A/N: Just a reminder, this is a not safe for work chapter. If you don't like the thought of Richard as anything other than a super-sweet cuddly scrapbooking murderer, do not read this chapter. You may think 'Oh my god that's disgusting'. But dear goodness this is fiction, based on fictional characters, and it is what it is.
The song is 'O Dry Those Tears', composed by Teresa Del Riego in 1901
You Know What They Say About Books and Their Covers
Richard silently crept into Cat's room once more, but this time he was not moved by how calm and innocent she appeared while she slept. Still in the detached state from the earlier kill, he felt nothing, would be moved by nothing. She didn't think he could go through with it, and normally he wouldn't be able to. But he would prove to her this night that things were not always what they appeared, and maybe she would begin to realize that he was capable of things no one would expect from him. Let this be a warning to her. Maybe she would figure out that he could use her just as ruthlessly as she was trying to use him. Standing at her bedside, he stared at her dispassionately. She was curled on her side, a pillow hugged close to her stomach. Her bedside lamp was on, she had fallen asleep reading.
He wondered if she fucked Charlie or Meyer. Maybe she fucked both of them. He wouldn't put it past her. She would try to manipulate them, too. They could bring her liquor. Richard could help her take Nucky down. She could have herself a nice little fuckfest and get whatever it was she wanted. Fucking bitch. Richard was tired of being used. He was tired of being treated like something less than human. He normally couldn't act out on it, that would involve him shooting a lot of people and someone who didn't deserve it would likely get hurt if he did, but here, now... Cat thrived on this sort of thing, and she would love every degrading, humiliating moment of it. It might not 'show her who was boss', but she would see that he was more than the polite, gentle man she assumed he was.
Cat woke up when she felt a hand clamp over her mouth, trapping the instinctive scream that welled in her throat. She was rolled onto her back, fear flowing through her veins, quickening her desire as soon as she realized what was happening. Sick as most people viewed it, Cat usually liked this scenario. It was exciting when done right. But tonight was not the night for it. She tried telling him to stop, but his hand muffled her words. He was probably doing that on purpose, she thought as she heard her nightgown tearing. If he can't hear me say stop he'll be less likely to do so. She struggled, although that was playing right into what he wanted. She was surprised he didn't stop the instant she showed resistance. Not that she really wanted to resist. Her period had started about an hour after Richard had shown up with the liquor and the men from New York, and Cat was one of those women who walked around in an almost constant state of arousal the first few days of her period. So she really wanted to rip off Richard's clothes and fuck him silly, not act like the last thing she wanted was for him to do just that to her. But at the same time, she wasn't exactly up for it. Too tender, too messy. And she was pretty sure Richard wasn't the kind to be aroused by the sight of so much gooey blood. She tried to push his hand off of her mouth, to tell him why tonight was not the night for him to ignore her resistance, but he was too strong for her to break free. When his other hand groped at her sore swollen breast, she made a sound that was part moan, part whimper. It hurt, deliciously. But she still resisted, curious to see if he could go through with it, even if she didn't really want him too. Who the hell was she kidding, she wanted him to...she wanted him to give in to his most depraved thoughts, because she imagined they were excitingly wicked and she wanted that. She wanted to find that chink in his armor and make him break free, letting it all out, direct it all at her.
When his hand left her chest, she tried to push him off of her, to no avail. She stopped struggling when something glittered in the light...a knife. Richard held it in front of her eyes from a moment, then lowered it, slipping it under the leg of her panties and quickly cutting through the fabric, first on one side, then the other. He would probably notice her sanitary napkin soon, and stop.
But she didn't know that Richard was in a state where, while he was aware of everything, he wasn't processing it like he normally would. It was how he got through the things that clashed with his nature. It would hit him, later. And chances were that tonight, the backlash would be so much worse, but he needed to prove to Cat that she did not know him like she thought she did. He would hate himself in the morning. He always did after a killing, and given what he was doing to Cat it was going to be awful but right now he didn't care. He cut through Cat's panties and let the knife clatter to the floor. He loosed himself from his pants, he had never understood why he got a hard-on after a killing, but at least for once it was something more than an embarrassing inconvenience. He pushed her legs apart with his knees and pushed into her. Somewhere in the back of his mind it registered that she was slicker than normal, too slick really, there was no friction for him, not enough anyway for him to make headway. After a moment of mindless thrusting he moved his legs to the outside of hers, pushing her legs together to tighten around him. It helped, although this was an act he knew he would get no real satisfaction from. It was just something that had to be done. Prove a point. Send a message. It was how things went around here. So he did what had to be done, giving it no more thought than was needed.
