You Never Gave Me a Reason

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

9) Only One Drink and an Open Bedroom Door

It had been three hours since she'd retired that evening, and as her alarm clock approached 4:00 A.M., it had become apparent that sleep was a privilege Victoria had lost. She hadn't slept a wink in nearly a week, to the point that she was beginning to struggle for mental awareness during the day. Tonight it was clear that she would not turn the corner yet.

She knew what had brought on this insomnia, of course; she had encountered such a struggle multiple times in that year alone. It was merely a physical reaction to a stress, or so had a doctor once told her long ago. Each body formulates its own response - its coping mechanism to unfamiliar surroundings or feelings. Her body had the unfortunate habit of simply working overtime. It certainly wasn't a complete physical transformation; her appetite usually remained healthy, and her emotions managed to continue cloaking themselves. It was when day turned to night that any idea of rest escaped her and left only anxious thoughts and exhaustion.

Victoria had grown so accustomed to these spells of insomnia that she had developed methods to work around these instances, if only for a short time. When the cases lingered, a few days turning into a week or more, her body began to feel the toll taken. Stifled emotions would begin blaring in her ears, causing her to act irrationally - the last time this loss of sleep had taken influence in her decisions, she had woken from her first rest in weeks to recall that, in her haze, she had allowed Conrad to move into Grayson Manor.

Now, in consequence for her actions, she could almost hear his deep breathing from across the hall; while she could not keep her eyes closed, she instead stared up at the ceiling and listened for the sound of his mere presence in the house. She wasn't entirely sure she could actually hear him, but her mind could well enough replicate the sound after years of sleeping in the same bed with the man. The thought of how peacefully he slept, night after night without fail, was calming - therapeutic, even, to only imagine the noise emanating from the half-empty bed beside her. If he had actually been lying with her, she might have fallen asleep hours ago...

Ironically, he also happened to be the reason she wasn't able to find rest that week. Surely he was unaware that his little comment from the other day was troubling enough to send her into panic mode; she still couldn't believe he had dared to say such a thing. Where did he get off telling her he cared about her, when she was neither sure of the honesty behind this statement nor prepared for it to be true? And to follow up with a kiss, of all things, was just icing on the poisonous cake! It was as if he was intentionally toying with her emotions lately - and suddenly, he had taken it just a tad too far. He was despicable to play these mind-games with her when she had been kind enough to allow him into her home.

A small corner of her overactive imagination did like to picture a world wherein Conrad could have meant what he said - a universe similar to that of the earlier days of their marriage, when he looked at her as if she was precious and held her as if she was the air he breathed and she felt... truly and utterly loved. If there was any truth to his claim, she was left to ask herself if she cared, and if she cared...

This is a mess, Victoria complained silently. She would never sleep at this rate; and one more step toward a mental breakdown might prove to be her last. The only hope she still reserved was in alcohol, and this hope was not much, in the knowledge that she could not drink enough to knock her off her feet lest she wake up in four hours to Conrad's alarm clock, sporting a major hangover and no recollection of how she could have wound up in her husband's bed.

Victoria threw off the covers, ignoring her better sense, and rose from her bed. Just one drink, she promised herself. Perhaps it will settle my mind a little.

Without stumbling through the darkness for her robe, she slipped out of her bedroom in her nightgown and tiptoed down the hall, toward the stairs. Down she went, bare feet padding along the cold wooden floors, while her skin rose in goosebumps. She was truly looking forward to the warm buzz of alcohol by the time she reached the foot of the stairs. Luckily, she knew that Conrad hid a particularly-strong beverage under his desk, so she crept into his study in hopes of raiding his stash without waking him.

The room was oddly relaxed at night - the very walls usually seemed on edge, what with the burdensome weight of the secrets they'd kept over the years. This was one of the few rooms in which Victoria felt like an honest version of herself, and tonight, this sentiment was absolutely necessary in her state of deep contemplation. After retrieving something heavy enough to drown her thoughts, she let out an exhausted sigh and collapsed into Conrad's chair. Suddenly, she was assaulted with his familiar scent - a jarring memory of sitting in his lap and resting her head against the smooth back of the chair - feeling phantom kisses on her neck and hearing him whisper whatever lies he had been feeding her those days - and she swallowed, hand stiffening around her glass. She drank the liquid all at once, allowing it to burn its way down her throat, and hardly hesitated to pour herself a second glass. This room always managed to get her drinking more than she should have; that was why she came here.

