"The Sundering"

[Victria 0]

If there was one last good thing this bond would do, it would prevent any awkward pandering over what was to come. She knew Mark was coming, and they both knew what this was about. So, after a determined walk, a push of the door chime, and an acceptance in, Mark and Victria stood face to face for the first time since their confrontation in the holodeck (not counting forced pleasantries and the passing of reports and orders while on duty). Staring her down, he tried to control his emotions. He'd processed and stored her betrayal as best he could, and he wasn't interested in the discussing the logic of being fed upon. So, after a few tense seconds he finally spoke. "You know why I'm here."

 

"Yes," she said simply. Stepping to the side, she flicked a hand at the interior of her quarters, inviting him in. Her eyes remained on his face even as he passed her. The doors closed behind her, hissing a note of finality. "Somehow, I always knew this would be the end result. You still have not accepted. You ignore it as though it will simply go away." She strode past him into the living area. On the low table in front of the couch sat a heating pillar. Turned away from him, she dropped a handful of crimson pebbles into the shallow basin at the top. After a few moments, the incense began to melt and smoke lightly.

 

"No," he shook his head. "I accept your biological requirements. I understand your desire to hunt. This ill conceived bond that I refused to break even when I realized it was a mistake taught me at least that much about you. If you expect me to accept and understand that you'll feed on anyone without any restraint or remorse, then you're as ignorant of me as you think I am to you." He let out a deep sigh, pacing around for a bit, before finally taking a seat, doing his best to relax into it. "Call me egotistical or naive, but I assumed that you would at least not try to rip out my throat like a piece of meat."

 

"I warned you," she said, glancing to him. "I told you to leave. It was all of the restraint I could find at the time. Most would not have even had that much. No Al-Ucard would ever be so kind to a human." She sat on the table itself, legs curled beneath her on the reflective black surface. Her wrists rested lightly on her knees. Blue eyes found his through the rising tendrils of cloyingly sweet smoke. "On this ship, I am but a ghost of what I once was. In the holodeck, that was my true self. I am a Hunter. I am a Nightstalker. I am the bane of the Lucam and the Scorpiad. I am not a tame pet to be caged but a wild beast prowling. When the scent is upon me, when the Hunger rises, I can hold it at bay for only a short while. I went there to find release. You should have stayed away." She was unapologetic and cold, giving no sympathy or remorse for what she had done.

 

Her face was a mask of neutrality, but a pang of emotion flowed through the bond from her. Hurt? Pain? It was barely a whisper and gone before it became tangible. "That is untrue. You have changed my outlook. Perhaps I once felt that way, but no longer. Not about you. I thought you, especially you, would understand. You who have been in battle before and know the way it overwhelms the senses, logic, and reason. What happened... was not intentional." She gestured to the side of the table nearest him, eyes dropping. "Sit. Please."

 

Poised at the edge of his seat, looking to the door a momentary wave of anger flushed over him. He hated the control she had over him, and how she could make him question himself so easily. Sliding back into the seat, he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Yes, I know the adrenaline rush. I know the heat of battle. Maybe even the 'thrill of the kill', but I've never turned my rifle on my crewmates when there were no enemies left. Even if I put aside my own feelings I still have to look at you and realize that there's a point where you can't distinguish friend from foe. What happens when Laarell pushes you too far? What happens if we have another run in with the Scorpiad and you don't have the convenience of tearing apart holograms?"

 

He moved forward in the seat again, drawing closer to her. "You said it yourself. This civilized conversation right here is a ghost of the real Victria. As much as I want to believe you when you say there's a changed outlook I know what the real Victria is now. The real Victria wants to hunt, she wants to kill, and she wants to feed. There's no going back from that. I don't even know how to justify letting you walk the halls of this ship!"

