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Date Posted: 21:04:12 06/11/02 Tue
Author: voodoodolly
Subject: PART SEVEN
In reply to: VoodooDolly 's message, "Casualty" on 20:20:15 06/02/02 Sun

Part 7

Pulling in what courage she possessed, lacing it with the fury and embarrassment he had placed in her, she strode into the room.

Swaying, as the fragrance of roses enfolded around her, shrouding her in it, smothering her in a sweet sickness. In combination with the warmth, she was unsure of her stance.

When centered in the room she stopped, trying to take in what she saw. The figure’s back was to her. Dryness filled her mouth; she found her tongue stuck to its roof.

All the roses arranged so magnificently in the vases she had brought in just the other day. Yet, the setting they played a part in made the whole theatrical picture seem so much more heartrending, tragic.

In a voice that barely held any of what was once his. It sounded pallid and decrepit. “So, now you would abandon me? Always running Eeva, do you ever wonder when you’ll stop?” He turned away from the fire, facing her.

The mechanical sound made by the apperatace that held him, struck her deft. The world around her became hazy. The aged appearance, the man before her, so transformed.

Knees weak, she was shifting down something unyielding. A black leather glove clenched her, holding her up, before the ground took her. All of her weight leaned into Nottingham. He steadied her, gently.

The ancient voice of Irons continued, “I am genuinely remorseful if I injured you, sweet. I was so fearful of losing you. Yet, it seems, in my want to keep you, only made you want to flee.” His breath was strained, the effort of speech was apparent.

She tilted her face up to look at Nottingham, as if he could waken her, offer some condolence, some truth. He did not return her gaze. Staring at Irons, there was nothing on his face.

Pushing herself away from him, she stood, looking down, putting her arms around herself. Clenching tightly trying to force a breath from her lungs.

Irons studied the two of them. Like mismatched bookends, one realizing her fidelity, one doubting his.

“Leave me Eeva,” such control and sorrow, “it is what you want.” His eyes stayed on her till she slowly looked into his gray sereneness.

There were no appropriate words. She moved stiffly at first, barley able to bend her knees or place one foot forward. After a few feet though, her pace quickened and she stumbled, falling towards surrender. Sobbing quietly she buried her face in the blanket sitting in his lap, sobbing lightly.

After several moments she was lead away by Ian.

A man with an old style doctor’s bag had come in. Irons had assured her all would be all right.

The look on Ian’s face as she’d closed her bedroom door was one of disappointment. She could not look directly in his eyes.

She wondered through out the house, usually, though, she sat in her room or under the willow. No real sleep came to release her. The chill of the wind would cut through her and make her feel inhuman.

Late in evening, she came into the living room. Her body was cold but beyond shivers and goosbumps.

Irons sat in his chair by the fire; he glanced up and smiled at her, then turned back to the fire.

Initially she was startled by his appearance, so much younger then just the day before. Then a subtle sort of acceptance came over her as it always did. A comforting touch; denial and submission. Settling herself on the davenport, she laid her head on one of the dark purple throw pillows. She closed her eyes against what small sense of reality that remained, the small part of conciseness.

They did not speak to one another, yet most of the day she was someplace near him. Close enough to be summoned with a word or gesture, indefinitely in the shadows.

The stillness between them contained more meaning than any verbal language could have offered. Both understood this, both found a reassurance in it. The power shared between to sentient beings that goes beyond any conventional or standard means.

Before she heard Irons speak into his phone, before the condolences of the Doctor, she knew Ian was gone. Knew he was not coming back. She closed her eyes tight in one moment, knowing he was dead.

In a way she envied him, he was capable of choosing his own fate, not leaving it in the hands of another.

She also knew Irons was fading away. If he did not acquire what he needed soon she would lose him forever.

He came over to her, brushing away the moister from her cheek with his thumb. “This is not the time for tears, dear Eeva.” Offering a smile he took her hand. “Captain Dante will be here soon. Today is an eventful one, to be sure.” He looked away then, off towards some secret image he held in his mind.

After a few moments he looked back, they stared at one another while he spoke again. “You may stay with me until he arrives. I want you in your room Eeva. Stay there until I come for you.” Pushing a curl of hair back behind her ear, placing his hand on her shoulder, “Do you understand?”

Reaching up she put her hand on his face, his cheek for only a moment; so cold she thought. “Yes, I understand.” With that she let him guide her to the davenport, where they sat, quite and still.

Later she stood in her room, her new room. Irons had given her an eloquent and charming new room. With dark floral wallpaper, light trim, thick velvet drapes. The feel, of a Victorian era, long past. In so many ways she treasured it, but now it made her feel insignificant, out of place.

Slowly she parted the sheer veil of the canopy curtain and laid herself on the bed. Her face rested against the fine blue pillow.

Her realizations came clear to her. The illness the insanity that over came her mother had not been brought to her by the Witchblade. No, her insanity had been a result of her love for Irons. That love and corruption had driven her mad, had killed her.

Eeva closed her eyes, not against it, but in acceptance of her fate. Waiting for Irons to come for her, waiting for his knock on the door. Waiting for his comfort and will.

To Be Continued...

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