Summary:
"I wish I could throw off the thoughts which poison my happiness. And yet I take a kind of pleasure in indulging them." - Frederic Chopin
A/N:
Thank you to Brionnnnne and TheeSadOptimist for your comments 3
Sorry this took so long, I was working on my manuscript and other fics... and then I was afflicted with the plague (its just RSV).
DISCLAIMER: Any mental illness depicted may or may not be accurate. I try my best to research symptoms, but I am not an expert and often base things on my own experiences. Stein is obviously a greatly whitewashed psychopath in the manga and will be depicted the same way here as it is central to his character. He will be violent, possessive, and even cruel at times. If that bothers you, this is probably not a story you want to read. The MC struggles with severe depression, grief, survivor's guilt, and a budding alcohol addiction. She switches between violent outbursts and fawning to cope with her feelings. This can be a dark story (with all the same themes and elements as the manga) and as the author I do not agree with all the things the characters do, say, or believe. Trigger warnings are in the tags. You have been warned, read at your own risk.
Auriel hated Stein. She hated his dumb glasses and his stupid pretty green eyes. She hated his scarred face and his insanity-touched grin. She hated wondering if those scars were self-inflicted or if he got them in battle. She hated the nausea that pooled in her gut when she thought about which scenario was worse.
Auriel hated the stupid goofy expression he wore when he stole all the hot water—which was an ongoing fight. She hated that he picked on her, goaded her, and tricked her into doing what he wanted. She hated that he was a good instructor and that her beloved students loved him. She hated that he comforted her, however callously, after her nightmares. She hated his ridiculous spinning chair and his dumb lab coat and his laugh.
Not the maddened one, the one he emitted when he lost touch with reality. No, the one from her childhood. Long and full, from his belly full of joy. She hated that laugh. She hated that she never forgot it – that she never forgot him.
Not even when Michael asked her to be his weapon – wondering why Stein hadn't asked her first, they were friends, weren't they? – or when Michael asked her to be his girlfriend despite the censure of their classmates, and the disapproval of their instructors. Not when she broke her arm. Not when she went back to Michael after Stein kissed her better than her meister ever had. Nor when Michael proposed, or when Azreal died.
Auriel hated it, mainly because if she thought about it long enough, she did not hate Stein all that much—not even a little bit.
After a week of nothing more than a cackling fit which resulted in Auriel taking more than half of Stein's 'emotional support' scalpels and hiding them in her room for his own safety, and the sheet-drenching, screaming herself awake nightmares growing more commonplace than terrifying, Auriel decided it was time to bring her record player to the lab while things were relatively calm. The storage unit she kept hers and Azrael's things in was climate-controlled, so all of the vintage equipment and properly stored records were in mint condition. Best of all, Stein didn't protest one bit.
Not even when she blasted the Misfits at full volume while he was stealing all the hot water for the umpteenth time. Or when she danced to Kate Bush while making their dinner. Or when she sang along to the most ridiculously erotic rock songs she owned on vinyl. Well… he didn't exactly like it when she did that. He got all tense, and what she could only describe as grumpy when she did, but he didn't ask her to stop.
That was all she could ask for. A meister who didn't tell her not to be herself. A housemate who didn't tell her not to be silly, not to take up space, not to be loud. At first, she had started singing and dancing around the lab to annoy him; to goad Stein into attacking her or something just as explosive so she could tell Death once and for all that this stupid partnership he had forced her into wouldn't work. But that never happened.
And she continued to sing and dance.
And it felt good.
Even when she caught Stein staring at her from the corner of his eye when he was supposedly working. Even when he was watching her openly, a goofy grin spreading over his scarred face.
Unconsciously? Perhaps. That was the most likely scenario. Stein didn't like her.
They didn't like each other.
She kept telling herself that. Insisting on it. Because the more she insisted on it, the truer it became despite their evening reading sessions, their shared dinners, and their lesson planning that they absolutely needed to work on together because they were teachers. Together.
It was still true despite the training sessions they both clearly enjoyed, and Stein lingering a fraction too long in her bedroom after her nightmares, and the long stares they shared after they both said goodnight.
And the goddamn baby jokes that made her snort her drinks out her nose at the most inopportune moments. And the 'World's Okayest Dad' mug she presented him with two days ago, which he cackled at and insisted on using incessantly since she gave it to him. And Marie's teasing comment about Stein being the best kiss Auriel had ever had that they both pointedly ignored.
Yes. Stein and Auriel hated each other. They didn't get along at all.
