Leopold closed his eyes, relaxing his muscles, and allowing Sarah to pull him further into her. The two leaned back into the chaise; he lifted his feet, shifting his posture so that he ended up on top of her, cuddling her close. Had he been sober, he likely would not have allowed himself to be so careless around her. However, despite his initial trepidation, he realized that he'd not been so at ease in a long Time. Something in him knew, deep down, that he could trust her completely, in spite of only knowing her for a few hours. His heart thudded hard as he laid his head on her chest, and he nearly pulled away upon discovering how close his face was to her breasts. She was strong and warm, holding him to her, and running her fingers through his hair, soothing his nerves.
"So, how do you feel, Leopold?" Her chest vibrated, her voice echoing in his head. When he didn't answer – or rather, when he answered with a yawn – she giggled. "A little sleepy? That's normal."
"I haven't been this relaxed in years," he sighed, wincing a little as he stretched his shoulders. One popped aloud, while the other seemed only to creak.
"What's on your Mind, Darling?" Instantly, his Mind jumped back to the incident which started it all: the Blackwater Massacre. He suppressed a shudder, but held her tighter, signaling his distress. She sighed softly, rubbing his upper back. "You don't need to say anything, if you don't want to."
"No, no," he groaned, wondering how to begin. "I'm comfortable talking to you. It's just…" Yawning, he stretched his legs out, enjoying each crack and pop that sounded up and down his body. He groaned, delighted, as he inhaled her exotic perfume, his face resting against her shoulder and neck. "God, I've needed a rest." He barely realized as his legs were being pushed, and intertwined with hers, and his hips settled in a more comfortable spot. Although he appreciated the relief, his heart raced, and his Mind couldn't help but wander off, along with his gaze. He glanced down at her cleavage, taking a moment to appreciate the red jewel of her pendant, before moving on to admire her form.
"I take it you haven't been able to relax much lately?" The hand on his back rubbed large, slow circles, helping him ease his tense muscles. Her fingers glided through his hair, running from his temples to the nape of his neck. He shivered in response, a hard chill passing from head to toe.
"No, I haven't." Giving in, he began to tell her about it. He started with the moment Dutch came riding back into the Blackwater camp, with what seemed like all of Hell following at The Count's heels. He'd barely dismounted before shouting orders for everyone to hurry up and hit the road North, taking only the absolute necessities. No one even had a chance to ask him what had happened on the ferry. He was off again in an instant; the last anyone heard before he was out of sight, was that he needed to round up any of the others that were left in town. Gunshots rang out in the distance, growing closer by the second. He, Miss Grimshaw, and Reverend Swanson were among the first out. Susan took the reins, haphazardly driving the wagon through dense thickets, smashing saplings, and nearly tearing the cover on low branches. Karen, Mary-Beth, Abigail, Tilly, and Molly had scooped up little Jack, and were following close behind – Karen's experience in driving wagons may have been close to none up to that point, but she held strong, and only sustained a few scrapes.
"We camped out in the woods, not far from Strawberry," Leopold recreated the events in his Mind, as clearly as he could. "It was a few days before Dutch showed up with the rest of the gang. He wouldn't talk about what happened on the boat, he just kept pushing us further North. Hosea was unusually quiet, too…" From there, he described the journey to Colter; dropping temperatures, dwindling rations, and fading Hope, were ever-present, dampening spirits, and raising tempers. Then, the storm hit, just as they were entering the mountains. Hosea protested against Dutch's decision to continue moving forward, weather be damned, but his complaints were all but ignored. When Davey took a turn for the worst, many found it difficult to find the will to keep their heads up.
"How did you all make it out of there?" Sarah held him tighter, keeping his head pressed into the crook of her neck.
"Luck, no doubt," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "We were a mess, up in those mountains." He shuddered, remembering the whipping winds, and biting cold. "Everything seemed so bleak; Jenny and Davey died along the way, Sean went missing in Blackwater, three men went scouting ahead, and only two returned…until John was found on the mountain, nearly done in by a pack of wolves." He shifted, burying his face in her clavicle, but pulled back when his glasses smashed against his eyes.
When he brought his head up, she removed his glasses, and reached to set them next to the pipe. His head swam a bit as their eyes met; blood rushed to his cheeks, then down to his groin as she coiled her legs tighter around his. He sputtered incoherently, once more becoming fully aware of his position. "I-I…um…" Pushing himself further back, he looked down at her, a coil beginning to tighten in the pit of his stomach.
"Is something wrong, dear?" Sarah's hand fell softly upon his burning cheek, her smoldering eyes gazing intently back up at him. He gulped; her lips had pursed, and he could have sworn he'd felt the hand on his cheek attempting to guide him down to meet them. "Come here?" Unthinking, he surrendered to her request, leaning in, unsure of where he was headed with it. She surprised him, then, by threading her fingers through his hair, and holding him against her chest. His arms found their way around her with ease, and he heaved a delighted sigh as he got comfortable again. She chuckled warmly, petting his head, keeping him tight against her.
