According to You

It was unusual for the place to be empty; it left an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. Vera would state that that was the start of the problem - if someone had been there, anyone had been there, they wouldn't have even needed to stop her - she would have stopped herself. No longer a youth Vera did not wish to do these things any more, not really. Her goal had been to be an adult about her life, to get a job.

To have a family.

See how well that goal had went. The burn had started to wear off by the third or fourth shot - the time between drinks weakening so much that the young woman had foregone the illusion of using a glass, and proceeded to just take swigs from the bottle that had - unfortunately - been within her room. As the alcohol burned through her system, absorbing quickly through her empty stomach and warming up her blood stream, her causal easy demeanour dissipated into the pain that she buried inside.

On the floor around the drunk woman memories were scattered, scraps of papers torn out of childish journals, pictures, mementos. As the words from the scraps blurred, she tossed them aside as futile and picked up the photos instead. The fond smile that wavered through the first through slowly flattened until she was holding the last clip, an old creased picture of herself and Brock taken a year or two back and the grin was gone completely. A soft finger brushed over the companionable way they were interacting, the image blurring completely as a fog of tears filled her eyes. Another swig of burning liquid pushing away the thoughts that were filling there.

She was alone. Always alone - even Brock, eternally doomed to love a woman who loves another found family - he had a son, he had a daughter; there were people intimately connected to him. And she was nothing but the foolish friend with an endless crush, that was futile to the point of tragic. She had realized that when she left - it was why she had left. And there hadn't even been children then.

Now she was just, alone. Another swig - always alone.

That's when the last photo caught her attention; it had been hidden amongst the rest, as she had planned it.

Noel.

The picture was deceivingly happy; secluded in some corner or another the older man had him wrapped in his arms - lovingly really, not in any other way (As he had also been inclined to). Stroking the page with a finger, she let out a half hiccup sob. She hadn't always been alone - she had almost had a family.

She had just made the wrong choice.

The sob that escaped that moment dissolved into a soft growl, the picture crunched in her hand and the almost empty fire-whiskey bottle (it had been full when she found it) slipped from her grasp, a flying shard cutting across her hand, breaking skin.

Just like he use to. Pain flashed in her mind but she was too drunk to dwell on it properly. Noel hadn't been a family - he'd been-been-been - He was the end of her family, the loss of her future, the end of everything.

She ended up on the front stoop that she once knew so well with a wobble. Her enhanced healing had already started to close the cut on her hand - nothing more than a scab now - but it didn't matter to her any more. Her drunken rage had a new focus.

"Noel!!!" Her voice rung out as she pounded upon the door, trying the handle for a moment and then began pounded on here, "Noel! Come here and talk to me you slimy bastard!" She continued banging on the door, never occurring to her that there was a possibility that he could have left the place.

It didn't matter to her if he had. She'd find him - it wasn't hard, part of her knew anyway. Would find him, always. It was only a spell that had kept him from being able to get to her. A spell she wouldn't realized until she sobered up that she had just shattered.

"Stop hiding, you Murdering asshole!!"

Spoiler:

Noel slipped off his leather polished shoes, and kicked up his feet on the opposite chair in front of him. The man's dark gaze wandered around the ornate room placidly, not taking in any of the extravagant details he had paid for. It was all pointless.

The man ran a hand through his hair, bringing a cigar to his lips and chewing at the end of it, briefly appreciating the taste of the herb. He rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the muscles that bunched tightly around his neck. It was all stress. Curse breaking had taken its toll on the man. Deep frown lines creased his brow, his brown eyes constantly heavy with intensity, even when he was trying to relax. He needed a stress reliever.

His lips curved into a coy smile as he considered his possibilities- Jane, Marzia, Jessica. He had options- but one of them were particularly exciting. A frustrated sigh rushed out of his lips, and the man tilted his head back tiredly. There were no challenges anymore. There was no one who was really worth his while. He wanted someone who was confident, elegant- a little social butterfly.

He wanted-

Noel blinked, and straightened up immediately at the pounding that echoed into his drawing room. The man stood swiftly, clenching his jaw together as the incessant knocking continued. Who was drawing so much attention? Of course, he was not one to shy away from the limelight, but this-

His hand twisted the golden door knob aggressively, and pulled the door open.

"Vera?" He asked, surprised at the woman who had turned up on his doorstep. She'd broken the spell.

And she was drunk. He'd always found it both endearing and irritating when she was intoxicated.

"Vera." The man said firmly, pushing her inside without giving her a chance to back away from his house. "What are you doing?" Noel raised an eyebrow, eyes shining with mirth- and choosing to ignore the insults that were being hurled at him.