 

"It is not for you to question my presence on this ship," she growled. "A higher authority than yours ordained that I should be here. Take your concerns to Corizon. Tell him what I have done. I care not. He understands the rising Beast more than anyone. I doubt he will do anything save to tell you that you should have heeded my warning." Her jaw clenched and her fingernails drove into the fabric of her pants. Blue eyes flashed up at him briefly but quickly flitted away. She stared at the pillar before her, driving away the anger she felt, both from within and from without. "You can feel the control I must exert over myself on a daily basis. You can have seen how I attempt to conform. You, of any other, have seen how difficult it has been, and yet still I have tried. I was a fool for thinking you could understand. You are soft and weak and fragile. You know nothing, Mark Garrison."

 

"If you wish this to end, sit," she said, her voice sounding far more calm than she felt.

 

He opened his mouth to say something, but simply sighed and moved to sit on the table opposite her. There wasn't anything else to say. There wasn't going to be any compromise or justification, and he was sick of arguing with her. "What do I need to do?" He hadn't really thought about what would be needed to break the bond. Knowing Victria, he probably wasn't going to like it. Mark sighed uncomfortably.

 

"Breathe deeply. And you must bleed." No, he was not going to like it, but it was necessary. She held out her hand for his. One of her blades flashed as she drew it from her hip. "Blood to seal the bond. Blood to sever it." Her eyes rose then to stare at him, waiting.

 

"Of course..." He muttered, before finally producing a hand, holding it out for her. "Exactly how much must I, uh, bleed?"

 

"As much as is required," she replied cryptically. Luckily she had taken so much of his blood already that very little taint remained. She slid the blade across his arm, deep enough to cut but not enough to do any serious damage. He bled freely, the steady stream of crimson hissing and bubbling as it hit the heated pillar beneath. Acrid smoke filled their nostrils and lungs. As she held his arm, her eyes closed so that she might listen to the fading whispers of emotion. When it was enough, she released him, indicating the first aid kit on the floor beside him. She could have closed the wound herself, but she had no desire to taste him. The burning incense masked the metallic tang of blood. She would not press herself upon him ever again. If she ever took his blood, it would be of his choosing and his desire.

 

Her blade sliced into the flesh of her arm and she let her life flow to mingle with his. Then, all at once, they were alone. Each of them alone. Their feelings were their own. Not meeting his gaze, she wiped her blade free with a soft black cloth and extinguished the pillar.

 

"You are free," she said softly, allowing herself the grief that always came from such a loss. Part of her was missing. It was the same whenever a clan-mate fell into darkness.

 

"Thank you." It was all he could reply as he stared down at the burning incense. He ignored the first aid kit, too disoriented to notice. She was really gone. He somehow managed to keep from looking around the room for her, and reaching out to feel the back of his head, where under the flesh and bone she'd resided for so long. Glancing up at her, she looked as fake and artificial as the plastics and metal that surrounded them in this ship. Sitting across this table she felt miles away and looked...almost vulnerable. Part of him more then anything wanted to reach out to her, but he knew he couldn't. That was the part of him who wanted her to be something she couldn't.

 

The part of him that allowed him to continuously be in denial about the reality of things, and convince him that everything would work out in the end. Looking down, he saw his hand already unconsciously reaching out. With a moment's hesitation it recoiled before he pushed himself off the table, standing over her. "I...I should go."

 

"The feeling will pass," she said, knowing the confusion within him. She could smell it, but no longer feel it. Sitting motionless upon the table, her eyes remained on his face. "The rift will heal, the gap will fill, and you will soon forget everything but yourself."

 

"Go," she said quietly, "and heal."

 

"You too," he muttered with a small nod, before walking to the door. Once in the door way, he paused, glancing back. "Victria, for what it's worth...your people deserve to be free. If it weren't for you I don't think I'd believe that. I just hope when they are, they can see the rest of us as something other then prey."

 

"Perhaps they shall," she said unconvincingly, then looked away as he left. When the doors closed, she grabbed the smokeless pillar in front of her and flung it across the room where it hit the wall and shattered. "Weakness be damned," she muttered darkly. "Bonds be damned."