"What's funny?" He mumbled against her skin, contemplating swallowing his Fear, even if for just one kiss. She'd captivated him so completely, he could have spilled everything to her, right then and there. The strangest part was, he wanted to. No matter how she would react, he wanted to tell her everything; from his childhood to the events that had shaped his life recently, he ached to confess it all – but only to her. The more he thought about it, though, the more he convinced himself that it would be a mistake.
"There's something you want to say, isn't there?"
"There are many things I wish to say before the night is through."
"Will you?"
"I don't know if I can…"
"Will you try?"
"I…" Leopold's breath hitched; his heart jumped into his throat, and his gut clenched. He unconsciously grabbed at Sarah's waist, pulling her tighter up against him. She seemed to let slip a tiny grunt of approval, and shifted her weight so that his body held her down more. His breath turned shallow as he contemplated kissing her yet again. How many times am I going to think about it? Can't I just do it? It feels like she wants to, but it also feels like it has to be me that initiates it. He let out a long, shaky sigh, partially giving in to his conscience. "Sarah…there's so much to tell. So much that you would hate me for."
"How could I possibly Hate you, Leopold?" Her voice soothed him long enough to gain an opportune silence from him. "You are perfectly Human. You, like many others, have your Vices and Virtues. We are all but slaves to our own Vices, and humble servants to our own Virtues." She paused, looking down at him, just as he looked up. Their eyes met; she grinned, and he merely flushed and trembled, a quiet whimper escaping his throat. Her grin broadened, and the coil in his gut tightened further.
"W-what would you say, if…if I told you I've hurt many people? That I'm responsible for many deaths?" He blurted it out without thinking, then sat up in shock. His sudden pull caught her off-guard; she let go of him without resistance, her eyes widened. Clapping a hand over his mouth, he averted his gaze, attempting instead to analyze the fabric of the chaise lounge. Whatever had prompted him to speak aloud his Mind's burdens had also spurred a complete lack of judgment. He jumped suddenly, fixing his eyes back on Sarah's when her hand caressed his cheek, jarring him out of his thoughts. The silence that passed between them this Time, was one of understanding. Her expression told him all he needed to know, even before she said it, and his heart sank a little.
"What if I told you that I have, and am, too?" Her other hand covered his other cheek briefly, her thumb rubbing a gentle yet firm path to his cheekbone, then down to the corner of his mouth and back up. He shivered hard, practically melting under her tantalizing touch. Just looking at her, he could hardly believe such a claim. Yet, on that same note, he could see it, plain as day, that she spoke the Truth. She pushed herself up on one elbow, and gripped the back of his neck. One leg wrapped around his waist as the other pushed her further off the chaise. She pressed her body against his, switching their positions so that she was on top of him, and he was on his back, staring up at her, wide-eyed and transfixed.
"W-wha-what are you doing…?" His heart thudded hard, his hands trembling as he contemplated whether or not to grab her hips. She'd straddled him, the center of her weight pressed down on his lap. He took a moment to appreciate her muscular thighs, and the way they held him tight, before meeting her gaze again. The way she looked at him sent a myriad of conflicting thoughts and emotions through him. On one hand, he was positive that, if she took the initiative, he would follow her lead without question. On the other hand, he still couldn't accept the thought that she'd be interested if she knew who and what he really was.
"Speaking to you," she said with a little sigh. "You know, Leopold…we've all been bad people at one point or another. No one is guiltless of that." Her face hardened ever so slightly, then softened almost immediately. "I'd like for you to understand that I won't judge you, regardless of what you choose to disclose about yourself."
"And why not?" The words were dancing on the tip of his tongue – he couldn't help but challenge her. He knew what wrongs he'd committed, and he knew how he imagined she would feel about it.
"Because I could tell you things about my past that would haunt your nightmares for years to come." The severity of her tone, and the harsh glint in her eyes lent credence to her words; this both frightened and excited him, and she took notice. With a small, tired grin, and a shake of her head, she continued softly. "Also, because I like you. Haven't I made that obvious?"
"You have," he nodded, unable to return her smile. "And, I promise, it's nothing wrong with you…I'm just having a hard time accepting…" His voice faded until it cut out in a faint whisper. Sarah lowered herself gradually, until their bodies were pressed together again, and her hands had become tangled in his hair. She leaned in, nearly closing the gap, her lips so close that her breath teased his nose, when he turned his head, and his eyes snapped shut. His hands pushed gently against her hips; she responded instantly, pulling away from his face, moving her hands to his shoulders, and he breathed a sigh of relief, glancing back up at her. She wore not an expression of dejection, but rather one of understanding.
"Accepting that there are people who can see good in you?" She smiled, still, shaking her head in mock disappointment.
"No. Just you." This made her tilt her head to one side, and lift an eyebrow. "I mean…" He gulped, removing one hand from her hip to tug at his collar. "I-I mean, I'm…I'm having a hard time accepting that you see any good in me."
"Oh, Darling…" She sighed, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze. "Why do you say such things?"