"What?" the woman slurred swaying back from his hands only to stumble, and topple the other way, giving him easer access to drag her into the building, "Can't you recognize me without the bruises?" She poked a finger against his chest, liking the effect of it so much that she repeated it a couple more times, "You liked the bruises. You made them."

Eyes hard, she wiggled out of his grasp, taking a step back - instinct, even drunk instinct - seemed to be asking for space between them, not closeness. Perhaps there was some part of her mind that was realizing the mistake this had been, however it was too suppressed by everything else to do much more than make that tiny gap.

"I-I'm-I'm-" What was she doing? That was a very good answer. "I-I would have been a good mother you know. You-you murderedher - I-I could have, but you," the tackle she launched at the man was weakened by the fact that she was having trouble balancing, and she more fell into Noel than attacked him. "You killed her!"

Noel narrowed his eyes at the drunken woman, who he was basically carrying into the house, and tried to lean her against the wall- careful that she didn't stumble or lose balance again. Why did she insist on being so difficult? The man inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself. She was trying to get him worked up deliberately. She was askingfor him to lose his temper.

Grabbing her hand roughly to stop Vera's futile poking against his chest, the man refused to respond to her accusations.

"That's enough, Vera." He insisted, guiding her along the hallway, trying to get her into the drawing room. He would deal with her when she was sober. Not like this- she was too rowdy. She'd cause a scene- Vera was unpredictable when she was like this and-

Noel took one stumbling step backwards as her whole weight was thrown onto him, and gripped her shoulders aggressively, trying to move her body away from his.

"What?" He asked, obviously confused at her intoxicated ramblings. "What are you talking about, Vera?!" His voice raised, on the verge of shouting. This woman had come into his house, shouted insults and now- accusations of murder?

"Are you crazy?!" He shook her violently, desperate to get some sense back into her. He would not slap her. Would not.

Would not.

"I HAVEN'T KILLED ANYONE!" Noel boomed, shoving her away from him.

"But you did," her voice was actually shrinking as his raged, she stumbled away from his shove and fell down completely, arms catching the side of a chair on the way down, only thing keeping herself up half upright and she folded on the ground. He was getting angry, was angry. She could see the look in his eyes - she could see the control snap in place and then disappear. It was almost thrilling in a way. At the very least familiar. Out of everything in her life this was common ground, something she understood.

Her hands wrapped around her lower abdomen, as her anger seeped back into tired pain, the alcohol still running through her system, addling her brains, "I was pregnant... that's why I left. But-but after you..."

A chocked sob escaped all on its own. She was completely vulnerable there on the floor - vulnerable to internal pain, and any attack the man felt like giving. But perhaps she deserved it - she hadn't been able to protect her baby anyway, maybe she deserved anything that he would give to her.

"I wasn't any more."

Noel ground his teeth together frustratedly, advancing towards the woman who sat crumpled on the floor, dark gaze hard. She looked lost, confused- pathetic. Where was the Vera he was once married to? Strong and confident and easy going- she was nothing but the left overs of the person she used to be. That was why, what he told himself, they had left each other. She was too easy to break.

But that didn't mean he didn't miss her. At the very least, miss his old Vera.

"No. You left because," Noel frowned, scrunching his eyes closed. He had to stop looking at her- it just made him more angry. More frustrated that after everything they had been through, she had ran away. Just ran away from him. Abandoned him.

"You left because you were too fragile." His eyelids flew open, refusing to believe what she was saying. He would have known if she was pregnant. He could never have- he wouldn't-

"I wouldn't- I wouldn't if you were..." Noel shook his head, as if trying to shake her words out of his mind. He hadn't-He would never kill his own child. He wouldn't be able to live with himself. He couldn't. It couldn't be true, he would have known and-

"I didn't." Noel choked quietly, ashamed tears burning in his eyes that he chose to ignore. "You weren't pregnant." The man looked down at her, and all of his sadness dissipated into anger once again. She was trying to get him like this. Why would she want this? Vera knew. Vera knew what would happen if he lost his temper- she wanted him to, she wanted him to hit her-

"YOU'RE LYING!" He yelled, throwing his arm backwards and hitting a pile of books over so they tumbled onto the floor noisily.

She wasn't as pathetic, as fragile as Noel was thinking; Vera had broken, it was true - there was a part of her that he had shattered, that her mother had weakened before she had even thought about a man named Noel, but she never let that get to her. In her day to day life, Vera persevered; she survived. She spent everyday watching the man she loved interact, adore everyone it seemed, it felt but her.

