Act 22: Cath

"Eighteen," I reply after making quick calculations in my head.

"And that's one more point for me," Sara smirks.

"What? Come on, based on your indications that's eighteen digs."

"Actually based on my indications the answer is zero."

I snort in disbelief and shake my head in protest but she continues. "It's a hole, by definition it's empty; it doesn't matter how much dirt a shovel dig represents. You went about it the wrong way," she chuckles.

I'm at Sara's, we both have the night off, and Lindsey is staying at Nancy, so we're enjoying and evening together, playing a game of trivia and riddles. We would have gone out if it wasn't for the pouring rain.

"You tricked me!" I exclaim.

"That's the way the question is supposed to be, it's up to you to listen carefully. You thought it was a math problem when it was simple logic."

"You tricked me," I repeat with a pout.

"It's like the silk/milk, question," she points out.

"The what?"

"You know the one, say silk three times then ask what a cow drinks."

"Whatever," I stick my tongue out.

"You're just a sore loser," she laughs at my expense. "I'm winning seven to three."

"You only have the easy questions!"

"I do not!" she pretends to be outraged. "Just admit that I'm good."

"You're lucky."

"I'm good, just say it," she teases.

"Stop gloating, it's only luck," I persist. "This game sucks."

"You suck at this game, that's different," she replies wittily. "Admit it, you're biting the dust because I'm good," she grins widely.

I pounce on her without warning and start tickling her. She cries in surprise and wriggles herself out of my grip, laughing. "Don't, stop it!" she puts distance between us.

"You shouldn't have been so cocky," I give her a feral grin, letting her know that I'm not done yet.

"Cath," she warns me giggling.

We stare at each other for three second then I start to chase her around her living room, the both of us laughing happily.

We're both cut off suddenly when the power goes out unexpectedly. "Uh oh," I eloquently declare.

The room is pitch black, from the look of it the whole neighbourhood is plunged into darkness for there's no light except for a very feeble moonshine, that barely provides a quarter of a halo near the window. I hold my hands in front of me out of reflex and start moving inches by inches trying to feel my way around.

I hear a loud thump and wince at the sound. "Sar, you okay?"

She doesn't reply but I hear her moving frantically, the noise indicates me that she's in her kitchen rummaging through drawers. I startled by the unexpected beam of light blinding me. "Sorry," Sara replies.

She walks back to me, hands me a flashlight and goes past me without a word. After a few more seconds of silence she brings her police scanner to life. It takes about five minutes but we get the info that several part of Vegas are currently experiencing a complete black out and that no one knows how long it'll last.

Ten minutes later the room is dimly lit thanks to three LED lamps the size and shape of hockey pucks strategically laid around. Once it's done we sit back on the couch, I can't help but feel like the atmosphere is darker and it's not just because of the black out.

The first thing I do when we are situated is to call Nancy to check on her and the kids. She tells me that they are also experiencing a black out but that the kids are having a lot of fun with flashlights, fact that Lindsey confirms by barely according me two minutes of her time before going back to play with her cousins.

"Those are handy," I point out once I'm done with my phone call, motioning LED lamp. "No risk to burn your house down. Geeky but cool."

"Yeah," Sara replies with a soft smile. "At least it's a good investment now."

"I'd say," I laugh softly.

We're sitting on her couch, leaning our backs against each armrest, facing each other, a dark spot on her face attracts my attention; a frown creases the lines of my forehead. I move closer in order to reach out and it's only when she winces a bit at my touch that I remember the tough thud from the first moment of the black out.

"Sorry, we should clean that."

"It's okay. Don't worry about it"

"Nope, I'm going to get your first aid kit."

"No, it's good, don't…" she protests as I stand up. "I'm good, don't…"

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle. I'll be right back," I start walking away.

"Cath, don't…" it sounds to me like she restrains herself from adding anything.

I come back with the kit, sit back next to her and prepare everything I need. She's startled when I reach out to turn her face to me. "I know it stings, I'm sorry," I declare when I notice her shallow breathing. "I'm being as quick as possible."

I know it's weird, but for all her toughness, Sara has sometimes less resistance to pain than a child, especially for minor things. It's kind of endearing, in a way.

"There," I smile as I lay a butterfly band aid on her now clean cut.

"Thanks," she barely whispers.

