[ that question gives him pause. it should be easy to answer. it really should be but after what had happened between him and lorna, he'd gotten into the frame of mind that being alone would be best. it would protect you from a pain that he was still trying to deal with today.
the money, that doesn't matter much to him, but...
he runs a finger around the rim of his glass. she's watching him closely. he can feel her eyes on him and he wonders what she wants the answer to be. ]
I've been all of those things except rich. [ he'd gotten close with the cartels but that money had been carmen's, really. not his. ] Poor and in love.
[ but god, that answer might change tomorrow. he can remember how good being in love felt. how he'd woken up feeling full and alive and complete and how he doesn't feel like that anymore. he could make the lack of money work. ]
[ it's a sad answer, bittersweet, but heartfelt all the same. there's a depth of emotion that caroline simply can't match — she's said i love you, sure, but she's never been in love in the way she suspects marcos has. the kind of all-encompassing great love that leaves you shattered and distraught upon losing it, the kind of love stories are written about and movies made of.
she's never had a love like that, and caroline suspects she never will. no one loves a monster. when her hand does reach forward to press against his own, marcos will no doubt feel the weight of that loss swimming through the bond. ]
Your turn.
[ she'll top him up again, but somehow, she gets the feeling he won't slam it back this time. ]
[ it's hard to tell where her feelings of loss end and where his begin. it flows back and forth, his and hers, hers and his, tangling up around each other and cloaking them both in feelings of sadness, of loneliness and desolation that he almost can't find his way out of.
he focuses on the spot where her hand sits against his and breathes out, shaking away the heaviness but keeping his hand where it was. ]
My turn.
[ he nods and taps a nail against the side of the glass. ]
Anything's forgivable or some things just can't be forgiven?
[ she should say nothing can be forgiven. she's never forgiven damon for compelling her, not really — but then, she's moved past it too. it's not quite forgiveness, but there's something there. acknowledgement, maybe. acceptance.
i'm a terrible person, but i'm working on it. she'd said that once. maybe the same was true for him. maybe she just accepted that they were both terrible, and that's all there was to it. ]
I have to hope anything's forgivable.
[ or she'll never be able to be honest with him. a pang of fear spikes between them, and caroline takes a drink. ]
[ interesting. the fear that erupts is quick and sharp and it's definitely from her. he doesn't pull his hand away but he frowns just the slightest bit. she's afraid of something to do with forgiveness. he assumes she has her secrets just as he has his but now he's starting to wonder just what she might be keeping to herself.
still, he doesn't press. that's not the game, after all. he nudges his fingers against her hand and nods. ]
Your turn.
[ he takes a slower drink while he waits for her question. ]
[ her follow-up comes quietly. there's no meeting his gaze, no lift of her head; her eyes stare into the bottom of her glass, now drained, though she doesn't move to refill it. ]
Would you rather people be honest with you, or try to protect your feelings?
[ the answer is immediate. he's aware of the damage that being honest can do but he prefers that than to being in the dark. he doesn't want to be made to feel like a damn fool because everyone knows something that he doesn't. ]
[ she's not ready to tell him yet. maybe that's selfish. maybe it's wrong. but she likes the way he looks at her when he smiles, likes the companionship he's given her, and there's an ever-present fear that he won't when he finds out. that he'll be too disgusted or afraid or angry to think of her the same way, and that she'll lose him in the process.
it shouldn't matter that much, but it does. she doesn't exactly have a wide range of people here to begin with. ]
[ marcos nods and goes quiet, trying to think of a decent question. they've really started getting into deeper questions, questions of how they went about their daily lives and maybe he should change that. go a little silly. ]
[ never loving anyone, that is. never being able to, or choosing not to — either way, it was a lifetime of loneliness. and when your lifetime stretched out impossibly long, that loneliness was more than one person could bear. ]
At least if you were in love, you know you could do it again.