And she smiled and laughed her way through it all.

This wasn't her, she was as disgusted by the disgrace she made as he was - but she couldn't help it. Even the strongest people had to fall; Noel was her falling. And she couldn't stop it.

Not only did she flinch at the crash, the yelling somehow washing over her ears without any notice, but she looked up; she'd never know if it was the glistening in those eyes, the pain she glimpsed before the anger replaced it, or if it was just because she was drunk. Perhaps she would have done it even if he hadn't shown regret, perhaps she was just too drunk to see the flaws in this plan.

She just knew what she wanted; and he was close enough to give it to her.

There wasn't any time between when she was upon the floor, broken and sobbing, and up, against Noel, hands on his shoulders as much an intimate act, as an attempt to stay upright. Pressing her lips first to the base of his neck, she worked his way up to his lips, hovering above close enough to touch, but not actually follow through with the action. This was the Vera he had known, her old self, her usual self. In control, impulsive, not giving a second thought to what her actions today would bring tomorrow.

Her gaze never left his.

"Fix it," she leaned closer then, bringing their lips together, conducting a slow lingering kiss, "Help me fix it."

Noel hated looking at her.

He hated to see something so broken and weak, sobbing on the floor. It was shameful- this chaotic release of raw emotion that rushed out of her was too much. It even made him feel uncomfortable, as a man who had mastered the art of concealing emotions and displaying false ones at an early age. It was too real.

Although the man would never admit it to himself, he hated seeing his Vera like that. His wife who had been so care-free and charming- falling apart at his feet. Because of him. He had done this- whether he liked it or not. Even if he thought it was partially her fault- just for being too fragile- he was the one who had broken her. Noel found no way of denying that.

The man stared down at the books that had crashed onto the floor, transfixed with their creased spines and crumpled pages, her sobbing ringing in his ears. A small, barely noticeable red lines blurred the edges of his vision, and he swallowed thickly. She was doing it again to him- she was turning him into a monster.

A surprised half-groan caught in his throat, as Vera- as suddenly as she had just appeared on his doorstep and re-entered his life- pressed herself against him and had her lips on his neck.

"What are you doing?" Noel breathed raggedly, his hands moving to hold her waist. He was trying to wrap his mind around exactly what was going on. Trying to understand her- and completely failing.

His lips returned the kiss, silently revelling in the very essence of his wife- ex wife- again. Her taste- his tongue flicked across her lips. Her smell- He inhaled her scent deeply, pulling her closer into him. His Vera- impulsive, unpredictable, charming. His.

"I'm going to fix it." Noel's hands held her face firmly, making it almost impossible for her to break away. "I'll fix it." He murmured again, before ducking his head and bringing his lips to hers once more.

There was something comforting in the way he held her, firm, secure; there was danger behind that hold, almost always had been, even before they got married, before she had started setting off his unstable temper, there had been a sense of threat from his firm possessive holds.

And that had been as addicting as everything else. It wasn't safety she had gotten - that was what she had sought out in her next relationship, her next infatuation - but Noel... Noel had been excitement. The danger of the relationship had been eternally impulsive. Fed her unexplained need to live on the edge, put herself into danger.

Letting out a moan, she kissed the man hungrily, wrapping her arms around his neck this time, locking them there, as she plastered herself even tighter against him, cloth rubbing against cloth even as her body, completely detached from her brain longed for just warm skin against hers.

Tugging against him slightly, she pulled closer, hand moving down his back, getting a feel for the body she had once known so well, looking for any changes, seeking for those almost missed familiarities. Although she had not missed the hitting, barely missed the man - the lose of her child going a long way to fuel her fear and hate - there was some part of her, a part that perhaps always hated herself, or perhaps a part that just... got attached, that missed him. He was her life, the first, and maybe the only she had thought had valued her for herself.

Leaning away from him slightly, just making enough space to move, she laid a hand over the pale sweater she had been wearing, pealing it off with care that seemed to contradict the level of intoxication she had been exhibiting all evening. Once free of its binding, she leaned closer again, hands playing with the hem of his own shirt; eyes completely serious as she looked back up as his face.

"Then let's fix it."

This what he wanted- everything that he desired, that he had yearned since Vera had left him. He had wasted his time, trying to look for someone- anyone- that could ever fill her shoes. No one knew him like she did- understood everything that he needed and exactly how he had to have it- everything that she did reminded him of what they once were. Of what he wanted them to be again.

