Thanks to all who is reading my little piece. Enjoy the next chapter of Vincent and Sarah's painful relation...

And, oh, yeah, the disclaimer: I don't own Vincent.

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Chapter 13 …And Easing It

Vincent had been right, the food was great. The wine soon made her a little light-headed, and the company was - different, enthralling. He was such an enigma; dangerous, sometimes mean and cruel, and yet such a charmer, almost sweet - when he wanted.

Sarah reluctantly began to feel the little butterflies inhabit her belly again. She wanted to keep her guard up, but as he smoothly maneuvered them from one interesting topic to another, she began to melt.

They talked about shared things from their past: about Simon and why he'd ended up the way he did, teachers they'd both had at school, what had happened to the other kids in Vincent's class after he'd left, and so on. It was bliss to be able to finally talk to someone about Simon; it had plagued Sarah for years, and she'd never talked about it. Just buried it.

Deep.

Vincent entertained her with exciting stories from his years in the service. Well, at least the things he could tell without having to kill her, as he so nicely put it.

He asked about Sarah's parents once, and she replied that her mother still lived back at the house. Upon a comment on the fact that she never mentioned her father, she instantly turned serious. Finally, staring down at the table, she mumbled that he'd died of a heart attack eight years ago, and left it at that.

It was clearly a sensitive topic.

As if by unspoken agreement, Vincent's parents were never mentioned.

-

-

On the way back to her apartment, the taxi stopped a couple of blocks before her address.

"Road block up ahead." The driver nodded forward and looked at them in the rear mirror. "Car accident or something. I can't get through. Can try to find an alternative way, though, but your stop seem to be in the middle of it all. Wanna walk or want me to try?"

Looking briefly at each other, and without even speaking, they immediately chose to walk. Vincent paid the fare, and they set off. The sky was heavy, and after a few steps it started pouring down, soaking them. Sarah shivered from the cold rain, and Vincent played the good gentleman and gave her his jacket. She couldn't help but noticing that he didn't seem to have brought his gun.

"Thanks."

Vincent just smiled, obviously still in a good mood.

After walking quickly along the sidewalk side by side for a block, they turned the next corner and stopped, amazed by the mess in front of them. A truck had fallen on its side, obviously crushing a couple of cars as it fell. There were ambulances, police cars and fire trucks. Men in uniforms hurried around. They were lit by bright white lights and the blue and red, casting their irregular shadows on the surroundings houses as well as the watching vultures at the side of the scene; making it look all the more unreal in the dusky early night.

Sarah stole a quick glance at Vincent as they snuck by. She wondered if he would react in any way to the cops so close by, if he would try to stop her from running to them and begging them to help her.

At that exact moment, she realized that she didn't feel any need to ask for help. She knew they weren't done with each other yet, and that she was still in a very real danger.

Just not from him…

OH, SHIT!

A woman was still stuck in one of the cars. They accidentally happened to see her just before a cop covered her with a blanket, while stressfully glancing up at them as they hurried by. Her eyes stared into eternity, and there was something odd about the angle of her neck... Sarah turned pale and wanted to throw up; the poor woman was half way decapitated, and very much dead.

Whimpering and quickly looking away, increasing her pace, she noticed that Vincent had seen the woman too, and that he didn't appear the least bothered.

Just a few more steps down the street and they entered the relative calm of her staircase. The noise from the street quieting as the door slammed shut, shutting themselves inside their own twisted world.

Sarah rushed inside her kitchen and poured a big glass of water, which she drank greedily with trembling hands.

"Shit!" She wished she hadn't seen that.

"You don't feel well?"

"No, yeah, no, it's that woman… It can be over so quickly… Life."

"Yes."

"It scares me."

"Why?"

"Why? Because… I don't know. Aren't you ever afraid?"

"No."

"Not even of dying… alone?" Her worst fear - and the only thing in life she was certain of that she would have to experience – to die alone and forgotten, with no one there to hold her, and to cry over her.

She shuddered, knowing she didn't have enough time.

Time for what, Sarah?

Bury yourself in work, mourning the life you can never have?

-

-

"Everybody dies alone. Doesn't bother me... Just deal with it."

No, he wasn't afraid. But he never questioned his path.

She did.

She made him do it. He almost hated her for it from time to time – the things she made him remember. But it didn't make him want to kill her. He'd never killed out of personal emotions.

