TRIPLE UPDATE!
Chapter One-Hundred-and-Sixty-Seven; Dying
Stephanie's eyes fluttered open heavily to see Seneca's luminous blue eyes, his face paler than she had ever seen it before.
"Did I faint?" Stephanie asked wearily, her muddled thoughts tripping unhelpfully over one another. Her eyes landed on the empty needle in Seneca's white-knuckled fingers then and she felt the familiar dull throb in her upper arm. "I take that as a yes," she muttered wryly, shifting uncomfortably to sit up straighter in the chair she was slumped on.
Seneca said nothing. Instead his hand shot forward suddenly to grasp her chin firmly and tilt her head up. He studied her eyes intently while Stephanie tried to manage a frown to throw at the Gamemaker.
"What?" Stephanie grumbled, when Seneca finally released her.
"Even with the injection of serum, it took you longer than it should have to come around again," Seneca said seriously.
Stephanie's brows knitted together, as her heartbeat began its usual gallop when the serum started to kick in. She groaned miserably, pressing the heel of her palm harder against her chest, in some useless attempt to slow her racing heart.
"Maybe my body is getting used to the serum and it needs longer to take effect now?" Stephanie conjectured wearily, wincing slightly. As much as Stephanie hated fainting, she despised the waking up after fainting just as much. The whole process of fainting was a rather swift affair in comparison to the recovery period afterwards. The general feeling of weariness and grogginess that would weigh her down following fainting, led her sister Weisna to nickname her 'Grumpy Goldie', much to her niece Eldi's amusement.
She was dimly aware when Seneca moved away, only for moments later the Gamemaker to pull up another chair directly facing her.
"What do you need?" Seneca asked earnestly.
Stephanie shook her head weakly. "Just give me a few minutes…"
The usual after shivers trembled through Stephanie's body for a few uncomfortable seconds. And almost instantly warm silk had slid across her shoulders, enveloping her in a soothing heat and a clean, sharp scent. She didn't even try and hide her gratefulness as she tugged Seneca's blazer tighter about herself.
Stephanie winced again as her heart's desperate dance began to slow slightly to a more normal rhythm. Suddenly warm fingers had curled around her wrist and Stephanie looked down as Seneca gently, yet insistently tugged her hand away from her chest. Stephanie blushed furiously, when she also noticed that during her slight physical exertions, the already daring neckline of her dress had slipped even lower.
"S-Seneca!" Stephanie spluttered shrilly as Seneca, without a moment's hesitation, reached forth with light fingers to trace the plunging neckline of her dress. A telling blush spread up her neck, but Seneca's expression was still one of intense concentration. His face still too pale.
"What's this?" Seneca asked suddenly as his gaze snapped up to hers. Stephanie looked down to see the recent needle mark, with its purpling orbit imprinted on her skin, in the middle of her chest. She frowned thoughtfully for a moment, before realisation dawned and she smirked ruefully. Seneca looked to her expectantly.
"It must have been when I fainted at the party and Ellen injected me with that usual stuff – though not in the usual place," Stephanie grimaced slightly, "I was wondering why it felt like I had been bloody winded when I came to," she muttered sardonically.
"You fainted at the party as well?!" Seneca exclaimed, startling Stephanie. She looked at Seneca, studying his tense features in silent confusion. Her ability to read subtleties was an effort when she was at her best and right now, her mind was still groggy.
"Yes; it was after a rather trying circumstance," she replied sharply, scowling. Because really! Seneca didn't need to look so horrified or annoyed at her blasé approach to her troublesome fainting.
Seneca raked a hand through his ebony hair, his look of almost reproach resting heavily on Stephanie.
"Did Electra Hocol not warn you that you weren't supposed to faint – for any reason?" Seneca demanded.
Stephanie scoffed incredulously. "She didn't. And even if she did, it wouldn't have made a difference. Do you really think I would faint so much if I had the ability to stop it?"
Seneca stared at Stephanie for an endless moment as he forced himself to take calming breaths. Vash's words about the delicacy of Stephanie's situation were echoing in Seneca's head, and he had just discovered that she had already fainted twice since then!
"You almost drive me insane sometimes, do you know that?" he queried rhetorically, voice struggling for controlled composure.
A rueful smirk crossed Stephanie's lips helplessly. How many times had she thought now, how the blue-eyed Gamemaker was going to drive her insane? "Likewise," Stephanie murmured under her breath, feeling the general feeling of weakness begin to ebb away from her trembling limbs.