Trying to avoid the taxing introspection, she allowed her eyes to wander aimlessly about the room, taking note of every tiny thing and appreciating anything she had managed to overlook in her many years at Grayson Manor. The first thing to come to her notice was the mess on the desktop, an uncharacteristically-clumsy organization for the orderly Mr. Grayson. She leaned her elbows against his desk the way her mother had always hated, since no one was watching, and resorted to snooping through Conrad's small clutter of letters and papers.

Victoria was at first intensely bored by his collection of bills and forms, but she did find a few diamonds amidst the roughest of roughs. Some personal notes-to-self, letters to business partners, and receipts were surprisingly more engaging than others - including, buried beneath a million envelopes in his desk drawer, a recent receipt for twelve roses that Daniel had claimed to have bought her. The second drawer was full of files, none of which held any significance save for one folder marked "Divorce" with a line drawn through it. Wishful thinking, she observed silently, eyebrow raised. He was always one to exaggerate small flickers of hope into wildfire reformation, but Victoria wasn't so certain they were anywhere near putting the idea of divorce out of mind as well as sight... although...

Remembering that she wasn't supposed to think about him, she shut the drawer and returned to the top of the desk, sorting through the rest of the clutter. She hadn't meant to start cleaning, but she had nearly organized his entire desk with the fuel of anxiety and sleeplessness. All that remained were scattered sticky-notes, writing utensils, and a stack of the latest death threats through which Victoria was in no state of mind or emotion to attempt to sort. She was nearly finished peeling away a million yellow notes when she looked up at the sound of footsteps.

Conrad appeared in the doorway not a moment later, sleep and confusion sharing a blue bed in his eye. When he found her, he seemed amused. "I see I've been beaten to the flask," he remarked teasingly, referring to the drained glass hanging lazily in her hand. She blinked up at him, swallowing. He was the last person she wanted to see that night.

"I'm sorry," she feigned an apologetic frown, leaning back in his chair. "If I've caught you sneaking out, I can pretend I didn't see anything. Though I likely won't remember much of this in the morning," she lamented, pressing her fingers to her forehead.

He stepped further into the room, eyes catching on the half-empty bottle, and raised his eyebrows. "Or in five minutes," he added, examining her. "How much have you been drinking?"

Victoria was surprised at his question, glancing at the bottle. It was, indeed, slightly lower than it had been when she found it... perhaps more. Had she really drunk that much in her absentmindedness? "It wasn't full," she pointed out without looking at him, blinking tired eyes downward. "Maybe I'll actually get some sleep tonight."

He picked up a glass and poured something for himself, though his eyes remained on her. "I didn't realize my presence in the Manor would cost you this much peace of mind."

She snorted. "I hope you don't think I'm losing any sleep over you." Reaching for the bottle, she continued, "I've had insomnia so long... it has become a personality trait."

Conrad removed the bottle from her hands before she could pour more - this irritated her, since she knew she couldn't have had more than a few glasses - and replied smartly, "You used to sleep fairly well, if memory suits."

Victoria grimaced, reminded of how well she used to sleep with him and unsure of what emotion the memory incited in her. Longing, maybe. What does it matter?

Feeling she ought to provide a reason for her exhaustion other than his implication, she glanced subtly downward, toward the stack of threats. "That was when I felt safe in my own house," she reminded him.

He seemed bothered at her fake worry and leaned against the desk in contemplation. "I'll guard the castle, if that's what's keeping you up." The look in his eyes told her that he knew better.

She inhaled, mind too weak to formulate a follow-up lie, and her delirium caused her to come out with the truth. "Why did you say what you said, Conrad?" she asked eventually, meeting his eyes. He seemed surprised at her forthrightness.

He blinked her down, a certain softness appearing in his eyes, and he replied quietly, "It wasn't a lie or a scheme, Victoria. I've said it before," he recalled, swallowing his drink at once.

Sighing, she then asked, "But why?"

This question seemed to catch him off-guard; he fought a smile. "Do I need a reason?"

"I'd like one, yes," she decided, leaning on the desk again, quite uncharacteristically. Rubbing her eyes, she trailed off sleepily, saying whatever came to mind before she caught herself. "Maybe then I could start making sense of this age we're in, with Daniel's escape to Paris, Charlotte's addiction, your personality transplant, and our new assassin penpals..." Sleep battling her closed eyes, she covered her face and exhaled. She had forgotten what she was asking.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder and a kiss on her head - and thank goodness her face was hidden, because she had lazily allowed a smile to cross her face for a moment. "I'm going to bed," he remarked over her head in a low, soothing voice that rumbled in her ears. She nearly reached a hand out for him as she heard him walk away; nearly asked him to stay. One more word might have put her to some much-needed rest...