Even though he was currently packing them lunch while she was blow-drying her hair. It was convenient. She was nothing more than an experiment. She was nothing more than a sparring partner. That was it. That was all.
Keep telling yourself that. Michael spat.
Auriel nearly ripped the hair dryer out of the wall in shock. Nearly. Instead, she clicked it off and gently unplugged it, wrapping the cord up and storing it in her half of the bathroom vanity. Then she braided her hair in Dutch style and pinned it into a bun at the nape of her neck before exiting the bathroom. She did not acknowledge Michael. Acknowledging him never helped anything. It didn't make him any quieter, didn't lessen his grip on her, and it especially didn't make him go away.
But she was done bowing to him. He was dead, and she wasn't. Nothing she could do about it – no point in crying about it. She was done. It was time to open up, time to tell Stein about her bothersome cling-on.
After dealing with him for this long, Auriel should have come to this conclusion much earlier. It was rather irritating that she had to become Stein's partner for three weeks to realize it. It was for the best.
Really, it was.
Weak. Michael whispered. So weak and stupid. I'm with you forever, you know that. Telling him about me will not change a thing.
But Stein… Stein was there just like he had been under the tree in the park – a welcome distraction – if only for a little while. He could help. He could help her get rid of Michael once and for all. He knew better than anyone about hearing things that weren't th—
When Auriel rounded the corner into the kitchen she was struck by Stein's appearance. There was nothing different there, nothing she hadn't already seen before. But distracting he was all the same, with his silver hair still wet from his shower and pale skin flushed from all the hot water she didn't get to use, reminding her of the lean muscle he left exposed during their sparring this morning. The crisscrossing brushstrokes of scars across his lithe body glistening in the morning light was more than a little distracting.
They made him appear dangerous… and more than a little sad.
It was growing easier to tell which marks were done by Stein's hands and the ones he obtained in battle. The self-inflicted ones were precise and well-repaired and the others were rips and tears, marking him as the warrior he was. They were beautiful and terrible. Just like him.
The idea that his body affected her in any way was troubling. The fact that Michael noticed was worse.
Whore. Michael sneered.
Auriel flinched.
"What fruit do you want with your lunch?" Stein asked without turning around.
He must have sensed her presence then. His perception was incredible, something Auriel was more than envious of.
"Do we still have any strawberries?" she asked, making no moves from the doorway.
"Mmmm, I think you ate them all last night."
"An apple then."
"Granny Smith or Pink Lady?"
"Pink Lady."
He looked at her over his shoulder then, eyeing her with those too-perceptive eyes of his. What he saw she didn't know, but he turned around, taking a long pull from his mug. Even with the fevered glint in his eyes, they were still perceptive.
Guilt flooded through her. Shame. She couldn't tell him. He was mad. Insane. Like her. How could she tell him? She couldn't tell him. She shouldn't tell him.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing," she said.
"Your hair is still wet."
"No, it's mostly dry."
Stein sighed then, weary and exasperated all at once, his head falling back to look at the bright LED lights on the ceiling. Auriel felt herself bristle, her hackles rising before she could even think of any reason she needed to defend herself.
She was the one that was being difficult, she knew that. But knowing something and stopping it were two vastly different things, and Auriel had no idea where to begin with the latter. She had no idea how to fix anything. Irritation whirled within her, potent and thick.
She had sought out Stein just now, not the other way around, and she had done so for comfort because Michael had spoken some uncomfortable truth to her. Thus, proving his point – she was growing dependent on another, someone who wasn't Michael.
Auriel couldn't tell Stein. She couldn't. There was no telling what he would do, or how he would react. She was supposed to be the sane one. She was supposed to help him with his madness, not the other way around.
Shame touched the electric yellow of irritation inside of her, turning the mass a whirling grey and black. She wanted to be sick. She wanted to scream. She wanted to kick and cry and be six years old again, huddled in her mother's arms. Taking in Stein's colossal form across the room, Auriel was startled to find that she wanted—
"I don't want to be late," she said, turning on her heel and fleeing before he could get a word in.
This was bad. This was wrong. She and Stein weren't meant to be friends again. They weren't meant for this – whatever this was. She didn't deserve it. She was broken and tarnished and bruised. No one in their right mind would want her as anything but a weapon because that was all she was ever good for. And even if Stein wasn't in his right mind – because he hardly ever was – he wouldn't want her to be anything more than his little experiment.
Click
"Ahhh…" Stein breathed, leaning his head against the blackboard.
Auriel's mood was affecting him oddly. All of her moods affected him, and he didn't know how to explain why. It was beginning to grow tiresome since they had spent so much time apart from one another before Death assigned them together. Even Spirit had never affected Stein like this, and he'd partnered with the scythe the longest.