Seneca's gaze snapped to hers for a moment, and then a mirroring smirk curved his lips.
"You'd make a very attractive lunatic," he teased lightly, slipping easily back into his usual arrogant drawl.
Stephanie fought down the rising blush as she shot him a deadpan look, that had no effect whatsoever on Seneca's usual smirk.
"I was just wondering," Seneca began easily, voice smooth once more, "If you're going to do that everytime?"
Stephanie's brow furrowed with confusion, "What?"
Seneca graced her with his most charming grin. "Are you going to faint everytime I kiss you?"
Stephanie flushed immediately, her mouth dropping open as she visibly struggled for words, feeling as though she had just received another shot of serum. She felt like she was going to faint all over again! She snapped her mouth closed tightly after too long moments of gaping, her teeth clamping shut with an audible click. Seneca of course, remained looking perfectly composed, a smirk toying on his lips as he watched her grapple for words to properly upbraid him with.
Seneca loved teasing Stephanie like this. He was addicted to the sound of those little, sharp intakes of air she would give, when he said something deliberately risqué just to see her reaction. He doubted she realised how irresistible he found her when she would become so hot and flustered like this in front of him; so sweet and frustrated in her defiance as she scowled stubbornly at him.
What had just happened? What was she doing? Wh – Stephanie pushed the chaotic racing of her thoughts back adamantly. It was taking all of her effort just to remain sitting so complacently, without trying to answer any of her mind's whirlwind of questions.
"Why are you here for Seneca?" Stephanie ground out, averting her gaze and struggling for superiority in her current situation.
The amusement on Seneca's expression sobered as he looked at Stephanie intently. "Despite what I know you must think of me Stephanie…this is a necessary conversation," Seneca said quietly, seriously.
Stephanie snapped her gaze instinctively up to scour the Gamemaker's expression for what had changed his demeanour.
He was sure what she thought of him?! Stephanie almost scoffed incredulously. Would he mind telling me then what I supposedly think or feel for him? Because at the minute I haven't got the slightest clue!
"You have no idea what I think of you," Stephanie murmured just as quietly, the words having escaped her lips before she could stop them. Her eyes were round and vulnerable as Seneca looked candidly at her, and Stephanie felt her breath lodge in her throat like a tangible object.
Stephanie swallowed with great effort, wincing at the familiar bite of the necklace at her skin.
"Can you help get this off?" Stephanie blurted out quickly before the lengthening moments could become anymore charged. She raised her hand emphatically to fumble at the intricate clasp at the back of her neck. "Ellen did get me down here with the excuse Ficen needed to remove this thing," she added ruefully.
Seneca blinked once, slightly surprised. Before he dragged his gaze down and a familiar, genuine half-smirk graced his lips.
"Who put this collar on you?" he teased lightly, in his usual silken drawl.
"Ficen," Stephanie replied drolly.
Seneca's smirk deepened. "Turn around," he instructed, arching an ebony brow.
Stephanie obeyed, turning slightly in her chair as Seneca leaned forward towards her. Moments later she felt almost pleasant shivers race up her spine, as Seneca brushed aside her hair over her shoulder. He batted away her uselessly fumbling hands and Stephanie forced herself to stay as still as possible as Seneca undid the clasp.
She felt the heat of his breath on her skin, felt the feather-light brush of his fingertips as he effortlessly worked out the intricacies of the metal contortion. Seconds later a gasp of relief left her lips as she felt the uncomfortable metal lessen its vice-like grip around her throat. Stephanie didn't look as she took the necklace collar and hurriedly tossed it to the farthest side of the room where it skittered under one of the storage cupboards. Stephanie smirked victoriously; Ficen won't be finding that contraption for a while!
However in the next seconds Stephanie's thoughts had stuttered to a breathless halt as she felt the intimate pressure of gentle fingers on her throat. She turned swiftly, brows already snapped together in an expression of reproach.
But Seneca's gaze was intent as he stroked the back of two fingers lightly down the length of her throat.
"The bruising is almost gone," Seneca commented clinically. Stephanie averted her eyes quickly, making a non-committal sound in response.
"Your pulse is racing…" Seneca's silken murmur sounded as his fingertips ghosted across her skin.
Stephanie flamed red, as she scowled and swatted Seneca's inquisitive hand away. Seneca smirked infuriatingly as Stephanie rubbed a hand harshly over the fading bruises on her neck, willing away the feel of Seneca's touch. She never expected the Gamemaker could be so…gentle about anything? But in the next second she thought how being a Gamemaker meant he would be able to perform delicate tasks designing the mechanisms for his harrowing Games.
