InsaneJournal

Who: Margo Hanson and Roman Godfrey
When: Backdated: Tuesday, February 19th
Where: A Lounge
What: Figuring out where they stand
Rating/Warnings: Mostly Family Friendly. Mentions of dream death.
Status: Complete

Margo still couldn’t quite believe that Roman was back in town. It had been just about two months since he’d left and she had just been attempting to get on with her life when he’d shown up at her door a few days earlier and while she was extremely tempted to blow him off, as he’d appeared to do to her, she couldn’t deny the fact that she still loved him. The kiss they’d shared when he came by had reignited her feelings for him and she knew that regardless of how things had ended, they needed to talk. She needed to find out why he’d left and if there was any future for them.

They had decided to meet at a lounge near where Roman was currently staying and at the appointed time they had agreed on, Margo strolled in, wearing a knee length, black dress with a pink blazer over it, black heels and her hair loose and bouncy; makeup perfect.

Roman was at the lounge early, mostly to get at least one drink down before he had to face his ex girlfriend. One drink didn’t really do the trick so Roman had another; this, perhaps, was the most frustrating part of a vampire metabolism. By the time Margo came, Roman was about halfway through his third with no real change in his mood. She looked stunning, more so than most scorned women did. Roman got it. She wanted him to see what he’d been missing, it was a game Roman was well aware of. The thing was, Roman already knew, but he still appreciated that she was showing him anyway.

Predictably, Roman was well dressed. He had a fresh haircut and wore clothes that were too hot for the climate, all for appearance. They were a perfect match, Roman and Margo, both of them equally superficial. Roman stood from the sofa he’d claimed so that Margo would be able to spot his 6’4 frame and come over.

Even if he hadn’t stood up, Margo still would have spotted Roman fairly easily, but it helped that he towered over most people, including herself. She was used to being shorter than most people considering Eliot was also over six feet tall.

Making her way towards him, she made eye contact the entire way, “Have you been waiting long?” It would be just like Roman to have arrived well before her. As she took in his appearance, there was no denying that they made one extremely stylish pair.

“Does it matter?” Roman asked, but he wasn’t looking for an answer. They both knew he’d wait for as long as he wanted either way. “You want something to drink?” he asked as he gestured for her to sit first. Their sofa looked down on most of the lounge. There were people chatting quietly together and the gentle sounds of champagne flutes clinking together. For Roman, it was a comforting, familiar sound, one that reminded him of fonder times with his family.

Margo simply nodded as she took a seat on the sofa, “A drink would be nice.” No matter what happened during this meeting she was going to need a drink.

As she sat there, watching Roman, so many things came to mind about how she felt and what she wanted to do, but she pushed it all aside for the time being.

But Roman wasn’t going to just let it slide. After he ordered her drink for her, he turned back to Margo. Looking at her almost hurt. When Peter had left, both in his dreams and in the waking world, Roman had felt abandoned and betrayed. The only difference here was Margo might have been willing to forgive Roman, at least a little.

“Say it,” he insisted. “Whatever it is, you know you can say it.” It was one of the many things that Roman liked about her, that she always said what was on her mind.

Margo had never been one to beat around the bush and now was no exception, “What’s the real reason you left?” The reason for his sudden departure had been the main thing that had bothered Margo since Roman left. They had just celebrated their one year anniversary then the next thing she knew, Roman was making some excuse for needing to leave California, “And why’d you come back?” She took a sip of her drink as she waited for Roman’s response.

Her drinks came as quickly as she began to ask her questions and Roman was glad they did. He sat back more, rubbing idly at his own cheek as he searched for good answers when he had none to offer. The truth was going to hurt and he knew it; avoiding it just made him as big a coward as Peter.

“I needed to get away,” he admitted at length. “I’m a monster in my dreams and I don’t mean that as anything but what it is. Before I left, I was dreaming that my daughter had been taken and that I killed my best friend’s cousin. I know he’s going to kill me and I don’t want to face myself.”

He took a pause to knock back the entire contents of his own drink, searching his own vocabulary for words that wouldn’t send her running or himself into a fit of anger and tears.

Roman wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t want to face what I am and the things I want to do when you’re around me, but I have to.” He looked at Margo again. “I thought I could run and you wouldn’t be hurt, but even I know that’s bull shit.”

It did hurt to hear that he’d left in an attempt to not hurt her, but at the same time, it was so cliche that it made her more angry than anything else, “So what, you’re planning on just hiding and not letting yourself be happy cause you’re afraid of something that might happen?” She took another sip of her own drink, “I’m a fucking magician, Roman. I could knock you on your ass if I needed to. I’m not some delicate piece of glass.” Margo’s ability to use magic had only grown since she’d started dreaming and she could do so much more than make floating lights now. As far as she was concerned, Roman was no threat to her.