Except once…

He'd always prided himself of not having any…

Liar…

Vincent carried on. "People live pathetic, lonely lives and die alone, in fear, knowing they never accomplished a thing."

"No, Vincent!" she burst out, despair visible in her eyes. "You have the wrong take on life. Nobody showed you any compassion, so you can't show it to anybody else." Grabbing hold of his hands, she squeezed them as she continued. "No one cared enough to let you stay, so you think all people live lonely lives. But you're wrong! People do live with love, and company, and have children they don't abandon."

"Who's talking, Sarah? Who's talking? You live with scars inside and out. Who ever showed you they cared? Except for taking your body?"

"You did," she answered quietly and let go of his hands. Looking down at her feet, she avoided his gaze.

Ouch.

"Come here," he whispered.

-

-

Sarah stepped into the offered embrace, melting into him. She needed him so much that it almost scared her. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she reveled in the sensation of having him this close, of having his attention, to know that she meant something to him too.

At least that's how it feels. God help me if I'm wrong!

"Will you kill me, Vincent?" she whispered into his chest. She felt him twitch slightly.

"Now?"

Her heart skipped a beat at the casualness with which he said it. It frightened her. "No, not exactly now."

"That would save me some trouble, though…" He made a move as if searching for his gun.

"Not NOW!" She let go of him and rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. "Later…" This was so difficult to express. How is it possible to know now how I'll feel tomorrow, or in a year from now… or some years…?

When I get ill.

When I get weak.

When it's time…

"When I need you to," she said in a low voice, as if the request was too large to be spoken aloud.

Vincent raised a hand and caressed her hair. He let the pins that held it up fall to the floor, one by one, until they were all gone and he could thread his fingers through it. He liked doing that.

"You got my word."

-

-

When he kissed her, it was surprisingly sweet and undemanding. The stubble on his cheeks tickled her and she inhaled his scent, allowing her buzzing mind to rest in the moment. His hands seemed to be everywhere, touching, caressing.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Finally he lifted her and carried her to bed. As he sank down on her, Sarah froze. For a brief moment she had lost herself in her own traitorous emotions.

"Vincent, no," she mumbled into his mouth.

"I got it," he mumbled back.

"No, you don't understand, I can't."

"Sarah, I got protection, don't worry about it."

"But… but… it's not safe enough…" Her face began to crumple with despair.

Vincent let her go and lay down next to her, turned towards her. He traced the outline of her face, followed it along her jaw line and down her throat. Sarah swallowed hard under his finger. Vincent smiled.

"Billions of stars in the galaxy, Sarah… One speck on one of them for a moment, then it's over. That's us, lost in space. Do you really believe it bothers me?"

She frowned. "It bothers me."

"Roll with it, Sarah. Enjoy the moment, that's all you'll ever have. No one can tell what'll happen tomorrow. You think you're gonna die from AIDS. You don't know that. You could get run over next time you cross the street. BAM!" He clapped his hands, making her jump. "You're gone."

She looked at him, processing what he was saying. "I've never looked at it that way…"

Pinning her with his intense green eyes that seemed to flash with heat, he let his finger continue along her collar bone. Tracing the lining of the dress, and then slowly, slowly down the curve of her breast, he gave her time to adjust, time to long for more.

Then he carefully hauled her in again.

This time there was no turning back. They clung to each other like survivors to a broken life-boat. Knowing there was no one out there to rescue them.

And their pain went away.

For a while.

Sarah cried afterwards.

Content.

-

-

"No, dad."

Vincent woke, confused.

"Daddy, no, daddy."

Sarah was squirming in bed. Her forehead was shining with sweat.

"Daddy, no."

She had a childish tone to her voice that almost freaked Vincent out. He shook her. "Wake up."

"Daddy," she cried. "I'll be good." She moved her hands in front of her, as if trying to push something away.

"WAKE UP!" He shook her harder and she opened her eyes and sat straight up in bed, unseeing. For a moment she was still in another world, another time, then she looked at Vincent with big, scared eyes.

Haunted eyes…

"Shit," she whispered.

Vincent pressed his lips together and clenched his fists, rage building inside.

"I'm sorry… I haven't had those dreams in years…" her voice trailed off as she looked at him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, finally able to form words again.

She snorted, slowly coming back to herself again: "What could you've done?"

He stared at her as the pain built inside. Putting the lid back on, he hissed, "More than you think. More than you think…"

I should've known.