Pamela is made of (hemlockandhoney) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-07-29 15:52:00 |
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Iris' message was cryptic, and Cerise really hated when words became more like cloaks and daggers. There seemed to have been some kind of falling out between Iris and Ian, and regardless of who had started it, Cerise was really doubting that it would be one of those hospitable breakups with no nuclear fall out. With everything that was going on all around them, she couldn't imagine why this had to happen now. It must have had something to do with the party, and that was a thought that left Cerise disgusted, but she'd get over it.
She was done helping people. She was done doing favors and interceding on the behalf of people who didn't care about her in return. If only Cerise didn't care so fucking much, it would have been easier. But she couldn't keep doing this, she couldn't keep victimizing herself. The record had been skipping for years, and it had to start playing again. She needed a reset, and maybe the party was it.
It wasn't as easy as she'd hoped it would be, moving on. Iris' request that she check on Ian triggered the old fear, the bottled up and potent stuff in the basement. She grimaced at the book because if Iris was so concerned about her relationship, she needed to go check on Ian herself. Cerise wasn't doing shit for anyone.. but.. all that caring couldn't be killed overnight. It didn't die with her in that basement. The monster had not eaten that part, it seemed he'd left the bad stuff behind. She couldn't blame him.
It was late in the evening when she stepped into the darkened hall. Bare feet on a long rug, plaid boxers the color of decade-faded rust, and an old Stone Temple Pilots tee shirt that had a big hole on the side, but she couldn't quite bear to part with it. All of her clothes were like that, critical memories.
Stopped before Ian's closed door, she glanced back down the hall to where her own room's door was open and inviting. She'd told Iris that she would though, and Cerise sighed before knocking. She was such a fucking pushover, still. The hotel had changed nothing.
He wasn't at peace, really, but there was a certain calm to him in the wake of the blonde woman's murder at his hands, fulfilling a need in him that the hotel had awakened but had left unfulfilled at that damnable party. He loathed being messed with, having his mind toyed with, and even if the hotel had done nothing more than reveal a secret to him, it had still done so without his explicit permission, and that was something that he could not nor would not forgive.
Iris remained on his thoughts, never that far away, even as he sipped on the glass of cognac he had poured, staring out the window into the Vegas night, the city twinkling some distance away, but he could see no beauty in those lights right then. It was just emptiness, empty, vapid lives that held no interest for him. She was gone, she had chose to leave, and if that was what she wanted, then so be it. He didn't twist arms to have the attention put on him, but that didn't mean he would forget her so easily.
Another drink of the liquor as the knock on his door came, and for a moment, he thought it might have been her. That was the only reason he answered. "Come in," he called out, his voice heavy, dark, carrying with it an air of danger that it hadn't held as of late.
Despite the invitation to come in, there was some teeth-grinding hesitation on her side before Cerise exhaled rough and pushed the thoughts out of her head. She opened the door and stepped inside, noting immediately where Ian rested, sipping his drink. The room seemed calm, and she knew that calm could sometimes exist before storms, but she had not considered that the storm had already passed. Ian looked relaxed, however, and that was a boost of confidence. She stepped forward, regarding him with strong, sober eyes. She hadn't looked so sturdy in a long, long time. Her thin shoulders peeled back, and she tilted her head slightly. "Is everything okay?"
Then, because she didn't see a reason not to say it, "Iris contacted me. She asked me to come and check on you." Cerise thoughtfully neglected to add the part where Iris had said she was not coming back. Insult to injury. Perhaps she should not have mentioned Iris at all, but Ian seemed calm and reasonable lately. Part of her thought that he might find Iris' concern touching.
When it wasn't Iris that walked through his door but Cerise instead, Ian said nothing for the longest while, simply looking her over before he gave the tiniest nods of his head, returning his gaze to the window that he was looking out before she entered. Of course it wasn't Iris, and he had been foolish to think that it might have been. Too much thinking on one person was starting to make him weak. Vulnerable. Foolish. And it was time for that to end.
"Everything's quite fine," Ian responded, taking another drink and extending a hand to the other chair that sat near the window. "Sit with me? There's cognac, if you would like. Water if you would rather pass." She was expected to sit, to have a drink with him, and he would not take no for an answer. "As for Iris," Ian began, his chin lifting a slight bit even as his gaze narrowed. "That is no longer. She returned her key earlier this afternoon." It was said simply and without emotion, and perhaps that's what made the words most dangerous of all.
