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“Well, of course.” Her tone was matter-of-fact. “Trust me when I say I’ve been there. But the liquor isn’t going to make you forget the way you want to — you’re the only person who can do that. And all I can do is take the edge off.” She pursed her lips, looking at him. “I’m going to find your kitchen, and you are going to finish up here, and go to bed. I’ll be right behind you.”

Victor nodded, “kitchen’s downstairs, hang a left, it’s an open layout down there so it shouldn’t be too hard to find. I’ll only be a few more minutes up here. Bedroom’s just down this hall.” His voice was quiet then he gingerly poured water over his head. “I’m sorry but if you wouldn’t mind bringing a little snack up with you when you come back to the room?”

“That’s the idea. You’ll want it when I release the painblock.” Summer rose to her feet, hair tumbling around her shoulders. She stooped again to kiss him on the forehead before striding out of the room. She was a bit bemused by the size of the house, actually; or more correctly, the ordinariness of it. But then, she supposed, he’d almost certainly simply bought whatever caught his eye, without thinking — well, alright, the things Victor might want out of a home weren’t the same as what she wanted. And she’d less than no business thinking right now of what they might want together.

A quick rummage among various cabinets and in the fridge yielded crackers, peanut butter, and a pitcher, which she filled with water. Anything else he might want, she’d come back down and get. She headed back up to the bedroom.

Victor scrubbed his hands over his face and finished cleaning himself up then carefully got up and out of the tub. He dried himself off then wrapped the towel around his waist and headed to his room. He hadn’t owned this house for very long and hadn’t had much time to decorate it to his tastes but the bedroom, that he’d had time to make his own. The bed was all red and silver with a thick duvet detailed with silver thread in an almost medieval pattern. He enjoyed old things, a kind of mix of old and new. The TV was a bit of a monstrosity but that was the only visible expensive electronic in the room. Victor padded to the walk in closet pulling open the double doors and pulling a pair of flannel pajama bottoms out of one of the drawers. Once he was done getting dressed he walked over to his bed then crawled in, his hand brushing over the slender scimitar hanging on the wall as he passed. He sat up a little in bed and waited for Summer.   

Summer paused in the bedroom door, eyes flicking about to quickly take in the room. She deposited the pitcher and glass on the bedside table, hitching herself up to sit on the edge of the bed. Not meeting Victor’s eyes for a long moment, she contemplated the pitcher, before shaking herself and filling the glass with water. “Here.” In the same motion of handing, she released the painblock, watching Victor’s face carefully.

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“It’s the last time, too, if you expect to stay with me.” She leveled a flat gaze at him. “Now, listen. I expect I’ll have to repeat this many times before you can believe me, and at some point you will say to me, ‘how can you know? how dare you say these things?’ and I will tell you. But for now, listen. You believe it was your fault. You think, if I’d never left the Institute. If we’d never got close. If I’d protected her better. A thousand ifs.”

“It was not your fault. There are a thousand ifs on her side, on their side. By regretting it so, you demean her choice. You reduce her to nothing more than a thing, an object.” Summer put a hand under Victor’s chin. “The hardest lesson is this: shit /happens/. You cannot choose for others. Her or them.”

Victor stared at her, shocked into silence. He’d spent a majority of his life believing it as his fault what happened to Claire. He was a stubborn man too, which didn’t help. He looked down and sighed, shocked when Summer said he was reducing her to an object. “I-I..” He swallowed then tried to speak again. “It won’t happen again, Summer, I promise. Just…I’m going to need your help ok?”

“Well, of course.” Her tone was matter-of-fact. “Trust me when I say I’ve been there. But the liquor isn’t going to make you forget the way you want to — you’re the only person who can do that. And all I can do is take the edge off.” She pursed her lips, looking at him. “I’m going to find your kitchen, and you are going to finish up here, and go to bed. I’ll be right behind you.”

Victor nodded, “kitchen’s downstairs, hang a left, it’s an open layout down there so it shouldn’t be too hard to find. I’ll only be a few more minutes up here. Bedroom’s just down this hall.” His voice was quiet then he gingerly poured water over his head. “I’m sorry but if you wouldn’t mind bringing a little snack up with you when you come back to the room?”

“That’s the idea. You’ll want it when I release the painblock.” Summer rose to her feet, hair tumbling around her shoulders. She stooped again to kiss him on the forehead before striding out of the room. She was a bit bemused by the size of the house, actually; or more correctly, the ordinariness of it. But then, she supposed, he’d almost certainly simply bought whatever caught his eye, without thinking — well, alright, the things Victor might want out of a home weren’t the same as what she wanted. And she’d less than no business thinking right now of what they might want together.

