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Secrets, Lies, and Love [20 Oct 2004|05:45pm] [ mood | relieved ] William walked up to the door and held his breath. He hadn't gotten Jordan's address, and so he had spent the morning going to the various places she could be, asking the motel clerks. Always in the last place you look. Then again, why keep looking once you find it? He rested a hand on the doorknob to the room, and rapped on the door lightly with the head of his cane. Jordan turned her head to the light knock on her door. Who could that be? She blinked and briefly wondered if she could pretend to be out. It wasn't like she wanted to see anyone in this state. She had spent the morning trying to shower with a multitude of bandages and her head had been throbbing with pain all night so she hadn't slept all that well. Her black eye had gone down somewhat but it was still there, the bruising was more yellow than anything else. She sighed and shook her head. The knock might be about something important so she couldn't ignore it. She groaned softly as she shifted off the bed. She used her hand which didn't have the broken finger to open the door. And as she opened it, she suddenly wished she hadn't answered it at all. ( The Truth ) ( Secrets ) ( Together (NC-17 in Parts) ) Jordan rested her head down against his chest." That was...something else." She finally muttered after taking a few deep breaths. Her entire body still shook as the aftershocks washed over her. Her dark hair fanned out and around her head as she ran her nails up William's chest once before they ran back down again and her hand settled right over his navel. "It was at that," William said. He just kept his arms wrapped around her, holding her close enough that he could feel her heartbeat slowing. He kissed her on the cheek. "So, Jordan, does this mean we're dating?" he asked with a light tone in his voice. Jordan smirked slowly." I don't sleep with just anyone, I'll have you know." She poked his stomach and then simply hooked a leg around one of his." You going to stay awhile? Help nurse a poor sick woman back to health?" Jordan gave him an innocent look at this point. "It would be my pleasure. Of course, in a moment, I should go downstairs and get the flowers that are sitting on my passengers seat for you and put them in a vase up here." William looked at her with all his affection in that look. "And then I'll make you food. I know you said you couldn't keep anything down, but I'm quite a good cook, as you may recall. Do you have any food here?" " Flowers? For me?" Jordan asked with a blink of her eyes before she smiled." Hm, I think I have some food in the mini fridge over there. It's not much but it's enough I think." She stroked her fingers over the side of his face before they slid through his hair. She gave him a warm smile and every thing she felt for him was reflected in those grey and green eyes of hers. "Good. But first, I think we're both due a little nap. Because I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted." His smile grew just a bit wider, and he kissed her on the lips again. Jordan returned the kiss and then whispered softly." I'm with you there." She teased his bottom lip for a moment before she simply grabbed a hold of her bed's sheet and yanked it over them both. William held her in his arms, and felt the coolness of the sheets press against his skin. He closed his eyes, and just let the events of the past hour soak in. He drifted to sleep, and, at least for now, this was his world. And he couldn't be happier with it. reply

Momentum [20 Oct 2004|06:43pm] The earth is warm beneath her back, its heat a remnant of the autumn day that stretched for hours before. Perspiration beads her skin. Each time her shoulders leave the ground, sand clings to the nape of her neck. Over and over in an endless rhythm, she bends and straightens her body at the waist. Her legs are locked together. She lifts them perpendicular to the ground, her upper body rising to meet them, shoulders touching her knees before she lets herself fall back to the sand. As her muscles scream, her lower lip is bruised from the grip of her teeth. So close. The inner voice is relentless. You could go that suddenly. Years of training, fighting, clawing your way out of circumstance just to end that way. You blink. You adjust the grip on your blade. You hesitate. You second-guess. You look away. You lose momentum for just an instant. And you die. Her legs crash to the sand. The heels of her hands find her eyes, rubbing there as she breathes. In. Out. In her mind, she replays the moment. Feels the horns tear into her flesh. Remembers what she thought as her knees hit the ground and her fingers came away wet with blood. This is how it happens. No. "Who said anything about dying? I don't need any help. I can walk on my own. I am not going to die. Get me out of this hospital." Rhiannon rolls from her back, curling her knees beneath her in the sand. Her arms circle her waist, fingers tracing the smooth wounds. She has pulled out the staples. She doesn't want to see them. She doesn't want to feel them. She doesn't want to know how close she came to becoming like him. reply

