Chapter Summary: For once in her life, Shrike is wanted by someone… If only he actually wanted to want her.
His words hit her as if he did himself.
They strike her without warning or mercy, and Shrike can only stare at him blankly in confusion. She's utterly speechless, too blindsided to properly process what's happening much less come up with a response. Not a single scathing retort comes to mind. Not a single furious accusation.
Not a single word.
Her entire body has gone numb, limbs feeling more like phantoms than flesh and blood. All the oppressive heat that'd been smothering her body and soul has vanished, and naught but a yawning void's been left in its wake.
Empty. Numb. Cold.
'Stupid.' The only word that dares surface from the haze freezing her thoughts.
Crocodile frowns at her when she doesn't answer. His expression wrinkles his scar about the bridge of his nose, conveying everything from frustration to condescending pity, All it does is further twist the knife he's buried in her chest, and the cracks in her heart splinter all the wider because of it.
"Did you really think this would turn into anything more?" he asks her again. His words form a question, yet both his tone and the look he gives her indicate full well he already knows the answer.
She did because, of course, she did. How very like the abandoned stray to long for something it could never have in the first place.
Regardless, Shrike still can't bring herself to answer. Even if she could think of anything to say, the crushing self-loathing and humiliation would just suppress any will to say it aloud.
What type of answer could she hope to give to justify herself?
That she foolishly misinterpreted his physical attentions as something more, could she? Gave into her girlish hopes that someone could ever care about her in such a way?
Or that she made the mistake of believing that someone like him could possibly feel anything even remotely assembling affection?
Naive.
Just as he said.
All she feels is numb.
Numb and so very, very stupid.
Shrike's chin slowly drops, falling all the way down until she's left staring listlessly at the tops of her thighs. Even gazing straight at them, she barely registers the way her knees have begun to bleed. Splotches of red stain the white linen bandages she so carefully wrapped not but an hour earlier. It must've happened when she fell… after she bit him…
How so much can happen in just a turn of the clock.
Those crimson stains are all she can bear to look at right now, all she can bear to even think about. Meeting the condescending expression plastered on his face would only let more of the hurt in.
Thinking about it all might as well just kill her.
'Stupid. Idiot. As if you're even capable of being cared about… As if anyone could like you…'
But even as the words form in her thoughts, other images do as well. Memories from just minutes ago of him grinning at her, his sonorous voice complimenting her and banishing all her self-doubts with sweet words alone, his palm so tenderly holding her cheek with a touch as warm as sunlight…
How can that very same expression now look at her with such disdain? Such contempt? The same one that'd looked at her so warmly, lighting up with an indiscernible spark the more he spoke and thought of her as if… as if he himself hadn't realized it was happening?
Shrike suddenly feels so very blind, as if she's missed something obvious.
Something that hasn't yet dawned on her.
She's faintly aware that Croc's talking to her. Talking at her, more like. She doesn't hear his words so much as she's dimly aware of his voice. It's impossible to focus on, her mind instead honing in on this nagging feeling itching about the insides of her skull.
What has she missed?
That image of his warm grin, eyes smoldering with a foreign light keeps coming back to her, replaying over and over again… His expression radiating genuine affection, unwittingly or no…
"Shrike, really? Don't make me repeat myself. You're acting childish."
Something about hearing her name finally grabs her attention. No, not just that. It's the tone of his voice that does it. Even as faintly as she'd been listening, it'd sounded off.
Defensive.
Her face snaps up, finally daring to look at him once more.
There really is no better word to describe the air of the man before her than that: Defensive.
Crocodile stands a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest. He's angled his body away rather than face her head on, and even the expression on his face looks overly uncomfortable. He radiates such over-contemptuousness about him that it's clearly unnatural. That usual cool confidence of his is nowhere to be seen, and only a sham of it attempts to hide the anxiety she now recognizes lurking just beneath the surface of his disguise.
It's a disguise that's just as poor as the one Hawken wore earlier this afternoon. Only now, Shrike immediately sees it for what it is.
All at once, the little voice in her head whispers to her. It murmurs just a single word.
It arcs a bolt of lightning through her chest, carrying too many emotions all at once to properly bear a single label. The word echoes about her head, growing louder and louder with each rebound until the roar of blood rushes in her ears and she feels the level of contempt he's attempting to display.
