Bait and Switch
Chapter 4: The Divine Comedy
A/N: So…there might be something you don't like at the end of this chapter, but it had to be done. Don't hate me too much and please review.
Rating: M (for language and adult themes)
The mug was steaming beneath him; black sludge mixed with heavy cream and a shot of brandy, a thick concoction of caffeine, booze, and sugar. His head rested above it, the smoke heating the tip of his prickly chin that was peppered with black flecks of stubble. He ran his hands through his hair for the millionth time, his fingers snagging on a tangle before he slammed his fist painfully on the dining table. The wooden surface jiggled slightly, sending the untouched photos flying off in various directions.
Slowly he reached forward, his fingertips brushing against glossy paper, caressing the smiling images of his mother, his father, his former self. She was lying; she had to be. For the last day or so, Darien Chiba had become a recluse of sorts, barring himself away in strict confinement, imprisoning himself within the familiar walls of his apartment, wallowing in a world of self doubt.
Could he really give any truth to what Eva had told him? After all, he didn't know anything about this girl. All he knew, was what she told him, that they were friends some time ago, that he had left after he…after his second accident. But when he went into the shell of his mind, searched for her face in his memories, he found nothing, felt nothing for the brunette that regaled him with stories of a lifetime of friendship.
He looked to his phone, the silver device sat blinking angrily at the corner of the table, ignored and untouched. Andrew had called him multiple times, Serena even more; he had made no attempt to contact either of them. It was a strange feeling, this solitude, this overwhelming sense of loneliness. He looked around the dimly lit apartment, his eyes falling on the kaleidoscope of color that showered the hardwood floors of his apartment in a brilliant wash of hues.
His eyes fell onto the wet bar near the kitchen; he considered opening another bottle of scotch, but figured his bladder couldn't take anymore booze. He had already pissed damn near five times in the last hour. He wasn't an alcoholic, not by any means, but now and again even he needed to escape the confines of his own mind and sometimes that meant taking a swig of the sauce.
A knock on the door shook him from his stupor and he spun in his seat to survey the wooden barricade. It was about time he faced the music; either Andrew would bust in here and rip him a new one because he was acting like an asshole or Serena would be staring at him behind the door with those damn blue eyes that made him feel so many different things.
He sauntered to the door knob and combed his fingers through his hair. He could see his reflection in the looking glass and realized that he looked like shit. He felt like shit too.
The brunette grabbed the handle, twisted and found himself greeted by a pair of concerned baby blues. She took in his appearance, her eyes widening at his face and grimacing at the stains on his t-shirt. They were beer stains. Never try to pop a can open when you're pissed off and already punch drunk.
"Can I…come in?" Come to think of it, Serena wasn't really sure if she wanted to come in. She looked him over again; either there were booze stains on his shirt or he had figured out a way to piss upwards. Whatever it was, it left a lot to be desired. What had happened to her suave, always clean shaven boyfriend? Had this been the man that had been hiding under that unerring sense of confidence? She wrung her hands.
"Sure," he said, amused by the way she was looking at him.
Serena edged into the room just as turned around to close the door. He snuck in a sniff of his armpits; thank god for deodorant. He hadn't showered in a while.
"I know there's something you're not telling me," she said, spinning to face him. Way to get straight to the point.
He sighed. "I know, I'm sorry. There are things you wouldn't understand."
"Then help me understand."
"How can I do that, when I don't quite understand it myself?"
Frowning, she walked toward him, her small body coming to stop before his larger one, her arms enveloping his person as she leaned into him. By instinct he returned the gesture and pulled her into him tightly, her breasts crushing against his lower chest. He had forgotten how good it felt to hold her, to be held by anyone.
"I'm sorry, Serena."
"I know, it's okay." She released him and he felt a loss for her warmth. "I think…I think we need to talk, about this." She gestured to her hand and the ring that sat lonely in her palm.
His eyebrows hitched at the top of his head. "I thought you wanted to keep that."
"I did. Do you want me to keep it?"
"I gave it to you."