A quick rummage among various cabinets and in the fridge yielded crackers, peanut butter, and a pitcher, which she filled with water. Anything else he might want, she’d come back down and get. She headed back up to the bedroom.

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Summer was silent for a long moment wen he stopped talking. “Ten years ago, yes? More. And as vivid as the day it happened,” she said finally. “Why do you cut yourself on it?” She looked around the room, searching for a candle, but gave up after a moment, turning back to Victor. “Is that the worst of it?”

“Still just as vivid as the day it happened. She was the first person to show me any sort of kindness. She was the first person I loved and somehow she loved me back. She was also the first person that died because of me, because of what I am. And how did I repay her? I put her down like a dog.” He shook his head. “It haunts me that I didn’t do anything to stop it. I could’ve killed the bastards from the Institute years earlier but I didn’t. I tried to pretend none of it had ever happened.”

“Yeah, that’s the worst of it. After that, I started drinking heavily. I was drowning, almost literally in my regret. A drink felt like the only thing that worked to make me not think. I finally kicked it, with the help of some friends at the time. This is the first time I’ve had so much in a long time.” He trailed off for a moment and then looked to Summer to try to see what she was looking for.

“It’s the last time, too, if you expect to stay with me.” She leveled a flat gaze at him. “Now, listen. I expect I’ll have to repeat this many times before you can believe me, and at some point you will say to me, ‘how can you know? how dare you say these things?’ and I will tell you. But for now, listen. You believe it was your fault. You think, if I’d never left the Institute. If we’d never got close. If I’d protected her better. A thousand ifs.”

“It was not your fault. There are a thousand ifs on her side, on their side. By regretting it so, you demean her choice. You reduce her to nothing more than a thing, an object.” Summer put a hand under Victor’s chin. “The hardest lesson is this: shit /happens/. You cannot choose for others. Her or them.”

Victor stared at her, shocked into silence. He’d spent a majority of his life believing it as his fault what happened to Claire. He was a stubborn man too, which didn’t help. He looked down and sighed, shocked when Summer said he was reducing her to an object. “I-I..” He swallowed then tried to speak again. “It won’t happen again, Summer, I promise. Just…I’m going to need your help ok?”

“Well, of course.” Her tone was matter-of-fact. “Trust me when I say I’ve been there. But the liquor isn’t going to make you forget the way you want to — you’re the only person who can do that. And all I can do is take the edge off.” She pursed her lips, looking at him. “I’m going to find your kitchen, and you are going to finish up here, and go to bed. I’ll be right behind you.”

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Most of the blood was gone, and she could see now that it was just a little cut that would likely heal on its own with no trouble. Dropping the cloth in the water, she cut the heat with a little cold, and laid her hands to Victor’s temples. Painblocks were easy. “When I take this off, you have to sleep. Start with the person you killed. The memory that started this.”

Victor closed his eyes at the feel of her hands on his temples and sighed. “Her name was Claire and I loved her. We were together in college and she was a major part in my transition to the ‘real world’ from the Institution. It was stupid of me to think that the Institution wouldn’t look for me and apparently I had left a trail a mile wide. They got her; they got her and they tortured her. As soon as I found out they’d taken her I knew things were going to get really bad very fast. I knew their handbook, had it drilled into me from the moment I started training. There were two assassins, guards really, from the Institution waiting for me. Really they were just meant to slow me down and keep me from saving her. When I found Claire she was so close to death, there was no chance she’d make it. I held her, she could barely speak, blood leaked from her abdomen and when I came away from her I was soaked in it. I didn’t want her to suffer anymore, I knew what I had to do but I didn’t want to have to.” Victor paused and a single tear rolled down his cheek. “I shot her, I killed her and finished the job the Institution had started.” 

He was quiet for another moment, “I hunted down a few key members of the Institution after Claire’s death and then a few more once I had become a vampire. They know better than to come for me now.”

Summer was silent for a long moment wen he stopped talking. “Ten years ago, yes? More. And as vivid as the day it happened,” she said finally. “Why do you cut yourself on it?” She looked around the room, searching for a candle, but gave up after a moment, turning back to Victor. “Is that the worst of it?”

“Still just as vivid as the day it happened. She was the first person to show me any sort of kindness. She was the first person I loved and somehow she loved me back. She was also the first person that died because of me, because of what I am. And how did I repay her? I put her down like a dog.” He shook his head. “It haunts me that I didn’t do anything to stop it. I could’ve killed the bastards from the Institute years earlier but I didn’t. I tried to pretend none of it had ever happened.”

“Yeah, that’s the worst of it. After that, I started drinking heavily. I was drowning, almost literally in my regret. A drink felt like the only thing that worked to make me not think. I finally kicked it, with the help of some friends at the time. This is the first time I’ve had so much in a long time.” He trailed off for a moment and then looked to Summer to try to see what she was looking for.

