Ruin Maketh Me

18 - Oops!... I did it again

     The split, splat of rain hisses against the cold window panes, befitting weather for what's going to happen next. How long has it been since I last had this dream? I watch the reflection of Jacques's straight figure in the window and darkness beyond. Placing a finger on the glass, I trace his tall outline, suddenly so small. Cold.
     "Kitten, don't be anxious," he smiles easily, "I'll be right back."
    His ocean blue eyes meet mine in the glass, and he takes long, strides towards me, his warm gloved hand descending on my head gently, "What's wrong?"
     Our breath fog up the window pane. What's wrong? All's wrong. Can you still show me this face if you knew what was going to happen to you next?
     "It's just a short journey," he breathes by my ear, warm and liberal, just like it had been, "I'll have Marcus cook the steak, and we'll eat together when I come back, hmmm?"
     The steak, yes, I ate it all be myself, and I drank all your treasured wine.
     "I'm not addicted to cocaine anymore." I say, pointless when this Jacques is all part of my own conscious, but I can't remain silent like before, not when he's dying now. Strange that it should make a difference, I had expected him to die form the start, hadn't I?
     Jacques's expression remains the same, "That's true, but kitten you still need me." His chin rests firmly on my shoulder, "I'll make you need me."
     That's what he always used to say, again and again, but in the end, I didn't need him. I destroyed him.
     "Say, Jacques, if I was terminally ill or disabled, would you come visit me?" The fog on the glass obscures the reflection of his face. It's almost funny to think that physics still applies in a dream.
     A bitter tasting silence hangs around us both. He doesn't answer. Of course he can't, he's just a figment of my imagination, what can I expect him to say?
     "Kitten." The heart of his calloused palm rests against my cheek, "You called my name."
     A jolt discordant of the atmosphere runs through my heart. What?
     "Jacques," he murmurs, voice hoarse, "You called me Jacques for the first time."
     Stop this. This isn't even real. You're not even real. The urge to turn around and break free of his grasp stirs in my feet, but I can't. I don't want to see his face.
     His slender fingers part my hair, and his soft lips plant a kiss in the center of my neck.
     "Maybe I should stay."
     No.
     "No. Answer the question."
     He rests his check on my shoulder again and takes in a deep breath as if drinking in my scent, "I won't let you become ill or disabled, I'll find a way to fix you."
     Fix me? You selfish bastard, that's not what I want to hear. It's the wrong answer. Tell me you'd throw me away, leave me dying on a hospital bed.
     "But before I find the way, I'll take care of you," his hand starts stroking my head, just the way he used to, "I'll cook whatever you want to eat and bathe you whenever you want, and we can do whatever you want to do."
     My mouth opens, and I know what I'm going to ask him, and I try to stop, but I can't stop even though this is my dream, "Why?"
     The vibrations of his chuckles run straight through my soul, "Do you even need to ask?" His hand travels down my head and caresses my neck, "If I don't take good care of what's mine, who will?"
     —et up."
     My feet turn on their own, but I can't see his face, and everything's fading like wet paint dripping down canvas. What does his face look lik—
     "Get up."
I roll onto my side and groan, "For fuck's sake, what's the point of having a lock if everyone just barges in anyway?"
     Set crosses her legs, leans back on the chair by the desk and shrugs. Today she's wearing a red pair of flared trousers and a dramatically ruffled white shirt; her blue eyes as cool as ever.
     Not the same blue as his.
     Bastard. I run my fingers through my hair and biting through the pain, sit up from beneath the duvet.
     "Let me guess, they need me again."
     Set props an elbow on the desk and looks at the four walls of my room with an apparent distaste, "Yes, Human."
I struggle to my feet, the pain sits in my bones like ice on a lake, and damn, I feel like I got beaten up by a whole gang.
"Set, can you perform healing magic?"
She eyes me up and down, "Ask the Masters, I don't have permission to cast magic on you."
My lips twist and I eye her from the corner of my vision, "It's all thanks to your magnificent back slam yesterday."
"Blame yourself for being too weak, Human." She replies apathetically, passing me a bowl of porridge like stew and bread.
I swallow a chuckle and spoon a portion of the gruel into my mouth. Surprisingly, it doesn't taste as bad as it looks.
"So, what do they want me to do?"
Set's apathy cracks a little, "You're to accompany them to their lectures."
The spoon in my hand dips a little. Did I hear her correctly? I was planning on finding more about this world and that man from the Inquisition yesterday, but now...
"Is that allowed?"
Set's fine brows press down over her eyes, "Generally, no. They rarely let servants or accompaniment into lessons, certainly not slaves." her eyes travel down to the red spider lily on my hand, "But considering the Masters' position, they must consent to it."
Holy shit. The gruel I just swallowed threatens to bubble out of my mouth. How can you be so confident about that?
"Yet, you disapprove again." I force down the dry bread.
This time she doesn't even beat around the bush, "I disapprove very much. You disregarded my warning." Her lips draw thinner and thinner, "In just a few hours time, you managed to direct attention to yourself again. Was my caution not clear enough?"
A head-ache annoyance simmers up slowly. I'm not the one with the problem, your master Julius is. I don't want their attention anymore than you do.
"I didn't do anything in particular." Except answer his barrage of insistent questions.
Set shakes her head, "That's the problem with humans, you believe you're being innocent and ordinary, but in matter of fact, you draw attention to yourself in the worst ways possible."
The empty bowl and spoon in my hand disappear with a wave of her strong hand.
"You must have done something," she continues, strangely dispassionate, "otherwise this wouldn't have happened."
The corner of my mouth curls sourly, "Drawing attention to myself seems to be a special skill I possess."
Black trench coat flapping in the wind, phantom blue eyes shining in the moonlight, a pale hand extended, "Come with me—
"Well, that's a useless gift for a human." She says bluntly, beckoning for me to follow her with a glance of her eyes.
My lips curve in agreement, but the smile doesn't reach my eyes. How many peoples has it been? Dan, Jacques, Yuki, on and on, and now Julius. I slip out of bed and nearly fall to my knees from the impossible aches dragging my limbs down. I hold on, just barely, and instantly I know the day's going to be shit.
"Ask the masters to heal you, you'll just be a bother if you're like this the whole day."
My mind barely registers what she says through the jabbing of needles in my joints and up my strained muscles. All I can manage is put one foot in front of the other and fucking hope that my legs aren't going to give out. I almost miss the fact that we stopped in front of the bathroom. Almost.
"I have time to clean up?"
"No," A look of cold determination sets into Set's sharp features, "I'm the one who's going to clean you up and make you immaculate."

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AN: Set is such a darling, I'm liking her more an more.