Cat winced when Richard pushed into her. It wasn't painful as far as things went but it was tender down there, but she could honestly say that she was enjoying it. She was puzzled by the entire situation, however. Richard hadn't said a word, but something about him seemed...not right. She couldn't put a finger on what it was. But he was going about this almost mechanically. He obviously figured something wasn't quite right, he threw his legs over hers and forced her legs together. She figured she was too slick for him to really feel much otherwise. He kept his hand over her mouth, the weight of his body kept her from struggling. In out in out his motions were so rhythmic they could have been set by a metronome. She lay beneath him, eyes squinched shut, and she couldn't help but wonder why he was doing this. She doubted it was because it had been a long held fantasy of his. Was it because she had doubted he had it in him to do it? Was he just trying to prove to her he could? Was it maybe his way of telling her he would rise to any challenge she put before him? That thought made her shiver beneath him. If that's what it was...oh, the fun they could have together!
Richard got no gratification from the act, not that he expected to, not in his current mind set. It was somewhat like a yawn, you need to yawn, you yawn, and then life went on. It was orgasmic in no way what so ever, he only felt hollow when he was done. He lifted himself from Cat, only peripherally aware that she mumbled something under his hand. He didn't care what she said. He needed to get out of the house, back to his own room, before the backlash occurred.
"Don't panic," Cat tried to say through his hand. She didn't want him to glance down, see the mess, think the wrong thing. But he ignored her. He was putting himself away with one hand, the other still over her mouth. Only when he had moved off the bed did he remove his hand.
"Richard," Cat called as he walked to the door. "Richard!" But he ignored her, opening the door and walking out.
'Well...shit,' she thought. She kind of figured, if he ever did bring himself to go through with what he just did, he would fall on top of her begging forgiveness, weeping over the thought that he might have hurt her or violated her in some way. She didn't think he had truly grasped what turned her on, so she had expected to use his guilt to turn him towards her purposes. But he had just come in, fucked her without a word and left. She got up and cleaned up, taking a quick shower and changing her bed sheets. She then sat in the chair and tried to make sense of what had just happened. She was stunned, and slightly shaken. Had she lost her knack for reading her clients that she'd been so wrong about him? She would never have thought...true, she didn't give it as much resistance as she could have, maybe that had allowed him to get through it? She didn't know. Something had seemed off about him. There was a certain aura surrounding him that she hadn't been able to figure. He hadn't said a word, hadn't really seen her at all as near as she could tell. It was almost like he hadn't really been there. She wondered what that mood was, and what had set it off. She then wondered what else he could be capable of in a mood like that. It could be very good for her. Or, it could go very wrong, she had to admit. She obviously didn't know him like she thought she did. He had done something unexpected tonight, and it had shaken her a bit. She didn't like the unsettled feeling deep inside of her. She decided she was going to have to do something completely unexpected in return to throw him off balance. If that was even possible.
The trembling started before Richard reached his boarding house. By the time he got to his door, he was shaking so badly that he dropped his key twice before he managed to shove it into the key hole. It was when he picked it up the first time that he noticed the blood on his hand. But there was none on me after the killing* he thought. *I checked. I couldn't go to Cat with blood on my hands...Oh God...Cat...what did I do to her. I raped her. She tried to stop me but I didn't stop. I had to make her see that I could do what she didn't think I could do. I had to make her see that I can hurt her. I'm dangerous. I don't even know my own mind. I'm not right anymore. There is nothing inside me but death and destruction and hurt and pain. She wants me to hurt her and I can hurt her. I must have hurt her badly. Look at all this blood it's on my hand and my pants. I must have brutalized her and I didn't even know it because I was so wrapped in that detachment that I couldn't even feel anything. God what has she done to me? I should have just done what Nucky told me to do. I should have just shot her that first night but I didn't because I really think she's right to try to save the neighborhood. Nucky told me to get her out and I said I wanted to do it my way. I wanted her to trust me and all I've done is gotten wrapped up in her games and she has her claws in me and I can't shake them loose. I don't want to shake them loose. I want the power she makes me feel... I was in control over her. I can be in control over her. I can make her submit. I have to make her otherwise I will have to kill her and I don't want to kill her. I don't want her to end up dead like that man tonight. That man shouldn't have had to die. I don't think he did anything wrong but he had to die to send a message... prove a point. Why did I have to be the one to deliver the message? They say don't shoot the messenger but damn it what happens when the messenger is the shooter? What has happened to me? Why am I like this? Why can I be normal? Why can I figure out how to fix what's wrong with me? Why can't I be what I want to be? I used to be good but that was so long ago... I tried to do the right thing. I wanted to do something noble. I wanted to make the world a better place or at the least keep it from getting worse. And now all I do is kill...
