Karma

Disclaimer: Um, no. Too out of character for that.

Uploaded because the ending of the first part just didn't go as well without this.

"Take it"

His green bandana was clenched in his fist, and he held it out to her. She shook her head fiercely, otherwise unmoving as she lay curled up tightly on the bed, her head touching the wall behind her. He had taken the covers, and she was naked, but it seemed almost pointless to hide herself now.

"I said take it." He waved it in her face. "Wipe away the tears and get dressed."

"No." Her voice cracked; she was still crying. He sighed wearily and settled back on the bed.

"Do you want me to drag you out of here like that, without anything on, for the whole bar to see?" His arrogant smirk told her that he would be perfectly willing to do that, and enjoy it too. She shook her head again, slowly, and he looked satisfied. "Then get dressed and wash your face. You can't go out there looking like someone just died."

And he strutted out of the room, just like that – closing the door behind him, thankfully, but leaving her alone.

She could leave him now – run away and hide, never see him again.

But her pride would always let her know that she had lost so miserably. How had she forgotten that he had won once before? Yet at least that time, she had held a true advantage for some time.

She had to win. She had to crush him again, this time for what he had done.

She would never forgive him!

Nevertheless, her eyes quickly scanned the room for the window – there, to the side of the bed. The covers pulled tightly around her, she slid off the bed and crept towards it, straining on her toes to peer outside. It was a long way to the ground… and the window was high off the ground, and even enclosed with bars. There was no escape.

Had he planned this, then? The windows she had seen from outside weren't like this… The thought enraged her, and her eyes burned with tears yet again. He'd tricked her! He'd seen here there, and led her to this room so that she wouldn't be able to run away from him. The door – had he really locked it to keep others out, or to keep her in? The realization that she had been led into a trap made her sick. Immediately, she felt her stomach heave and she collapsed facing a corner, her hands barely supporting her body.

As soon as her head stopped pounding and she was strong enough to move again, she shuffled away from the soiled corner and began to search for her dress. There – on the floor in front of the bed, where she had left it the night before, when she'd… when he'd… it was a good thing that there wasn't anything left in her stomach to empty, else she'd have been sick again. Even the memory was painful.

She would get revenge, she vowed. This time, it was for her dignity. She would break his heart and soul and force him on his knees, make him beg for mercy and never grant it… he would be pleading for death to take him by the time she was finished with him.

Minutes later, she was calmly walking down the stairs, slightly weak from a lack of energy, and holding on to the railing, but composed and dignified in every way. She even refused to acknowledge his suggestive wink (he was sitting at the bar, chatting with the innkeeper) and instead made her way to the exit. She didn't need anything to eat – she would rather not eat in this place, with its bad memories. If she was sick in here, in full view of everyone, and where she would certainly be blamed for it…

"Lady." He caught her arm; when had he left the bar? She refused to face him, instead turning haughtily away and made a futile attempt to tug her arm away from his iron grip. He made a sound of surprise, then leaned down to her ear and whispered in a tone loud enough for the entire room to hear,

"So cold, after your willingness last night?"

She froze. How dare he mock her so?! She whirled around, raising a hand to slap him, but he caught that hand and forced it downwards, barely caring to hide his amusement. "I refuse to listen to untruths," she hissed, "and allow others to believe it."

"What untruths?" He leered at her. "If I recall, you were certainly willing to come to my room, were you not?"

"I-" But she had been, hadn't she, even if she regretted it now.

"Well, then." He nodded to the innkeeper and started towards the door, her hand still clenched in his own. "We'll be off, good sir. Thank you for the wonderfully hospitable lodgings." The older man nodded, and she soon found herself out on the street that had been so cold and dark the night before.

The inn was out of sight by the time she spoke.

"I won't let you get away with this," she whispered, her voice quiet yet as hard as steel. He turned back to look at her, and her eyes hardened into a glare. "You're just a Bookman, aren't you. Have you really spent these past five years looking for revenge?"

"Revenge?" He sounded surprised. "I never thought of it that way… but in case you're wondering" – he pulled her closer to him and she squeaked as their bodies touched – "you've barely been on my mind until you walked into that inn."