Her attention strayed to the chair near the window, although she did not make an immediate advance toward it. The night was getting late, and she suspected that Ian would prefer to be alone. The fact that his voice sounded so flat and unaffected when he spoke of Iris' leaving made Cerise hesitate. She'd never given too much consideration to the relationship between Ian and the blond woman. Iris had seemed important, although she also knew that Ian saw different levels of importance in different people. "Oh," Cerise ultimately whispered. She ground her bare toes into the carpet, uncertain of how to continue for a moment.
"She seemed to think you were upset or would be upset about something.." It was a gentle prompt, and she still wasn't sure if she was supposed to sit down in that other chair like he'd asked, or leave back out the door like she wanted to. Maybe it was better not to be alone, even if the company was his. Cerise never was good to herself when she was alone.
"Please sit down, Cerise. You're going to wear holes in my carpet if you continue on like that." He hadn't looked back towards her to see the way she ground her toes into the carpet, but he knew, somehow, that she was fidgeting, and the act made him anxious, on edge. Another sip of cognac and the glass was set aside, his attention once again drawn towards her as he mentioned that he might be upset about something. A tilt of his head, something cold in his expression. "Yes, well, Iris has often said things that aren't always true. She wasn't entirely there at times, was she?" The corner of his mouth lifted up in a smile, one that strayed no where near to his eyes. "Please. Sit. I don't want to speak of her any longer, so you'll not mention her name again in my presence. Understood?" His voice had that cold tone again, the one that could burn with its intensity, and there was definitely something Very Wrong with him.
The words that Ian spoke were not unusual or cruel, but there was a certain chill in his voice that made Cerise watch him with increasing apprehension. His smile was paperthin, and that made her decide that he missed Iris already. There had to have been some elements of romance between them that she didn't understand, and honestly, Cerise wasn't the best judge of what was normal in a relationship anyway. When he asked her to sit down again, she crossed over to the window and took a seat. She ignored the cognac in favor of some water, and after taking a sip, she looked over at him.
She used to think that he'd confided in her once. If he ever confided in anyone, she'd always thought it had been her.. and maybe he hadn't. Maybe everything had always been too Machiavellian for her to see even now, but she still thought that he might favor her opinion. "I understand, but.. Iris wouldn't have asked me to check on you if she didn't care, I'm sure she'll come back." Nobody really left his side, Cerise was a testament to that. Although, she was forced to recall that Sid had left for good and never looked back.
He was quiet until she had seated herself, and if he was at all disappointed in her choice of beverages, it didn't register on his face. Instead, he refilled his glass, took another sip, and let his gaze grow far away for a long while, thinking about what had happened, what had been said, and the girl who had died beneath his hands. One hand clenched in memory, but abruptly relaxed when Cerise spoke again, his gaze drawn back to her and her softly spoken words.
"She made her choice to leave," Ian began, and that hand clenched again, anger threading through him though it didn't quite reach his voice - yet. "I gave her the option if she insisted on hiding from me, and she decided that was what she wished to do. Who am I to stop her, Cerise? The people in my life, they are always transitive. But not you. Never you." The cognac was sat down and he gave a pat to his leg, invitation. "Come here."
It felt like pins and needles when Ian's stare went all distant, but not quite with longing. Cerise didn't know what that kind of look meant. It didn't look like missing when she did it. It didn't look like two days on the bathroom floor, tears and bile and so sick from missing the spoon that death would have been sweet like candy. It didn't look like can't get out of bed, just come back, please come back. Maybe it was that other kind of missing, the kind where there was a tiger inside clawing you to shreds and you just had to get out in the night and be mean as rabies before the tiger ate you alive. Cerise knew about that kind of missing too.
But Ian's voice was soft, and she had to wonder if that was how sad it ever got for him. Cerise laced her fingers around the water glass, nervous scratching of nails against the tumbler's crystal grooves. When he asked her to come closer, the water inside the glass turned rocky like the ocean in hurricane season, but her eyes were steady and she set it aside. Standing, she walked over to him with the smooth, confident steps that she'd learned while walking through fire.
He was water on the verge of boiling, the energy in him active, ready to erupt into something that could destroy with the slightest provocation. But it wasn't directed towards Cerise, and as she came closer, coming to his side, he didn't ask permission as he pulled her down and onto his lap, arms winding around her in a hug that was both caring and possessive in the same breath. "This will not be a repeat of the last time we were all together," he said quietly, his voice pitched so low, so dangerously low, that it was felt more than heard. The pieces were gathered. He, Cerise, Drake, Sid, even Iris, and something dark and dangerous was looming on the horizon. Ian never claimed to know what the future brought, no. He left that to little gypsy girls with the knowing eyes, but he was also not one to believe that the future was set in stone. If death loomed in front of them, it would not be his own threatened.