There's an eerie feel to the night, with no light outside and just three halos in the living room. I notice that the scan is still on but at a whispering level. Instead of going back to our game we wonder what might be going on outside, then we launch onto apocalypse scenarios – zombies and other werewolves army, and try to evaluate our survival rate.

"Do you realize how scary your stomach can be when it growls for food?" Sara jokes after some unholy sound erupts from my stomach.

"Shut up, and feed me, woman," I come back glad that my blush of embrrassment is hidden thanks to the obscurity.

Sara decides that we should have a couch picnic – since we won't be having a warm meal, she undoes her couch, turning it into a large bed, puts a table cloth on it then goes in the kitchen to make sandwiches.

I go back to the bathroom to put the kit back in place, then join Sara again. She almost jumps out of her skin when she feels my hands on her waist.

"Sorry," I say sheepishly.

"It's… it's alright," she stutters.

I help her around, soon we are sitting cross-legged on the couch, now turned bed, eating sandwiches and chips.

"I remember a black out when I was a teenager," I decide to break the silence. "At that time my folks were arguing quite a lot. I guess that when people are married for a long time they sometimes hit rough patches. Back then my siblings and I thought that they might split at some point, that's how bad it was."

I didn't know then, what I know now. Mainly that I was the discord apple, and it took me years to find out why. Before I was born, my parents split up for months, my mom had some affair with Sam Braun during that time, who turned out to be my biological father. Needless to say it caused tensions in the house, and for a long while my father and I didn't get along, not that he treated me bad but more that he was confused as to who I was to him, probably resenting me for being as I was now just a way to rub in his face the fact that my mother had been with another man instead of the child of the reconciliation between the two of them. It was rough on everyone, to say the least.

In the end family prevailed, because my father decided that genes didn't matters, and he was right. As far as I'm concerned he is my dad.

"Anyway, that day the power went out it brought us back together. We spend the evening talking openly, playing board games at the candlelight, it was great, really. We became united again."

"Sometimes it's all about getting back to the basics," Sara declares with a small nod.

"After that, we made a point to have bounding moment regularly where we'd speak openly to each other, about the good and the bad," I conclude. "My dad is coming back from his trip with his friends next month; I can't wait for you to meet him," I add with enthusiasm.

"Me neither," she smiles weakly. "There's something about facing a shotgun that just excites me."

"Oh come on, my dad isn't that bad."

"I'm sure Jimmy what's his name thought so back then," she snorts, referring to a story I told her about one of my boyfriends who had quite the unforgettable meeting with my father.

"Well, at least you've been warned," I deadpan before standing up. I gather what we used to eat and return to the kitchen. "Do you want a dessert?" I ask but don't get any response. "Sar?"

I frown when she still doesn't answer. I approach her and tap her lightly on the shoulder and she startles so violently you'd think I burnt her. "Sorry," I pull my hand back. "I asked if you wanted anything from the kitchen."

"I…hum… no I'm good," she seems disoriented for a second or two when she speaks, then shakes her head and turn to me with a smile she wants reassuring. "I'm good, thanks," she repeats.

I sit back on the couch, scrutinizing Sara who is deep in thought. My mind is working in overdrive trying to comprehend what's going on. It's the second time of the evening that she reacts to my touch this way, almost as if every time I stepped away from her field of vision she forgot that I was in the apartment. The reason it bothers me is because Sara is the kind of person to have eyes in the back of her head, she always knows when someone is near her, and she almost always knows who it is.

Then every piece of the puzzle slowly falls into place; the frantic way she looked for a light source – hurting herself in the process; the way she keeps zoning out; the scanner she let on to play so the room is never silent, her edginess; thinking about it I understand that earlier she was just reluctant for me to leave her sides to go and get the kit; the way she's hyper aware of every sound around us, or the fact that even right now she looks like a fragile little thing with her knees to her chest; even now with the dim light I can see that she's trembling a bit. I had noticed every detail individually but it's only now that I understand their possible meaning: Sara might be genuinely scared of the dark.

A part of me is curious, I'd like to ask her questions, to know the story behind her fear if there is one. But mostly I just want to make her feel safe, to make her understand that I'm by her sides right now.

"You're not listening to me again," I chuckle.

She looks at me with confusion. "Sorry," she apologizes, proof that she was elsewhere otherwise she'd know that I was just messing with her.

"Hmm… let's see if I can get your full attention," I smirk and move closer to her. I untie her arms and press on her knees; she understands immediately and stretches her legs. I straddle her and she looks at me with surprise but doesn't push me away. "Do I have you full attention?"

