Lie awake all night wondering...

[sandandwater]

And then I'm in your arms I'll try to relax
Don't want to lie awake all night wondering where we're at
Oh this tossing and turning won't clear these blues away
When I am longing just to hear you say
'No Turning Back' - Sarah Blasko


Six months ago she walked out of his life, or tried to at any rate. Pippa couldn’t sever all ties with this man no matter how often she told herself it would be better, easier, safer. No, there were phone calls and letters, emails and now he was here with her in Venice. Here because she had asked him to come.

What was she doing?

Lying in his arms and pretending things were fine, acting as though there weren’t problems and issues to be settled and discussed. She was savoring the feel of his skin, hot and still damp with sweat, against hers. She was listening to him breath deep and even as he slept. Studying the lines and curves of his face, the delicate cheekbones and the wide, generous mouth—she could still taste his kisses when she swallowed involuntarily. Shifting, she stifled a groan as sore muscles protested, strained and aching from vigorous lovemaking. She sighed.

Pippa was not sleeping.

It would be morning soon and he would wake, she would have to find some way to either continue this charade (oh, the cowardice that taunted her) or face their relationship (lack thereof) head-on and the consequences of her actions. Would he want to discuss what happened? Could he find a way to forgive her? Should she forgive him? Did he realize that she still loved him? Too many questions and no easy answers no matter how hard she searched.

Keep trying.

Comments

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

He felt the sigh.

Rory had been drifting upward from sleep to doze, and the small sound was just enough to nudge him into wakefulness. Judging by the cadence of her breathing and heartbeat, Pippa was already awake. He wondered how long she'd been that way.

Making love with his red-haired darling last night had been exquisite and heartrending at the same time. They each knew so much about how to excite and please the other, and they both had used that knowledge to its fullest extent, triggering moans and cries and outpourings of barely coherent words. As if they were trying to drown out the memories of their months apart. As if they could pretend that the reasons for their parting didn't exist.

He knew better, though. They would have to forge their way through her abduction and its hideous aftermath if they were ever to find their way back to each other.

If they could ever.

Rory shifted a little, just enough to press a kiss against the top of Pippa's head, a small motion to acknowledge that they were both awake.

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

She closed her eyes when he kissed her hair. If only she could pretend to be asleep, but no, hard to fool him. Instead, she rolled over onto her side and pressed her face to his chest, slipped her arm around his middle and let her hand rest against his hip. "I didn't mean to wake you..."

That much was true, she had hoped he'd sleep a while longer--give her time to figure out something, anything, to say to him later. Well, that wasn't going to happen, now was it? No.

"Thank you."

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

He wrapped his arms around her, cradling her body against his. Rory could guess at a few reasons why Pippa might want to thank him, but he also knew he couldn't afford to make any assumptions. He'd made a few incorrect ones before she'd left.

Reaching one hand up to gently toy with her hair, he asked softly, "For what, sweet?"

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

"For being here. For," she swallowed and looked up at him, "last night. I needed that. I needed you."

She still did, even if she wasn't sure how much longer she'd have him. Oh, how she needed him.

"Thank you for not insisting we talk about...things." Things. Larch. Leaving. "I couldn't have done that last night."

Could she discuss them now?

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

"I needed you too, a chroi," he breathed, barely voicing the words in his warm baritone. "Needed, need ... and if you need more time, I'll give it to you." Generosity toward her hesitation, or cowardice in the face of the confessions their talk must eventually drag out? Ruddy hells, you know just which you're feeling, don't deny it.

Summoning his nerve, he continued, determined to at least open the door. "But when you are ready to talk, I'm here. Anything you need to say, I'll listen. Anything you need to ask, I'll answer." No matter how difficult the words would be.

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

Why did he have to do that? Why did he have to give her an opening? Pippa looked at him for a long, long moment before carefully untangling herself from him and sitting up. It wasn't that she didn't like being in his arms but she just could not think if she was pressed against his body that way.

Well, she couldn't think about the things that bore thinking about--the things neither of them seemed to relish discussing.

Tucking the sheet around herself and looking down at him, Pippa shook her head. "I've had six months...nearly a year if you want to consider the time before I left. Time hasn't gotten me anywhere, Ro." Oh, it had. It had. Just not where she wanted to be. "And I am not the only one who needs to talk."