"I need you to keep an eye on them," he said softly, and there was no mistaking who 'them' referred to. His hands were laced together, arms comfortable around her, and if she resisted his hold at all, it was ignored as though it didn't even happen. She was one of the treasured ones, and he didn't believe in her refusing him anything.
Cerise went still when he reached for her, although she did not resist when he pulled her down onto his lap, as if he were a mall Santa to quiz her on what she wanted for Christmas. She was stiff shoulders with distant eyes as she listened, uncertain of what he was promising. More than anything, Cerise wanted for it all to stop. She wished that Ian had not come here, that Drake, and even Sid, had not come here. Why couldn't everyone just go off and live their lives? Ian could have gone undetected for a very long time, if not forever. Everyone had thought he was dead.
Yes, she knew who he meant by them, although she was not sure what he wanted her to do in following them. She knew that Ian could not believe she would hurt Sid, or let him hurt Sid. The list of people that she was willing to die for was small, but significant, and Ian hadn't been in its column for a long, long time. She didn't think that there was anything he could do to get her trust all of the way back, or her uncompromised loyalty.. but he still had ways of getting her to cooperate. She nodded wordlessly, thoughtful eyes still positioned out the window.
She thought about her conversation with Sid, about the baby, and the wife, and the new life. She could picture it perfectly. Despite everything between her and Sid, the quiet family life was undeniably him. Thinking about it made her throat tight, aching with the sudden urge to cry although she didn't know why. When she looked at him, her green eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Why did you go after them? They thought you were dead, you could have just.. left them alone." Even as she said it, she knew it was stupid. Ian never let anything or anyone get away from him.
If the stiffness of her body was noticed, he didn't say a word about it, comfortable with her in his lap, the father and daughter that wasn't quite right. Ian was quiet, just letting the moment exist as it was, at least that's how he had continued on staying until she asked that question. His gaze moved towards her, sharp and assessing, but he didn't move otherwise, simply drawing in a breath and releasing it, his shoulders sinking back down. "Go after them?" he asked, his voice pitched quiet. "I don't know what you're talking about." Because while things might have happened upon his direction, Ian hadn't gone after anyone personally. There were people to do that, people that didn't mind getting his hands dirty so that he didn't have to.
There was a separation in her head, the familiar detachment that rode along in the sidecar of so many years. The cool buzz that had nothing to do with drugs and everything to do with just... stopping, and listening, and trying not to think about what was happening or why. She sniffed briefly, calmer since she'd first walked into the room, and reflective as she wiped at her eyes with the pale belly of a wrist. "You killed their-- their brother.." Sniff. "You -- you killed Sid's -- his.. his.." The words broke and crumbled in a dry throat that was as painful as the past, and Cerise squeezed her eyes closed in an attempt to get the detachment back. She didn't know when it had gotten away from her, but it'd left a goodbye note of silent tear stains on her cheeks.
"Can we just leave?" The question was sudden, and too soft to hold the weight of anything more than weakened sadness. She dropped her forehead onto his shoulder, wondering how it could feel the same after twenty years. "You and me? We can go somewhere, move away, go back to Texas," but she didn't want that at all. Cerise didn't know what she wanted, but she knew the absence of whatever it was was so abysmal and forever alone and frightening.. but worse than all, it was exhausting. She was so tired of this, and of everyone's backs as they walked away.
Even if her words hadn't broken, even if there hadn't been the sniff as she wiped her eyes, Ian would have felt the way things started to crumble apart. He didn't address her concerns, the death of their brother, because that would just open the way to more questions than he wanted Cerise to concern herself with. "Cerise, shhh. Shhh." One hand came up to rest upon her back as she dropped her forehead against his shoulder, rubbing smooth circles there, listening to the soft words, exhaustion laced through them. "You know very well that we can't leave, not with things as they are." Oh, he could, but things were left unfinished, and now that his presence had been revealed, leaving wouldn't begin to solve any of their problems. No, this time he would have to see it through, whatever the conclusion was.
"But you please me when you talk that way, Cerise. You make me so happy when you say things like that." It was a balm against the anger that had been simmering just below the surface, something to quiet it, to ease the world into something that wasn't tinged in red. "You're a good girl, Cerise. You've always been such a good girl." And Ian turned his head to the side, pressing his lips against her temple, a lingering, fatherly kiss. "Thank you."
Cerise's sigh was resolved and his kiss affected her only in that she closed her eyes instead of staring endlessly out that window. His voice was smooth and comforting, but she recognized the words for what they were; a soft gravedigging tune. Nothing ever ended well, why should Vegas be any different? She momentarily wondered if it was possible to hide in the hotel until everything was over with, and it seemed like such a good idea that she knew it wouldn't work either. Nothing gold could stay.