"Because, Sarah…you're a good person, and I'm a bad man." He paused, waiting for her to respond. When she didn't, he let out a long, heavy breath. "I, err…I've told you that I'm a moneylender, yes?" She nodded, and he shuddered, his heart sinking fast. "Well…"
"Leopold." Her voice was firm, grasping his attention. He met her eyes again, incapable of suppressing the hard shiver that passed from the crown of his head to the tips of his fingers and toes. "If you're worried that I will abandon you over the things you've done in your past, you needn't be afraid."
"Even if what I've done has caused misery, suffering, and death?!" Without realizing it, he'd snapped at her; he pushed himself up on his elbows, getting closer to her face without intending to. She jerked, not away from him, but closer.
"You say that as if it's something I've not experienced." One hand left his shoulder, softly cupping his cheek. Her intense gaze pierced his Mind, sending a painful jolt through his brain. He grimaced, gritting his teeth and attempting to shake it off. Finding it impossible, he submitted to her wishes, and sat still, maintaining eye contact with her. "You say that as if I don't already know you've used the suffering of others to benefit the Van der Linde gang…to benefit your family."
"Du hast recht, mein Liebling," his heart hammered beneath his breastbone, his breathing turning shallow and nervous as he lifted his hand to brush her cheek with his fingers. She leaned into his palm, sighing softly. Had her movements not been so deliberate, he never would have noticed her attempting to get closer to him again. This time, however, he hadn't the will to stop her with his actions. Instead, he chose to continue speaking. "Sarah, the kind of work I do for the gang is nasty…I seek out desperate people, on purpose, for the sake of exploiting them for money." At that, she paused – not hesitated, just paused – before moving in just a little bit closer. Unable to understand her mindset, especially after hearing such a terrible Truth, he grew irritated. "Don't you get it, Sarah? I'm not someone you should be involved with! Should anyone who knows me sees you with me, or knows we're in contact, your life is in danger!"
"I'd Love to see someone try…" For just a split second, perhaps a tear in the fabric of Reality, Sarah's face distorted beyond comprehension. She shook it off immediately, giving him a kind smile – instead of the vicious snarl that crossed her features. Her pupils turned cat-like, and her irises flashed pink, in that briefest of moments. Leopold's heart leapt into his throat, as he finally began to recognize her as a force to be reckoned with. He looked her over, noting the small wavers in the empty space around her body. "Forgive me, Leopold…" She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. "I just have very strong convictions about certain things."
"What do you mean?" His heart raced in both Fear and awe. "What are you?"
"I mean, I understand how you feel, and what you're trying to do." Her other hand found his cheek again, and she rubbed both of them with her thumbs. Soft, slow circles calmed his nerves, and gentle, benevolent eyes soothed his Mind. Her tired yet radiant smile drew him in yet again. "I appreciate you."
"D-do you…do you really?" He slipped a hand around the back of her head, threading his fingers through her thick raven locks. Although his hand cupped her head, he remained still, heart throbbing. "What if…what if I told you I don't regret any of it?"
"I'd call you a liar." Her sudden, decisive answer caught him off-guard. He mumbled a half-formed protest, and her thumb pressed against his lips, cutting him off. "And yes, I really do." She let out a low chuckle. "Has anyone ever told you that you worry too much?"
"Yes," he drew her closer, thinking for a moment that he could take the plunge and just kiss her. However, another barrier presented itself in his Mind. This time, he was sure of it, she would turn away. As if by unfortunate chance, or cruel design, he chose to unveil his ugliest Truth to her. "But, what if I told you that there's a part of me that enjoys it?" Her reaction struck him as less than satisfactory – she merely gave him her usual sign of confusion: a tilt of the head, and a raised eyebrow. He gritted his teeth, unsure of why he seemed so determined to make her resent him, yet unable to stop himself from trying. "I find it hard to pity those struggling. We must all make sacrifices, many of which are unpleasant, regardless of whether or not we're prepared for the consequences of our choices."
"You're absolutely right." Much to his surprise, and agitation, she agreed with him. "No one can help the fact that, in desperate Times, desperate measures must be taken. Yet, you tell met that you prey on the desperate. I don't believe that you do it merely to satisfy your enjoyment of others' suffering." She paused, giving him a small nod, waiting for him to reply. His heart sank, then jumped hard, pounding in his head. She leaned in closer, offering a serene grin. "I think, for the most part, you enjoy your work because it's something you can do to help your family. As for the other part, I imagine you feel vindicated in some way – like your own suffering is being avenged."
"Sarah…" For a moment, he considered the way her features had changed, just for an instant. She'd frightened him, and somehow also inspired him to speak honestly with her. Although his body seemed to want to shiver, he didn't. Looking her straight in the eyes, he concentrated on the light that glimmered in her irises, barely noticing that they were edging closer to one another. He glanced at her lips, then back to her eyes, the hand on her head gradually pulling her in. One last moment of uncertainty shot through his heart, when he finally threw caution to the wind. Their lips met tenderly; each breathed a soft sigh, holding one another closer.