Observing the pink-haired demon weapon from across the room, Stein noted she pointedly avoided looking at him as she provided counsel to Death's son, Kid, for far longer than Stein himself would have deemed necessary. The boy had an alarming case of OCD that – left untreated – would turn into a debilitating madness much like his own.
Liz and Patty Thompson, Kid's twin handguns, waited by the classroom door. The elder observed him curiously from her periphery while the younger spun in a circle, dancing to a beat no one but she could hear. Stein caught Liz's eye and grinned.
The girl's curious gleam fizzled out immediately, replaced with mortification and a healthy dose of fear. She immediately grabbed her sister and began to haul her from the classroom.
"You 'bout done, Kid?" she shouted over her shoulder. "We'll meet you in the corridor."
So, Liz Thompson was the type to give into fear. Interesting. Patty seemed oblivious… and Kid… Kid was still trying to sign his name properly on the pop quiz Auriel had administered earlier. Auriel had snatched the paper from him by now and would not give it back.
"It's disgusting!" the little reaper shouted. "Give it back, I need to fix it!"
"It looks fine," Auriel admonished, holding the paper high out of the boy's reach. "This is for your own good, Kid. You can't make everything perfect, and you never will. Take a few deep breaths and go to your next class, please. If you can't do that, please take a moment to go see the counselor."
And when she finally got the boy to leave after much protest, she flung herself over their shared desk in exasperation. Stein almost thought about the last time he'd had her pinned to that desk, wondering if Auriel's thighs would be any softer now that she was gaining weight. He would really like to sink his fingers – his teeth – into them and squeeze, making her gasp just so that she would shift her hips against his – face, lips, tongue – and—
In Death's name, they were at school!
Click
Click
Stein shook his head, feeling his thoughts fall into place. Something was wrong. Things had been peaceful between him and Auriel – somewhat, at least – until this morning. What had happened between their training session and her blow-drying her hair to cause this shift?
Was it that shadow?
Or was it something else?
Stein would have to know for this experiment to work. He would have to figure it out; he would have to pay more attention to his partner. He knew so much about her already, but that was the Auriel before Azreal died. Stein would have to continue to try and get her to open up… but it seemed like opening up was the last thing she wanted to do at the moment.
Finally, she stood straight and turned to him, green eyes hooded by thick lashes as she glared.
"What?" He grinned, tilting his head to the side.
"Stop scaring the students," she demanded.
"Want me to scare you instead?"
She scoffed, and Stein noticed with a twinge of pride that a smile played on the edges of her lips. "You couldn't scare me if you tried, Doc."
Though he didn't know how Stein knew she was lying. Something about him unsettled her, something about him frightened her. Was it the madness? He couldn't begrudge her that if it was… but he remembered what Auriel had said to him on her first night in the lab. No, she did not fear his madness.
What then?
"I'm going to force Death into a parent-teacher conference, I swear," she muttered under her breath, looking over Kid's work.
"What's wrong?" Stein asked, moving to stand behind her.
She flinched but otherwise did not move away, holding up the page for him to look over. It was practically empty. Sighing, Stein lowered his chin to the top of Auriel's head.
"Kid's a prodigy, but that doesn't mean he can skip out on work. Even Black Star does the bare minimum," he drawled.
"I think it's because he couldn't get his name right," Auriel sighed, elbowing Stein off of her.
He pouted but allowed her to push him away. He would take what he could get, besides, it wasn't like she was the only one who was hot and cold.
"And we need to talk to Death about it?" Stein asked.
"I will talk to Death if you're too chicken shit," Auriel retorted with her brow raised.
He made a grab for her then and she shrieked, ducking out of the way before his large hands could clamp around her waist. Her musical laughter filled his ears momentarily before it was cut short, an odd look crossing her face.
"Auri?" he asked.
Auriel shook her head and did not speak again.
Click
Click
Cli—ick
Stein had been too chicken shit to tell his god that Kid needed some mental health help. But when Auriel had reached the mirror to Death's room, she chickened out herself and headed back to the teachers' lounge to mope. Death would notice something was off with her and ask unwanted questions. And would Death care what was going on with his son? Auriel wasn't sure.
Death had a lot on his shoulders – the lives of all humanity. What was his son's well-being in the face of all those souls?
If Death couldn't be bothered with his son, then there was no way she could trust him with her madness. With Michael. That would be worse than a death sentence.