That's right, she had every intention of dragging him right along with her.

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

Looking up at her face and form, outlined and graced by moonlight, Rory drew a slow breath through his nostrils and released it in a sigh. "No. No you're not." His own Larch-inflicted traumas rode close on his shoulder, it seemed, ghostly and more or less easy to ignore until they savagely invaded his memories and dreams. And he hadn't even spoken of the worst of them to Pippa.

Oh, how he wanted to pull her back down to him and coax her into more lovemaking ... and how disastrous a mistake he'd make if he did.

No more running, no more evasion. He reached for her hand and folded his fingers around hers. "Where should we start?"

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

Her right hand in his, she placed her left over them both and studied the misshapen mess that was the the side of her hand. It still made her want to scream when she looked at the mottled scar tissue where her missing finger belonged. Sometimes she felt phantom pains as if experiencing that whole ordeal all over again. Pippa still couldn't abide the sound of scissors or shears of any kind opening and closing--the whisper of metal on metal made her nauseous.

She closed her eyes. Getting sick now was not what she, or he, needed. That was not where she wanted to start. There was something far more important she had to share with him.

"I'm so sorry, Rory, for what I did. How I did it. I don't know that I could have done anything else, but I am sorry."

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

He lay silent for a moment, feeling the damage at which she was staring, the slight tremor in both her hands. The memories Pippa carried around with her injured hand made him heartsick, not least because he too carried memories of the loss of that finger, and from a perspective he wished to heaven he didn't have.

Not that it hadn't been useful at the time, he thought with a chill trickling through his gut.

Rory sat up at last, bringing his right hand around to cradle both of hers. He didn't try to hide her missing finger, but rather clasped her hands in a warm, acknowledging touch. All we can do is continue from here, somehow.

"I think, I hope I understand why you left, sweet. Most of it at least." He ached to put his arms around her, but ... not yet. "New York no longer felt safe, and you couldn't reclaim your ability to work glass there. And the memories--" He stopped and swallowed hard.

"As for how you left ... well. I won't deny it hurt, but I don't know of any way that wouldn't have. And I certainly made mistakes of my own, for which I owe you an apology."

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

He only made one mistake as far as she's concerned and Pippa wasn't so sure she wants to ask him about it just yet. "You don't have to apologize, Ro...you didn't--it wasn't," she swallowed and tried again, "I love you. I still love you."

There was such a desperate need for him to understand this; despite everything that happened, Rory Stone still had her heart. Always would.

A tremor in her voice betrayed her attempts at outward calm and she tightened her grip on his hand. She had to know, no matter how difficult it would be to ask and hard it might be to listen to his answer, she had to know the one thing she dreaded most. The reason she left him and not just New York. "Why did you do it, Ro? How...why would you ever--I never thought you were capable of doing something so wrong."

The look she gave him was full of fear and silent pleading. Please understand what I'm asking without making me be more specific. I don't want to say his name.

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

No, no need for any more specifics, and Rory had no more desire to say that particular name than Pippa had. No desire to talk about him at all, but her eyes told him that the time for hiding was over. The fear he saw there felt like a fist to his gut. He'd caught glimpses of it before she left, but to see it full on and know without possibility of evasion that it was fear of him ...

Rory's own hands started to shake before he removed them from Pippa's grasp with a whispered apology. He hoped she understood that he did so because he couldn't risk hurting her with an unconscious tightening of his grip while he waded through the quagmire that would be his confession. She still loves me. She said she does. But God, God, how can she possibly love me after this?!

He drew his legs up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them and took a tight grip on his forearms, ensuring that his hands could hurt no one but himself. Staring into the dimmest corner of the room, he took a deep breath and then another before he could force any words out.

"He ... came to the club that night. Before we found you." Definitely no need to say who he was. "He came to Last Call while I was on stage." His already-rough voice caught, forcing him to swallow again.

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

Of course she knew how strong he was, physically, even if it didn't register as a reason for him to pull away from her. His posture did tell her it wasn't out of rejection or anger, however. Pippa would normally settle for running a hand down his back and pressing a kiss to his shoulder; this situation wasn't going to find her offering that sort of comfort. Not when she was trying to brace herself for the worst.