He managed to make it into his room and push his door shut, but just barely. He collapsed on the floor and curled himself into a ball as his body began to tremble. Scenes of death flashed through his mind, deaths he had been responsible for. Some from the war, German soldiers who were probably no different from him but they had to die or else they would kill him. Those he could almost justify, it was war, after all. But the worst...those started with a man in a diner in Chicago and went through a long line, each one a stab to Richard's soul, one more piece of him dying inside. Eventually he feared there would be nothing left but a shell, but for now there was enough of him left to feel guilt, remorse, and anguish. He was horrified at what he had done, what he had become. He covered his head with his arms, pulled himself into a tighter ball, silent sobs wracking his body. With his face buried like it was, it was hard for him to breathe. He didn't care. Let me suffocate, he thought, wanting so badly to scream but not daring too. Let me die. Let me not wake up tomorrow. Let this be the last miserable night I spend on Earth. Please God just let me die.
It went on and on inside of Richard, and he could do nothing but lay there and go through it, as he did each and every time, the repressed emotions breaking free and lashing at him. He shook and silently cried and was trapped within himself for he didn't know how long. It was an eternity to him but in real time who really knew.
He became aware, eventually, of a hand rubbing his shoulder, and a sweet, clear voice singing a soothing song
O dry those tears,
And calm those fears,
Life is not made for sorrow;
'Twill come, alas!
But soon 'twill pass,
Clouds will be sunshine to morrow;
'Twill come, alas!
But soon 'twill pass,
Clouds will be sunshine tomorrow.
O life thine eyes
To the blue skies,
See how the clouds do borrow
Brightness, each one,
Straight from the sun;
So is it ever with sorrow.
'Twill come, alas!
But soon 'twill pass,
Clouds will be sunshine tomorrow;
Then life thine eyes
To the blue skies.
Clouds will be sunshine tomorrow.
She kept singing, and Richard cautiously uncurled, his breaths coming in hitches as he slowly calmed down. He wiped his face with his sleeve and sat up, turning his back to her.
"Are you alright?" Her voice was quiet and kind.
"That's, mm. A stupid..fucking question," he snapped.
"You're right...I'm sorry."
"Mm, how did. You get in? And why, mm. Are you...here"
"Your key was in the door," she said. "I came by because...I guess I wanted to make sure you...didn't think the wrong thing when you saw all the blood."
Richard looked at his hand. Although most of it had rubbed away during his fit, he could still see her blood in the deeper lines. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
"Please don't be."
"Don't tell me. Mm, you...enjoyed that." Her silence made him turn around and look at her. She was leaning against his bed, a small smile on her face.
"What?" she asked when he faced her. "You said not to tell you I enjoyed it, so that killed my end of the conversation."
"What. Mm, is wrong with...you?" Richard cried, quickly rising onto his knees and placing his hands on the bed beside her head, leaning very close to her. "You, mm...weren't supposed...to, mm. Like that! You were. Supposed to. Understand that, mm. You don't...know me. As well. Mm, as you...think. You were supposed. Mm, to realize. I can do things...to hurt you. And when. Mm, I'm...doing them. I won't. Give. a. Damn."
