Knocking on the door, he enters without waiting for her to answer. Pushing past the man he'd come to know as Eddie, Verando makes his way down the familiar metal hallway and into the main room. At the top of the wooden staircase, the claw marks that span up its length are all too telling of the events that occurred there. 

The memory of the cat, chasing him, coming after him with such blind fury, is enough to make his skin crawl and he shudders at the thought. 

"Eddie, what did I tell you-" The woman pauses, in nothing but an oversized shirt and soft cloth shorts that are swallowed by her thighs and bottom. She hesitates, narrowing her eyes before turning on her heel to leave. 

"Kitten." Verando sighs, jumping over the railing to follow after her. 

"Don't 'Kitten' me, Doe. This is low even for you, showing your sorry face back here. What is left of mine for you to destroy? Thanks for not killing those cats, by the way." She gestures to the body bags beside the door. "That was a real treat. Good thing I had Tonic with me, or I'd been dead meat, or maybe  that was your plan, you insufferable, egotistical prick-"

"Kitten." Verando stops her abruptly, grabbing her hand. 

It brings her to a halt, feeling the plea resonating in his fingers. Turning to face him, she can read it all too clearly on his face. The pain, the need for comfort that only she and one other person can offer him. 

"I just need you to not be a raging bitch for five minutes." 

His voice is shaky, overexerted from his argument with me not an hour ago. The reality of my thoughts was more than he had ever dreamed would come from those lips, the words that sounded so much like the philosophy of my own father. 

"Doe..." Her voice is gentle, she folds her hands over the top of his before throwing her arms around him, and he hugs her back, chuckling sadly at her height. 

She jabs him in the ribs with her thumb, growling at his rude laugh. "What's got you torn up? I don't often get to see you like this." 

'Get to see him'. This was his problem with their relationship, she enjoyed that other people continued to hurt him. 

So, despite his better judgment, he tells her. Repeating the conversation verbatim to keep from leaving out important details, she guides him to the rounded couch to sit down. As Verando concludes the story, they sit in silence, what was once man and wife is now estranged in this new time. 

The first time they'd really been alone together, the first time they'd had the opportunity to process what had come between them. 

She brushes a strand of kinky hair out of her face, taking a slow breath. "I'm surprised he'd let you come here on your own, he must really trust you. I wouldn't have."

Verando makes a face, resting his elbows on his knees as he glowers at the ground. It felt like a mistake to be here; perhaps that's why he was so angry, it felt like a trap. Go fuck up, go be the bad guy, go make a poor decision. I was the only one who mattered, so why couldn't I see how much I was hurting him? How could I suggest that he become fodder for a greater cause?

Wasn't that what they were trying to avoid? How was it any better than being a slave? The trauma, the fear, and the whispers of the voices in his head reminded him that he trusted others, too, and look where it got him.

"I know you wouldn't have. That's why I'm so... Why would he say something like this, Kitten?"

"Men are idiots." She tells him plainly before exhaling, flopping back onto the couch to sit cross-legged. "He's a spoiled brat, he probably didn't see it how you're taking it. You are rather sensitive, mi amour."

He buries his face in his hands, groaning into them. "Don't call me that. I can't. I shouldn't even be here."

"The last time I saw you, really saw you, you were chained in a dungeon, and we were about to be burned alive. I'll call you whatever I want; you're my husband, damn it." 

Verando doesn't lift his head, sinking deeper into the familiar dark crevice of self-loathing. Knowing him, knowing the inner torment, she slides over to sit beside him and rests her cheek against his shoulder, pressing her body against him to force her way into that lonely space. 

"Why do I feel like you blame yourself for everything?" Her voice is gentle. She didn't mean the way she pressed into him, the way they fit together so perfectly. There was no fire and ice between them; it was two broken shards that somewhat rested together in a way that wasn't painful. 

It was a familiarity that had been the only comfort he'd had for so long.

"Because I do? I keep hurting people. I'm just fucked up, Kitten. I feel like I can't even trust my thoughts. I want to make him afraid of me, so that he would never say anything like that to me again and that he'd regret ever stepping too close to this impossible mess that is my past. I can't let him see me, the real me.. to get to know how badly I ruined Legardo's life.

 I want never to go back; I want to run away until my legs give out and my lungs bleed, and that still won't be far enough. I can't be a slave again, Kitten; losing everything.. losing my freedom. It almost broke me. I think it actually did, I was just too damn cowardly to die that day." 

She presses harder against him, feeling the tremble in his body as she slowly rubs his back with her palm. 

"I never thought he would suggest I could just... die. They could revive me. Doesn't he know that I'd rather it all be over? That I don't 'want' to keep coming back." Verando's voice shakes, "That existing for him is already so damn impossible. Gods, Kitten. I just want to quit."

It's hard for her to not feed these fears as she watches this man who was always the epitome of self-confidence crumble before her by the cruel words of another man. 

 Marisol could be certain he never felt like this for her, he never shook like this over here; he never felt so conflicted as he did before her. "Why are you here, Doe?" she manages, broken. A single tear slipped past her lashes. "I don't even recognize you; here I am, jealous of a damn Prince.. and not for the money or the fame, the abilities, but that he owns something I can never have."

"He asked me to do this, I'm here to talk to you because I love him, because I'm pathetic. He could burn me at the stake, and I'd still go to him, as long as I was able-"

 Carefully, she reaches with her free hand to brush under his eye with her thumb. "You've got it bad." She whispers, cutting him off before any more declarations could deter her.