A Blast From The Past [20 Oct 2004|07:54pm] [ mood | uncomfortable ] Claire sat, stunned, on her and Nyx's bed. The letter, still unopened, lay in her hand. So many thoughts whirled through her brain. One moment she felt hot, the next moment, cold. Her fingers were shaking. After all this time, why now? Why had he written her now? And how had he found her? She was torn. Should she throw it away? Burn it? Destroy it without ever opening it? But then, she'd always wonder why he had written. He had caused her so much pain. Over the years, he had sent her so many mixed signals. He had been her first...everything. Her first Watcher. Her first friend after the change. Her first lover. Her first secret. He had left her, alone, desolate, confused, her heart shattered into a million pieces. He had chosen duty over her, not able to allow them to intermingle within their relationship. They had never been equals. He was always the strong one, the one who made the decisions. Eventually, he had made the decision to end it, no matter her tears, or pleas, or feelings. She was a different person now. She had went through one side, and come out the other as a stronger, more independent, secure woman. She was an excellent slayer. He had helped to mold her into that, but she had taken the reins after he left, and cut her own path. She had good friends now, a career even, and most importantly, she had Nyx. With Nyx, she was whole. She wasn't the "little girl" or the one not in control. She was an equal partner in a loving, trusting, relationship. With that thought in her mind, she decided to open the letter. She had Nyx in her heart. Nothing else mattered, and with his love shielding her, nothing Warren could ever say would hurt her again. ( Dear Claire ) Claire's face wore a mask, covering all emotion. She placed the letter deep inside her weapons chest and slammed the lid shut. She quickly changed into sweats and scratched out a note to Nyx explaining that she was going for a run. Her pounding footsteps were the only evidence of her churning insides and jumbled feelings. reply

Watcher Bonding [20 Oct 2004|09:10pm] [ mood | peaceful ] Dominick entered the Mercantile and headed towards the wine rack. He thought he should replenish his supply after his date with Hannah, not to mention he was now out of cleaning supplies as well. He noticed William on the other side of the store and gave the other Watcher a little wave. William pushed a small cart with one hand, and was leaning on his cane with the other when he saw Dominick. He took his hand off the cart and waved at him, gesturing for him to come over. Dominick deftly snagged two bottles of wine and placed them into his cart. Then he headed over to visit with William. He held his hand out for a handshake. "William. Nice to see you. You look like you are healing up quite nicely." William shook his hand firmly. "Thank you, yes. I'm sorry you didn't make our final little confrontation with Azazel. I figured, when I couldn't get through to your phone, Kris would tell you. But we all made it out relatively unscathed. I've had some problems, so I've been busy. Have you heard if Rhi is up and about again?" Dominick chuckled. "Kris broke Rhiannon out yesterday. I'm still waiting for the phone call from Matthew about it. And don't worry about it, I'm just glad that Azazel was defeated." "I'm glad she's doing well. I just hope nothing like that comes around again any time soon. We could all use the break, the time to heal. The time to enjoy some more... personal time." He noticed the bottles of wine, but as all good Watchers, he didn't mention anything. It was not his business, but he thought the wine might be a good idea. "Yes, a balance in all things." Dominick smiled, noting how William took in his wine bottles. He shifted his weight on his feet, hoping that William wouldn't notice the small blush creeping up his neck. "How is your slayer faring? No injuries, I hope?" "Oh, Destiny is fine. As spirited as ever. Since my injuries, we haven't had much time to train, and she has been a bit of a mother hen." William smiled at the images of Destiny cooking and cleaning around the house. He hadn't been spending much time with her, and he felt bad about that. He'd have to set up some serious Watcher/Slayer time soon. After he got back from Jordan's. That whimsical smile crossed his lips momentarily, as he thought about her. Then he realized what he was doing, and returned to his more normal appearance. "When you see Kris next, tell her I still owe her that drink." "I will. I'll let you get back to your shopping, and once you are feeling a hundred percent, perhaps you and Destiny can join Kris and I in some training, or patrol?" Dominick knew Kris liked her solo patrols, but he still believed groups were a good idea. You never knew what you were going to run into in this place. "I think Destiny would enjoy that. I know I would. Also, I remember you saying you're a pretty crack shot." William smiled at him . Dominick smiled and shrugged. "Well, I hate to brag." "Then soon you and I will have to go and see which of us is the better. I have a target range set up in the back of my house. And a couple of weapons that I've invented that i thought you might appreciate. Either way, it should be informative." "I'll look forward to it." Dominick shook the Watcher's hand again and then with a nod, headed his cart toward the cleaning aisle. reply

