You Never Gave Me a Reason

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

10) End of an Era and Experiencing Extraordinary Emotions

Victoria was particularly scattered that morning as she fled from one room to the next, bounding left to right in the thick of Grayson Manor. Having slept much too well the previous night, and far too long, she had been left with less than an hour to dress and prepare for her daughter's birthday party - this wouldn't have been extremely difficult to manage, if it weren't for her sudden recollection of how early she would need to leave if she was to stop by the bakery to pick up the cake, since the man she had sent to collect it was stuck in traffic, heading the wrong way... She could hardly collect her thoughts as she was continuously reminded of countless other things she was supposed to have handled for Charlotte. All she could offer herself as consolation was hope that Daniel had pulled his own weight and relief that she wasn't attempting to face the day without the appropriate amount of rest.

Though the David Clarke Fan Club threats, as well as Conrad's bewildering kindness and care, still fired at her from all sides, she was no longer buckling under the pressure, and for one reason alone: her new sleeping arrangements. Crazy as it might have been, her ludicrous idea that sharing a bed with Conrad would provide her with peace turned out to be more accurate than she had ever anticipated. She slept more deeply than she had in years, and, being in dire need of her common sense and physical stamina, she had accidentally formed a habit of slipping into his bed at night; ever since, she had been blessed with the beautiful gift of rest. This was something she cherished too much to ruin by letting her pride or sensibility intervene, so she refused to allow room for thought as she continued this unhealthy streak - under the self-assurance that she could always return to her own bed when her sleep pattern returned to a normal state. The truthfulness behind this thought was ambiguous, but it satisfied any uneasiness, so she used it as an excuse to indulge in a little rest... and perhaps, to wake up in warm arms rather than cold sheets...

Unfortunately, these silent nights had a tendency to get the best of the Graysons, as they both now slept so soundly that they were beginning to sleep in. This morning was the worst case of all, and the energy in the house ramped up significantly while both husband and wife rushed to prepare for their daughter's party.

"Conrad?" Victoria called out as she sped down the stairs, nearly falling when her heel just missed the last two steps and skidded down to the wood floor. She managed to grip the railing in time and balance herself, just before taking off toward the living room; she did not find her husband within.

"Yes?" she heard him call from the study, where she was now headed at the speed of light.

Marching through the doorway, her eyes didn't once find his as she scanned the room quickly. "Have you seen the shoes I wore yesterday?" she asked urgently, now walking into the room in search of aforementioned shoes.

Conrad, as per her expectations, was of very little use in this situation, with a small shake of his head and a muttered, "You really ought to keep them in your room." His eyes were locked on the mail he was sorting - as if they had time for such trifle tasks! Victoria groaned inwardly.

"I appreciate your suggestion," she remarked sarcastically, already losing her insignificant amount of affinity toward him at such an early hour; "but that doesn't change the situation. Would it pain you..." She stopped, spotting a black heel peeking out from underneath his desk. "Never mind. I found them."

He hummed in reply. "Glad to have helped."

Victoria raised an eyebrow at his absentminded response; she watched him periodically as she picked up her shoes and sat down on the edge of his desk. "You must have found something interesting," she noted, eyes following his to whatever letter he was reading, then trailing back to his face. His expression was unreadable, but if she were to blindly guess, he seemed somewhat troubled. She just didn't know what sort of bill or invitation could have bothered him so.

"What time does Charlotte's party start?" he asked quietly without looking up.

Victoria chuckled. "For her, in half an hour. For us, five minutes ago." With that, she resumed putting on her shoes.

"I suppose it's too late to postpone it, then."

She blinked back at him, surprised. "Do you have somewhere else to be?" Glancing at the letter he held, she asked, "What is that?"

He finally met her eyes, and she felt her stomach drop in an instant. Suddenly, she was afraid to know what he was talking about.

Still, she wasn't scared enough to satisfy her own worrisome curiosity, so she plucked the letter from his hands and turned it around for examination. It didn't appear threatening at first, but it was certainly a threat - just another in the series of "Long Live David Clarke," yet this particular message was bothersome. She could hardly read the crooked handwriting, but she made out enough to understand that this was a direct and precise threatening of their lives - moreover, that they would soon end. Some fairly graphic adjectives were used; there was no particular indication of when and where, but the letter was postmarked on the present date. Victoria swallowed.