Stephanie frowned as her mind; the stubborn prideful part of herself that was absolutely appalled at the thought of having feelings for Seneca Crane, desperately tried to remind her who precisely this man was! The President's son, the Head Gamemaker, a Capitolite, a monster, a killer, a…
Stephanie snapped her eyes shut for a split second fighting back her meddlesome thoughts.
She was already imagining, could already envision with breathtakingly, acute detail the absolute hell her thoughts were going to give her later, agonising over every last detail of her latest run-in with the Gamemaker. Her mother always had scolded her that she overthought things too much, torturing herself with every minute detail until she practically drove herself crazy.
She hadn't had time to dissect her feelings for Seneca properly, though Stephanie doubted any amount of time given to her could allow her to produce a logical, acceptable reason for her attraction to the Gamemaker. She had only the desperate handful of minutes she had managed to snatch at the Capitol party for analysing her feelings…and from there she had hurtled straight forth into a heart-breaking confession with Haymitch, to a heart-stopping clash with Seneca.
Stephanie thought drolly, that it was right about this point she needed to give herself the mental slap and shout 'pull yourself together woman!' before she utterly dissolved into a groaning stupor of despair.
"So, what is this necessary conversation we have to have then?" Stephanie asked gruffly, keeping her expression stoic as she looked up at the Gamemaker, and struggling to keep her mind difficultly blank.
She laced her fingers together to stop them entwining with each other nervously.
"Do you remember we discussed how I was attempting to find a cure to your fainting?" Seneca began.
Stephanie nodded, before she smirked bitterly as a sudden thought occurred to her; considering how her odds had been so far, it seemed the only logical outcome. "There is no cure, is there?" she asked ruefully.
"There damn well is," Seneca said with vehement conviction, almost startling Stephanie.
"Okay then," Stephanie replied hesitantly. She had an uneasy feeling. Surely finding a cure was something…good?
"Your…fainting is more serious than I first conjectured," Seneca said, studying Stephanie's facial features carefully. The last thing he needed was for her to suddenly faint with shock, if he was to blurt out unthinkingly 'your fainting is actually rather…lethal.'
Stephanie's brows drew together in continuing confusion at the caution to Seneca's carefully constructed words. "How much more serious?" she asked slowly.
Seneca cleared his throat, "Quite a bit more serious," he answered.
Stephanie frowned heavily. "Well…how – what's that supposed to mean? You said there was a cure, so…I don't understand. Seneca?" Undercurrents of fear trickled into Stephanie's voice as uncertainty created a somersaulting sensation in her stomach.
Seneca's clenched jaw muscles twitched, "There is a cure. I made absolute sure of that myself," he reassured her immediately.
The slowly mounting fear in Stephanie was swiftly eradicated by the conviction in Seneca's voice. If there was a cure that was the main thing; nothing to worry about, right?
A gentle half-smirk tugged at Seneca's lips, an impish light in his eyes as he held his hand out, palm upwards. "Please?" he prompted her, perfectly charmingly.
Stephanie frowned half-heartedly, rolling her eyes, cheeks pinking before she relinquished her hand into Seneca's. His fingers folded over her hand securely, his smirk growing fondly as his eyes rested for a moment on the familiar scars on her knuckles; from when she had first started working at the factory and had been hopelessly clumsy trying to get used to the tools. The smile faded from his lips in the next second though as he looked at her seriously again, and Stephanie felt mildly uneasy once more.
"Stephanie, I want you to listen very carefully to what I'm telling you now."
Stephanie frowned. "I'm not a child, Seneca. What is it?" she grumbled.
"There is a cure Stephanie, just remember that. You have to trust me that I have everything necessary arranged?" Seneca continued, ignoring her protest.
Stephanie's frown deepened. He was making her more uneasy dragging out the truth like this. Surely she didn't have some truly horrendous mutation in her and would start growing scales or a tail any day now?! "Tell me!" Stephanie demanded impatiently.
A smirk ghosted across Seneca's lips. "First of all – you do trust me?" he queried, raising her hand still clasped in his, to breathe a feather-light kiss across her skin. "Only…the last time I kissed you, you berated me that it showed I wasn't deserving of your trust. I'm just wondering if you are of the same opinion this time?"