Noel's hands moved to her back, and pulled her closer into him in one jerky movement so that her flush was pressed against him. His hands shot upwards to tangle themselves in her mess of hair, his grip insanely dominant, making it physically impossible for the other woman to pull away, even for air.

He wanted her. Anyone else would be a waste of his time. And this time, Noel was certain that he would not let her go. At whatever cost. She was worth too much- too perfect for anyone else to have. Noel had never been one for sharing.

The man loosened his tight grip on her slightly, giving her the impression that she had always been able to lean away if she had wished to do so. A low growl caught in his throat as her own top was thrown aside, and his eyes dilated hungrily.

"Lets." He murmured heatedly, holding her face with both hands- and barely remembering exactly what they were talking about- only that Vera was there, and she wanted him like she used to.

Almost crashing his lips onto hers, Noel's hands trailed down her thighs, his touch lingering on her skin through the cloth, until he reached the behinds of her knees. His mouth smirked against Vera's, and he lifted her legs in one swift movement, so that her legs were hitched around his waist- and began to walk, with a woman wrapped around him, towards the general direction of the bedroom.

Drunk as she was, on pain, on alcohol, on desire to be touched again, to feel loved again, she melted into his touch, giving in to the forceful holds, moulding to his body, to her own desires as if she were putty in his very experienced hands.

Her breath hitched as she pushed herself further against him mouth never leaving the secure contact of his, friction, delicious friction spreading between their bodies as her breath finally became unstuck and her whole body relaxed into him with a moan.

"Noel," she breathed, mouth moving away from his lips, sliding across the rest of his skin. "god, Noel."

Noel stretched lazily, his muscles flexing beneath his white shirt that he had thrown on as soon as he had awoken a few hours earlier, although the garment had not been buttoned. He felt no need to dress fully- it was the weekend now, and he had company, attractive company at that, which was more reason for him not to feel the need for his usual suit.

The man fiddled with the egg he was holding, before tossing it idly into his other hand. Breakfast. He wanted to make this round better than the last- and a cooked meal seemed to be a good tactic.

He smirked down at the frying pan in front of him. He could do breakfast.

The sunlight through the window crossed her fair skin, causing her blonde hair to sparkle in the early morning glow. There was a dull ache in her head, indicating that she had drunk far more than she had ever intended to. Vera, although it might not be a note of pride, had drunk a lot in her life, and had reached a point where hangovers weren't a common occurrence.

However there was a ghost of one now.

Rolling over, the sheets soft and smooth over her bare skin, she endeavoured to move out of the light, a small frown on her face. Couldn't the sun be more considerate? The smell of something being cooked was drifting from another part of the house.

"Not now, Br-" her half grumbled groan stopped as her brain slowly began to click some things together.

The sheets upon the bed were far too soft to be her own, the bare contact of her skin against blankets hinted that something was wrong further. And there was the undeniable fact that the building was just far too quiet. The pack house was never this quiet - never.

It lead to the simple conclusion this wasn't the pack house. Eyelids fluttering open in curiosity, she awoke to find herself face to face with -

Noel.

She jumped back, heart pounding for a moment before she realized that it was just a photograph. Hugging bare arms against bare chest, her relief was short lived as she recalled the events of the previous night. Vera felt sick.

The events were foggy, she couldn't recall much more than...

A quick skim of her person showed no marks, though that didn't mean he hadn't hit her; any light bruising would have been healed in an hours time at most. It was part of the reason Noel's abuse had been so easy to hide before - the evidence rarely stuck around.

Part of her wanted to run, right there. Grab her clothes, and run.

That part lost however.

There was some part of her; a lonely part of her, that had enjoyed... it hadn't been just, lust. There was, if only because it was old, a scar of the pasts, some sort of deeper emotion there. Even when he was angry, hitting her. Vera always felt like the man... cared.

She was still terrified of him. Still in love with a completely different man

But part of her was weak; part of her was tired of being untouched, of being alone.

It was that part of her that had sent her to Noel's wardrobe instead of the floor, put on an old shirt of the man's that hung about midway up her thighs instead of own clothes, and it was that part of her that made her way downstairs.

She'd later rationalize that it had been a safety precaution. There was no spell to keep him away now. She would say it had been safer to follow him, stick around until she could find an excuse to leave that didn't seem like running.

Vera would know she was lying to herself. But at least the lie felt better.

Leaning on the door frame of the kitchen she looked in at the man. He had always been attractive. Her eyes lingered before her soft voice spoke up.

"You're cooking."

"Eggs." Noel declared, cracking the egg on the surface of the counter loudly, before emptying the shell's contents onto the pan from about 30cm above it- his movements seemed almost rehearsed, as stylistically as a TV chef, although the man had barely set foot in his own kitchen.

