You Never Gave Me a Reason

Disclaimer: I don't own Revenge or its characters.

2) Ill-Prepared Interview and the "Image"

"Really, Conrad. Must we do this?"

Her husband nodded to her - she saw in the reflection of the mirror - as a woman simultaneously spoke into her headset and powdered his face. Victoria scowled at the way her hands lingered; as if he needed temptation when he was already jumping into the arms of every eligible woman in a five-mile radius! She was tempted to say something, but she didn't. It wasn't as if she didn't already feel unwelcome on the set of another godforsaken morning talk show.

"It's good for our image, so yes, we must do this," he replied smartly, glancing her way pointedly. His eyes caught on the blonde crew member as she practically shoved a make-up sponge into his eye; he held up a hand politely as a signal for her to go away. Finally, she left him alone, and he looked back to his wife. "Would it kill you to show some grace this morning, darling?" he asked, the last word very sharp-edged as if in warning.

Rolling her eyes, she adjusted her hair in the mirror and exhaled, feeling her stomach cave in. "I think I would feel more gracious after a bagel." Glancing back at the crew bimbo who now watched Conrad from afar, she raised her voice so that others could hear. "Would you be a dear-"

"Of course!" she piped in, nodding quickly before taking off to the left. Victoria felt her jaw tighten.

"-and let me finish my sentence?" she added quietly, leaning on the vanity. Fanning herself, she turned back to her husband. "Aren't you hot?"

Conrad raised an eyebrow, watching as she tried to cool herself. "Well, I appreciate your noticing. You're quite hot, yourself," he remarked playfully, winking at her. She hardly seemed amused, though her face did grow slightly pinker than it already was in this wretched heat.

"Thank you, Conrad, for ruining my appetite," she jabbed at him, though he was quite aware that he'd landed a nice hit on her resistance. She hadn't been expecting that one.

But his victory was short-lived, as he saw how she practically lay on the countertop, hands shaking slightly, skin pink and practically radiating heat. He recalled her first days of public events and interviews, nervous backstage and looking much like this, when she was just a young girl and very afraid of the world; but she had seen it all now. She was never anxious like this anymore.

"Are you all right?" he asked her quietly, careful not to gain attention from the crew around. She really did hate overenthusiastic stage hands, and twenty people in black running up and offering her aspirin was something he knew she did not want. Turning his chair to face her, he added, "You seem nervous."

Looking up at him, she stopped fanning herself long enough to wave her hand dismissively at him. "Don't pretend to be concerned. It's demeaning for both of us." She saw in the mirror how pink her skin was becoming and flagged down one of the crew members from across the room. "Would you mind finding me a fan? I'm warm."

He eyed her cautiously as she stared into the mirror, blinking repeatedly. "I am concerned, Victoria," he spoke up, voice escaping its whisper. "You don't look well."

"I'm tired!" she snapped at him, shooting daggers with her eyes. "And if you let one of these idiots hear you, I swear-"

"Is the lovely Mrs. Grayson not well?" a man asked from behind - she turned around and saw that the show's host was examining her, worry in his eyes, either for her health or his show and likely the latter. She fought the urge to roll her eyes. He had done that on purpose.

"Is there something I could get you, Mrs. Grayson?"

"I'm fine; thank you," she assured the man with a forced smile and a nod. Glancing over her shoulder, she added, "And please, do call me Victoria."

Conrad stopped the man as he was turning to leave. "Ted!" he addressed him, recapturing his attention. "Where would I find some water?"

"Ted" - was it impolite that Victoria hadn't even known his name? - nodded quickly. "I'll get someone to bring you some." Then he was gone, clearly having something better to do.

Victoria sighed and nearly fell against the vanity in stress. "Don't ever do that to me again," she demanded quietly. "I don't know what has gotten into you all of a sudden, but I would appreciate-"

"Victoria," he interrupted, suddenly on his feet and standing beside her. She looked up at him, wondering what had him so close; he peered down at her. "What's wrong?"

"I have a migraine," she muttered, beginning to fan herself again. "It's nothing to worry over."

"You should lie down," he argued, hand settling on her shoulder for a brief moment before she shook it away.

"It's not your problem," she argued right back, standing up. Balancing herself on the back of her chair for a moment, she ignored the look in his eye at her sway and shoved her hair behind her shoulder. "Where is that fan, after all? And my bagel?"

"Here's your water," he pointed out as he was handed a bottle of water. She blinked at him as he took a sip and handed it to her. "Drink up, or neither of us are going out there."

She narrowed her eyes, glancing between him and the outstretched bottle. "Fine." Rolling her eyes, she took the bottle and downed a fourth of the liquid - and after a breath, another fourth - before handing him the rest. "There," she muttered under her breath, full of sarcasm. "Daddy."

Conrad choked on water as he heard this uncharacteristic sass come from his wife. This gave her visible pleasure, and the shock of her unexpected remark now combined with the delight of seeing her genuinely smile, causing him to laugh at himself. This was slightly painful, water invading his lungs as he laughed, but he couldn't resist even a chuckle. She was always surprising.

They were then alerted that they had two minutes before going live, so they regained their straight faces, though it was tempting to laugh whenever they made eye contact. Once they had finished the bottle, Conrad took one more glance in the mirror and turned back to her. "Hopefully you've managed to cool down some."

Victoria snorted with one last adjustment to her hair. "Somewhat." Blinking sideways at him, she asked, "Why do you care?"

He opened his mouth to give a natural answer, but, remembering to whom he was speaking, he caught himself before letting the words slip and instead remained flippant. "Passing out on television isn't good for the image," he said simply, allowing no actual concern for her to show its face.

And although he was cautious in what he said and did that day, he did reach out and take her hand - nothing they hadn't done for the cameras, but he didn't care about the cameras today. Without eye contact, for fear of scaring her away, he led her to the stage and up the stairs, knowing that when the lights came on, she would pretend that she was in love with him - and he would be reminded of how much he wanted that to be reality, and how hard he would work to make it reality.

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