When she shoved open the door to the teachers' lounge, Marie and Cameel were seated on an old leather couch, steaming mugs of tea in their hands. It was a large room with crème walls that was occupied by every seating arrangement imaginable for the DWMA employees to rest while they discussed everything from work to the weather.
Marie brightened when she caught sight of Auriel, waving her over. Cam was more subdued but gave her sister a soft smile when she sat down on the couch opposite them. It too was an old leather thing, softened by age and use, twin to the one Cam and Marie were using. Auriel could have sunk into its stuffed depths and fallen asleep with how little sleep she had been getting recently.
For a moment, just a moment, she thought about telling Marie and Cam about Michael. They knew she had eaten his soul and failed to end the witch. They knew she was on remedial leave as a Death Scythe because of it. But they didn't know about the drinking. They didn't know about the voice that plagued her, nor the scar that still burned, nor the times she tried to end it all only to wake up with a headache and Michael standing over her grinning like the Devil himself.
No.
No. Auriel couldn't tell them either. They wouldn't understand. She was alone. Alone, alone, alone.
"You look like hell," Marie commented over her mug of tea, single golden eye glinting mischievously. "Stein not letting you rest?"
"You could say that," Auriel sighed, ignoring Cam's grimace of disgust and displeasure.
"He looks like he could keep a girl up a—all night," Marie continued, grinning now.
"He's exhausting, that's for sure," Auriel conceded, hoping her face would give nothing away.
She did not need unwanted questions about her "relationship" with Stein. Marie had already tried that a few times, leaving Auriel scrambling to come up with a fake story about this or that concerning their false romance. She had enough to worry about, she didn't need her fake relationship coming to bite her in the ass.
"I hope you're talking about me," a jovial, masculine voice said from behind her.
Then a black-clad arm slid around her from behind, and the faint scent of incense enveloped her as red hair tickled her cheek. A warmth spread through her chest and she reached up to pat Spirit's head.
"Of course I am," she teased. "You know I'm madly in love with you."
"As are all the lovely women around," he sighed, kissing her cheek. "I'm too much of a catch."
Cam gagged, setting down her mug a touch too hard, startling Spirit. He looked up as if just realizing who sat across from them, green eyes widening. Auriel felt her brows furrow as she looked back and forth between Spirit and her sister, who was glaring balefully at her friend.
A smooth grin spread over Spirit's face and he wiggled his fingers at Cam flirtatiously. "Hey, Cam."
"Spirit," she snapped.
Cam was like a bulldog when it came to holding a grudge. There was no issue too small or vast for her to sink her teeth into, especially when it came to the man who broke her heart when they were barely fifteen. Just what Auriel needed to complicate her life even more.
"Hi, Spirit," Marie waved at him, ignoring Cam's look of betrayal.
"Hello, Marie," he replied with a wink.
"I didn't peg you as the type to flirt with my best friend right in front of me and my sister, Spirit," Cam snapped, crossing her arms over her black-clad chest.
"You can peg me whenever," Spirit shot back, turning the force of his green eyes on her.
"I beg your finest fucking pardon?" Cam growled.
"I'll settle for begging," Spirit continued innocently before Auriel could slap a hand over his mouth.
Once she did, he licked it and she screeched, slapping his spit off of her palm and into his hair. He laughed, tightening his hold on her while she flailed. Cam watched them, mouth agape, too stunned to say anything. Marie however changed the subject effectively.
"Did you all hear we're getting a new nurse today?" she asked, swirling her tea in her mug.
"The old nurse is retiring. Apparently, we need someone younger," Auriel said, rolling her eyes, and finally pushing Spirit away from her.
"Ageism," Marie scoffed.
"I'd like a sexy nurse to look me over," Spirit said, plopping down on the couch next to Auriel.
"We are all aware of that, Spirit," Auriel said, exasperation coloring her tone.
"Does anyone know the new nurse's name?" Cam asked gruffly.
"Marissa," a voice said from behind Auriel. "It's Marissa Gregory."
She didn't need to turn to know it was Stein. If anything, the freakishly long shadow and smell of smoke told her who was behind her before he even had the chance to speak. Spirit noticed her stiffen next to him, and though she knew Stein made him nervous, he still grabbed her hand and looked back with a rakish smile at his former partner.
"Howdy, Stein," he greeted, squeezing Auriel's hand.
She squeezed back, keeping her gaze trained on the coffee table in front of them as Stein returned his former partner's greeting. Thankfully, Cam and Marie did not seem to notice her discomfort, greeting Stein with their varying degrees of friendliness. He returned the greetings with a grunt, placing one large scarred hand on the back of the couch, near Auriel's head.
