"That poor girl's in love with you."

"Leave her alone, Moira."

"I might say the same to you."

"I will leave her alone. If that's what she wants."

Moira shakes her head.

"She's going to need you, I suppose," she says, giving him a pointed look. "Under the circumstances."

"I'm going to take care of her."

"Well, be sure of it," she says. Then her voice lowers to almost a whisper. "You owe that to Mrs. Harmon, at least."

Tate drops his gaze.

"I've learned," she continues, "that this house has a way of getting what it wants."

He pulls at a loose strand on his sleeve.

"It was for Nora."

Moira is quiet.

"Violet can't know," he urges.

"It's not in my interest to bring any more pain to this family," she says.

He raises his eyes. She nods. A truce.

He starts to leave.

"Tate – "

He pauses in the doorway, but does not turn.

"You have to tell Violet about the pills."

"I know."

"You have to tell her now," she insists gently.

He keeps his back to her so she can't see the tears pooling in his eyes.

"I swear I didn't want this, Moira."

She pulls the dishcloth from her shoulder and wipes the counter.

Her voice is quiet.

"I already know that, Tate."

.

...

.

He slowly opens the door to her bedroom. The room is dark but for the single bulb of her desk lamp. She's sleeping, curled into herself on the bed. He watches her. Soon his breath slows to match her rhythm. Tomorrow he will ask her to die with him. And he realizes that it will be the closest to another kind of proposal he will ever make. It's too soon and she's too young and there is every reason for her to say no, except one.

He walks to the desk and takes the piece of chalk on the tray. He leans over to write his message on the board. He rests the chalk back in its place.

"Tate?"

Her voice is barely a whisper.

He goes to her, sits on the bed beside where she is laying. Her eyes are still closed.

"I'm here," he says. He strokes her hair.

"Good," she whispers. "Will you hold me?"

He climbs gently onto the bed, lying behind her. He wraps his arm around her delicate waist. He presses his face into her hair. It smells like lavender.

He is content to just lay with her, to feel her body pressed close to his. But he finds she has another idea. She takes his hand and guides it up under her shirt to her breast. He cups the tender mound, feels her nipple rise against his palm. He gently skims and pinches it before kneading a greedy handful. She moans softly into her pillow.

He moves his leg between hers, pulling them apart. His hand leaves her breast to venture down to stroke her over the thin cotton of her panties. She whimpers in response to the firm insistence of his fingers. He feels her wetness soaking through and accepts the invitation to push his hand down past the elastic, his fingers pressing against her clit. He nibbles at her ear, her neck. She squeals and writhes under his touch.

He kneels and removes her panties away in a single sweep. She pulls her shirt over her head and lays back against the pillow to let him take in the sight of her nakedness. His eyes roam over her skin glowing in the soft light. His cock responds, pressing eagerly against the confines of his jeans.

He puts a hand on her thigh and slowly skims it over her skin, up to her stomach, swirling over a breast, following the line of her neck until he reaches her mouth. He puts his middle finger to her lips and she sucks it in to the knuckle. He uses his other hand to thumb her clit. He watches with satisfaction her squirm under his touch. When he can't wait another moment, he pulls his hands free to whisk his sweater off, unfasten his jeans to pull them with his boxer shorts off and away.

He positions his hips between her thighs and skims his member ever so slightly against her slit. He prolongs the anticipation by leaning down to kiss her, parting her lips with his and reaching with his tongue. She threads her fingers through his curls and kisses him deeply before pulling his head away. "Tate," she coos.

"What do you want, Violet?" he asks softly. "Tell me."

She bucks her hips up, trying to coax his cock inside. He puts a hand on her hip to hold her still. "Tell me what you want, Vi." He skims her neck with his lips. She whimpers.

"I want you, Tate," she rasps.

"You want me to what?" he teases her cruelly, his cock stroking her folds.

"I want you to fuck me."

With that he pushes the length of him into her heat. She gasps as he fills her. He draws out slowly, pushes in. He kisses her forehead, her cheek, her ear, she moans and lifts her hips, sliding him deeper inside. Her juices slick his cock as he quickens his pace. Their bodies move together in a delicious rhythm, a perfect give and take ushered by the sounds of their pleasure. His arms move under her shoulders, his hands cradle her head. When they kiss, his tongue mimics the strokes of his cock until she is squealing into his mouth. He almost comes with her, but he slows the pace as her muscles spasm around him.

He begins again, slowly, pulsing with long, thorough thrusts. He bows his forehead to her shoulder, relishing the moist heat that envelopes him. She whimpers and pulls at his arms and he knows she wants him to go faster so she can come again, but instead he pauses inside of her. She cries out softly in protest.

"Tate – " she says, breathlessly.

"Look at me," he whispers.

She opens her eyes. Still he does not move, he feels her muscles grip at him.

"Tate – " she whimpers, "Tate, please – " She closes her eyes again and bucks her hips slightly upward.

"Shhhh... Violet," he coaxes. "Just look at me." Her eyes open. He locks her gaze, holding it long and steady. He strokes her hair.

"I love you, Violet," he says. Then he begins to move, just a slow, small push.

"I love you," he reaches deeper with his length.

"I love you." He pulses again.

"I love you." again.

"I love you."

He plunges into her now, delivering thrusts fast and hard. She squeals and bucks, his cock stoking the spot that only he can reach. He grits his teeth against the incredible pressure. She is hot and wet and so tight around him. He pounds into her fiercely, she claws at his back.

Her body clenches him in the grip of her orgasm. "Tate!" she gasps, rising higher.

His breath hitches, he cries her name, gripped by the same rising wave. This is love, he's sure of it. He's never known anything so true. The wave crests and he lands, safe and sated on her shore.

They whimper each other's name as their bodies reluctantly part.

Finally she turns away from him, sighing against her pillow. She is deliciously sleepy again. Before closing her eyes she spies the words he scribbled in chalk, barely visible in the dim light.

All Apologies

"Tate," she whispers. But he doesn't answer.

He is finally able to sleep.

.

...

.

.

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed this story so far. I greatly appreciate your feedback. I will try to get the next chapter out soon, but it may take a little longer than the others because I think it will be the hardest one to write. Also – if you are not familiar with the reference to "All Apologies" – it's a song by Nirvana. Check it out if you can, it's a great song. I hope you continue to enjoy the story and please keep the reviews coming!