The voice speaks to her again. Not with a whisper, but with a roar: 'LIAR!'
For the first time since she's met him, Shrike has caught Crocodile in a lie.
Never once has she been able to tell when he's lying, even as skilled as she is at reading people. His tells are nonexistent. Not a single tick, neither in his body language or tone of voice, has ever tipped her off to one of his lies. Even when she knows what he's saying to be false-a lie told to a mark in the middle of an exchange-not a single physical thing about him had ever changed from when he spoke the truth.
He's never been as emotionally invested in one as much he is now, though, and now his lies glow just as brightly as the glimmer in his eyes had.
Whether he knows it or not.
She meets his wary gaze with newfound confidence, those dreadfully dark irises of his seemingly challenging her to argue. Does he even know he's been found out? Does he himself even know he's lying.
Or is he completely and utterly in denial?
Another rush of images: that secretive, warm smile when they're alone; playful, soft words neither of them recognizes as flirting; gifts fondly chosen for her, wrapped with the utmost care and adorned with a note in his flawless script...
...Shadowy eyes glinting with a light she's never seen in them before, a warm spark that lights them from the inside out with what can only be described as adoration.
She has to know for sure that this is all a lie, that he really does feel more for her than he ever wants to admit. No, she needs to know, and the only way to find out is to catch him in the middle of another one.
It's only now that Shrike finally speaks, her voice so calm as to be unnerving. Lifeless.
"You thought you could just use me… for sex? ...You don't feel anything more?"
She says it carefully, timing each pause to gauge his reaction as the words process in his mind.
And it's exactly what she'd been looking for.
His eyes narrow just a hair, his lip only just barely twitching. Both movements bordered on being nigh imperceptible, and she would've missed them had she not been staring him down, a hawk ready to dive on any sign of vulnerability.
An uncomfortable beat of silence drops. Too long for him to have readily spoken a truth, too short for it to have been for purposeful effect. Instead, his response is a stream of words that comes out too quickly, each syllable threatening the space of another.
"'Use' you? It was intended to be mutually beneficial, I assure you. You're the one that came up with this irrational, senseless idea that I'd give you a relationship, of all things!"
Shrike sees his eye twitch as he says it; subtle, blink-and-you-miss-it. As if the very act of saying the words required a tortuous amount of self-control. Even so, his pitch peters slightly, gradually rising towards the end in a manner that can only be described as overly accusatory; projecting, shifting the blame onto someone else.
If Crocodile really didn't care, his voice would've been flat. Calm. It would've been as finely controlled as the night they met, when he'd causally ordered Daz to kill the same man she'd arrived to kill herself.
The voice just now was not that same one of cool composure.
It was of only just barely restrained emotion.
The whisper in her head roars as vindicated fury stokes the flames of war in her chest: 'LIAR! COWARD!'
What sound actually comes forth is almost serene.
A laugh. Short and airy. It falls from her lips as she shakes her head in disbelief. Not that she's surprised he'd dare lie to her face, that she easily believes. She doesn't doubt for a second he's done it probably hundreds of times already.
No, what Shrike has a hard time believing is that a man that takes such care to project an air of implacability, of unshakeable class and poise, is so intimidated about feeling for once that he's driven to petty projections as childish as this. Though, be it par for the course for him to eschew responsibility for his actions… anything to avoid confronting how he really feels.
She almost pities him for how terrified he must be. Almost.
Upon her laughter, Crocodile's shape practically vibrates from the way his body so abruptly stiffens. His eyes go wide first in shock, before quickly narrowing into wary slits. An undeniable sense of distrust lurks beneath their dark surface. He exhales a poorly disguised sigh, air rushing out too roughly to suggest a man at ease. His knuckles and jaw repeatedly tense and relax, clear evidence of the flustered energy that would've been driving him to pace about the room had he not been trying too hard to look mildly annoyed rather than the genuinely anxious that he truly is.
The words that come out of his mouth are measured and cautious, but that only makes the anxiety beneath them all the more apparent. "It seems you've finally come to your senses... Have you realized how foolish you're being?"
Shrike doesn't answer him. He huffs at her silence, arms pulling closer to his body just a hint tighter.
