Username: 
Password:    
Remember Me

Search by :  Username E-mail Region Interest AOL IM ICQ Number Yahoo! ID MSN Username Jabber

nathan rothstein is dorian's (grayfaust) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-07-22 08:39:00

Who: Nathan, Loren, and Meredith (Dorian cameo)
What: Nathan's timely demise
Where: A church... somewhere... nearby.
When: RECENTLY
Warnings/Rating: Swearing, violence, stalking, death, destruction, desecration of holy ground, etc.


Meredith was quiet as she stepped into the church that morning, and by this day, it was a routine that was becoming almost familiar to her. She was dressed sedately in a pale cream knee-length skirt, a soft mint sleeveless top, her red hair loose around her bare shoulders. The church was serene, the morning sun just starting to peek through the windows, the air not yet warmed with the summer sun. If she noticed anyone else was there with her that morning, she made no mind of it, instead moving down the main aisle of the church, stepping to the right and taking a seat in one of the front pews. Meredith had not been raised in a family that was particularly religious. They had gone to services at Christmas, lit the candles, sang the songs, but it was never a big part of her upbringing. Here, in the quiet before the day started, she could appreciate the atmosphere, the peace that overtook the place, and she wondered if she might even keep this up when all was said and done.

She let out a long breath, tilting her head back to look up towards the ceiling, the lights that hung, the crosses affixed to the walls. Her thoughts wandered, a meandering trail that took her many places, and more often than not, it brought her back to her husband and her son, and she found herself missing them more when she was here, on the brink of something finally coming to an end, than she had in the months since she had come to Las Vegas. Perhaps this was an end of a chapter.

Drawing her gaze away from the walls and the ceiling, Meredith lowered her gaze and dropped her head forward, her fingers curled together as she settled and spoke in silence to whatever, whomever, listened above.

Nathan had been circling for some time, like vultures over carion, acquiring ever more dark feathers and even darker intent. Most of his days were caught up in fantasizing about his next love, his next kill, thinking about all the ways to approach her and the best ways to keep her close as long as possible. It was meant to be, he knew. His father had tried to speak to him again, something about getting careless, probably about the stupid soap star, but Nathan barely heard him. His only concerns were nightmares where she escaped him, or where she slipped away into the night never to be seen again. It was unlikely but the thought frightened him, and sometimes on those nights he would sneak off into Passages and find a day or so of absent calm while Dorian amused himself with whatever foul people or things that disgusting man could dream up. Nathan was looking forward to the time when the nightmares would end, when they would be together and she would not be able to escape.

Patterns were Nathan’s best friend, and he didn’t know how he’d only picked up on this one a few days ago. It seemed impossible, but true. His favorite so far had also liked churches, and he thought of Hannah often with a fondness for how she must be decaying in the desert alone, waiting for him. He approved of his new love having some of that same sweetness. His recent enamorment of redheads only made the discovery better. Making sure all his usual tools were in place and that his innocent business casual attire neat, Nathan moved around the edge of the church, going for a side entrance where he would not be seen.

The church had been quiet for hours. Even with Jules' instructions, Loren showed up several ticks of the short hand early to case the building. There was a brief tour of a cab ride around the dark exterior to note all of the entrances and exits, of which there were thankfully only four. Then it was time to survey the inside, which took over an hour to do properly. Not that he could remember what the proper way was, but the church was quiet before the sun rose and it gave Loren the solitude needed to explore the pews and the pulpit. To the immediate right of the entrance, there were a wall of candles. Most unlit, but a trio still floating with a dwindling flame from the last prayers that ignited them. Stepping up to the candles, Loren watched their quiet votive coffins of red glass, so many pale wicks yet to be lit. As he understood it, people lit these candles to pray for loved ones. There were several books of matches in a little cup on the tabletop, and Loren prodded the paperback contents with an index finger with a numb sense of sedation. He wondered who Hannah had prayed for, who the candles at his house were for, if they were for anyone at all. She had to of had someone, someone more than him. To think otherwise was too depressing. Unfolding a dollar bill from his back pocket, Loren tucked the folded green into the slot of the donation box before he took up a match for a quick strike and lit a candle. Who he was lighting it for, he didn't know.