Making a face, he sighs and takes a deep breath to stand, but she puts her hand on his shoulder to stop him. "I'm sorry. I'm just..." She thinks of her words carefully, relishing in the ability to touch him, to comfort him, something she thought she would never do again. 

Over a decade apart, never to know the relations of husband and wife again. She drops her gaze to watch the ground, not wanting to admit it to those haunting light eyes. She was looking at a ghost, a man she'd accepted was dead. "All these years I never thought you'd choose a man over me. Way to hit me right in the ego." Her chuckle is sad, hard. "I knew you couldn't settle.. but I had always wondered with time if maybe you'd realize you wouldn't have to 'settle' with me. Now I guess I just know that's not true." 

"I loved you for the majority of my life." Verando reminds her firmly, "I worshiped you; I followed you to the ends of the earth, Kitten. I tried, and do-" He stops himself and she offers him a weak smile, coupled with a sad laugh. "If there was any woman it could have worked with, it would have been you. Maybe if I hadn't found Nic-" But even then, would he have survived long enough to know if he could have made it work? 

I had been his salvation, a light at the end of this long and dark tunnel.

Reaching for him, she runs her hand through his hair, soaking in the pain of the loss. "Verando. You have to stop running." With a sob, Marisol struggles to make the words come forward. 

His expression changed, and she took a ragged breath as if it were hard to breathe. It was time to let him go, to release him from his bond to her. 

"He said some shitty stuff, I can agree to that, and when I see him again, I'm going to slap him to the next century, but, mi amour, you have to stop running. It's okay to love him; it's okay to stop blaming yourself for the fucked up things we did when we were kids. 

We had to survive; we were just kids... broken, sad, hungry, poor kids who did whatever the fuck we had to do. We are the ones that get to live; you have nothing to apologize for, and if anyone wants to question what we did to make it from day to day, then I'd say, Fuck 'em. You were just a kid, baby."

Verando turns his gaze to watch the ground, focusing on controlling his breathing and fighting against the tightening of his chest. "What if I can't let it go?" 

She hugs him tightly, squeezing him as firmly as she can manage. 

"Nic has traveled centuries to stay with you; he has put up with your insanity and your faults and turned you into someone I am disgusted by." 

They both laugh; he shakes his head as she kisses the point of his shoulder, taking in his scent. "You're not my Doe anymore. You're Randy. Don't run away because he said something stupid; make him regret it and move on. He's a man, honey. You're going to have to get used to it because you all say a lot of dumb shit."

Lifting his eyes to meet hers, Verando offers her a small smile, dimpling his cheek. "How do I ever forgive myself for what I've done to you?" 

Marisol giggles, a rather girlish sound, still affected by him, still in love with him. She sniffles, wiping her eye with the back of her hand. 

"You don't, asshole. Not many people get a husband and a wife. You can repay me by being my friend again because I've missed you so much I can't even stand it." 

A small sob leaves her chest, and he pulls her into his lap, hugging her tightly. 

"I feel like my best friend has died twice, and I just want you back. If it can't be as my lover, then at least as my friend." 

Stroking her hair, he holds her close until she reaches up to stop him, clutching his hand in her own.

"Please don't." Her voice is barely above a whisper. "Just know that I love you; if you ever think you are alone in this world, know I'm here, no matter what."

Verando nods obediently, "Yes, Ma'am." He exhales. "So, does that mean you will help raid this building?"

Rolling her eyes in a mockery of his dramatics, she nods back. "Yes. I will. How can I say no if you're going to come here and cry?" Her thumb drags under his eye, and he swats her hand away defensively. 

"I didn't cry." He grumbles, offended. 

She can't help but chuckle at him, leaning forward to kiss his lips out of instinct and habit. He'd belonged to her for so long, and while he hesitates for only a moment, the melting of his lips against hers elicits a gasp. 

Marisol throws her arms around his neck, crushing her lips to his as he kisses her back. Desperate; hungry, her pulse pounds wildly as she knots her fingers in that delicious head of hair. Verando tenses as her tongue traces his lower lip, breaking the kiss to quickly turn his head away.

"Why did you stop?" She pleads, hovering her lips over his.  

"Because I love him and that was.. a mistake." He manages, cursing under his breath, damning himself to the furthest pits of hell. 

Rocking back to sit on his thighs, offended, her hips press down to feel there is no state of arousal from the sudden influx of affection. Her chest heaving, she regards him for a moment before slowly sliding out of his lap; she'd truly lost him to me. 

"Satisfied?" he confirms, cold from her nonchalant attempt to check for a hope of his infidelity. 

"No." Marisol spits, broken. "All those women. All those women you bedded, and it's me you won't cheat with." Sliding to the ground, she shoves his legs apart, fighting for the button of his jeans as he carefully places his hands over hers. "Why is it not me?" She demands, harshly. "I'm not the one you end up with, I'm not the one you'll cheat with. Damn it, Doe." She sobs, collapsing into his lap to come apart at the seams. 

It would be his greatest sin, he deserved everything I would do to him for doing this to this woman. This powerful, beautiful, woman should never be brought to such dire straights by a man like him. "I'm sorry, Ki-... Marisol."

Looking up at him, she takes a slow breath before standing. "I'm sorry." She manages, placing her hand over her mouth, and shutting her eyes as he stands and buttons his pants. "Are you going to tell him?"

"I have to." Verando sighs. "I kissed you back. He needs to know that. If he finds out..." Shaking his head, he didn't want to think about it. "I don't think he's going to forgive me. But I.. brought this on myself the moment I returned that gesture."

"Let me know if you need a couch to sleep on. I.. really am sorry, Doe."