His body language remains as tense as before. The way his fingers fidget slightly, how he's begun to tap a foot on the floor… It almost makes her laugh again. She wonders if he's even trying to hide that anxiety wracking him inside out. That, or she's finally deciphered the code on how to properly read the man.
Right now, all she sees is a cornered beast with blunted fangs and broken claws, raising its hackles to make itself seem more dangerous than it actually is.
Shame it took this for her to finally get it.
If anything good has come out of this mess, it's being able to see him in such a state. Seeing him so obviously out of his element, his usual cool demeanor nowhere to be seen. That quick wit and cunning failing him so… The victory of seeing it all tastes almost as sweet as the kisses they'd shared just a few minutes earlier…
A sweetness that immediately curdles, replaced by the acrid tang of bile as she's reminded of just how cruelly he's attempted to play her. How he's so callously toyed with her heart.
Crocodile must've sensed her rising anger. He rolls his eyes and shrugs his shoulders in the lack of any verbal response from her. "If you want to feel sorry for yourself, then do so in your own quarters. It's late."
Shrike only laughs again at that. Though this one is more of a bark, decidedly colored with the acidic scorn eating away inside her. Oh no, she has no intention of leaving anytime soon. Not without having yet made him feel even just a tiny fraction of the humiliated anguish he's selfishly afflicted upon her in his cowardice.
A cold smirk stretches across her lips as she beholds him, yellow eyes glinting with damning contempt. Still sitting at the edge of his desk, she reclines backward such that she's braced on her palms extended out behind her.
"Eager to send me away so quickly?" Shrike coos at him with faux sympathy, the words saccharine in her falsely sweet tone. "You must be more afraid than I thought."
Croc's eyes go wide, first with shock, then with confusion, before narrowing into the thin slits of fury. His lips pull backward, beginning to expose his gritted teeth as a low growl emanates from somewhere deep in his chest.
It seems she's struck a nerve. Not that she's surprised. As if a self-important man like himself would stand to suffer being laughed at and ridiculed so.
'How childish.'
"'Afraid?' What are you insinuating, Agent?" The tone of his voice carries just as much undisguised venom as the furious glint in his scowl does.
Shrike can only sigh, rolling her eyes at him having devolved to using her title rather than name. As if that would magically take back all the kisses they'd just shared.
As if that'd make these feelings he's so obviously terrified of go away.
He bristles as the exhale leaves her lips, his body actually, physically vibrating now. The sheer influx of emotion flooding his system has overwritten his carefully honed barriers of self-control. Tendrils of sand angrily lash in the air along his shoulders, a physical representation of just how infuriated he is. It's just the same as when he unwittingly began to desiccate the ground beneath him during their confrontation earlier today.
Though rather than the terror she'd felt then, all Shrike can think of now is a petulant child stamping their foot.
"Answer me, Agent." He practically spits each syllable, infusing them with biting vitriol.
"Oh, it's 'Agent' again, is it?" It's only then that she hops down off his desk. The impact with the floor upsets the ache in her knees, though she doesn't bother to hide the discomfort contorting her features.
Maybe seeing her in pain would just make it all the more real for him.
What he's so in denial about: the fact that he cares.
She doesn't wait for a response, sauntering towards him as casually as her bandages would allow. His piercing glower bores into her unwaveringly the short distance over, though it has little effect in cowing her. She meets it and feels nothing.
Nothing save for the smoldering fury singeing the underside of her sternum.
Shrike comes to a stop right before him, noting the way his fingers grip about his arm so tight that he might as well desiccate himself in his own indignance.
The role reversal brings a contemptuous smirk to her face, and, of course, that only seems to piss him off even more. He begins to open his mouth, probably to bark another order to either answer him or demand 'proper' respect like the big bitch he's acting like.
She cuts him off before he can even form a single sound. "I'm not insinuating anything. I'll say it outright: You, Sir Crocodile, scourge of the seas, wanted traitor, would-be kingslayer..."
She drags each title out with mock deference, each one only making the bitter grin on her face all the wider.
"...You are nothing but a coward." Her finger jabs into his chest, not at all fearful of the beast supposedly adorned with all the claims to infamy she's just rattled off. "A self-absorbed, pompous jackass afraid of his own feelings!"