[ it was for caroline. alone, she made worse choices. she didn't have anyone to lean on, anyone to guide her. she was emotional and shallow and scared a lot of the time.
being alone only made that worse. ]
Would you rather remember and love in the future, or forget and always be alone?
[ does he agree with her in that it's dangerous to be alone? maybe. but he doesn't know if he's capable of putting himself on the line again like he'd done with lorna. losing her, losing his kid, it had devastated him beyond belief and trying to do that again?
it was scary. ]
I'd want to remember. [ forgetting whas cheating. forgetting was cheap. forgetting meant he wouldn't remember dawn and that wasn't an option. ]
[ most of the bottle is gone. there's a shot left, maybe two, but the bottle is mostly empty and their glasses are too. caroline's not drunk, she has better tolerance than that, a stronger constitution or maybe just a faster vampiric metabolism, but even she's beginning to feel a little wobbly.
clearly, this bourbon was a hell of a lot stronger than the stuff she'd used to drink kovacs under the table. ]
I'm fine. I can take care of myself.
[ which is why other people needed to be taken care of. they were weak. human. fragile. important. caroline was not. caroline was a monster. ]
[ or he assumes she can because she's an adult and she's gotten this far. still, that doesn't mean he's just going to let her drink until she's on the ground. he keeps her glass on his side of the table and then stands up, stepping closer to her. ]
Let me walk you back.
[ to the safehouse. they're both a little out of sorts but where he stopped drinking, she started in earnest so they might be about even on shakiness. there's a small, lopsided smile on his face and he holds his hand out, palm up for her. ]
No! [ the sound drags out even as her hands clasp into his own, syllable dragging on as caroline drops off the barstool onto the sticky floor, stumbling forward just the tiniest bit. maybe it's an excuse to get that much closer, to let go of his hands in favor of looping arms around his neck. ] I don't need to sleep.
[ she could stand to eat, though. she's peckish, if not outright hungry, and he smells — so good. she could, if she wanted. not in a bar, though. not in public. that's risky. dumb. ]
[ oh hello, she's much closer than he expected her to be after that. at first, he doesn't know where to put his hands but he eventually does settle his palm against the small of her back. ]
You don't have to sleep. [ he thinks it might be good for her if she's drunk but he's not going to force it. ] We could still walk back. Or just walk.
[ he brushes his fingers back and forth against her back once, almost instinctively, before he catches himself. ]
I don't think you need to be carried but I would if you needed it. [ if she was too drunk to walk, he would. ]
[ she's! not! drunk! tipsy, maybe, a bit passed comfortably buzzed, but she won't admit to being drunk. she's a vampire, okay, vampires don't get drunk.
(spoiler: they do. just takes more of the hard stuff, but it can happen.) ]
A walk to remember. [ a movie marcos probably never saw. probably for the best, though. that was a real tearjerker. ] Okay, handsy, take me on a walk.
[ let's see if she can keep her mouth shut in the process. ]
[ he objects to being called handsy but...he'll let it go since she's drunk or close enough to it that she needs his hands to not wobble her way out of the bar.
so, he slides an arm around her waist so she has the line of his body to lean against while she walks. he hopes it'll give her a little more stability. ]
Come on, let's go. We can keep playing the game, if you want. Or we can just walk.
[ was it her turn? he doesn't know. ]
There anything else you wanna know or should we just walk?
[ this just in (again): marcos diaz is very comfortable to lean on. very solid, very warm, like a cozy tree whose branches have curled around her waist. she nestles against him like she's done it a hundred times, blonde curls a soft contrast on the dark fabric of his shirt, and focuses on the scent of the cotton rather than the gentle thump of his heartbeat so close.
she tries to focus, anyway. mostly, her brain just scatters in a million directions; when marcos asks if she wants to know anything else, it lands on one with reckless abandon. ]
What's your blood type?