For over two hours, he sat in the confession box. The church was open all hours for the desperate of prayer, but the priests couldn't be around for awhile, and that was for the best. From the slots in the confession door, he could see light from the rising sun beginning to glow through the stained glass windows that portrayed all of the saints. They lined the walls, so many windows, and Loren watched quietly with a strange detachment that he assumed came with the foresight of death. He knew nothing of the man that would supposedly come for Meredith. If Loren had a skill set before, he was not certain that it was in place now, or if he would be the one walking away from this church. If anyone would walk away. From the thin slots in the confessional door, he could see the crucifix hanging large and in charge. Why was it that God was supposed to be the only one who got to decide who lived and who died? There was a darkness in everyone, he believed that more and more every day. Even now he -- the creak of the front door stirred him. Tense as a starved tiger, Loren froze from where he sat in the wooden box and watched the woman pass down the aisle before him. Meredith. He watched her quietly, shamefully glad that it was her and not Jules that had showed. He knew that part of him was Tate, or hoped and assumed it was so.

The door tucked behind the pulpit slid open heavily against the carpet and then clicked shut. The click echoed, echoed, and echoed again, and Nathan listened to it as he looked upward. He did not find this place to be any more special than any other. There was no great Being to stop him, or perhaps He approved. Maybe it was true love, after all, true because it was what Nathan was really meant to do, what he was meant to be. Keeping to one side and moving behind the bank of flickering candles and then past the confessionals, Nathan looked around for anyone else that might be watching, but there was no one. Perhaps it was time to be bolder. He took one step, and the leather-clad shoe of a predator sounded in the aisle.

It was the sound of the pulpit opening and closing that drew Meredith’s gaze back up, her heart quickening slightly, blue eyes a round thing against her pale face. Looking this way and that, she looked for movement, the dim lighting of the church offering little in the way of definition. Swallowing back past the lump that had risen in her throat, Meredith could tell that she was not alone in the church, and no one had taken a seat to join her in their morning prayers. Anxiety stole her voice, but not her ability to move as she stood smoothly and turned, preparing to leave, but that flicker of movement to one side stilled her, had her squinting in that direction to try and make out who it was in the shadows around the edge.

Nathan put on his best sheepish smile and stepped out of the shadows, moving around the edge of one of the piers two down, between Meredith and the front doors. This was it, the first meet, the pivotal moment where everything came together. “Hey!” he said. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Kind of spooky when it’s all empty like this, huh?” Nathan had on his comfortable jeans and the sneakers he met his last victim in, and he felt comfortable in them because he knew there wasn’t a trace of anything bad even if they bore witness, even if they’d been in that house with him. Suddenly, Nathan felt Dorian watching. It was unusual but not alarming, and gave Nathan a certain sense of satisfaction that there was someone there to appreciate.

“Just not used to seeing anyone in here this early in the morning, that’s all.” Meredith took a step down the aisle, steady, easy steps in his direction, though she was cautious as any young woman would be meeting someone she didn’t know. “And yeah, it is kind of spooky if you think like that, but I...” She looked upwards, towards the ceilings, the smattering of light in so many shades of colours that cast through the windows. “I think it’s kind of peaceful as well. Serene. That moment before the day begins and you have this fresh canvas to work with.” Meredith let out a breath and looked back towards the newcomer, pausing when there was still space between them, her smile warm. “I kind of like it like this. No expectations, you know?” One shoulder shrugged up towards her ear, her bottom lip bit for a moment before she released it, relaxing. “I hate to say hi and then run, but I’ve got to get going. Have to get some coffee before work, or I’ll be a zombie all day.” The lies came easily and she shifted to the other side of the aisle as she made her way down, steps suddenly a bit swifter.

Nathan shifted to block her way; not a lot, just an inch or so that was mostly hip and shoulder. He wasn’t a big man, with a baby face and a mass of innocent curly hair, but he stood up very tall as he looked at her, nothing of shyness there. He also didn’t blink. His eyes were starting to shine with the intensity, but he was staring at her without looking away and without interruption--the way a snake watches a mouse. And like the snake, he moved forward--very, very slowly. “You’re going to ruin the serenity you just found if you get all crazy in a hurry,” he said, smiling. He fluttered three fingers out to one side as if to indicate the church, but still he did not look away. The master magician, he put the other hand behind his back.

As the man stepped in her way, blocking the exit from her, Meredith ducked her chin and took a step back, a move which she regretted as soon as she did it because it put her on the defensive, showed that she was intimidated by him. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she had to look away from that intense stare, the one that didn’t blink, just bore into her with a ferocity she was quite unaccustomed to. “I’m not getting crazy in a hurry,” she said in her defense, glancing up towards him for a moment as he gestured with his fingers, her anxiety mounting higher and higher as she took another step back. ‘I’ve just got to get to work, that’s all. The serenity isn’t going anywhere. It’ll still be with me. It’ll still be here. In the church.” Another step back and she started to edge down between two sets of pews, moving towards the perimeter of the room to try and scoot around.