"We'll double up security," she mumbled dryly, her voice sounding strangely calm though she knew her eyes screamed with a million different shades of fear. Not for herself, necessarily, but for the fact that this warning was following her into a party with her children present, as well as tons of other innocent people. A part of her didn't truly credit these threats nor wish to allow them to dictate her actions, but its louder counterpart was telling her to stay home. Her better sense attempted to stifle this thought. "We can move the party indoors, if you think we should."

"I think we shouldn't go," he stated bluntly, standing up from his chair. "I don't know what to expect from these people, but it's dangerous for everyone if we draw attention to ourselves."

Victoria stood as well, following him in his pacing walk away from the desk. "Your plan is to allow these teenaged miscreants to interfere with our child's birthday and our lives? Brilliant." Rolling her eyes, she continued toward the door. "We're already late..."

He set a hand on her shoulder, causing her to turn around. His expression was stern and set. "It's not safe, Victoria," he stated simply, leaving very little wiggle room.

"They haven't attempted anything in months," she argued. "If we continue to show them that we're afraid, they'll keep playing these games, and that will only cost us." Reminded of her shoes, she turned back into the room and moved to retrieve them.

"And if they are planning something?" he challenged her as he followed her steps. "They appear to be looking for blood this time."

She huffed, standing up straight. "You sound like a child, Conrad." He averted his eyes from hers. "We have to handle these threats like adults, or we'll keep losing to these..."

Her voice trailed off as she watched his eyes; they stared over her shoulder distantly, as if lost in thought or absent in mind altogether. "Losing to these children," she finished, blinking at him. "Conrad?"

He didn't appear to hear her.

"Are you ignoring me, now?" she asked dangerously, eyebrows raised. "What is the matter with you?"

She didn't know, nor could she have possibly realized, that Conrad was peering out the window at the sight of motion in the distance. He took a moment of examination before realizing that they were not alone.

Victoria had been ready to shout at him, growing tired of his avoidance techniques, but he interrupted her thought process by setting his hand on her elbow lightly. She glanced down at his hand and opened her mouth to declare him completely frightening, but she was out of breath by the time her mind returned to the thought - too distracted by his sudden weight thrust upon her, pushing her down in a sharp moment. Instinctively, she attempted to force him away, but he brought her to the ground a mere instant before the room was pierced with what was, without question, the sound of a gunshot.

The first bullet flew into the room before Victoria had even realized what was happening, but the second and third were immediately recognized with a shriek that sounded as if it had come from a young girl rather than a grown woman. She didn't see what was happening - her eyes shut the moment she hit the ground, which proved beneficially-protective at the sound and feel of the window shattering, every tiny piece flying into the room. There might have been a few more gunshots afterward, but she had been in shock and too dazed to have counted. The unexpected shooting had temporarily numbed her, and she didn't at first move from her lying position. She just inhaled and exhaled under the weight of the man atop her, unsure of what to do, if to do anything at all.

The room was silent for a small eternity.

"I don't hear anyone," she eventually spoke up, hoping to reacquire his attention. He didn't move at first - seemingly frozen in place. "You can get up now," she added quietly.

Victoria was confused to hear him mutter a few curses as he rolled away from her. She had expected him to speak up by now, but all he offered to the silence were heavy breaths as he turned slowly onto his back. Her mouth opened to remind him that he was rolling on a floor littered with broken glass, but the words caught in the back of her throat as she noticed the way he clutched his side tightly. It was only a few seconds later that she saw blood seeping out around his hands... and when he removed his hands, it became clear that this was no glass cut.

Her heart stopped at the sight of the hole in his side, coming to the realization that one bullet had not, in fact, missed its mark. No...

She attempted to say something - though the only thing running through her mind were some unhelpful half-sentences - but he beat her to the punch. "Would you make a call for me?" he asked in dark humor, glancing upward at her. Victoria swallowed, fearing his resigned tone of voice; she was at first too flustered to move, but she managed to reach up and pull the phone off the desk.

Her thoughts were racing as her eyes flicked between the phone in her hands and the man at her side; she forced her hands to dial the phone for the sake of his life, even though they had once vowed to keep the police out of this conflict.

After dialing, there was a moment of silence on the line. While she waited, she scooted closer to Conrad and set a hand on his shoulder as he attempted to sit up. "Lie down," Victoria ordered quietly, guiding him back down to the ground. He allowed her to pull him closer beneath the window, as a precaution in case their shooter remained outside.

"911 - What's your emergency?"