"You keep saying that," she said, her arm still stretched towards him. "But the fact is, this isn't just a pretty piece of jewelry Darien. It's a physical manifestation of a promise. A promise to share your life with me, all the good things and the bad. A promise to spend our lives together until we die. And I don't…I don't know if either one of us is ready for that. Look at us, you won't even speak to me. You just, shut down at the first sign of trouble. I feel like you're shutting me out of your life. How can we get married, if you won't even talk to me?"
He stared at her quietly, his lips pursed. What the hell was she trying to say to him? "You want me to take it back?"
She sighed again, her palm still upwards toward him. "I want you to tell me why you gave this to me."
His lips parted to speak, but the words seemed like they were taken from him. "I gave it to you because I love you," he finally said. "Because I want to spend my life loving you."
"Okay, then start now. Love is about trust, you know, and I need to trust you. That means I need you to be honest with me. Starting now. If you can't do that, then you should take this back."
He was surprised by her admission; surprised and impressed as hell. She was strong, he knew that, maybe even stronger than him.
Her companion was silent for a moment, silent and contemplative. He swayed slowly before walking toward the dining table, taking a picture and handing it to Serena. She took it from him with her free hand and with her other, placed the diamond ring in her pocket. The fact that she wouldn't wear it spoke volumes.
Her blue eyes swept across the photo, she studied it, held it gently between her thumb and index finger. There were five people in the picture, two children, no older than five smiling brightly at the camera, dressed in traditional kimono. The boy was obviously Darien; the other girl she didn't know. It was a perfect moment captured in time. The younger version of her boyfriend was smiling brightly, a mischievous grin brightening his face.
She looked to the people behind him, two adults in the foreground, one lurking behind. The woman was beautiful, tall, with strawberry blonde hair that dangled past her breasts in large barrel curls. She was elegant looking and thin. Her eyes were hazel and sparkling like topaz orbs in the daylight. The man to her right was holding the woman and looked just like a much older version of Darien. His eyes were midnight blue, his jaw strong, his face handsome. He was much taller than the woman, with broad strong shoulders and a muscular frame.
Finally her eyes locked upon the contemptuous gaze of the man standing idly behind the group. It was a face she recognized; it was the infamous uncle that had come and ruined Darien's birthday. He seemed out of place in the photo, like a dark cloud hovering over a tranquil menagerie. The strange thing was, the man was obviously meant to be in the photo, but he wasn't staring at the camera. His eyes, slanted and angry, were staring directly at the scalp of the brunette man smiling happily in the foreground of the portrait.
"These are your parents?" asked Serena, looking up to him, her fingertips squeezing the picture.
"Yes, that's my father, Damien and my mother Elisabeth," Darien said aloofly, before leaning against the backside of the couch.
Serena flipped over the picture and noticed a few names and a date scrawled over the back of the photograph. "And that's your uncle?"
"Yeah, that's him."
"He's like a ray of sunshine in this picture."
"From what I've heard he and my father never really got along. Nicholas had some issues…I guess some stuff happened between them around this time…They never really reconciled after all that happened."
She nodded. "Who's the little girl?"
Darien frowned. "Eva. She's an old friend."
"She's cute."
"Yeah. The other night…she was the old friend that came back. I saw her on my way home from talking to Nicholas."
Serena's eyes widened but she remained calm. "Why couldn't you tell me that after it happened?"
"I don't know. There was something about her…I felt guilty," he said honestly.
She cleared her throat. "Did you do anything with her?" It wasn't accusatory.
"No. She wanted to talk, so I went to her place." He paused to watch her expression, but Serena remained stoic. "She sort of told me about herself and then I…"
She frowned. "Then you what?"
"I guess I just blacked out."
"You blacked out? Did she do something to you?"
Darien laughed at her face. "Calm down, honey, she didn't do anything to me." He rubbed his chin. "I used to have these little fits all the time…migraines…it was because of my accident. I hadn't had one in a long time though. I'm not sure what triggered it."
"But you're okay now, right?" she asked, setting the picture on an end table and walking toward him. She reached out and touched his cheek and was surprised how prickly the needle thin hairs were.
"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm sorry, that I lied. I just…seeing him again…I don't know. Just the look on his face makes me uneasy, angry. The minute he walked into the banquet hall that night…it's like the world stopped revolving and then he…threatened you…"
"He threatened me?"