She hadn't know of Larch's visit to Last Call, by that point, she'd been so close to death's door that her memories were a blur of pain and confusion. She was not surprised though. The bastard had been playing a sick game of torment with more than one victim. She knew he enjoyed using psychological games to hurt Rory just as he resorted to physical violence with her.

Still, this didn't make any sense to her. The monster went to the bar, how was that justification for murder? Was Rory's performance--oh, dear God. Pippa stiffened in realization. There was a burst of anger that she checked and stifled immediately: he had been singing and entertaining a crowd as if nothing were wrong while she lay in absolute filth and agony, dying. It was irrational, she told herself. Irrational and unfair. Right on the heel of that thought was one even more disturbing. She knew about her puca lover and the thrill, for a lack of a better word, he got from performing for a crowd. What must he have felt from someone as purely evil as Larch, it couldn't have been the same thing he felt from the people who came to appreciate his music, could it?

And still, Pippa couldn't see the justification. Didn't want to accept that Rory Stone could be as cold-blooded and cruel as John Larch, even if she knew it was true. He killed the man, killed him or was party to killing him. He was no better than the monster that destroyed her life. And she loved him.

This was why she ran. She was frightened of him, yes, but also herself.

"...I don't understand, Ro. What are you saying?" Is there an explanation that would make this all better? Put her at ease?

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

He didn't look at Pippa, didn't want to see her reaction, knew he'd never get through this if he did. As Rory pushed on, his voice grew more strained with every sentence. "He kept sending things to the clubs, you see. Your hair, your skirt, that damned CD ... we knew he was keeping track of me, didn't know what he'd do if I changed my routine at all. And Tadhg needed every clue we could get from him for the search spell he was using to find you, so I kept going even though it was hell. But more than that--"

Another hitch in his words. His hands clenched and released spasmodically on his arms. "We knew--knew you were hurt from the recordings the bastard made and sent to me. And that night he sent your ff-finger--" One hand whipped up and raked through his hair, as if he could rip out the memory of Tadhg's face after he looked in that gaily-wrapped box. "F-finding you wasn't enough. We needed energy if we were to have any chance of healing your injuries, and the best place for me to get that was from an audience. Or at least it was until he walked in."

He'd started to rock ever so slightly, completely unconscious of the motion, submerging as he was into the memory of that horrific night. "I felt something wrong almost immediately, something ugly. I didn't know what it was until I searched the crowd and m-met his eyes. At that moment, something--it was--" A deep, shuddering breath. "I usually protect myself from random thoughts and impulses from people in an audience. But my defenses were down, I was vulnerable ... and he was completely focused on me. Trying to get into my head."

A harsh sound that was only superficially a laugh tore from Rory. "And he succeeded. Even more than he realized, God, how he succeeded." Another gulped breath, and then the púca had to force his next sentence out through clenched teeth. "Thoughts ... memories ... an entire cesspit of filth poured through my mind, not only what he'd done to you, but what he'd done to every single woman he ever took back to that abattoir of an apartment--" A stifled retch cut off the flow of words.

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

Pippa was openly crying now, tears wetting her cheeks and trailing down her neck. He was calling forth vivid memories of what she'd experienced. She knew what had happened to those other women too--it was hard to forget the cold, moist weight of the human brain Larch placed in her naked lap. Hard to forget the smells and the blood stains, the screams he forced her to listen to...oh, Pippa knew what sort of fate she had nearly met.

Rory was telling her things that Larch told her, the hair, the clothes, CD, finger--her abductor made certain Pippa understood that these were all 'gifts' for the musician. Confirming suspicions about things she dared never question the Irishman about, that there was no way she'd have survived if he and his family weren't the fantastic beings they were. And he was telling her things she never knew. Rory could get inside a person's head, hear their thoughts and feel their emotions.

Did he ever do that to her? Invade her privacy? Manipulate her? She wanted to ask but no, she wouldn't. Couldn't. Didn't want to know. She had to believe there was something sacred between them still, a trust no matter how damaged. She didn't want to be suspicious of him.

She did move away from him, lying down and curling up against her pillow. She had to, she needed something to hold onto and with the horror Rory was speaking of, there was no comfort coming from him. "Ro..."

There were no words from her either.

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

Hearing Pippa speak his name in a thin voice, Rory wanted desperately to turn and clutch her like a floating log, the one safe thing in the tumult running riot through him. But the dams were breached now; he couldn't halt the deluge until it ran dry. Forcing his gag reflex back under his control, he went doggedly on.