“It’s the last time, too, if you expect to stay with me.” She leveled a flat gaze at him. “Now, listen. I expect I’ll have to repeat this many times before you can believe me, and at some point you will say to me, ‘how can you know? how dare you say these things?’ and I will tell you. But for now, listen. You believe it was your fault. You think, if I’d never left the Institute. If we’d never got close. If I’d protected her better. A thousand ifs.”

“It was not your fault. There are a thousand ifs on her side, on their side. By regretting it so, you demean her choice. You reduce her to nothing more than a thing, an object.” Summer put a hand under Victor’s chin. “The hardest lesson is this: shit /happens/. You cannot choose for others. Her or them.”

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Summer sighed. “Mostly I’m angry because for a human that amount of alcohol would have killed you, and /you’re not human/. So I don’t even know if you might have given yourself alcohol poisoning, or anything.” She knelt beside the bath, picking up a washcloth and wetting it before gently rubbing at the blood on his head. “There’s just too much I don’t know about you, and I think that has to change, Victor.”

The shock of the water was starting to sober him up a bit, that and the searing pain in his head. “Well, as far as I know, there are very few things that can kill me and alcohol isn’t one of them. But obviously enough of it can cause some serious damage. I had a problem with alcohol when I was younger though, before I was a vampire. It started after I killed her,” Victor shuddered, “I couldn’t control myself, just one glass after another until I finally kicked it. It came back though apparently.” He looked up at her. “What do you want to know?”

Most of the blood was gone, and she could see now that it was just a little cut that would likely heal on its own with no trouble. Dropping the cloth in the water, she cut the heat with a little cold, and laid her hands to Victor’s temples. Painblocks were easy. “When I take this off, you have to sleep. Start with the person you killed. The memory that started this.”

Victor closed his eyes at the feel of her hands on his temples and sighed. “Her name was Claire and I loved her. We were together in college and she was a major part in my transition to the ‘real world’ from the Institution. It was stupid of me to think that the Institution wouldn’t look for me and apparently I had left a trail a mile wide. They got her; they got her and they tortured her. As soon as I found out they’d taken her I knew things were going to get really bad very fast. I knew their handbook, had it drilled into me from the moment I started training. There were two assassins, guards really, from the Institution waiting for me. Really they were just meant to slow me down and keep me from saving her. When I found Claire she was so close to death, there was no chance she’d make it. I held her, she could barely speak, blood leaked from her abdomen and when I came away from her I was soaked in it. I didn’t want her to suffer anymore, I knew what I had to do but I didn’t want to have to.” Victor paused and a single tear rolled down his cheek. “I shot her, I killed her and finished the job the Institution had started.” 

He was quiet for another moment, “I hunted down a few key members of the Institution after Claire’s death and then a few more once I had become a vampire. They know better than to come for me now.”

Summer was silent for a long moment wen he stopped talking. “Ten years ago, yes? More. And as vivid as the day it happened,” she said finally. “Why do you cut yourself on it?” She looked around the room, searching for a candle, but gave up after a moment, turning back to Victor. “Is that the worst of it?”

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“Fine.” Annoyingly, her anger was starting to fade; she bit at her lip and stalked the two steps necessary to face him, sticking her hands under his shirt and jerking upward. “Arms.” Obediently he lifted his arms, and she pulled the black fabric off in one smooth motion, damping his pain for that second. She considered turning the water on cold, but decided she wasn’t feeling /that/ vicious, and pointed. “In. Now,” before turning the water on full hot.

Quietly, Victor got up and sank into the tub, cringing and taking a sharp intake at the temperature of the water. He was careful to hold onto the sides of the tub so that he didn’t slip back and hit his head again. He turned and looked at her with big honey gold eyes. ” ‘m sorry love.”

Summer sighed. “Mostly I’m angry because for a human that amount of alcohol would have killed you, and /you’re not human/. So I don’t even know if you might have given yourself alcohol poisoning, or anything.” She knelt beside the bath, picking up a washcloth and wetting it before gently rubbing at the blood on his head. “There’s just too much I don’t know about you, and I think that has to change, Victor.”

The shock of the water was starting to sober him up a bit, that and the searing pain in his head. “Well, as far as I know, there are very few things that can kill me and alcohol isn’t one of them. But obviously enough of it can cause some serious damage. I had a problem with alcohol when I was younger though, before I was a vampire. It started after I killed her,” Victor shuddered, “I couldn’t control myself, just one glass after another until I finally kicked it. It came back though apparently.” He looked up at her. “What do you want to know?”

Most of the blood was gone, and she could see now that it was just a little cut that would likely heal on its own with no trouble. Dropping the cloth in the water, she cut the heat with a little cold, and laid her hands to Victor’s temples. Painblocks were easy. “When I take this off, you have to sleep. Start with the person you killed. The memory that started this.”