Surely there was a mistake, Loren thought as he chewed on the edge of his thumb and watched the slotted scene unfold. It felt separate and plastic on that side of the door, like a diorama of little figurines speaking in hushed voices that still echoed on into the eternity of the church's vaulted ceilings. When the man - no, not even a man, but rather more of a boy with curls and softness still in his face that Loren found reeling and impossible - revealed himself, Loren sat back against the shadows of the confessional's interior, coming to strange conclusions about the philosophy of murder and the revelation that he'd never known what he was looking for, not at all. The conversation continued outside, and he could note the threads of panic and anxiety cleaving like a fresh blade through the kite tails of Meredith's words. He recognized the sounds for what they were, he'd pulled similar worry from her once or twice. The thought wasn't a happy one, but the fact that she was were, risking her life in hopes that this could be over, it meant something to Loren. Sitting up straighter, Loren peered through the confessional door as he slid it aside a couple of inches. He could see it now in the other man, the predatory and coiled tension, the smooth smile that said he knew Meredith wasn't going anywhere any time soon. Loren hesitated, trapped in his shadows by competing urges. The need to storm into confrontation, and the unfortunate, unsatisfying knowledge that if he emerged too soon, all could be lost. He's waited too long to let this one slip through his fingers.

Nathan knew that something had set her off, but he didn't know what it was. It couldn't be him, of course, not him, they never ran from him. He knew how soft and nice-looking he was, and deep down he felt that soft, and hoped one of his loves would realize it and appreciate him before she died, but of course they never did. Nathan turned as she retreated down the row, but she would have to come back toward the front door, and his impatience was beginning to roil with elation just under his breastbone. She was so close, and he could almost feel her under his fingertips. A good grip, and the needle, and then she'd be soft and pliable so they could leave together. Together!

"Serenity is hard to hold on to." Nathan stepped back and around to meet her at the perimeter, still casually keeping his hand down behind his back and thigh. He scratched at his curls with his left hand and advanced on her with sudden haste. "I feel like I know you from somewhere."

Meredith’s gaze never left him as he came around to meet her where she had retreated to at the edge of the room, one hand curled tightly around the back of a pew, her grip tight enough to whiten her knuckles. “I don’t think I know you,” she said in response, trying to make her smile apologetic and sweet in the same breath, but there was no hiding that slightly wild look in her eyes. She was still for a moment, just studying him, so close and so friendly looking, but she didn’t come here to meet guys, and she had never lost sight of the reasons that had brought her to this church. Meeting this man, whomever he was, was not a coincidence, and her decision came in a heartbeat.

Turning on one heel, Meredith made a dash between the pews once more, back in the direction she had come, making for the aisle and then the exit, her red hair flying behind her.

Nathan didn't need the spike of Dorian's attention to realize Meredith was going to bolt seconds before she did. None of them had ever looked at him like that on first meeting; some of them had been bored, some nice, some greedy, some disgusted, but never that flash of real terror--not before he had a chance to teach them what he was. He should have let her go, tried another day, because she was not in arm's reach and if she started screaming things would get difficult, but there was something about Dorian's threefold renewed concentration that made Nathan cling to this opportunity rather than letting it pass. He would show the fool what a real predator looked like, and she was getting away...!

Dropping all pretense, Nathan put a foot up on the back of one of the pews as Meredith whirled and went around the edge of the row. Pushing back and vaulting forward with all the attention and strength of a striking snake, Nathan brought the thin plastic syringe out in the cradle of his fist as he lunged at her.

The sound of Meredith's shoes against the cool church floor echoed in a wild cacophony as she raced past the confessionals. Her caught her eyes from the confessional door's shaded slots, wild. Her whiplash hair like flames as she ran. The young man was closing in on her when Loren kicked the confessional door open the rest of the way and stepped into the stained glass light, fresh sunbeams casting multi-colored polygrams onto the pale floor all around them. "That's enough of that." Loren called out from just behind them and the sound of his voice in the church was new, and yet simultaneously ancient. Dry as the papyrus of first gospels, of old rage that blistered its way to the bone, then ate away to the marrow before ultimately sinking into the final dregs of his soul. The tread of his boots on the floor was soundless, but it habit rather than necessity as he'd already announced himself, as he crossed past several pews to reach them.