Dead. Silence.
For but a split second, the expression on his face freezes in what she can only describe as wide-eyed horror.
Only to be quickly overshadowed by unmitigated rage.
Flustered rage.
Shrike's seen through that flimsy lie trying to cover his shame and he knows it. If only he could've just admitted it right then and there to save them both the trouble… and the heartbreak.
Because it's just like Crocodile to retaliate twice-fold for any insult levied against him.
"A coward?! You're just upset because you assumed I thought more of you than just a useful body! You're nothing more than a stray-"
His eyes twitch again as he says the word, almost like a wince.
Shrike doesn't register it. Her vision goes red as blood roars in her ears all at once, the world triggering that righteous, primal fury of hers. It's the very same fury that'd awoken the night she made her first kill, an impulsive force driving her to strike down the man before her with impunity.
She responds in the only way possible to convey exactly what she's feeling.
Her fist connects with the underside of his jaw with blinding speed, not giving him a single moment of warning. The uppercut connects on the right side of his jawline with a satisfying click of his teeth, the sound echoing around the room along with a surprised grunt.
Had she been of clearer mind, Shrike would've been wondering how she'd managed to hit him, why he hadn't just turned to sand beneath her knuckles.
Right now she's too incensed to think of anything besides forcing him to own up to his bullshit.
"You lying son of a bitch!" She steps forward as he's knocked backward, immediately grabbing for his collar. Funny, that she'd done so just tens of minutes earlier to wrench him down for a kiss instead. Now, it's to tear him down, knock his arrogant ass from the throne that he thinks makes him untouchable.
"You think I don't see it?! That I don't hear it in your voice?! Look me in the face and dare lie through your teeth to me again!"
Crocodile stares at her in stunned silence, mouth slightly parted in the wake of her brazen audacity. Whether it's because she dared hit him or that she even managed to do it in the first place isn't clear. In all her acts of defiance, from the most innocuous to even the most brazen, never once has she dared retaliate against him so.
But there's another expression, hidden, lurking just beneath the surface of his shocked expression, hinted at by the barely noticeable tingeing of pink about his scar.
Bewildered Awe.
It's not until a thin splotch of red gathers at the corner of his mouth that he snaps back into focus, the abrupt tang of iron reminding him of his outrage.
Crocodile disintegrates so suddenly that Shrike can't stop herself from stumbling forward. The fabric that'd been tightly wadded in her grasp collapses into sand, the particles exploding outward between the gaps in her fingers. The rest of him follows suit, leaving her empty hand flailing outward as she rushes to catch herself.
Her toes barely touch back down to the ground before the cool metal of his hook presses up underneath her jaw. She freezes, body going stiff as she feels the sting of its tip nick into her already bruised skin.
All it does it piss her off even more.
Shrike glares up at him, a snarl tearing itself from her throat as her hauntingly yellow irises pierce into him like the knives she loves so very much. She reaches up to smack the damn thing away only for him to halt her with a barked order.
"Don't even think of it!" Croc shifts his wrist just enough that the hook bites just a tiny bit deeper. "One move and you'll bleed out on this floor! I've tolerated this mutiny long enough!"
He tries to sound menacing, as if it were a real threat, only for the bluff to fall comically flat.
Shrike can only laugh, an indignant snort of disbelief pushing through her nose. "Oh, as if! Do it then! I fucking dare you!"
She grins at him then, a maddened, arrogant expression, as she tilts her neck and offers it in mock submission. Tribute for him to brutally tear out himself had he the balls to own up to his threats.
He won't. She knows he's toothless.
As expected, Crocodile's eyes twitch with a frustrated, desperate expression. The look of a man caught red-handed in the middle of a bluff.
Shrike pounces on his hesitation, not at all about to let him have it easy.
"What, I'm just a 'body' right?!" She throws the insult he'd hurled at her back in his face, relishing in the way he flinches as the word leaves her tongue. "Seeing me dead shouldn't bother you, then!"
She grabs for the base of his hook as she snaps at him, wrapping a tight grip about it before pressing it up deeper into her jaw to better make her point. A single red rivulet barely begins to run down the golden metal before it's abruptly yanked it away.