Roman shook his head. “No, Margo,” he said emphatically. “You couldn’t.” She could try, but she wouldn’t get very far and Roman could make her do whatever he wanted her to and only suffer a nosebleed from it. He’d snapped Destini’s neck so quickly, neither of them had any time to think.

“It’s not the only reason I left,” he assured her. “I didn’t want to dream what I knew was going to happen.” Because he didn’t want to die. He deserved it, he knew it, and when he dreamed, he wanted Peter to just fucking do it already. It was inevitable that Peter would find out and that death would be the easy way out.

If he could turn into a monster because of his dreams and stay in a coma because of his dreams, he could most assuredly die because of his dreams. He didn’t want to say it, and he hoped that he wouldn’t have to.

She ignored the first part, because they hadn’t met up to get into an argument about who was stronger than who. The second part of what he’d said was what concerned her more. She had been with him long enough to know when there was something more; the same way she could see through Eliot’s bullshit and knew when something was really bothering him, “Roman, what are you afraid of?” She wanted to slide across the sofa and take his hand in hers or touch him in some other comforting way, but something told her that there’d be time for that later. “Honestly.”

It was good that she didn’t touch him. Just then, Roman wasn’t too keen on being touched. Not yet.

All it was bothering him, but most troubling and most pressing was what he knew would happen and she was going to make him say it. “When Peter finds out I killed Destini, he’s going to tear me apart,” he said, unable to keep it inside any longer. There was no real fear in his eyes, only some form of self loathing and almost desperation to get it over with. “And I’m not going to fight him.”

There’d be nothing left of Roman and, well, in his dreams, he didn’t care. “I have nothing to live for there,” he admitted. “But I do here.” Meaning, of course, Margo.

Margo’s tough exterior weakened slightly as what Roman was saying began to make sense, “Roman, the dreams don’t mean shit here. Peter isn’t here and you didn’t really kill anyone,” At least not Destini. “Just because some things from the dreams bleed over doesn’t mean everything does.” Margo had dreamt about dying over and over again and she was still in one piece, “And whatever does happen, you don’t need to deal with it alone.”

“And what if what happens is I don’t wake up and you’re picking up my teeth so I can be identified,” Roman said pointedly. If she wanted to know what he was most afraid of, it was there. Of course he was afraid he’d hurt Margo, but he could go to Godfrey Industries any time he needed to stuff body parts down his throat.
Finally, Roman took her hand and he brought it to his own cheek and held it there, his gaze steely on hers. He didn’t need to deal with it alone. Roman closed his eyes at the thought. What a concept, not being alone. When he opened his eyes again, Roman could feel that same urge to move forward and sink his fangs into the side of her neck, but it was different than what he felt most of the time. Usually it was to rip someone apart and kill them, but he just wanted to taste her.

He licked his lips, then turned to press them to her palm. “What are you going to do?” he asked. The ball was in her court now. He was here and, regardless of what happened, death would be the only way he was going to leave. “Is that a chance you’re willing to take?”

“You’re not the first person who has dreamt about dying, Roman.” She wondered if he asked around and found out that there were others on Valarnet who had dreamt similar things if it would help him. She made a mental note to mention it later.

As he took her hand, she watched him, waiting to make her own move, her pulse speeding up slightly as she felt his lips on her palm. “When I said that you don’t need to go through this alone, I meant it. I might still be pissed at you, but I haven’t stopped loving you.”

If she’d asked, the answer was yes. He knew he wasn’t the first one, but he also wouldn’t be the first one to wake up with injuries and when he said that Peter would rip him apart, he meant it. But he didn’t argue about it. He had a legitimate fear of it, but running from it hadn’t been helpful either.

“I never stopped loving you either,” he exhaled, his eyes falling shut for that moment. She still loved him. He didn’t deserve a fucking thing from her, but she loved him and she was here. Roman’s fingers laced in with hers and he opened his eyes again to look at her. “Where do you want to go from here?” he asked frankly. Did she want to try it again? Did she need more time? Did she want to just be friends? It was up to her.

As Roman laced their fingers together she slid a little closer to him on the sofa and squeezed his hand, dark eyes meeting his, “I’m willing to try again, but you can’t run away again. We’re in this together. No matter what happens.” As scary as it seemed at times, she knew that being open and honest about things, regardless of what they were could make all the difference.

That was the last answer he’d been expecting. He’d been expecting her to want to stay just friends, at least for a little while, but that was his Margo for you. She’d dive in whenever she could, even when the water was cold because she could make it warm again.

Roman pulled in a deep breath, then leaned toward her and caught her mouth with his own, his hand behind her neck as he deepened it, even letting her feel the point of one tooth against her lip. “I’m not running away,” he promised against her mouth. The words felt almost too silver against his tongue, but he really wasn’t going to run away. It was time to face everything and he knew it.