"Not literally…I don't think he'd actually do anything…I don't know. He doesn't want me to be with you."
"Is this why you were pushing me away?"
"No, I told you, all of this shit going on, Eva popping up, Nicholas coming back to Tokyo, I guess I'm on edge. I never meant to shut you out, to make you feel like you didn't matter." He wrapped his hands around the small of her waist and pulled her to him. "You're the most important person in my life. I love you more than I thought I could ever love anyone. The last thing I want to do is force you out of my life. But there are so many things that I'm still figuring out. I would understand if you were the one that didn't want to be with me."
She smiled at him gently, her hands snaking around the back of his neck and pulling his lips against hers tenderly. She sighed into his kiss, tasting the tart acidic tang of coffee and brandy against his tongue, on the inside of his mouth. His hands tightened around her waist as he dragged her hips against him, his mouth continuing to move slowly, sensuously against hers. She could feel his excitement, his arousal pulsing against her lower abdomen and when his fingertips suddenly brushed against her bare back, she tensed, fear replacing the budding desire that was dwelling within her.
He could feel her seize up in his arms, and he immediately let her go as she recoiled away from him, confusion and panic in her eyes.
"Serena…"
"I'm sorry," she said, wringing her hands together and hugging herself tightly.
"Are you still having those dreams?" She nodded. He felt like she just knocked the air out his lungs. All this time that he had been spending alone, he had forgotten that part of her was still hurting, that sometimes she woke up screaming, crying, struggling against the invisible hands belonging to a man that was recently deceased. "I'm sorry, baby."
She smiled softly. "It's okay. I'll be fine…it's just…I can't explain it." She was breathing hard. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry…I want to…with you. I just can't right now."
"Don't say you're sorry, Serena. I'm not going to rush you into anything you're not ready for. I'll wait forever for you." Her heart ached at his honesty. "But there is something that I need from you."
Her eyebrow arched. "And what's that?"
"I need for you to give me that ring back." Her mouth opened in shock as she reached shakily into her pocket for the diamond in question. She had never expected for him to actually take it back. It felt like her heart dropped out of her ass. Looking at the large beer stain beneath his collar she handed him the sparkling jewel, grimacing as it dropped from her hand to his. "I need you to give it back to me so I can ask you properly. Without interruptions."
Her hands covered her mouth in shock as he dropped to one knee and held the ring out in front of her. "I know the last couple of days have been rough and that I haven't been the best boyfriend in the world. I apologize for that. But I promise I will spend the rest of my life making you happy. You've given to me in a few months what I haven't had in years. Love. And I want to spend my life loving you. Will you marry me?"
Serena flashed him a smile so beautiful it made his chest ache. She nodded her head fervently. "Yes, of course I will!" She launched herself into his arms and kissed him hard before he took her left hand and slid the diamond trinket back onto her finger.
"Now, let me take a shower and we can have the rest of the day to ourselves."
Serena grinned. "Good, 'cause you look like shit."
He laughed as he walked away. "We're not even married yet and you're nagging me already." He turned to wink at her. "I love it."
The sound of clicking high heeled shoes bounced around the quietness of the palatial halls as the woman walked, her long dark tresses bouncing gently against her back. She nodded to the nurse rounding the corner, a silver tray pressed firmly in her hands as she paced down the hall. Places like this always made her uncomfortable. It seemed like her life had revolved around hospitals. After all, she was the one visiting her mother consistently after all of her miscarriages, sitting in wait for Darien after appointments with neurologists, therapists, holding the hand of her mother as she lay dying against the spongy surface of her assigned bed.
She was perpetually rooted to these buildings; stuck in a cycle of pain and death, an outsider peering into the looking glass, a visitor in a world painkillers and disease. She hated feeling so resentful like this; the trauma of her past rarely caught up with her, rarely reared its head and doused the flame of her otherwise jovial disposition, but today was one of those days and she was certainly dreading being back in Tokyo.
In truth, she hadn't intended on ever returning to the crowded city, she had made up her mind months ago to leave the country and never return, but events out of her control had forced her back into the commercial bosom of Japan, and here she was nearing closer and closer to the sole reason that she was here: her father.