"Tadhg insisted on reading what I got from Larch. God, I didn't want to inflict all that on him, but he was adamant. Said it was the only way we could find you in time, and he was right. He was right. We got you back." The rocking was more obvious now, and slight tremors radiated outward from his tension-locked stomach muscles.

"But that apartment, all those corpses ... he wasn't going to stop. The worst, the absolute worst part of having all those memories forced on me from his diseased perspective, was knowing from the inside how much he enjoyed it, how easy it was for him. And the law had him once, did he mention that? They had him and put him in an institution that he weaseled and charmed his way out of to go back into society and torture and murder over and over and over again. All those women. I saw them all, dozens of them, and dozens more to come if he had his way."

Twinned tracks of tears glinted, one on each cheek. He could feel them, warm as they spilled over, then rapidly cooling as they trickled down. "So yes, we killed him. Declared never again, this stops here and killed him." Specifically Tadhg did, but damned if Rory was going to scapegoat his younger brother. "And yes it was illegal, and maybe it was evil besides, but at least I know that no other woman will ever fall into his hands to die by slow torture. At least I know that much ..."

His head drooped forward onto his knees. Only his quaking shoulders gave any hint of his sobbing, at least until he sucked in a ragged, shaking breath.

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

She stayed quiet and still for long minutes after he stopped speaking, listening to the sounds of his breathing, his sobbing. Puca don't cry, she told herself and yet there he was, crying hard and with his whole being. It was a stark contrast to her own silent tears.

It broke her heart.

Not being able to resist trying to sooth him in some way despite her disgust at what he had told her, Pippa placed her hand against his side, her fingers lightly caressing warm skin. "Ro," she might be more calm than he at the moment, but she was far from steady as she forced out the words, "Rory, tell me you did it because you had no choice. You had no choice and it wasn't because you wanted to do it. Please..."

The act was never going to sit right with her, never, but if she could be assured that he hadn't enjoyed it the way Larch did, maybe she could put one more fear to rest. Maybe.

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

Unfortunately Rory's confession had left him far too raw to interpret Pippa's touch as the comfort she intended, so he flinched away like ... like a skittish horse. "Wanted to do it?!" He stared at her in sick amazement, púca eyes still liquid with tears. "Haven't you been listening? We had only one choice, between walking away from his clear intent to keep on with his murder spree or ending it. None of us wanted to do it, no matter how angry and disgusted we were. None of us--"

Abruptly Rory turned and swung his legs out of bed. He couldn't stay where he was, facing what he saw as the judgment in Pippa's eyes. His shudders made him stumble as he moved around the room, grabbing and donning clothes from the night before.

"I shouldn't have come," he muttered through a throat still thick. "I should have left you in peace." Almost savagely he shoved his feet into his shoes. "I thought hearing their screams was punishment enough. I shouldn't have come."

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

She sat up when she realized what he was doing, getting dressed. Leaving. If she'd been crying and filled with hurt and pain before, now there was an undercurrent of anger making her words just as sharp as his were muted. "Peace?! Do you honestly believe I have had a moment's peace since any of this even started?"

Pippa wasn't going to bother with clothes, she pulled the loose bed sheet around herself and stood up, moving towards him. "And now I'm punish--go to hell. Why don't you just--" There wasn't anything there she could throw at him so Pippa just stood in silent rage, fists curled at her her chest, holding that sheet in place.

Didn't he realize that she heard their screams too? Their pleas and their prayers? Made many of her own?

"You played judge, jury and executioner in some sick vigilante game of justice, Rory. I'm not sure how you want me to react to that. Do I thank you? Is that it? Call you a hero, so brave and noble? Do you want my fucking gratitude?"

If he was going to leave her, she was at least going to give him reason to not come back.

"I know I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. I know that. But I can't thank you for it." And she couldn't stand this anymore. "I can't be thankful for any of this, not when it's my fault that you killed someone. I don't care how low and vile and disgusting and horrifying he was--you killed someone because of me. Do you know what that does to me? Knowing that? You want to talk about punishment..."

She turned away from him, letting him leave if that's what he wanted. "You have no idea how much I hate myself."