[ a super weird thing to ask someone, honestly, even if you didn't want to eat them. ]
[ she tucks herself against him like it's something they do all the same and he blows out a quiet breath meant to calm him so he doesn't get too caught up in the closeness. he's just being helpful. just being a friend. an acquaintance? he doesn't know. ]
Uh. [ the question surprises him so much that he actually has to think about the answer. ] B negative.
[ at least, that's what they'd put on his chart the last time he'd gotten shot. he doesn't know if they'd actually tested his blood or just guessed considering what his blood actually looked like. not a lot of human doctors and nurses wanted to get close. ]
Last I checked, at least. [ ha ha, he's funny or something. ] Haven't really bled in awhile to get myself tested.
[ b positive is her preference (and her motto). b negative's the inverse. it makes sense, in a way, that things would align that way. less temptation to turn in and dig her teeth into his neck. ]
That's good, though. I don't want you to get hurt.
[ in more ways than one. she doesn't want him to get hurt by someone (or something) else, but also by her. at least not physically. ]
Well, I don't wanna get hurt either. Sometimes it happens, though. [ side effect of the life he lived, unfortunately. he sighs and peers over at her, checking to make sure she's still good before looking forward once again. ]
The trick's in dealing with what comes after. [ the aftermath. the loss. the recovery. that's the hardest part, he thinks, and sometimes, it feels like you'll never get through. ]
Are you okay? [ before she can answer, he adds: ] I don't mean just...right now. I mean in general. Are you okay?
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the money, that doesn't matter much to him, but...
he runs a finger around the rim of his glass. she's watching him closely. he can feel her eyes on him and he wonders what she wants the answer to be. ]
I've been all of those things except rich. [ he'd gotten close with the cartels but that money had been carmen's, really. not his. ] Poor and in love.
[ but god, that answer might change tomorrow. he can remember how good being in love felt. how he'd woken up feeling full and alive and complete and how he doesn't feel like that anymore. he could make the lack of money work. ]
There's a lot more to be gained by being in love.
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she's never had a love like that, and caroline suspects she never will. no one loves a monster. when her hand does reach forward to press against his own, marcos will no doubt feel the weight of that loss swimming through the bond. ]
Your turn.
[ she'll top him up again, but somehow, she gets the feeling he won't slam it back this time. ]
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he focuses on the spot where her hand sits against his and breathes out, shaking away the heaviness but keeping his hand where it was. ]
My turn.
[ he nods and taps a nail against the side of the glass. ]
Anything's forgivable or some things just can't be forgiven?
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i'm a terrible person, but i'm working on it. she'd said that once. maybe the same was true for him. maybe she just accepted that they were both terrible, and that's all there was to it. ]
I have to hope anything's forgivable.
[ or she'll never be able to be honest with him. a pang of fear spikes between them, and caroline takes a drink. ]
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still, he doesn't press. that's not the game, after all. he nudges his fingers against her hand and nods. ]
Your turn.
[ he takes a slower drink while he waits for her question. ]
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Would you rather people be honest with you, or try to protect your feelings?
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[ the answer is immediate. he's aware of the damage that being honest can do but he prefers that than to being in the dark. he doesn't want to be made to feel like a damn fool because everyone knows something that he doesn't. ]
Always.
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[ she's not ready to tell him yet. maybe that's selfish. maybe it's wrong. but she likes the way he looks at her when he smiles, likes the companionship he's given her, and there's an ever-present fear that he won't when he finds out. that he'll be too disgusted or afraid or angry to think of her the same way, and that she'll lose him in the process.
it shouldn't matter that much, but it does. she doesn't exactly have a wide range of people here to begin with. ]
Your turn.
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Loved and lost or never loved at all?
[ or maybe he'd stay right in the deep end. ]
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[ never loving anyone, that is. never being able to, or choosing not to — either way, it was a lifetime of loneliness. and when your lifetime stretched out impossibly long, that loneliness was more than one person could bear. ]
At least if you were in love, you know you could do it again.