They had never had that great father daughter relationship. You know, like the ones you see in movies. Baseball games, prom dates, talks about boys in the summer, lollipops and ice cream trucks. Gregory Watson had always been a business man first and a father second. He became even more of a distant figure in her life after her mother died. But now, in the peaks of adulthood, her father was the only spec of family she had left. And she wasn't going to let him die alone, like her poor mother had. She could spare the time to be with him, help him recover from his illness, or hold his hands when he closed his eyes if he didn't.
She swiped the keycard over the reader before pressing the wooden door open. The light was bathed in opulent radiance, well deserved too, considering what they were paying for personal care. She removed the beige scarf from her neck and laid it on the coat rack near the door, took off her shoes and laid her purse on the table.
"Gregory?" she questioned, stepping deeper into the sitting room. "Gregory where are you?" Her relationship with her father was strained to say the least. Why award them with patrilineal titles that they didn't deserve?
"Now, Eva, is that the way to address daddy dearest?" asked a voice that she knew did not belong to her father. Her eyes rose to face him.
"What are you doing here Nicholas?" she asked, surprised. The air left her lungs as he walked towards her.
"I think it's time you and I have a little talk," said the older man, turning from the doorway and walking into the bedroom on the east side of the apartment. Seconds later he wheeled out Gregory Watson, hunched over and emaciated, a breathing tube thrust within his nostrils. "Don't you think so, Gregory?"
He groaned in his sleep, his hands fisting the covers so tightly that his blood pressed away from where his fingers were pressing into his palms. His back arched, his breathing erratic as his hair fell into his eyes and swept across his damp forehead. Even in his state of unconsciousness he could feel her arms around him, her breath hot against his neck.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, his hands on her bare hips, her body straddling him against the chair.
She smiled. "I love you and you love me. I can't think of any reason why we shouldn't do this." He reached toward her and let his hands slide down her smooth back, his fingers brushing against the lace of the bra that covered her breasts. "Can you?"
He smirked. "No, I guess not. I love your back, I love the dimples right above your ass. I love your voice, I love you."
"I know," she said, watching with cloudy eyes as he removed her bra and surveyed the pair of breasts that were sitting idly across from them. She groaned when he touched them, when he opened his mouth and devoured each one of her swollen mounds.
She hovered over him and he could feel his tip against her, feel her as she lowered herself down on top of him, her warmth tight and inviting around him, feel her as she started to ride him, her movements pushing the doubt further from his mind and replacing it by sordid lust and unkempt desire.
He shot up in bed, pushing the covers away from Serena in the process, his breathing hard, heavy. His bare chest was covered in sweat, his palms clammy. He looked down, his eyes widening at the tented blanket that was resting against his pelvis. He steadied his breathing and looked to the woman beside him and then back to the darkness.
What the hell had just happened? Christ, he hadn't had a sex dream like that since…since really ever. He closed his eyes, picturing the woman's face as she bounced atop him. He knew exactly who she was; those dark green eyes of hers were lusty and unforgettable. He was having a sex dream about Eva, about the mystery girl who popped back into his life recently. He coughed and shuddered as he thought about it. Eva was sexy enough, she'd give any rationally thinking guy a wet dream, but what Darien feared most, was that this wasn't just a trounce through fantasyland with some dream girl, this, this he was sure, was a memory.
He covered his face with his hands, shuddering as he felt soft fingertips brush against his arm. He turned to his right to find Serena looking up at him, her eyes sleepy and full of concern.
"You okay?"
He shrugged her hand away. "Yeah."
She frowned before sitting up in bed. "Did you have a bad dream or something?"
He chuckled. "You could say that."
"But you're not going to tell me about it?"
"Trust me, Serena, I don't think you want to know."
She glowered at him. "I beg to differ."
He paused, frowned, gathered his thoughts. "It was about Eva."
"That little girl from the picture? The one that came to see you?"
"She's not a little girl anymore," he murmured.
"You know what I mean. What happened?"
Darien sighed. "I think I just got one of my memories back, from when I was a teenager."
"And it had to do with her?"
"Yeah," he said, looking at the curious expression on her face and feeling extremely guilty. "I think she was my first."