Cat realized she should have been rather frightened. And there was a small bit of fear inside of her, but as usually happened to her, that fear turned itself into desire. She tried to suppress it, now was not the time. "I know," she said. "I do understand that." She tried to keep her voice even, but it was hard. She was tired of having to defend what she was to people, especially the people who she thought would best understand. "But you need to understand that I am what I am. I have made no pretense about that. But why is what I like the dirty thing, the perversion? Why does there have to be something wrong with me because of what I get off on, huh?" Her eyes blazed behind her glasses, temper and pride coming through. "There is not one damn thing wrong with me for liking pain or domination. There is nothing wrong with the fact that when I felt your hand on me, I wanted to throw you on the bed, pull your cock out and ride it like a pogo stick. The only reason I didn't was the fact that I'm on the rag and I didn't think you'd appreciate getting all bloody. Yes, my dear, I am on the rag...I have been in a high state of arousal all fucking day, and it about drove me nuts. So yes," she said, bringing her face close to his. "I enjoyed it."
Richard's jaw clenched as he tried to keep his temper in check. "Why don't you. Mm, have the sense...to see. That, mm, I'm...dangerous."
"Why don't you have the sense to see that I want that." She took a deep breath and backed away slightly. "Maybe you'll say I'm trying to put a noble purpose on something wicked, God knows you won't be the first. But...I've had clients who used to come to me to blow off steam, or to...to...when they felt the need to lash out or hurt someone, but they didn't really want to hurt them, sometimes they would come to me to relieve that need. I know I saved one or two housewives a severe beating. If I'm willing and able to take something painful in the place of someone who does not want or deserve it, why is that bad?"
"It's, mm, not," Richard told her. "But you..." He sighed and sat back on his heels. "Mm, you're going...to get yourself. Killed, someday."
"Probably," she said softly. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I...goaded you into all of this. I should have just let you leave that first night. Hell, I should have put you on one of the other girls. You'd be a lot better off if you had never fucked me." Her eyes softened as she looked at him, and she slumped a little, some of her confidence seemed to evaporate. "I needed you to help me save the neighborhood, but I shouldn't have been so underhanded about getting it. I didn't quite believe you when you said you weren't there for Nucky. I figured maybe I could get you to tell me something useful, especially when you said I was the one you wanted. And you started off so politely, with your 'please' and 'if I may'! But when your passion flared, and you started to get more forceful...and the way you responded when I told you to fuck me harder...God, it was..." She bit down on her lower lip as tried to keep her lust down. This was getting ridiculous...trying to have a serious conversation and all she wanted to do was throw him down and have her way with him. It was getting awfully warm in the tiny room. "You gave this low growl in your throat, and you started pounding me, and it was the most fantastic sensation, and I thought maybe you'd be good at domination. But...I wanted to see if you would bend to my will. When we were in the attic, I thought I had you. I thought you were in my control. But then you pounced on me, and took over..." Richard remembered the way her eyes had widened when he lunged at her, remembered that surge through his body as he gained control, brief though that first bout was. "You held back. There is something inside you...if you let it loose, I...I would..." She licked her lips, and her brows drew together as she tried to explain herself. "I want what's inside of you. I want your pain, your anger, your hatred. I want...I want to take it from you, I want you to let it out. I want to feel it, so that for a little while at least, you don't have to. Please, if you can, if you want to, give it to me."
"You don't, mm. Know what...you're asking, Cat."
"Maybe not," she said, looking into his eye. "But I know what I'm offering. Maybe you won't have to go through what you just went through." She looked at him compassionately, reaching out and wrapping her fingers around his. "And tonight, I'm offering you a comfortable bed to sleep in. I think you need a good night's sleep, and it's not going to happen on this bed," she motioned with her head. "You can take a long, hot bath, I'll see what I can do about getting the blood off your pants, and maybe in the morning you'll feel better."
Richard narrowed his eye suspiciously. "Why, mm. Are you being. So honest, mm, and...nice?"
"It's probably because of my period," she said. "Apparently I'm going through a nurturing mood swing. But if you tell anyone I will deny it and then flog you mercilessly." She sounded so haughty that Richard couldn't help but laugh slightly. "I'm quite serious," she said.
"Mm, I know."
"What do you say? Come with me, please?"
Richard knew he shouldn't, but he nodded and stood, offered Cat a hand up, and put a change of clothes in his satchel.
"Please don't push me off the bed tonight," she said as they climbed into her car. "If I don't get a good night's sleep tonight, I'm going to be a raging bitch in the morning."
"You? Mm, never."
"Sarcasm, sir?"
Richard titled his head and gave her a small grin. It was adorable and Cat had a sudden urge to feed him warm cookies and cold milk. God damn period...