"Uh… yeah," she whispers.

"Not really convincing," I tighten my lips and tilt my head. "Alright, let's see what else I can do."

I lean in and capture her lips with mine, I gently suck on her bottom lip then pull back after a few seconds. "What about now?"

There's a shy grin on her lips. "Hum…"

I smirk and lean in again, this time I start to make the outlines of her jaws with languid kisses, at the same time my hands brush against her arms. The change is subtle but slowly she's trembling because of my ministrations. I undo the buttons of her shirt and push it open. I pull back and watch the fingertips of my right hand barely touch the skin of her rapidly rising and falling chest.

My eyes come back on hers and I can see her desire blackening her pupils. We stare at each other for a long time, not saying a word, perhaps just taking in the moment.

For a second, her attention wavers as a sound comes from the hall outside the apartment but I grab her chin gently. "Hey, stay with me," I demand in a murmur.

I lean back a little, cross my arms in front of me, reaching for the hem of my top then take it off, my eyes glue on hers. She gasps at the sight which gives me just the confidence for what's to come.

I kiss her again. "I need you…" I speak with my lips against hers. "…to be very attentive…" I capture her lips again. "…to every little thing…" I kiss her again. "…every little detail…"

Her breathing becomes shallower as my kisses deepen. "…so you can forever…" I run my tongue against her lips. "…remember this moment…" I kiss her and meet her tongue with mine.

When I pull back again her eyes are closed and her breathing is shaky. It takes her a second or two to focus on me again. "Understood?" I ask softly, her lips move but no sound comes out, she gulps then just nods. I smile sensually "Good."

I look at her lips and watch as I run a thumb against her flesh. I bring my eyes back on hers. "Close your eyes, and focus on me," I instruct her in a whisper. I grab one of her hand, entwine our fingers and squeeze. "You're with me, everything's alright," I assure her and she squeezes back.

I kiss her.

I kiss every inch of her exposed skin; I memorize her curves with my lips and tongue.

I kiss her; I slowly reveal more skin from her and from me; I wonder at the feel of her skin against mine, at the feel of her flesh under my hands, under my lips; I bite, I nibble, I gently scratch; like and explorer on uncharted territory I discover slowly, reverently.

I marvel at the sounds she makes, the shortness of her breath, the little twitch of her muscles. I take my time, wanting the moment to last forever, memorizing every bit of it, always wanting more, too afraid to forget the smallest thing.

I kiss her.

I touch her.

I feel her so close to me, and I want to be closer still, I want to be under her skin.

I kiss her.

I touch her.

I move inside her, the feel of her at the tip of my fingers almost make me come undone but I hang on; my eyes are set deeply into hers and the connexion we share goes beyond our bodies and emotions; it's so intense that it's frightening.

There's no telling where my body begin and hers end, I echo her moans as if feel her closer and closer to the edge.

We're holding each other's gaze. Everything slows down as my movements are more intense, deeper.

Time suspends its course briefly, Sara's breath stops short, caught in her throat, panic flickers in her eyes the split second it takes her to realize that she's about to fall, then her eyes close tightly as she climaxes, holding onto me for dear life.

As I follow her over the edge I feel an immense sense of despair, as if a part of me had irremediably vanished, died even; then this dreadful feeling is washed away by a tidal wave of emotions crashing violently inside me, revealing something new, a side of me I had never known before, that probably didn't exist until this very moment, it all blooms inside of my chest giving me a pleasure to intense that it's painful.

Sara's eyes meet mine again, she tightens her hold on me and I kiss her like it was the first time, like it was the last time. My heart is beating erratically in my chest, I swear I can feel hers beating back against her on ribcage.

I can finally reign over my emotion and move to her side and hold her to me, as if on their own volition my hands keep caressing her back gently, my lips keep kissing her crown. I keep holding her even when Morpheus claims her in her kingdom.

My head is spinning with the rapid and overflowing thoughts crowding my mind. Every passing second I realize a little more what happened, how I made love to Sara, how I completely let go of myself and how I shared something much more than physical or spiritual.

Every passing second I have to accept that I'm slowly depossessed of my heart, that I can't fight it, I don't want to fight it; every passing second I realize – wit tears pearling at the corner of my eyes – that the cradle of Sara's hands is where my heart is.

The cradle of Sara's hand is where my heart belongs.

Damn.


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