"That's not true, is it?" She smiled arrogantly into his chest. "You hated me."

"Oh, but a Bookman feels no attachment."

"You're different. That's why your heart was so easily destroyed."

He placed a hand on her chin and forced her to look at his face. His eyes – there was no emotion in them. She inhaled sharply, feeling the beginnings of fear again for only the second time in years. That dead look… she'd seen it before, on that day that she had spoken of. Had she awoken a monster without realizing? Yet, how could he look like that and still behave as he did, with amusement and anger? It puzzled her…

"I was different," he breathed, "but I'm a true Bookman now. I exist to record history."

Fragments of the night before suddenly came to her mind. "It was Lenalee," she said, realization dawning upon her. "She broke your heart – no, you broke hers – and you've been driven to the beds of women ever since." She burst into mocking laughter, although it was slightly forced; she was not feeling very cheerful at the moment. "You broke her."

"Hm?" He looked surprised. "Is that what you think it is?" His grip had not changed, she realized – he hadn't reacted at all, let along as strongly as she had hoped. "Let me tell you the truth. I never was with Lenalee. I may have loved her, once, but thanks to your… treatment, I realized the folly of that feeling and soon gave up on her. I felt no envy when she moved on."

"You said she became an adult when she was younger than I am now," she pointed out.

"She did… she started to date Allen, and they got married. They just had a baby, did you know that? A little girl." He snorted. "Shouldn't you be the jealous one, then?"

He was right; even now, she felt a pang in her chest at the news. She really had loved him, years ago, and some affection still lingered… but she adamantly refused to show it. What bothered her more is that she'd been wrong yet again.

There wasn't time to worry about that, though. His other hand, the one that had been holding hers, had released her and slipped down to her hip, caressing it gently. She fidgeted, trying to move away; this was in the middle of the street! Her pleading, scared look was wasted on him, however, as his hand slipped down to deliver a sharp pinch to her bottom. She jumped, yelping in pain, and unconsciously moving closer to him.

"Stop that," she whispered, on the verge of tears. Her shame was causing her to forget all about her previous mission. "This is…"

"What?" He bent down, placing his ear near her lips, although he clearly had no intention of responding at the same volume. "You don't like everyone seeing our embrace?" She nodded, feeling even more embarrassed that she was giving in like this. "Then…" He nodded towards an alley. "There's a more private place, how about that?"

"Wha-no, NO, I don't want…" But he had already pulled her into the darkness and had pulled her skirt up to her hips. She placed her hands on his shoulders to push him away, but he was too strong – he managed to move closer to her anyway.

"You need to be taught a lesson, pretty little Road." He brushed her hair away from her shoulders and tugged the neckline of her dress down, nipping at the exposed skin. "You tried to manipulate me again, didn't you."

"I didn't-" She yelped in pain – he had bitten her!

"Lying is wrong, too. You shouldn't lie." He gave her neck another warning nibble, then leaned upwards, placing his lips on her ear. "For example…" His voice was just a whisper. "What if I asked you if you wanted me right now?"

"I don't – I don't want-" He cut her off again by biting her tender earlobe; she burst into tears. "I said-"

"I told you not to lie." His fingers slipped downwards, making her wince; she didn't want to feel him like this! "See… You want me. Your body says so."

"No…" But his lips were on hers, cutting off her protests, and she found herself leaning into them as she had last night, forgetting everything again-

It wasn't until his pants were done up again and she was self-consciously smoothing her dress back down over her legs that she realized what she'd done. Her fingers halted in their motions, and she gave a shocked gasp, then bit down on her lip when he turned around and gave her a long, slow smirk.

"See?" He sounded so conceited, so proud – she was tempted to wrap those still fingers around his neck instead. "You were lying. You did want me."

"I…" But she had nothing to say. That time, she'd gone willingly into his arms.

"That's right." And now she saw the cruelty in his smile, a look that she had only seen on one other face before. "You can't fight me."

She'd seen it in the mirror every morning.

And with that knowledge, she knew he was right. She couldn't fight him anymore.