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[ do it again, that was. it's not his turn but the question slips out anyway. ]
Sometimes being alone is just...
[ he trails off and takes his turn staring down at his drink now. ]
A smarter choice.
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[ it was for caroline. alone, she made worse choices. she didn't have anyone to lean on, anyone to guide her. she was emotional and shallow and scared a lot of the time.
being alone only made that worse. ]
Would you rather remember and love in the future, or forget and always be alone?
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it was scary. ]
I'd want to remember. [ forgetting whas cheating. forgetting was cheap. forgetting meant he wouldn't remember dawn and that wasn't an option. ]
Put yourself first or put others first?
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[ quick, easy. caroline pours herself another shot and downs it, no hesitation. ]
They're worth it.
[ she's not. ]
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And you're not?
[ it's not his turn. he doesn't care. he's pressing this one. ]
I'm gonna have to carry you home if you keep drinking like that.
[ he reaches for her glass and pulls it towards him for the moment. ]
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clearly, this bourbon was a hell of a lot stronger than the stuff she'd used to drink kovacs under the table. ]
I'm fine. I can take care of myself.
[ which is why other people needed to be taken care of. they were weak. human. fragile. important. caroline was not. caroline was a monster. ]
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[ or he assumes she can because she's an adult and she's gotten this far. still, that doesn't mean he's just going to let her drink until she's on the ground. he keeps her glass on his side of the table and then stands up, stepping closer to her. ]
Let me walk you back.
[ to the safehouse. they're both a little out of sorts but where he stopped drinking, she started in earnest so they might be about even on shakiness. there's a small, lopsided smile on his face and he holds his hand out, palm up for her. ]
We can both sleep it off.
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[ she could stand to eat, though. she's peckish, if not outright hungry, and he smells — so good. she could, if she wanted. not in a bar, though. not in public. that's risky. dumb. ]
You just want to carry me, don't you?
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You don't have to sleep. [ he thinks it might be good for her if she's drunk but he's not going to force it. ] We could still walk back. Or just walk.
[ he brushes his fingers back and forth against her back once, almost instinctively, before he catches himself. ]
I don't think you need to be carried but I would if you needed it. [ if she was too drunk to walk, he would. ]
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(spoiler: they do. just takes more of the hard stuff, but it can happen.) ]
A walk to remember. [ a movie marcos probably never saw. probably for the best, though. that was a real tearjerker. ] Okay, handsy, take me on a walk.
[ let's see if she can keep her mouth shut in the process. ]
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so, he slides an arm around her waist so she has the line of his body to lean against while she walks. he hopes it'll give her a little more stability. ]
Come on, let's go. We can keep playing the game, if you want. Or we can just walk.
[ was it her turn? he doesn't know. ]
There anything else you wanna know or should we just walk?
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she tries to focus, anyway. mostly, her brain just scatters in a million directions; when marcos asks if she wants to know anything else, it lands on one with reckless abandon. ]
What's your blood type?
[ a super weird thing to ask someone, honestly, even if you didn't want to eat them. ]
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Uh. [ the question surprises him so much that he actually has to think about the answer. ] B negative.
[ at least, that's what they'd put on his chart the last time he'd gotten shot. he doesn't know if they'd actually tested his blood or just guessed considering what his blood actually looked like. not a lot of human doctors and nurses wanted to get close. ]
Last I checked, at least. [ ha ha, he's funny or something. ] Haven't really bled in awhile to get myself tested.
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That's good, though. I don't want you to get hurt.
[ in more ways than one. she doesn't want him to get hurt by someone (or something) else, but also by her. at least not physically. ]
Do you wanna ask me another question?
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The trick's in dealing with what comes after. [ the aftermath. the loss. the recovery. that's the hardest part, he thinks, and sometimes, it feels like you'll never get through. ]
Are you okay? [ before she can answer, he adds: ] I don't mean just...right now. I mean in general. Are you okay?
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