Crocodile practically leaps backward to get away, though it's really only a single step. The look on his face is some cross between enraged and deeply flustered. He knows he's been found out, and she now knows how desperate he is to escape from her; this maddened harpy ripping him open to expose every, damn, wretched piece of him.
Shrike gives him no time to respond, breaking the silence with a deep, haughty laugh. "I knew it! You can't kill me! You can't even hurt me! Oh, you really are a coward!"
He growls, and she swears she can see a bolt of fire strike through his eyes. "I should've just killed you the moment we met. When you so brazenly tried to kill me!" But the uncertainty underlying his tone says it all.
"Oh, shut-it. You can't kill me, and you never will be able to kill me! Do you know why?" She plants her hands on her hips, cocking her head to the side as a vindictive smirk stretches across her lips. "It's because for once in your lonely, miserable life you care about someone else! You care and that terrifies you!"
He can't even say anything back. Shrike sees the gears turning in his head, churning furiously as they desperately try to think of some response only for nothing to emerge. How can he? When he's been so thoroughly caught and trapped as he is, his lies having backfired to explosive effect.
What's worse, he can't just take the easy way out as he usually would. This time, the witness, the one loose end, is the one thing he can't currently bear to get rid of. Shrike's the only person in the whole world he can't possibly bring himself to harm.
And she knows it.
She closes the gap between them with a single step, not wanting to let him think he can just step out of this mess. Not when she hasn't finished rubbing his nose in it, yet. Hands planted on her hips again, she arches herself to directly glare up into him. Her scornful confidence meets his anxious frustration with flying sparks.
"'Terrified', I said it. You're too afraid to accept your feelings, too afraid to kill them, and now you're too afraid to even answer me!"
He flinches like she's punched him again, and genuine anger settles back into his eyes. The rekindled flames overwrite the uncertainty lingering there prior, emboldening the embers to flare brightly once more. Now, he gives her an indignant look that'd look much more at home on her face rather than his.
"The only thing to accept here is that this isn't happening and never will! All I want is for you to get that! Get it and forget all of this happened!"
"You don't even deny it anymore!" She jabs a finger at his face with a snarl, though her heart sings with vindication. "You do want me and that scares you! And now your genius plan is to just pretend this never happened?!"
Crocodile only snarls right back, at the same time grabbing her wrist with bruising force. The abrupt pressure makes her wince, and his grip immediately loosens upon seeing it. She feels nothing but contempt for his lack of resolve.
He presses on without hesitation. "What did you expect from me? That I'd suddenly start fawning over you like some fairy tale prince?! Shrike, you need to grow up!"
She gawps at him, so impossibly insulted she just can't not. "'Grow up'!? You're the one acting like a child! Lying and threatening me because you don't know how to handle these emotions like a grown-ass adult!"
His mouth opens to respond but she cuts him off before he gets the chance.
"And what did you expect to happen, anyway? That you'd fuck me and that'd be enough to satisfy these uncomfortable feelings of yours? And what if that didn't work?! You'd send me back to my room, 'thanks for the fuck, but sorry, I like you too much'!?"
"DAMMIT, NO!" He throws her wrist down as his volume raises to a frustrated yell, the voice of a man who's finally reached his breaking point. "It wasn't supposed to get this far! You were supposed to reject me! We'd both see how futile this all is and give-up!"
Shrike can only stare at him dumbstruck, and from the equally flustered look on his face, it seems he's also realized just how mind-boggling idiotic such a plan was. Shame it took for it being put into words for him to realize it. His cheeks tinge pink in heated embarrassment, the color deepening the most along the edges of his scar.
It would've been adorable had she not been so emotionally devastated.
She takes a step backward. Her arms listlessly fall to her sides as she weakly shakes her head in disbelief. "Really? You didn't stop to think… that I might actually want this?"
He doesn't answer, not with words, anyway. His gaze flicks to the side, averting itself from meeting those pale eyes of hers, all the more haunting in her scorn. Those of raptor judging the twitching prey at its talons.
It's only after a sigh bursts from his throat, world-weary and exhausted, that he bothers to look at her again. That frustrated, almost disappointed look on his face only makes her want to tear him to shreds, and she feels her lips retreating backward to expose her canines upon seeing it.
Though nothing infuriates her as much as what dares come out of his mouth.