Nathan glanced back. He had seen Loren before, knew that he was an enemy though not precisely why; he associated the man with Meredith and not with Hannah, not realizing the protectors were one and the same. His response to the sudden appearance and dry comment was not immediate acquiesce but instead an angry snarl. He turned back around and stumbled off the edge of the bench, continuing his pursuit of the redhead in the hope that he would be able to subdue her and escape before the man could catch either of them. He was just thinking that perhaps he might be able to subdue both, or kill the man quickly, when Dorian's reaction to Loren's appearance sank through. Confused, Nathan tried to navigate Dorian's sudden infusion of fear as his fingers clutched at the whirling cloud of red just out of reach.

It was the sound of Loren’s voice that had Meredith stumbling in surprise, a hand shooting out to catch herself against the back of one row of pews as she let out a yelp that had no filter. If Loren had approached quietly, had made a move without saying anything, she might have been able to evade the fingers that reached for her, but the stumble was her downfall. Fingers tangled in her loose red strands, a leash that pulled her back as she made a sound that was pure fear, echoing through the church as she groped at her hair to try and untangle those fingers from her hair. Her heart beat frantically, her breath that of someone after a sprint, and even though she knew this was a possibility, that she would not escape this unscathed, the fear was still very real.

The problem was that some part of Loren didn't care if Meredith lived or died. He wasn't here for her, he was here for the man. A man that didn't seem to be armed, although there was definitely something clutched in one of his hands. A momentary flinch reminded him that those thoughts were not necessarily true. He did not want to watch an innocent woman fall because of his own agenda, and thought alone had Loren vaulting a few pews before he shifted to tackle Nathan to the ground, even if they knocked Meredith down along the way. If she was injured, he'd apologize later, but this was ending now.

Nathan felt a few of the precious strands come free in his fingers as the weight of the man bore him down from behind. Both of them hit the ground heavy, knocking the breath out of Nathan and temporarily stunning him. Dorian was scrabbling at his mind, frantically trying to distance himself one moment and then try to take over the next. Spurred by this incredible rebellion, Nathan let out an angry cry that was pure animalistic rage, renewed his grip on the needle and twisted around to try to stab it into whatever part of Loren he could reach. He was stronger than he looked but Loren was bigger than he was. If he could get him with this needle and maybe another hidden and capped under his shirt at his back, he had a chance of getting away or killing him. Nathan could not imagine not winning, and the possibility of Loren's death made him fight harder. "She doesn't want you, you stupid bastard," he said, trying to move around and get behind Loren so he could put an arm around his throat and stab at him properly.

The needle caught Loren in the upper flesh of his arm, where muscle ran deep like jaguar flesh, tight against the cotton seam of a tee shirt. There was a growl, equally as animal as the man's beneath him when Loren shifted, the needle spending only a couple of CCs before it was flung with a swing of his arm. The drugs were immediate, but the dose was half spent. Somehow the clouds in Loren's vision gave him purpose when Nathan began to shift around him, ready to plunge that needle even further. Reaching up, Loren caught the boy's wrist in his hand and jerked him forward, over the ducked slope of Loren's back in order to send the man back to the floor before him. With a jerk and a twist, Loren could feel tendons snapping like old rubberbands in the young man's wrist. He waited for the clutch of fingers to spasm and release, even as Loren fought for control against the fuzzy surge in his head, in his limbs. Still, he grasped for the fallen syringe and brought his arm down in a rough swing that spent the syringe in Nathan's chest with such a ferocity that the needle broke off after he finalized the plunger. Ignoring the needle entirely after that, his hands found the man's neck. Tight, but not too tight to cease speech. "Hannah.. tell me.." It was all he said, even as his voice slurred.

The explosive pain in his wrist was the first thing that really made Nathan afraid. Nothing had ever hurt him like that before, not ever, and he screamed as he kicked and mindlessly fought to loose his hand even as he turned over in the air and the impact of the ground drove all the thoughts from his head. Dorian had managed to retreat, though not entirely, and Nathan vacillated between incredulity and rage as he found he could not get free and his wrist only became more painful. The first needle fell to the ground and Nathan didn't even see it coming until it dug deep into his chest. He screamed again, tried to kick free, and stuck a hand back for the other capped behind his back, not even thinking about how he might hurt Loren, just wanting to, more than he wanted anything.

The drug began to kick in extraordinarily fast, one of the reasons Nathan used it, and he was surprised when his arm immediately began to hurt less. It was still painful but not as bad as it was moments ago, and a floating feeling tried to take Nathan out of his anger. He recognized Hannah's name, the girlish lashes going wide under his brows, but he refused to acknowledge it, anger suffusing his features.