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“Right.” Pressing her lips together, she maneuvered the two of them up the stairs, and into the bathroom. “Do I have to undress you, or can you do that?” Summer planted her hands on her hips, eyeing him narrowly.

Victor’s hair was matted from the bleeding cut on his head and felt that he could shrink under her gaze. He sat down on the closed lid of the toilet then began working on shucking his pants, boxers and socks. It took him a while but once he finished the pain in his head was something fierce. He gulped and looked at her apologetically, “I uh, need sum ‘elp wif my shirt.” 

“Fine.” Annoyingly, her anger was starting to fade; she bit at her lip and stalked the two steps necessary to face him, sticking her hands under his shirt and jerking upward. “Arms.” Obediently he lifted his arms, and she pulled the black fabric off in one smooth motion, damping his pain for that second. She considered turning the water on cold, but decided she wasn’t feeling /that/ vicious, and pointed. “In. Now,” before turning the water on full hot.

Quietly, Victor got up and sank into the tub, cringing and taking a sharp intake at the temperature of the water. He was careful to hold onto the sides of the tub so that he didn’t slip back and hit his head again. He turned and looked at her with big honey gold eyes. ” ‘m sorry love.”

Summer sighed. “Mostly I’m angry because for a human that amount of alcohol would have killed you, and /you’re not human/. So I don’t even know if you might have given yourself alcohol poisoning, or anything.” She knelt beside the bath, picking up a washcloth and wetting it before gently rubbing at the blood on his head. “There’s just too much I don’t know about you, and I think that has to change, Victor.”

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For the first time, Summer was headed to Victor’s house. Given his address, it was easy to get there, and she sang contentedly along to her music during the drive. She was hoping to surprise him, though how easy that would be she didn’t know.

As it turned out, it was easy. Terrifyingly easy.

She’d probed a little bit, before she even got out of the car, since she’d actually expected him to come outside when she drove up. The sense of his unconsciousness startled her, and she flung herself into the house, jaw dropping at the sight of so many bottles. Could vampires get alcohol poisoning? Was that why he was unconscious? “Shit,” she swore, under her breath.

When she finally found him, untidily sprawled on the floor, it was almost a relief. Getting him anywhere else would be a pain, but he didn’t appear to have choked on vomit or anything. Did vampires bleed? Damn, there was too much she didn’t know! She knelt beside him, brushing hair away from his face. “Victor, darling?” she said softly.

Victor’s eyes fluttered open and he smelled blood, his own. He tried to make his hand move to touch his head and was frustrated when his hand moved slower than he wished it would. When his hand finally came back into his blurry field of vision it was covered in a red sticky substance, blood. “Fuck,” he grunted and suddenly he was aware of another presence. He rolled on his side to see who it was and was overcome by a wave of pain. The image of the person next to him looked vaguely like Summer, and the only thing that made him sure that it was her was her scent. He exhaled shakily, still a little drunk. ”‘Ello Summah. Wot’re you doin’ ‘ere?”

The sudden thickness of his accent surprised a choked laugh out of her. “I was coming to surprise you,” she answered, sliding back a little so he could lie on his back. “But I found you like this! What’s going on, Victor darling?” Carefully she spidered her fingers over his head, searching for the spot that was cut. “I think you hit your head pretty hard. Can you sit up?”

Victor’s vision was still a little blurry which worried him but he focused on her words. “I fink so,” he mumbled then let out a startled yelp when she touched his head. “Bloody ‘ell tha’ ‘urt.” 

After letting out a sigh he paused a moment then tried to sit up and ended up more slouching against the wall than anything else. “You were gonna surprise me? Well ‘m sorry this is wot you got.”

He cast his eyes down suddenly ashamed. “I’d been doin’ so well y’know? An’ then I’d started rememberin’ an’ well tha’ turned into a glass of scotch which turned inta 6 an’ then a few more bottles.” Victor looked her in the eye, “I know I ‘ave a problem, I thought I’d kicked it but apparently ‘m not as in control as I thought.”

“/Six/?” Summer gaped at Victor. “You fucking IDIOT. You — you — ” She couldn’t even find the wherewithal to swear at him, she was so shocked. “That’s not a problem, Roth, that’s practically suicide. Gods give me strength, /why didn’t you tell me about this sooner/?” Her voice vibrated with suppressed emotion.

She put her hands down on the floor, bracing herself while she took deep breaths. Heat moved under her skin, begging to be let out. “Get up.” She moved smoothly to her feet in one motion. “Get up, and lean on me. I’ll — I’ll deal with that later. Right now, you are getting in the bath, and I am sobering you up.”