"My husband's been shot..."

While Victoria began to sweat her way through a stressful phone call, Conrad's shock was slowly starting to fade away. At first, he was preoccupied with the pain shooting up and down his side; thick, uncomfortably-warm blood seeping through his jacket; freezing air blowing into a wide hole that left him feeling exposed and vulnerable. His mind shut off, with the only remains of mental consciousness being his knee-jerk reactions to every wave of pain and his spotty attention to the words coming out of Victoria's mouth - mostly focusing on the way her lips moved, trembled, stuttered over simple phrases. In the absence of thought, he noticed the small things: the way her hands shook on his chest nervously; the pale tint her face donned as she listened to the operator's voice; the wideness and fear and uncertainty in her eyes as they bounced between the phone and the window and him, and him again, and him... Seeing her so frightened and confused intensified the pain throughout his body, and he began to fight himself, inhaling hard breaths in an attempt to force life back into his system. His mind screamed at him to keep thinking, breathing; his heart raced and stalled, raced and stalled...

Reality was setting in for both of them as Victoria was reassured by the operator that help was being sent; this simple promise wasn't enough to settle her panic as she glanced down every other moment to find a wilder look in her husband's eyes. She felt the overwhelming need to do something to fix this: "What do I need to do?" she asked the operator, staring down at his wound as it rose and fell in panting breaths.

"Is there anything you can use to staunch the bleeding?" the operator said into her ear.

Victoria considered the question as she looked around the room, at first finding nothing suitable for the task; nothing, that is, until her eyes caught on the trail of her new dress. She immediately and without thought gathered up her long skirt, bunched it up, and pressed it to his wound. Conrad jerked at the contact, head falling to the side as the pain of the gunshot grew exponentially worse in an instant. Victoria swallowed her surprise when his head landed in her lap, and it remained there. She knew his pain must have been agonizing if he didn't immediately pull away at the contact; as must have been her concern for him if she allowed him to stay.

There wasn't much left in the call, except for a final order that Victoria's main task should be to keep him calm and conscious. She wasn't exactly sure how to accomplish this, since he appeared to be nearly out of it already, but she set the phone down and swore to herself that she would not end this day with his life on her hands. Though Grayson Manor was far from the nearest hospital, she could only hope the ambulance would arrive soon enough to save him; and until it did, she would do her best to preserve his life.

Feeling his eyes staring up at her, she looked down with a sharp breath and forced a relaxed smile. "The ambulance is on its way," she informed him quietly, watching his responding expression. He inhaled shallowly and shifted his weight. Victoria swallowed. "Just try to relax for now..."

Conrad wasn't doing too well at this, however. His muscles tensed and he gritted his teeth against the pain, traveling through his abdomen like tiny daggers. He would hold his breath for a little while, before letting it go all at once; eventually, words came out. "I'm not ready to die," he muttered, acting as if he was about to sit upright. Victoria set a hand on his shoulder and guided him back down to the floor. "I need time... to fix things..."

Feeling her stomach turn at his words, she began to run her hand along his arm soothingly in an attempt to calm him down. "You still have time," she assured him through a nervous breath. "We're going to get you to the hospital, and they'll fix this."

This wasn't good enough for him. "I wasn't a good enough father to Daniel and Charlotte," he admitted, making Victoria uncomfortable. She opened her mouth to deny it, but he kept on. "I've always thought there would be a time to apologize... for everything..."

"Conrad, you need to calm down," Victoria stopped him, glancing down as blood began to soak through her skirt rapidly. He was going to send himself to his own grave at this rate.

"Get Charlotte on the phone," he requested weakly, turning to look at the phone. "I can't wait any longer. I have to tell her-"

"Oh, Conrad, shut up! You aren't going to die!" she snapped, cutting him off. He froze at her outburst, silent - she hadn't meant to shout at him, but he was scaring her and panicking himself. She was already terrified of her own incapability to help him relax, feeling like some kind of unfeeling, inhuman person. Even now, she was barking at her dying husband. How was she supposed to keep him alive?

But she was willing to give it another try - this time considering how she would treat one of her children in the same situation. Inhaling, she moved her hand to his forehead and tentatively began to run her fingers through his hair. "You aren't going to die," she echoed quietly, working to remain gentle though anxiety attacked her inwardly. "I'm not going to let you die. Trust me."

Seeming to relax somewhat, he loosened his muscles, and even offered a small smile. "That's some request," Conrad remarked sarcastically as he blinked up at her. Victoria smiled sadly.

