sarah," he whispered.

Slowly threading his fingers through the fine hair at the back of her neck, he caressed the soft skin there and could feel the goosebumps he created. Her breathing was getting ragged and through the thin fabric of her gown, her hardening nipples teased the skin of his chest. Knowing that she was aroused by his presence, he lowered his head and leveled his lips with hers, placing one hand gently at her shoulder.

He waited, she'd come to him, he needed her to come to him.

-

Sarah moaned low and parted her lips slightly. Oh God! She wanted him to kiss her; she could feel the heat from his lips as they came even closer. Finally she couldn't stand the torture any more and raised her head to meet his lips.

They tasted each other, hesitant at first, almost shyly. Soft lips meeting, exploring, then the tip of one tongue met with the other.

Dancing.

Intertwining.

Soft sighs of contentment.

Sarah lost herself completely in his taste, his scent, and in the feel of his body pressed against hers. She became acutely aware of his hand, however, when it began to wander from her waist to where her night gown had slipped. His warm, strong hand slowly caressed its way up the side of her body, under the fabric, meeting with her bare skin, making it tingle. Moaning into his mouth, she squirmed and tried to push his hand away. He resisted at first, unwilling to leave that silky soft piece of her.

Finally, she broke the kiss and pushed herself forcefully away from him. "I can't," she whispered. She was scared again, but this time it was more herself she was afraid of than him. Her fear of losing control…

I shouldn't drink! I should never, ever drink!

FUCK!

Vincent didn't let her go; he gave her some breathing space, but kept his arms around her. His right hand was held loosely over her hip and his thumb kept stroking her, over and over again, which sent jolts of longing and expectation through her.

"What's wrong, Sarah?"

"I – I just can't, Vincent." A painful expression came over her features. "I'm too tired – and drunk – I just need to sleep. No offense."

-

"None taken." Her agony didn't pass by him unnoticed, though. His hands had proceeded to massaging her back, kneading the tensed muscles there. They told him everything; they were wound up like piano strings now, unlike a few moments ago when she had been like clay in his arms. Warm, willing and excited…

"I don't buy it, Sarah." He pressed himself harder against her, just a little, to mold her. He didn't want to intimidate her, not now, but he wanted her to feel his need, to feel what he wanted.

I want her!

A few moments ago, it had been just a little game; to see how far he could go. But during that long, soft – and trusting – kiss he had felt her whole body adjust to his, melting into him… And it felt too good. He couldn't stop here, not now. He'd never get to sleep.

"Why? I've been face to face with someone's gun – twice – no, more… tonight, and it's late, and I've been swallowing like a bottle of scotch or so… and I have a headache." She blushed, probably embarrassed from the all-too-common lie, smiled weakly and made an attempt to look exhausted. The quick pulse beating at the base of her throat and her erratic breathing gave her away, though.

He knew their closeness affected her just as much as it did him. Is she still afraid?

"Are you scared?" He pushed a strand of hair away from her face, trying to go slow and without any sudden moves that would worsen whatever it was she was feeling.

-

Sarah's head was spinning and she felt almost sick; it was so unfair. There was no cure, no going back. Why had she dodged that bullet back at the café? It could've been over by now and she wouldn't be in this situation. No pain, no more fear, and no loneliness… Still, in the actual face of death, her survival instincts had kicked in with an unexpected strength.

Vincent's hot, hard body was pressed against hers. She could feel that he wanted her, and her body had responded in kind.

'Are you scared' he'd asked… how ironic… Yes, I'm scared… She'd have to tell him, wanted to tell him. At least then he'd leave her alone…

"I have a disease. It's… we can't. I can't ever…" The words came slowly, with an effort, as if she was forcing them out of her mouth, mumbling into the nape of his neck.

"How? Are you sick?" He frowned. "Tell me."

Suddenly, she regretted her decision and her mind panicked; she hadn't told anyone so far. "It's so filthy… I don't want to."

"Yes, you do."

She processed that statement for a moment.

It's true, I do!

"It's called… I have AIDS. Or, no, HIV. It's not AIDS… not yet, it isn't. So you see why we can't…"

-

Vincent was stunned. He was far from a stranger to death. It was a calculated risk in his line of work. But to slowly rot away… to live year after year with the knowledge that you would eventually get deformed from numerous tumors, weak from multiple infections and, to top it off; demented before you die…

"Say something," she pleaded.

"Are you afraid?"

She was quiet for a moment and closed her eyes before she answered; a single tear fell on each of her cheeks. "Not so much now. I was when I first knew… Thought I'd die any day…"

"How long have you known? When did you get it?"

Sarah looked at him like he was an idiot. "Ehh, from… work… They found out when I was at the hospital, after the assault."

Vincent had realized, immediately after asking, what the answer would be. He tightened his arms around her and held her rigid body to his. She fought him a little in the beginning, not wanting his pity, but he didn't let her go.

Eventually she accepted his embrace.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered.

That was the last thing said before sleep finally claimed them both.

-