She could feel his fingers tugging at a few strands of her hair that had escaped her updo but ignored him. So what if he was touching her hair? It wasn't as though she liked it. It wasn't like she wanted him to wrap the length around his fist and force her to—
Spirit jumped, breath hissing through his teeth as he looked down at her in shock. She was clenching his hand in hers so hard his fingers were turning white. Releasing him, Auriel allowed her head to fall back, looking straight up at her partner.
"How do you know the sexy new nurse's name?" she asked, not bothering to hide the note of irritation in her voice.
Stein grinned manically and leaned over her, so close their lips could brush if he moved a little closer.
"Sexual harassment," Spirit muttered, leaning away from the pair.
"Because I met her out in the hall," Stein said.
"How nice," Auriel said flatly, noticing that he hadn't denied that the new nurse was sexy – she wasn't jealous, she wasn't. "Did you offer to dissect her too?"
"Of course," he breathed.
"Great, let me know what time she's coming over so I can make myself scarce."
"Don't want to join us?"
"I'd rather eat a carton of cigarettes."
"Well, you've already got a head start on that, what's a few more?"
Auriel smiled up at Stein, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair before tugging roughly. A sharp intake of breath was the only indication he felt anything; his face was unchanged from his maddened grin, his scar twisting severely with his lips.
"I think I'll go introduce myself," she said to everyone, but her eyes remained on Stein.
Then she released him and he straightened, watching as she stood to her feet and straightened her gray skirts. He remained behind the couch, watching with a practiced eye. Her brow rose and she turned to say goodbye to her bewildered companions, then left with a flounce.
"I feel like I just watched something I shouldn't have," she heard Spirit say shakily.
"Trouble in paradise?" Marie asked Stein.
"You have no idea," came his monotone reply.
A sneer bubbled up inside Auriel, but she schooled her features before making her way down the hall to the nurse's office. It was stupid to be angry with Stein because it wasn't him that she was mad at. She was angry with herself, but it was so much easier to take it out on him. When she turned her rage inward, she started drinking, and there was nothing to drink thanks to him. And Spirit. And Death.
"Oh goodness," a breathy voice said when she stormed her way into the nurse's office. "You look a fright."
Auriel blinked at the voice, something oddly, slitheringly familiar about the cadence. But she shook her head. A woman with short blonde hair, two long strands twisted in the front down her chest, and yellow-green eyes sat on the wheeled chair at a desk off to the side. Auriel opened her mouth to tell the other woman to shut hers but thought better of it.
She was not angry at this person.
"You must be Marissa Gregory," Auriel said but made no move to offer her hand in greeting.
Marissa nodded, a smile ghosting the corners of her lips. "Yes. Forgive me, I don't know your name."
"Auriel Saint."
"Oh, the flame sword!"
Auriel cringed at the title. She was no such thing anymore.
"The very same." Her smile was brittle and weak.
"I'll repeat myself, Ms. Saint, you look a fright," Marissa said, concern looking an awful lot like sadistic interest on her pretty face. "Why don't you sit down and I'll have a look at you."
"I'm okay, my partner is a doctor," Auriel heard herself saying before she could stop the words from leaving her mouth.
"Well, he's not doing a good job of taking care of you, is he?" she said, standing from her seat to guide Auriel to a bed.
Stein wasn't taking care of her, not really. Sure, she had gained some weight, and they were training together. And she was singing and dancing again, among a myriad of other new – old – healthy behaviors that she had begun to engage in. But Stein was still his old self, and she had grown just as selfish. Neither knew where to meet the other and they would continue to crash into one another, all limbs and teeth and blood until both of them ended up hurt.
Michael had said so. And Michael was always right.
"His name is Franken Stein; you met him earlier?" Auriel said as Marissa looked her over.
The nurse frowned, listening to Auriel's heart and lungs. "I don't recall."
"He's 'round six-ten and wears a lab coat and glasses?"
"Oh him."
A laugh burbled out of Auriel then, at Marissa's tone.
"Oh," she squeaked, a pink flush dusting her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, I don't mean to be rude about your partner."
"You have nothing to apologize for," Auriel assured her with a smile.
Marissa stared down at her for a minute before returning her grin. Auriel felt a flutter of fear in her chest for a moment looking up at the nurse, her scar twinging painfully. Auriel reached up to rub it through the cotton of her white blouse.
There was something so familiar about this nurse… but that couldn't be. She had never met Marissa Gregory before in her life. Even so, the woman's grin was a little disconcerting.
"Why don't you tell me what's troubling you?" Marissa said blithely, sitting next to her on the bed.
