milliways_bar | (no subject)

Nick opens his eyes to a smoky darkness which is comforting in it's warmth. It takes him a moment, longer than usual, to realize that the darkness and warmth are from the same source: Ophelia.

The bond he shared with her due to the mixing of their blood is still strong after several days, but the warmth between them isn't entirely from that. The feelings that got him through the vines are still there, still present, and he holds her slightly closer...just glad that she really was there, that he was able to save her.

He starts as he realizes he doesn't know where LaCroix or Natalie are, but when he feels nothing but calm across their link, he figures that Natalie took care of things as well as she could.

"Ophelia? Are you all right?" he murmurs gently. He's still so out of sorts from the other night...though he knows he has some apologies to make and some flowers to deliver to a certain waitress in a sweatband.

*She nuzzles closer, for the moment aware only of warmth and comfort and love.*

Yes.

*And then the events of the last few days filter slowly into her mind. Anthy, and then flowers. Oh. Flowers. And Bernard and Fleur and Aziraphael and...

She tenses and throws herself off of the couch, sits on the floor with her arms wrapped around her knees and her eyes wide and afraid.*

Did I... did they... is everyone alright?

He instantly pulls her close, long strokes to her hair meant to calm her.

"Everyone is fine, Ophelia, okay? At least they were when I...when..."

He shuts down then, the warmth somewhat forgotten as the memory of the other night takes over. He feels vaguely sick to his stomache as he remembers the conversation he had with the dancer...and definitely ill as he thinks of what happened to Val.

*And then Ophelia is comforting him, running her fingers through his hair and leaving tiny red blossoms, like drops of blood, where her fingers touch.*

Shhh.

Shhh.

No. No, everyone is fine. We're fine.

He holds onto her, feeling the flowers in his hair in an odd way that doesn't really feel like touch. It's been so much longer than it usually is in such cases, but he can still feel the flowers a bit. They no longer appear from him...but he can feel them in a way that he knows is not quite his. He wonders if this is because of some sort of new bond that has formed between him and Ophelia or if it is just their proximity and the amount of blood.

He doesn't say anything at first, content to just soak in the love and support from his couchmate...but he can't do that forever. He refuses to use her like that. She needs him now, and he's not going to have saved her to shirk on that duty now.

"Do you...what do you remember?" he asks carefully, "And...what's...what's still there now?"

*She sits back on her heels and stares at him, several ccurls falling across her face.*

I remember... I remember wanting to answer people. Wanting to come out.

But they were too strong. I remember... I gave up. But then they were angry, and then you came.

Nick smiles. It is a small smile, mischievious, but still there.

"I have a talent for making others angry with me...but I don't regret coming. I don't regret anything about that night."

He's lying a bit. He does somewhat regret hitting that girl...but only because he hit her. His own anger, and the small traces of Ophelia still in him, feel right in their actions against her, but his basic code rebels at the idea. He doesn't regret the reason, but he does regret the action.

"I'm just glad I was able to save you."

*She leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to his lips.*

Thank you.

He kisses her back, feeling more of that warmth enter him, before pulling her to him in a gentle hug.

"I...do love you, Ophelia. I hope you realize that. I love you...like my best friend, like Janette. She was with me for...nearly 800 years. And even though she's...gone, I will never forget what she did for me...how she helped me. How happy she made me. I'm...glad that I've been able to find that with you, Ophelia. You'd be surprised...how few friends like you I've been able to make even with such a long life."

*She hugs him in return.*

Of course you love me. You saved me. You wouldn't have saved me if you didn't love me.

And now I'll save you.

He doesn't understand how he's gaining strength from her. It's not...a blood connection, but he can feel her as a warmth around him in a not-quite-temperature sort of way. The rest of the bar gives him similar signals now, but none so strong as Ophelia...and the two figures he can see across the bar. He dismisses them for the moment, knowing that he's not quite there enough to deal with more than one person.

"I...appreciate the sentiment, but I doubt there's little that can be done to save me. Your friendship is enough."

*She cocks her head to one side and looks at him seriously for a long moment.*

Define salvation.

There was little that could be done to save me, either. And yet I am saved.

Nick bows his head, unable to speak for a moment, before raising it again to look at her. Eyes deep and understanding...no judgement. Just caring. He misses eyes like that. He loves Natalie and LaCroix, in ways he has yet to truly fathom, but he still finds judgement in their eyes.

"Salvation is when I can look at myself in the mirror and no longer hate what stares back at me. Salvation is knowing that I have given more to this world than I have taken. Salvations is...salvation is a measure of happiness that has no bill on it."

*She shrugs.*

Maybe. Maybe not.

Maybe salvation is not needing salvation, anymore.

Ophelia's words strike to his core, though they disturb as much as they enlighten.

"Maybe." he admits lamely, unsure how he feels about the idea. His life has been about salvation for so long, the idea of no longer needing it is both amazing and frightening.

*She nods, understanding.*

Maybe.

*Ophelia knows not to push. She knows. She has been there - is, perhaps, still there. She knows, and she loves him, and so she will keep trying, but she will not push.*

He can feel the restraint in that single word. She's letting him figure out what she means, what he means...what it means, and it's so refreshing that he can't help but sling his arm around her and squeeze gently.

"You're a wonderful influence on me, Ophelia. I...wish that I had met you sooner."

*She smiles and rests her head on his shoulder.*

You met me when you did. It's how it works.

"I know..." Nick responds before curling his arm around Ophelia, "And I thank my stars for that eery day."

*Ophelia curls against him for a few minutes, then finally kisses him on the cheek and stands.*

I'm going to the lake, and my hammock. I will see you again soon.

*And she leaves.*