"It's time to bring the police into this," she mumbled after a moment, tangling her fingers in his hair absentmindedly. "I've had enough of this torture."

He closed his eyes sleepily and muttered in reply, "So have I."

They were quiet for some time, Victoria playing with his hair and Conrad's head resting calmly in her lap. After a minute of comfortable silence, she noticed that he seemed to be drifting and whispered, "Hey." He opened his eyes lazily, looking up at her. "Stay awake, okay? Watch me."

And he did, though it was a battle to keep his eyes open with fatigue crawling in and her soothing hands coaxing a tempting hint of sleepiness into his body. His vision clung to her, as did his thoughts, in a fierce attempt to stay thinking and watching and breathing. He studied her face - eyes, lips, cheeks, and everything beside and between. He noted how lovely her lips were, and how deep her eyes were, and how the light of the window shone down behind her and... and made her look so positively radiant, if not angelic. Her eyes were shiny now, but he pretended not to notice the tears, because she wouldn't have wanted him to notice. She always had to keep her emotions inside, though he didn't know why. She was so strangely, beautifully curious to him. In all their years of marriage, it was as if he still barely knew her...

But he wanted to know her, of course. So much did he want to see her vulnerabilities, and her love. He wanted to be the one to uncover and put to rest her every fear, her vices, her demons. Why couldn't he be the one?

Whatever the reason, he felt an urge, a need to make known to her how much he felt these things. If he was truly to die today, in her arms or otherwise, he would rather it be knowing that she had seen his heart, and known that it was hers to keep.

So, in the knowledge that it would most likely scare her away, and in the fear that he would find no peace without saying the words, he took a breath and looked directly into her eyes. "I love you," he announced, without shame or fear or doubt, because it was true. It may have been strange to say, or to hear from himself, but it was true.

This surprising honesty had clearly struck Victoria, as she had adopted her own state of shock while she stared down at him. Her mind stopped as she registered the words, and her emotions made up for the lack of thought by clashing and confusing her. At first, she thought he was lying, or joking, or teasing; and then, she considered his mental health; and then, she became angry. Here she was, out of her comfort zone and attempting to help him, and he decided to say he loved her? He wasn't supposed to do that. He never did that anymore.

Her heart was racing and she felt her face heat up in embarrassment as she wondered how to react to something like that. Was she supposed to thank him? Argue with him? Was she expected to respond in kind?

Did she even love him back?

She did feel something for him - whether it be longing or loving or anything alike, she wasn't sure. It simply felt painful, like emotional torture or heartbreak that wasn't quite as sad. The feeling reminded her of something she'd felt for him in the past - the early days of their relationship, when the emotions had been real. What immediately came to mind was their honeymoon: visiting the beach every day, swimming and picnicking and simply lying together, basking in the sun; dining in the finest restaurants and sharing desserts in tight little corner booths; being carried into the hotel room and waking up the next morning after a nice long sleep, tangled bare in silk sheets with her head on his chest as the sun peeked through the large window; standing wrapped in the blankets with his arms around her and his head on her shoulder as they watched the sun rise and the colors fade and the oceans roar; and being totally, completely in love. All of this came before the lies and the secrets, when she shut him out and he returned the favor. Now, they were just two people living under the same roof...

Until recently, when he had on some whim decided to attempt to repair their damaged relationship. She hadn't been so receptive at first, although he had managed to make her question her feelings for him now and again; but now that she was losing him, she began to wish she hadn't continued to shut him out. Perhaps she would have found the time to understand her emotions before now, in a moment that required instant and total honesty. Perhaps she would have realized long ago that she still wanted him, now more than ever.

"Conrad," she spoke up after her inexplicable silence, feeling her stomach turn as she realized what she was about to say. "I-"

"Don't feel like you have to say anything," Conrad stopped her breathlessly, averting his eyes from hers. "I just needed you to know how I felt, in case-"

"I love you," she admitted before she lost her nerve, "too."

There was overwhelming silence after the words were said - Victoria making herself busy by holding her breath and looking away bashfully, while the gears in Conrad's head began to turn and the realization of her words hit him a few times. When he looked up at her, he was confused to see her look so uncomfortable, as if the words had brought her actual physical pain - but although they had flustered her, they were somewhat peaceful in their aftermath. Her stomach relaxed and her mind slowed down, and she felt an overwhelming sense of relief. She had said it, and it was okay. No matter how he would react, it was okay for her, and that was enough.