When Loren had lunged to take the man down, Meredith had gone down with him, the breath knocked out of her, stunning her into stillness for a precious few moments before she got it in her head to scramble away. Under pews, losing count of how many she crawled under, the only thought in her head as the sound of the struggle continued on behind her was of getting away. The scream echoed in her ears as she pressed against a wall near the bank of candles near the entrance to the church, her knees pulled to her chest, her hands clapped over her ears to block it out, and her eyes squeezed shut tightly as she tried to calm down, to get her heart to start pounding, to get some control over her thoughts. It seemed to take forever until she could think clearly again, and the moment she did, she was out of the church, a mouse scurrying away as she dug her cell phone out of her pocket to call someone.

Loren crawled in a half scramble of retreat even as Nathan's hand fumbled for something behind his back unseen. Loren didn't suspect it to be a gun, but probably a knife or another syringe packed to the plunger with lord knows what. The drugs were currently coursing through both of their systems, although Nathan's state was significantly worse off. Loren's vision was hazy, his limbs felt like they'd been filled with concrete, but still he found the motivation and adrenaline to react. Loren planted an elbow just beneath Nathan's right clavicle, digging in with all of his weight in order to send screams through nerves and spasms through muscles. Loren very much didn't want the young man to find whatever it was he was reaching for. One of those flailing kicks of panic and rage caught Loren in the front of thigh, just above the knee and it had him seething when he rolled off to find his feet. Meredith was running, and Loren barely noted her red hair in his periphery as he tried to stand.

The first attempt left him staggering, landing on his knees in a partial crawl that eventually built to a Neanderthal shuffle toward the pious table of lit candles and little vases of ceremonial oil, frankincense and myrrh. Falling against the table when his vision wavered, several decorative vials of oil smashed to the floor along with half of the candles. Where the oil pooled on the floor, flames jumped like hungry wolves. Turning, Loren swallowed with heavy lidded eyes in order to take in the sight of Nathan's state. How functional was he? It didn't matter, he quickly realized. Maybe the drugs made him ambitious in an entirely new way, but none of it mattered now. They could both die in this church if that's what it took.

Slowly, with trudging steps that faltered and swayed in a dead man's waltz, Loren approached. Slim vases of scented oil in each hand, which despite their death grip were not steady at all. The oil drizzled in a thin path, leading the starved fire alongside him. "It doesn't matter," Loren said with a fuzzy laugh that sounded a little drunk when he half-tripped and sloshed more fuel in a water sprinkler arc that brought the fire closer and closer. But not close enough, it wouldn't be close enough until Loren stepped up and doused Nathan with it. Then, and only then would it be enough. Some backwoods part of his mind was glad that Meredith had fled, nobody needed to see this. This was between the monsters. "You don't have to tell me.. the other guy didn't want to tell me either, even when he was dying." The idea of torture was unfamiliar to this new Loren, although it didn't feel like torture when he splashed some of that oil forward onto Nathan's shirt, then again into those innocent curls. Part of him thought of Tate then, and it was a thankfully distant thing.. because Tate he could understand, but Loren refused to understand Nathan. "Allow me to introduce you to hell.." Because that's what this was going to feel like, this burning.

Nathan was afraid. He knew he was, but it seemed like such a different thing, so far away that acknowledging it didn’t seem right or logical. He tried to get up as Loren moved away the first time, but he had never tried this particular cocktail, and he wasn’t prepared for how it set against his limbs and made reality even less. The world was a hazy television screen, and Nathan watched from a long way off. His mind was quiet. Loren’s words grew long, then short, then vanished away in flickering orange light.

Dorian joined him there. I believe this is the end, Dorian said. His British drawl was hushed in the silence. Both of them watched Loren come back toward them, a huge monster with hands dripping fire. It wasn’t enough. Surely Dad or Dad’s people would come to fetch him. He couldn’t make them get the girl but they would save him, they had to save him. No one was allowed to hurt him like this. He couldn’t just stop. He was Nathan. He was important. Everything hurt, but he would find a way. He would get the other needle, he would take Loren with him. I can’t end, Nathan said.

Nathan tried to move, to attack, to get away, but he found he was paralyzed by more than the drugs. Now Dorian’s voice was stronger. Not satisfied and just as afraid as Nathan’s, but no longer a whisper between them: I will make sure you do. He kept repeating it even as the fire came, and the drugs receded into a haze of fear and pain and wailing. It was the last thing Nathan heard.