The Human Condition [20 Oct 2004|11:26pm] In Darian's eyes, he could not have been much more detestable. Jarett had rubbed his arms until the skin chapped, and still the chills wouldn't stop. He huddled at the end of the dirty couch, pulling his knees to his chest in a fruitless attempt to fend off the cramping of his stomach. His eyes watered as he looked up at Darian, distrust clear in his eyes. Darian knelt before the junkie and rested his elbows on his knees. The suit jacket was gone, the collar of his white dress shirt open, and yet little rigidity had left his posture. He stared at Jarett with relentless scrutiny. After a moment, he spoke. "It's quite the bind, isn't it? Shooting up to numb your pain, and yet each time you come back down, the world is that much more acerbic. You are a victim of your own short sight. Tell me, when the needle is sinking into your vein, do you know that you're only prolonging your torment? Do you care?" In a jittery voice, Jarett mumbled, "What do you want?" Even without the panic of his withdrawal, he would have known this man did not belong here. Darian's next words failed to mask the derision he felt. "To help you, of course. To give you what you're looking for." Jarett glanced down, so stunned to see the syringe in Darian's upturned palm that he flinched. Even as he told himself not to trust, his heart began to race at the prospect of the drug. He wet his cracked lips. "I don't-- I don't have any more money." "Hmm..." Darian mused, taking the syringe between his fingers. His thumb depressed the tip, and a drop of the contents escaped. "I suppose you don't. If you'd had it, you'd have ended this predicament long ago." He looked at Jarett to assess his reaction before continuing. "There must be something of value. Something you could give me as a trade." Unconsciously, Jarett stuffed his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. His fingers found their way to his father's watch. It wasn't worth much money, but maybe the man wouldn't know that. No. He couldn't give it away. It was all he had left after his parents kicked him out. The last thing his father had ever given him. He couldn't... could he? Darian saw the conflict in Jarett's eyes. Nothing escaped his notice. Not the way he gnawed the inside of his cheek, not the furtive movements within his sweatshirt. "If you're sure there is nothing," he murmured, then stretched to his full height. He began to put away the syringe and turn to leave. Jarett's hand snaked out to grab the nearest wrist. His boney fingers pinched the Dealmaker's skin. "Wait! I have-- I just have this." He pulled the watch over his hand and held it in the air. Darian faced the boy again and reached for the watch. He studied its face for a moment. Jarett had no way of knowing he wasn't assessing its monetary worth. Darian lifted an eyebrow and looked at him. "You would trade this for a fix?" Jarett hesitated the slightest moment, eyes darting back and forth between the watch and syringe. But then another cramp twisted his guts and his decision was made. With a nodding head, he answered, "Yes! Yes, I would. Please." A smile, then, as Darian slid the watch into the pocket of his pants. It vanished immediately, leaving a rush of satisfaction in its place. A family heirloom for a cheap high. A lingering bond with a father dismissed. He dropped the syringe in Jarett's palm and moved away, watching as the junkie made quick work of his task, tying off the vein and injecting the toxic substance. Afterward, Jarett's head tipped back against the couch. Darian circled behind and was struck by the look of ecstasy on his face. The way he poisoned his body with such abandon. In Darian's mind, that face became his own, tossed back in the grip of passion as he moved between Dyan's legs. Something stirred within his chest. Darian caught Jarett's hair in his hand and tugged it back towards him, dragging a cry of pain from his victim. The knife that punctured his jugular vein seemed pulled from the ether. reply

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