"I thought you smarter than that, but it seems I was wrong. I should've known better than to expect that from you of all people."
Shrike visibly begins to shake, gripped so tightly by the fury burning away any shred of reason still left lingering in her thoughts. She acts on rage alone. Her left hand darts up to coil itself back into his collar, blindingly quick just as before, catching him entirely unawares.
Crocodile doesn't make a move to dissolve himself, either too blindsided or simply not fast enough. The fabric twined in Shrike's fingers stays just that, not a single coarse particle of sand to be felt.
With her strike just moments ago, she'd assumed it'd happened because she caught him off-guard. Now, as he only braces himself for the blow her other arm's winding back to deliver, a small part of her realizes: 'He's letting me hit him.'
Her fist stops just short of crumpling his nose.
Neither says anything. Not a word. Their eyes pierce into one another with scorn and… despair.
Shrike breaks the silence first, and the weak tremble in her voice only fills her with a burning self-loathing. "Did you think… that this would work instead? Insulting me. Riling me up. Letting me hit you." The accusations fall from her lips weakly, each sounding more drained than the last.
"You thought all of this would make it easier for me to forget, didn't you." It's a statement of fact more than a question. She knows the answer. This is all just another genius trick of his. Something to make her hate him, to make her stop caring so much.
Wounds inflicted to tear out whatever affection she has for him in such a way they scar over, never to form again. It only hurts all the worse, more evidence that he cares enough to seek sparing her the very same feelings ravaging him within and without.
"And you called me naive?" Her voice cracks, finally pushed to the point of tears after coming to terms with the fact that he wants nothing more than to not want her.
A sudden, high-pitched hissing cuts through the air, followed closely by the frantic scrabbling of clawed feet. Two sets of eyes flick to the side as Phoebe comes darting out from behind the desk, scampering towards them as fast as her little legs can carry her before skidding to a halt between them.
The position she takes is the final knife that breaks Shrike's heart.
The little reptile plants herself defiantly, an aggressive pose trying to get Shrike away from her master. She gives a few warning nips at Shrike's ankles, and a stream of crackles and hisses that can only be expletives falls from her fang-exposed maw. Her blood-hued eyes stare up at the woman frozen mid-punch at her owner, though not without a hint of trepidation.
Of course.
It only makes sense that Sir Crocodile would keep pets most loyal only to him.
That doesn't make the betrayal hurt any less.
Shrike glares down at Phoebe, but as the tiny creature stares back up at her with fear in her eyes, little legs beginning to tremble, any ire she feels promptly sputters and dies.
All she's left with is suffocating anguish.
"You would choose him." She spits the words at the distraught little croc, doing her best to ignore the biting sting in her chest as she flinches. "Fine. I don't need you."
Her gaze flits back up to Crocodile's, and the mournful, defeated look she finds there feels like a blow straight to the chest. It makes the words come out with a pitiful tremble. "I don't need either of you."
She moves to pivot on her heel, wanting nothing more than to leave this suffocate office and rid herself of the both of them.
Except, he stops her.
His hand grips her by the upper arm for but a second before he's twisting her back around to face him.
Crocodile pulls her into one last kiss before she can stop him. His lips crash onto hers with desperate abandon, seeking one selfish, final indulgence despite all he's done to push her away. She can't but help but gasp into him as his hand shifts to her cheek and draws her up more into him, into this damning kiss so tender that nothing can stop the tears forming in her eyes.
She loves it.
She hates it.
She hates how much she loves it.
It's nothing but a brutal reminder of what could've been. What they could've had, if only he dared give in to his feelings for her as she did for him.
If only he had the courage to accept them.
When he draws away, it feels somehow as though it's both been hours and seconds. A kiss both too long and not possibly long enough. He hovers close enough that she hears him whisper under his breath: "You deserve better. More. Forget all this, please."
Shrike shoves him away with such force he stumbles backward. The expression on his face is nothing short of desperate, a pleading sense of both longing and despair.
She can't stand it. Any of this.
"Now?! Now of all times is when you decide to act selfless?!" Her voice is broken, heavy with furious heartache. "You can't expect me to forget all this! You… You just can't!"
He only shakes his head, eyes narrowed in a wince. "You have to, Shrike. It's the only way. This can't happen between us. You'll get over this, I know you will."