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

He froze at her words, feeling them as a lash across his back. Silently he sat in the chair he dropped into to put on his shoes, hands dangling loosely over his knees. When he spoke, his voice sounded dead in his own ears.

"We didn't kill him because of you. If you had been his only victim, he'd still be breathing right now. We killed him to make sure he added no more corpses to that charnel room of his, and for no other reason. And if you honestly believe it was game, then you truly haven't been listening."

His fingers clenched and released, clenched and released. "I don't expect you to react any way other than how you choose. How you must. Rage at me, think me as vile as he was, call me whatever you like, it's entirely your choice and always has been. I'm not demanding gratitude or anything else from you that you can't give. I only ever wanted you to be happy."

But you needn't bother ordering me to hell. His hands finally found a grip on his knees. I'm already there, thanks to him.

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

And the irrational part of her mind spit back with you aren't worth killing for, causing Pippa to flee the small bedroom and slam the bathroom door behind her before she gave into the rising bile making her retch.

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

If you disgust her enough to make her vomit, then you have your answer, don't you?

Disgust or no, that answer still couldn't push Rory to pack up and leave entirely. It did, however, push him out the door and down the stairs. He muttered, "Scusi" to a woman he nearly ran into just outside of the building that housed Marcello's studio, then walked off with his hands shoved in his pockets to hide the shaking.

In the end, he didn't go far, not even out of sight of the studio's windows. He walked to the nearest canal and dropped onto a bench, staring at the dark water while darker voices bubbled up from his subconscious.

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

She made herself retch. She also made herself get up off the floor when she heard him leave the studio. Forced herself to brush her teeth and wash her face, though the latter seemed rather moot. She was still crying and the red blotches on her pale skin had already done their damage.

Stomach not settled but at least emptied, Pippa found herself back in the bedroom. On the bed and staring blankly at the rumpled mess they'd created with their lovemaking, wondering miserably at the way things had gone from being so right to so, so very wrong. He was gone and she felt hollow.

He never did get a look at the Red King.

That brought a new round of vision blurring tears to the fore and Pippa buried her face in the pillow that still smelled of Rory. Maybe they'd never understand each other again, never learn how to listen to one another in any way that mattered ever again.

How could he have thought she'd be happy like this?

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

Unbeknown to Pippa, Rory sat silent and motionless by the canal for hours, listening to screams and ugly laughter that only he could hear. The sun came up, its first warming rays brushing his face, but it did not draw him from his personal darkness. Her name was Tonia, and Larch took days to flay and disembowel her...

A hand tapping his shoulder made him start and look up. Not very far up, since the signora who'd touched him wasn't much taller than he was sitting. He shook his head in confusion at her Italian questions, but after he finally managed to get across that he was all right (thus pulling off a fairly spectacular lie), she smiled, patted him again and moved on.

Rory sighed, feeling a sudden, intense desire for his guitar. Music, at least, had never deserted him. No matter how distraught he felt, playing his emotions out in song had always given him something to hold onto. And he wasn't of much use in any other capacity, or so he felt right now.

Eventually he trailed back the way he came, reluctant to face Pippa, but even more reluctant to be alone any longer. When he opened the door as quietly as he could, he saw Pippa curled on the bed, her tear-stained face pressed into the pillows. He slipped inside, dropped back into the armchair he'd vacated hours ago, leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

It was a while longer before the sun was high enough for the bright light to fill the studio and rouse Pippa from a sleep that provided little rest. She scrubbed the back of her hand over her face and moaned as she tried to hide her face in the pillows until memory caused her to open her eyes wide and sit straight up. She wasn't home, she was at Marcello's with, no not with Rory any longer. They'd fought and she'd run while he stormed out. He left. He--

Was sitting right there, across the room. He looked as exhausted as she felt. More, he looked old, worn, weary, frayed. Fragile. He looked fragile as he sat there with his eyes closed, so still and so silent.

"Ro...?" Barely more than a jagged whisper, her throat raw and dry, she tried once more for something less harsh, "Rory?"

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

He didn't want to move. Didn't want to speak either, truth be told, but Rory wasn't yet feeling churlish enough to stay silent when Pippa had just addressed him directly. His first attempt to answer her taught him just how raw his throat was from crying. He supposed he could heal it, but somehow that didn't seem worth the effort either.

A careful throat-clearing followed a swallow, and finally he was able to get out, "Yes?"