He found Brit in the ballroom of the warehouse where she had been spending more than part of her days. Always restless and often alone, she was prancing and twirling to music even as gunfire and screaming raged in the streets below. Upon glimpsing him, she stopped dancing and walked to him greeting him warmly. He placed a triad of kisses on her before gathering her close. There were no words. She had come to expect the quiet. Since his change in appearance, he spoke less each day. Tonight, he spoke not at all, but clasped her to him tightly and stroked her hair. The act of repeatedly pulling his bloodied fingers through her soft strands seemed to have a calming effect.
While holding her, he started to rock her slowly even though his motion did not match the music. He said nothing, and so she waited. Time passed: Minutes. When nothing was said in an hour, she lisped, “I’m not afraid, Ethan.” He paused mid-rock at the sound of her voice. Encouraged, she continued, “Vlad said…that I should not be afraid.” He did not move for a moment, but his eyes watched toward the sounds of gunfire that occasionally hit the bricks of the building. Brushing his hair back from his face with her fingers, she said softly, “Vlad said that fear is only for those who have no redeemer.” He didn’t move and continued to watch the wall in the direction of gunfire. She felt herself pulled in tighter as he wrapped both arms around her. She could feel the tension in him and tried to see if he could hear her. “I don’t remember any of it,” she started. His hold on her tensed more.
His reaction made her feel that he could indeed hear, but she also understood that the fact that she had only been burned when others suffered so much more mattered little if at all to him. Wrapping both arms around his neck, she pulled his head down slightly so she could see his eyes. Her mossy green eyes held his gaze and she recited in a hushed voice, “A redeemer…is someone or something that can rescue you from things that make you afraid.” No response, but he continued to watch her. When she nibbled her lip and processed trying to think what to do or say, he started to rock her against him again. The motion was slow and methodical. She nuzzled against him ignoring the hard, encrusted debris on his clothing.
Brit took comfort in his nearness and his holding her so protectively. She looked at her arm and saw no marks there. Struggling with the placement of events, she mused over what people had told her. She remembered being alone in the library and woke in the Voodoo Shop with Ethan and Niki near. Later, she found that Pieter and Lorne had brought her to the shop, and that one watched while the other healed the burns. Remembering none of that, she sighed and pressed her face against Ethan’s chest. It was all so very confusing to her. Vlad’s words, “And those who did it were burned back,” echoed in her memory, but she said nothing. She felt secure and safe in the arms of the one who extracted revenge. Brit was not comfortable with revenge and was even less so when it involved events that she had no recollection.
The shouts, screams, and sounds of bullets continued. More time passed. Sometimes, he touched her hair or pressed her against him as he silently held her. She missed her beloved with his ready smile, and grey eyes. The night was growing lighter. Pulling on her jacket to leave with him to their resting spot, she kissed him lightly. Quoting Vlad, she lisped, “Everyone gets a chance to be a redeemer.” Blinking, she measures each word carefully as if they might help him if they were said perfectly, “The world only crumbles if we allow it.” He pulled her close to him and walked her home.
While holding her, he started to rock her slowly even though his motion did not match the music. He said nothing, and so she waited. Time passed: Minutes. When nothing was said in an hour, she lisped, “I’m not afraid, Ethan.” He paused mid-rock at the sound of her voice. Encouraged, she continued, “Vlad said…that I should not be afraid.” He did not move for a moment, but his eyes watched toward the sounds of gunfire that occasionally hit the bricks of the building. Brushing his hair back from his face with her fingers, she said softly, “Vlad said that fear is only for those who have no redeemer.” He didn’t move and continued to watch the wall in the direction of gunfire. She felt herself pulled in tighter as he wrapped both arms around her. She could feel the tension in him and tried to see if he could hear her. “I don’t remember any of it,” she started. His hold on her tensed more.
His reaction made her feel that he could indeed hear, but she also understood that the fact that she had only been burned when others suffered so much more mattered little if at all to him. Wrapping both arms around his neck, she pulled his head down slightly so she could see his eyes. Her mossy green eyes held his gaze and she recited in a hushed voice, “A redeemer…is someone or something that can rescue you from things that make you afraid.” No response, but he continued to watch her. When she nibbled her lip and processed trying to think what to do or say, he started to rock her against him again. The motion was slow and methodical. She nuzzled against him ignoring the hard, encrusted debris on his clothing.
Brit took comfort in his nearness and his holding her so protectively. She looked at her arm and saw no marks there. Struggling with the placement of events, she mused over what people had told her. She remembered being alone in the library and woke in the Voodoo Shop with Ethan and Niki near. Later, she found that Pieter and Lorne had brought her to the shop, and that one watched while the other healed the burns. Remembering none of that, she sighed and pressed her face against Ethan’s chest. It was all so very confusing to her. Vlad’s words, “And those who did it were burned back,” echoed in her memory, but she said nothing. She felt secure and safe in the arms of the one who extracted revenge. Brit was not comfortable with revenge and was even less so when it involved events that she had no recollection.
The shouts, screams, and sounds of bullets continued. More time passed. Sometimes, he touched her hair or pressed her against him as he silently held her. She missed her beloved with his ready smile, and grey eyes. The night was growing lighter. Pulling on her jacket to leave with him to their resting spot, she kissed him lightly. Quoting Vlad, she lisped, “Everyone gets a chance to be a redeemer.” Blinking, she measures each word carefully as if they might help him if they were said perfectly, “The world only crumbles if we allow it.” He pulled her close to him and walked her home.
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