Auriel was instantly overcome with shame. Here was another person who could uncover her dirty little secrets… Except Marissa was just a woman. A nurse. Not Stein. Not Spirit who had his own issues. Not Death who would just tell her to move on. Not Cam or Marie who would never understand in a million years. Tears welled in her eyes and she could not will them back. Perhaps… perhaps it was time to let something out.
"I think… I think I'm going crazy…" she whispered, turning her glistening eyes on Marissa.
"Oh?" Marissa smiled reassuringly at her. "I'm sure you're not."
"You don't know me."
"Oh, but I will."
Auriel frowned but Marissa pulled a silver flask out of her white coat that reminded Auriel so much of Stein's stiff, stitched lab coat. The nurse took a sip of whatever was in the flask and held it out to Auriel. Her mouth instantly went dry. She was so, so thirsty. Alcohol was the only thing that could shut Michael up. She hoped that was what was in that flask. With shaking hands, she took hold of the cold metal and sniffed the lip.
Something strong and heavy whispered to her through the opening. Herbal.
"What is this?" she asked.
Marissa smiled at her. "It's gin. I made it at home with a special blend of medicinal herbs. I thought you looked a little stressed and could use a drink. Don't worry, I won't tell a soul."
Gin.
Like the bottle in her window winking at her with the moonlight.
She shouldn't. She really shouldn't. But oh, how she wanted. Oh, how she wanted.
Hesitantly, Auriel brought the gin to her lips and drank deeply. The liquid burned its way down her throat. When she released the flask, she thrust it back into the awaiting hands of Marissa, who was looking at her with interest. A single cough at the bitter herbal flavor of the alcohol, then a tremor, then a full body quake.
Something in her chest seized up, but Marissa slapped her on the back and the sensation was gone.
"Goodness, you almost choked," she said kindly.
"That didn't feel like choking," Auriel rasped.
"What did it feel like?"
Auriel paused… what had it felt like? All of a sudden, she was quite sure that she had swallowed that bitter-flavored alcohol wrong and she had choked. Now she felt quite good. Now she felt ready to be honest with Marissa.
"I'm hearing and seeing things," she admitted, meeting the other woman's yellow-green eyes.
"My, my," Marissa said, bringing her hand to her lips. "That is serious. Do you have a history of mental illness in your family?"
"Nothing more than a few depressed uncles and aunts," Auriel said. "And a few of my cousins have GAD, and one is Autistic."
"None of which are known to produce audio or visual hallucinations…"
Marissa stood to her feet and walked over to the medicine cabinet, pulling out a thick tome that Auriel couldn't make out the cover of no matter how hard she squinted. Marissa read from it for a moment, then snapped it shut with a decisive grin and turned back to her patient.
"And who are you seeing and hearing? One person or a few?" she asked, replacing the strange book.
"My late fiancée…" Auriel admitted. "His name was Michael Crowley."
"You poor thing." Marissa nodded sympathetically. "I heard you lost him in battle. I'm sorry for that."
Auriel swallowed. "Thank you."
Marissa crossed the room with serpentine grace, sitting on the bed next to Auriel again, offering her the flask once more. Auriel took it and drank greedily, unable to help herself. The bitterness was cut by a sweetness this time, then something sharp and citrusy. Lemon maybe? No, lime.
"I think this is just grief. It's not uncommon to imagine our loved ones, even after so long," Marissa explained, urging Auriel to have another sip. "Why don't you come to see me every so often? I'll offer a listening ear and you can tell me how my gin is improving?"
Auriel swallowed another gulp of the complex gin and nodded; though, she had not expected such a simple answer to her problem. If it was just grief, then why did she not see Azreal? Why did she not feel her brother's presence in her chest like she felt Michael's?
"I think if you can talk about this with someone you can trust to keep a secret, you will see improvements," Marissa whispered, all of a sudden very close to Auriel's ear, pulling the flask from her trembling hands and tucking it into her lab coat.
"Yes…" Auriel whispered, nodding.
"Auri," Stein's voice called from the doorway.
Auriel shot up and hurried to the end of the bed, straightening herself as she went. What had she just been doing? She turned back to face Marissa who smiled genially at her. They had been talking. She was telling Marissa about Michael and how much she missed him.
Auriel blinked.
That didn't sound right.
But she couldn't remember anything else.
"You look pale," Stein said, striding toward her and placing the inside of his wrist to her forehead. "Are you feeling okay?"
"Never better," Auriel chirped, pulling away from him. "Really, you're such a mother hen sometimes."
"Nice to see you again, Franken," Marissa said coming to stand beside Auriel.