The innocent look and sincere tone Seneca was almost successfully projecting, was utterly undermined by the downright knowing gleam in his eyes and the devious smirk pulling irresistibly at his lips.
Stephanie barely stopped her mouth from falling open again as she sucked in a sharp breath, scowling utterly murderously at the smug Gamemaker.
"Seneca," she warned lowly, in the same tone of voice she always used when Seneca had pushed her to the absolute edge of whatever scrap of sensible thought she had left, and she was seconds away from doing something entirely unthinkable.
Seneca didn't try to conceal his self-pleased grin. "I'll have to start keeping a mental list of all the things that make you say my name like that," he told her suavely.
Stephanie gasped indignantly, making to rip her hand from his when Seneca's hold tightened and he attempted to look a bit more contrite. Unsuccessfully so, given she could still see the telling smirk tucked into the corners of his lips. He brushed another apologetic kiss across her scarred knuckles, blue eyes looking up at her innocently.
Stephanie remained stubbornly still, stubbornly scowling and stubbornly silent; refusing to even let an eyebrow twitch at the gesture.
Seneca sighed lightly then at her stoicism, but his expression did become more serious as befitting what their conversation had been about before Seneca had seen fit to tease her.
"Stephanie, when I said your fainting was a lot more serious than what I originally estimated, I wasn't exaggerating." Stephanie felt Seneca's hold on her hand tighten marginally. "The chemicals from the river have been absorbed into your bloodstream since ten years ago, and…have essentially been corrupting your body since then."
Stephanie nodded, silently urging Seneca to continue when he looked at her.
"Everytime you fainted you furthered that corruption of your own cells. Given the longevity of your condition and the fact that it was left untreated for so long, means that the damage done was extensive…"
"Seneca…please," Stephanie interrupted him, as she recognised that Seneca's brain was effortlessly shifting to the Gamemaker persona of technical phrases and medical jargon that she couldn't hope to understand in her flustered state.
Seneca's blue eyes looked to her, taking in her confused eyes and overwhelmed look. He squeezed her hand almost apologetically, offering her a fleeting, sheepish smirk.
The smirk lessened until Seneca's expression was grave again and Stephanie felt her stomach flip uneasily.
"You're dying," Seneca stated suddenly, bluntly. Stephanie blinked surprised at the Gamemaker blurting out the harsh, unthinking statement. It was in stark contrast to how he usually could weave together words effortlessly. He was forever doing it afterall to deliberately fluster her. Seneca seemed to frown angrily at himself for his brief second of discomposure, in voicing the first words that came to his mind.
It took a few moments for the two-worded statement to sink in for Stephanie. And then, for another good few moments all she could do was sit stunned. She wasn't precisely sure what she was meant to feel or what in fact she was actually feeling. But from the intense look on Seneca's face, and his tight grip on her hand, she imagined Seneca had expected her to erupt into hysterics or break down.
"Are you going to faint?" Seneca asked.
Stephanie scowled. "Is that meant to be a joke?"
Seneca frowned, "What? – No!" he replied, "Are you?" he added softer.
Stephanie's scowl lessened as the furrows on her brow smoothed. "No," she replied certainly after a moment. Even if she had of felt like fainting, Stephanie knew ruefully that the serum still in her veins would have fought tooth and nail against it. But, ironically, Stephanie genuinely didn't feel like fainting at the news. She felt strange. Slightly wary at the thought that along with the usual nerves, overthinking, violent tendencies, stubborn pride, over-emotional impulses and hundred other things that made up her, there was a deadly little viper lurking inside of her as well. It had seemed innocent once, something harmless – who would have thought something like fainting could be so serious? But she didn't feel like breaking down or even crying.
Seneca frowned slightly as though in incomprehension, "You are taking this rather well?" he said ruefully, acutely remembering his own reaction to the news. The merest reminder of the maelstrom of emotional turmoil that had raged through him upon learning that he was going to lose Stephanie forever, made Seneca take her still slightly cold hand in both of his. He pressed his lips again to her cool skin for a lingering moment; not a teasing graze or a light brush of his lips.
Stephanie's gaze snapped to his but she wasn't frowning for his recent actions.
Her expression was one of the strangest she had ever given Seneca. She was looking at him, almost smiling sympathetically as though he were a hopelessly naïve child. The disconcerting look made Seneca focus, blinking rapidly.
"Seneca, it's nothing new. I know what it is to feel like I'm dying. I've felt that way since my name was called at the Reaping."