The urge to scream at him rises, but she bites it all back just as she does with the bile rising in her throat. "Why? Why couldn't you have just done nothing?! You can't just take me into your arms like I'm the most important thing in the world and expect me to forget it!"
Her eyesight clouds with the tears relentlessly pooling in the corners of her eyes. No matter how hard she tries, they merely reform as quickly as she wipes them away.
"You wanted to hurt me like this, didn't you. You enjoyed this." The words fall from her lips like the shards of her broken heart itself.
She knows it's not true as soon as she says it, but she can't bring herself to care. He's said more than his fair share of barbed lies tonight, the least he can do is suffer some of her own.
He winces painfully, and she can see assurances rushing to form at the tip of his tongue… only for him to swallow them all down before any can escape. His silence is as damning as the kiss he just forced upon her was. He makes no attempt to argue. No attempt to console or comfort her.
It only makes her want to fight all the more. She wants to argue, tell him he's wrong, that it doesn't matter what she deserves, she only cares for what she wants. Even after the insults, even after the biting words, even after all the vitriol and hurt, she wants what they could've been.
Because damn if there was only one truth told tonight, that kiss was it. An apology delivered straight to her lips, conveying more in action than words ever possibly could. Remorse, anguish, selfishness, despair…
...Adoration. Affection. Care.
She knows he fears a relationship between them would only end in demise. If not in body, then in spirit. If not her, then him. He'd grind her up, selfishly eat away at the light in her until nothing but emptiness remains. She'd make him soft, get him killed protecting the one thing he can't bear to see harmed.
This is him being merciful, saving her before he has the chance to ruin her himself.
All it does is make her feel worthless. Unwanted. When the man who takes anything and everything he wants lets her go, how can she feel anything more?
She can't bear it any longer.
Shrike whirls on her heel, no longer standing to suffer in his presence. Her back burns from the gaze she feels boring into it, but he makes not a move to stop her.
Any chance to fix this has been well and truly shattered.
It's over, and all that's left is to dig the shards from their chests and move forward.
She gets to the door, and as her hand rests on the edge, words come to her tongue unbidden. They sting and burn, their sole purpose only to hurt, but she cares not.
If she has to suffer, then he does too.
She turns her head to the side, just enough to flash him the glimpse of a single, baleful eye. "You're just upset because you know you can't kill me, can't get rid of me like you do every other inconvenient pawn that doesn't fall in line."
His lips press into a thin line, a child desperately holding in words they'd only regret if spoken aloud.
"You want me. You don't want to want me, but you do and that terrifies you. All you want is to be able to kill me when you need to, not like a repeat of this morning. You want to be able to kill me just like you did with Robin when she was with you "
A bolt of shock flashed through his eyes, jaw falling slack in genuine surprise. This time he can't catch the words in time. "That is n-"
"I don't want to hear it." Shrike cuts him off ruthlessly. "I know I'm right. These renegade feelings of yours will hinder you every step of the way, stay your hand whenever you want to get rid of me. It'll drive you insane and I will relish it the entire time."
"For once in your life, you care about someone and it will ruin you." She turns to face him, keeping one hand on the door. "And you'll never be rid of me. I'll be here the entire time, watching it eat you alive."
Her venomous glare tears into him without mercy, drinking in his despair, the sweetest of poisons she hopes will kill her heart once and for all. "You should've killed me when you had the chance, Croc. You'll wish you had, I'll make sure of it."
Crocodile opens his mouth to say something, but this time he is well and truly speechless. The already dulled look in his eyes only glazes over more as he looks away, down at the floor in what she can only assume is guilt.
'Good.'
His chest heaves from the massive sigh he takes, though not a single sound more comes from him.
It's over.
There's a sudden scrabbling of claws as Phoebe dashes forward with a look on her scaly face that might've been construed as pleading.
Shrike cares naught for it, only filled with more of that acidic disdain. "You made your choice. You chose him."
She takes that final step forward before slamming the door shut with such force that the wood about the frame cracks. A thump of something small thuds into it not even a half-second later.
She feels nothing.
Author's Notes: Hope some of the payback she got helped soothe some of that ache from last chapter. The extra angst probably doesn't help though.