"Doctor Stein, please," he snapped.
"Of course, Doctor," Marissa simpered. "It was nice meeting you, Auriel."
"Yes," Auriel said blearily. "It was nice to meet you too."
"You sure you're alright?" Stein asked, herding her back to their classroom.
Auriel nodded, blinking rapidly at the bright lights in the hallway. As they walked a tickle began to build in the back of Auriel's throat. She cleared her it to rid herself of the feeling to no avail, and by the time they reached the classroom, she had subsided into a coughing fit. Stein watched her with a modicum of concern, his brow furrowing. When she finished, she pulled her hand away to reveal a smear of black sludge on her palm.
Alarm filled her and her gaze shot to Stein for a fraction of a second, but when she looked back at her palm the sludge was gone. Her eyes widened in surprise, but Stein gripped her face, tilting it upward and opening her mouth.
"Say 'ah'," he commanded.
Rolling her eyes, Auriel obeyed her meister and allowed him to look inside her mouth. She pretended not to notice the faint blush on his cheeks. His fixation with her tongue and mouth was not surprising anymore. He had always been odd, and that didn't bother her. Not even when he wanted to keep her eyes in a jar when they were kids.
"Your throat looks fine," he mused, staring into the cavern of her mouth. "But I think you should turn in early tonight."
"Oh wow, Doc," she said, pulling his hands away from her mouth. "I didn't know you cared."
"I don't."
"I was joking."
Neither of them laughed. Neither of them spoke another word to one another for the rest of the day, unless it pertained to their classes. Auriel wanted to go see Marissa again. She was sweet and talked to her and… and… and…
The nightmares were growing more exhausting each night. Auriel's screaming became a chore. In an attempt to wake her the night before, Stein had pulled the sheets off Auriel's bed, dumping her unceremoniously onto the ground. It would have been funny had her eyes not stared at the corner in that odd unfocused way he recognized in himself when he was seeing things.
Small, fragile. There was no other way to describe how she looked then, trembling on the freezing concrete floor before him. She had rubbed at that old scar more than he'd ever noticed during their training session that morning. And then her odd behavior in the kitchen, the classroom, the teacher's lounge.
He had smelled something strange on her breath when she'd left the nurse's office, something medicinal. Although, it could have been just that. Medicinal. Why should she come to him for every little scrape or chill? He wasn't her doctor. However, he wouldn't mind getting her on an exam table to poke and prod at each of her interesting parts.
The scream pierced the silent night air and he was out of his seat before he could even register the sound, smoke trailing quickly behind him as he ran. Each of Auriel's screams had been easy to discern, grief-stricken and terrified. This one was different. This one held a note of terror he had only ever heard from her once in his life, a sound he had hoped never to hear again.
The door was locked when he reached it, heart pounding. Why was the fucking door locked? He could break it down if he needed to – he already had on a few occasions. Swiftly, he kicked it open, splintering the wood beneath his shoe, and scanned the room for Auriel.
A choked sound came from the bed, but all he saw was shadow.
A shadow.
The shadow.
The shadow was very much manifesting into a familiar shape right in front of him. Blond curls, fervent brown eyes, an ugly sneer. Michael Crowley.
Rage burned through Stein when he saw that Michael's hands were wrapped around Auriel's throat, turning her pretty face a horrid shade of purple and blue. She saw him, scrambling against Michael and her tangled sheets, reaching for Stein. Her eyes begged him to help, her lips shouting a silent plea.
Stein's soul menace blasted right through Michael's skull. The apparition turned its head, a ghastly grin splitting his face as blood spurted through the hole in his head. Black blood ran in rivulets down his body and pooled in Auriel's bed, onto her torso.
She was slick with it, beautiful with it.
Click
Click
Click
And the image was gone.
No black blood. No Michael with half a head. Just Auriel in her black cotton nightdress, her chest heaving and a neck full of finger-shaped bruises.
But instead of Michael's hands putting them there, it was his own.
He was straddling her waist in her bed, his hands around her throat. How had he gotten there? He was standing next to the bed putting out his cigarette; he had gotten rid of Michael. He didn't want to hurt Auriel. Unless she wanted him to hurt her, and Stein knew she didn't want to be hurt like this!
"Auri, I—"
"Please tell me you saw him," she begged, reaching up to cradle his face. "Please, Franken, please tell me I'm not crazy. Get him out of me, Franken, please get him out!"
"I-I don't know what I saw," he breathed, pulling her hands away from his unworthy face.
Get him out? Cut her silken flesh open and pull apart the pink muscle and drench his ruined hands in her red red red red red blood? Oh, the ecstasy. Oh, the horror.