Conrad didn't know how to respond to such an extraordinary occurrence. He wanted to question her statement - just to hear her say it a few more times - but he didn't want to push her away. Right now, he wanted her exactly where she was, exactly the way she was.

So he didn't say anything. He simply lay still and offered a small smile, while an unabashed grin attempted to take its place for a long while. It wasn't every day he heard anything like that from Victoria, and it had been forever since he had expected her to actually mean it. Now, even in his mortal position, he felt insanely, stupidly-happy.

Meanwhile, the silence was just an amplifier to Victoria's anxious thoughts. In the lack of conversation, she was forced to acknowledge the blood soaking through her skirt and onto her hand. She had readjusted the long garment seemingly a thousand times, but she was running out of dry fabric - every inch of the skirt, from thigh-high to her ankles, was drenched in the liquid, and if she had taken the time to think about it, she certainly would have become sick. Instead of illness, the only sentiment that came from this overwhelming amount of blood and lack of anything to be done was hopelessness, and sadness. Victoria could see the losing battle he was fighting, from his pale skin to his ragged breath; her eyes began to fill with tears against her will or judgment. She was going to lose him.

Conrad must have sensed her angst; he reached out and set his hand on hers, drawing it away from the wound. Her eyes lit up, and she looked back at him, accidentally blinking and allowing a tear to escape her hold. When she saw the look he gave her, as if he was sorry for something - although it was ridiculous for him to be sorry when this was really her fault - she felt an intense pull toward him, and, in her desperation, she gave in. She leaned down and kissed him, hesitantly but willingly. He responded as if he had been waiting for this already; his free hand moved up behind her head to hold her there, though he was gentle enough to allow her to pull away if she would. They allowed their lips to wander for the shortest and longest time, until she eventually broke the kiss, evoking from him a sigh of contentment rather than disappointment. She then moved upward to kiss his forehead, and he closed his eyes when she stayed there, a gentle breath sweeping over both of them.

Victoria didn't pull away for a few minutes, leaving a handful of light kisses on his skin, until the recognizable sound of sirens pierced the air. They both looked up, surprised and relieved to realize that an ambulance was on its way, alarming the world of its presence in the distance. She exhaled in relief. They're here.

Looking back to him, she saw the surprise in his eyes, and she opened her mouth to speak - but no words came, and it was all right that way. She didn't bother herself with trying to say anything, because the sirens spoke for her. You're going to be okay, they seemed to say, echoing her own relieved thoughts.

We're going to be okay.

Was that good? Do we like?

AHGH! I had so much fun writing that chapter! I had been planning that since the beginning stages of the story months ago, and to finally post it is exhilarating! That was the point of the recurring "LLDC" threats. I never quite determined who those people were - although I did have a few options. I guess they're whoever you want them to be.

Anyway, we've still got an epilogue to go before this story is done. I really loved this idea to sum up the fact that Conrad was proving his love to Victoria by being selfless and patient with her, to the point that he takes a bullet for her. This was the only way I could finalize the story, and I'm satisfied with it. The next story, which is now completely planned-out with the first chapter written as of last night, will be centered around the after-effects of their confessions - I can already tell it's going to be a lot of fun. I'll have the summary posted at the end of the epilogue so you can get an idea and see if you want to read it. I will tease that there are more physical expressions of love in this sequel, although the story will be nothing beyond a light T-rating. There's a lot of secrecy regarding their new kind of relationship... and our intelligent Miss Thorne is quicker on the uptake than the rest of the Hamptons. Take that any way you want.

Please make sure to follow, favorite, or leave a review so I know if you loved it, hated it, or whatever. I love me some criticism, so press that button and gimme a piece of your mind. And lastly, I have a bitter message toward the death of one of my favorite characters...

SPOILER ALERT for Revenge finale:

Also, though this author's note is already long, I'd like to make an important note to the Revenge writers and fans of Conrad. In this chapter, which was posted long after Conrad Grayson's televised death, I had a choice. I could have jerked around everyone's emotions, aligned my story with the TV show, created an equally-intense ending, and washed my hands of ConVict by allowing this gunshot to kill Conrad Grayson. I had the opportunity to kill a character - it would have been easy, and I almost did... but I didn't. I saw a future and I elected to explore it.

Dear Revenge writers, I wish you had done the same.