"There's room for two, if you want some real sleep."

Her heart stopped when she heard this, wondering if he had somehow heard her thoughts. She froze, looking up at him slowly, determined to keep her head and decline this suddenly-tempting offer. Mustering up some stupidly-rude reply, she muttered, "You're barking up the wrong tree if you think I would get into bed with you."

This remark seemed to bother him, a disappointed look on his face. He swallowed his hurt pride and instead said softly, "Goodnight, Victoria."

She urged her mouth to speak up and amend her statement, but all she could manage was to nod before he turned and, as he had said, went to bed.

The moment his bedroom door closed, she felt exponentially sleepier and somewhat lonely. She reached for her confiscated bottle, deciding she wasn't yet drunk enough, when she realized he had taken it from her. Either his plan was to drink himself to death with it, or to keep her from doing so...

"Because I care about you!" she could hear him say, his voice so clear and familiar. She had replayed the scenario in her head every night since, keeping herself awake; each time thinking back to instances which could serve as evidence to his claim. Tonight seemed to be one of these - he had been asleep after all, and could have remained so. Instead, he came downstairs to investigate, had one drink, and prevented her from having too many more.

And even under the influence of somewhere between a glass and half of a bottle, she was thinking about the one thing she didn't want to think about. Her mind ached with every mental word, but his voice simply wouldn't shut up. Because I care. Because he cares. Because he cares about me. It pounded in her head, painful but almost pleasant...

After another ten minutes of inwardly repeating the phrase like a maniac, Victoria realized that she was nearly certifiable. She was no longer a mere insomniac. She was losing her mind.

Is that a good enough reason to sleep with him?

This one tiny question floated through her mind, and that was enough. She stood up quietly and left the room, though her body attempted to pull her back to the doorway - she crossed the room and climbed the stairs, though her legs wavered on every other step - and she pushed herself down the hall as if she'd fall asleep within the minute. The bedroom door was left cracked open, and a small voice telling her to stop at there, but she didn't listen. She didn't knock, or even ask to enter; she slipped into the dark room silently and listened for a voice.

There had been the sound of breathing just a moment ago, but the room became silent as he realized she was here. He was likely with questions, but Victoria said nothing to explain herself. She approached the bed, picking a side quickly, and tentatively stepped up to the bed.

He lay in the bed, and looked up at her. "Coming to bed, dear?" he asked jokingly, voice only a whisper.

Victoria slipped into the bed slowly, managing to find her space, and glanced over at him. "Don't read too much into this." Contradictory to her words, she moved closer to his side, feeling a calming warmth spreading through the bed.

Conrad smiled when he felt her back lying against him; he tried to remain still in fear of scaring her away. But Victoria wasn't as easily intimidated by his care now, and after a moment of silence, he ventured to slip an arm around her. She might have resisted, were her wits about her, but she relaxed into his embrace - he drew her in closer, amazed at how close she was finally allowing him to get. He wanted to lean over, to kiss her somewhere, but he was afraid to push it, so he stopped there.

"Sweet dreams," he wished her before the room was once again quiet, confined to the sound of simple breathing.

Victoria, although already feeling herself slipping into a long-awaited rest, did have to wonder why he was being so sincere and not-at-all teasing about this circumstance. Surely he hadn't really offered his bed for her sake. He had to be playing some angle with her.

Unless there is no angle, she wondered inwardly, as her thoughts became disjointed under heavy eyelids. If she had been in her conscious mind, she would have rejected this question, but she wasn't.

Unless he really does care.

Thanks so very much for reading! Make sure to follow/favorite, or leave a review to let me know what you think!

Ackadackadack! ConVict in bed... ;) So Victoria's whole exhausted existence throughout this fanfiction wasn't for nothing. I knew from the beginning that Victoria didn't seem like a peaceful sleeper, and who better than Conrad to remedy that? Luckily, beds can serve multiple purposes, and they'll figure that out eventually. We've still got a couple of chapters left, and a lot can happen in a couple of chapters.

So... I had to completely restart the sequel, so I'm back on the second chapter. This story took me about two weeks - the sequel should take about three, since I'm working on my novel simultaneously. I have a question for you guys! I have a lot of fics in "storage", and two of them are finally post-ready: a ConVict birthday fanfic and a Victoria-centric mental hospital fanfiction following the events of the finale. Would anybody be interested in reading either of those? If there's any interest, I'll prep them for posting and use them to fill the gap between this and the sequel. Now stop reading my crappy author''s notes and go watch that new Captain America movie if you haven't already, because I just did and it was amazing.