He could feel the madness creeping up inside him, twisting, swirling, crushing his spine. It warped the image of the woman before him, giving her green eyes a yellowish serpentine cast. Her long tongue darted out between slashed lips, tasting the air.
"Yes, you do!" Auriel insisted, sitting up. "You saw what I saw! I saw what you saw! I know you did, I know you did!"
She was herself again. Her beautiful, delicate hands gripped the front of his lab coat, hauling him to her like manacles in a stone wall. And as desperate as he was to get away, he knew that he would always allow her to pull him back. He would never be free of her, just as she was never free of Michael. Auriel would continue to haunt him like all the other ghosts of his past he could never put to rest.
"You saw him," she insisted, angry tears trailing down her face.
"I saw myself choking you." His voice was like a dead thing, devoid of feeling. Devoid of life or warmth.
"I don't believe you. You're lying."
"Believe what you want."
He pulled himself away from her and grabbed her wrists to prevent her from wrestling with him, then practically threw himself from her bed. How could he do this? Death had assured him that this wouldn't happen! Not to her.
He didn't care though… Stein didn't care about Auriel. He didn't.
Except that Franken Stein was a liar.
His breath came in quick, shallow gasps and he turned and stormed from the room, shutting himself away in his dark, dusty bedroom where Auriel wouldn't dare disturb him. He placed his head between his knees just like Percy had taught him, ignoring his body shaking from the maddened cackling. Ignoring the form of Auriel kneeling beside him, half-naked and covered in black blood. Ignoring Spirit slashed to ribbons. Ignoring Maka and Soul whose heads he had switched with one another. He ignored the whispered, labored words Azreal spoke to him through his ruined lungs and decaying lips.
He ignored the ruined dead things he created, breathing against the madness.
It was impossible.
Impossible.
It was as though Michael was coming back to life each night in her dreams. Auriel dreaded the thought that he was. It was not possible. His body was gone, his soul eaten. She knew that the voice in her head wasn't really him – it never was. It was just a figment of her grief and her guilt, nothing more.
At least, that was what she told herself each time she awoke and Michael's form faded before her eyes. It was what she told herself when she felt flashes of rage that were not her own but were as familiar as if they belonged to her all the same. It was what she repeated over and over when Michael came to her each night to remind her what a failure she had become.
However, each time he appeared Auriel believed her own assurances less and less.
And tonight, watching him grinning above her like a wild thing while he choked the life out of her…
It had not been Stein. It hadn't.
No matter how mad he was, he never tried to hurt her, only himself. Only ever himself. So, what had happened?
Michael had come to her in a dream and tried to kill her, then Stein stopped him, and he disappeared. Then Stein had crawled into her bed and she asked him if he had seen Michael. Had her question made him run? Had he thought her insane? Was that enough for him to finally see how broken and useless she was?
Or had his madness taken hold of the situation and convinced him that he was to blame? Would he even remember this when the morning came, or would his mind corrode the memory until it was nothing but smoke and shadow?
What did that mean for her?
What did that mean for her?
What did that mean for her?
The moon winked at her through the gin bottle on the windowsill, its bloody mouth a crimson stain against the purpling sky. Something black and murky bubbled inside her, reaching toward the moon. Reaching, searching, craving, carving.
Craving.
Carving.
Craving.
Carving.
Words so similar, yet so different.
What would it be like to take up a knife and cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cutcutcutcutcutcutcutcut—
What would it be like to take up a knife and cut—
What would it be like to take up a kni—
No.
Yes.
No.
Yes.
NO.
Auriel flung the scalpel from her hands, listening to the metallic twinkling it cast as it clattered from the concrete wall to the floor. Her breath came in heavy gasps, her eyes fixated on the glint of the scalpel in the corner.
The moon winked at her through the gin bottle on the windowsill, its bloody mouth a crimson stain against the purpling sky. Something black and murky bubbled inside her, reaching toward the moon. Reaching, searching, craving.
Something inside of her was wrong, was different. Auriel felt the madness of her grief, of her devotion once upon a time, pooling inside her soul. The moon winked at her, blood spilling from its mouth. Black blood spilling from its mouth. Black blood. Black blood. Black.
This time the laughter was her own.
A/N:
And here comes the conflict. Sorry not sorry, can't have them falling for each other toooooo quickly now can we?
Chapter titles taken from Ghost's "Life Eternal".
Thank you in advance for any comments, encouragement, kudos, subs, and bookmarks. They mean the world to me. Please don't forget to comment your thoughts!