"Scrambled or," He lifted his gaze towards her, having planned to continue his question, but a surge of possessiveness rushed through him at the sight of her. In his old shirt- he hadn't worn that shirt for a while. She was tired, he could tell. Perhaps a little hangover, but not too badly. But there she was- his Vera, leaning in the doorway. As perfect as ever. The soft golden light of the morning streamed into the room through a nearby window, pooling around the area around her.

"Ma petite ange." Noel murmured fondly, suddenly recalling his nickname for her that he had coined around the time when they had first met.

Her eyes stopped trailing his movements, the cooking she couldn't recall him doing last time, as the name came out of his mouth. Ducking her head slight, she felt a rueful grin and a heat that was almost like a blush spreading to her face. What was that warm feeling dancing in her?

This was Noel. He wasn't... whether he said he wanted to or not, he wasn't safe. She couldn't let herself trust him, and yet she couldn't let herself run either.

"I'm not that petite," she contradicted softly, the words as familiar as the name. They should be. Just as many times as he had called her his little angel, she had argued that she wasn't little.

Funny that she didn't argue on the other word either. Vera certainly never saw herself as an angel.

"I hope you don't mind I borrowed a shirt," she said softly, righting herself and taking a hesitant step into the room. "I hadn't wanted to put my dirty clothes back on." The shirt smelled like him, and as odd as that was it was almost comforting. It was a familiar smell... it reminded her of the good times they had, the times when he held her close in a caress, not...

His scent was the last thing she noticed when he was mad.

Looking around the room for another moment she took one step forward and then another, until she was leaning on a counter a little ways away from him.

"Which ever type of egg you aren't likely to burn," her tone and grin were soft, teasing. She wasn't sure where this calm was coming from, but she couldn't get rid of it, "I don't recall you cooking much for me before."

Noel's lips slipped into something between a smile and a smirk at her reaction to his nickname- it was good to know that he still had the same effect on her that she had on him.

Dropping his gaze to the frying pan again, smile still in place, the man turned up the heat, and the egg began to sizzle noisily, filling the brief silence between the two people.

"Petite to me." Noel replied softly, knowing the script to this conversation by heart. It was hard to forget when one went through it almost every day for an odd 8 years they had been together.

"Of course not." He looked upwards to frown at her, waving a dismissive hand. They had been married once. "You don't need-," Noel cut his sentence short, before shaking his head and turning his attention back to the pan. "It suits you." He chuckled.

"Good to know you're confident in my abilities." Noel raised his eyebrows, his own playful smile mirroring her own.

"Before isn't Now." He replied simply, scrambling the egg with some cooking utensil, "Now is better."

There was something oddly... ominous by that reminder. Noel of course thought nothing of it, but the pointing out the differences in their sizes, the fact that she was indeed smaller than him, seemed to emphasize just how easily she had always been to push around.

Giving a small smile, she balled up her hand in the sleeves of the shirt being mentioned and gave a small smile, "Then I'll be sure to wear it out." It was a joke that seemed to hold more promise than she had meant to give. Fear and confusion were bubbling together.

Now is better. She watched the eggs cooking into the frying pan, wondering if that was true. Vera was sure Noel wanted to believe that. It was what he always wanted to believe - that he would stop doing it, that it was her fault for crossing him but neither of those things seemed to stop.

"I'm sure it is," she responded softly, not entirely lying, though she couldn't help herself from wondering her things.

Was she the eggs in the frying pan? Just waiting to get burned.

Noel moved from the stove towards the closest cupboard, seeking for plates. Plates would make sense if he was making a meal- but he was not entirely familiar with his own kitchen. There were house elves that were paid to do this for him, (he insisted on rewarding them, at the risk of feeling oddly in their debt) and the man was simply not accustomed to being in the kitchen. He turned to look at Vera, attempting to ignore her hesitance, and flashed an easy smile. "You wouldn't mind eating out of the pan, would you?"

Noel's gaze snapped upwards from the finished eggs as he turned the heat down, admittedly taken aback by the statement. "Are-" He began, but almost instantly swallowed his words. He didn't want to...scare her off, per se. "Keep it." He recovered quickly, turning his attention back to the cutlery he had managed to find earlier, before sliding a fork towards her.

"Bon appetit, ma petite ange."

She couldn't help but snort slightly as she watched him bumble around proving her earlier surprise to be correct. He hardly knew his own kitchen, that certainly wasn't a sign of a person who spent much time cooking in it.

"Do you really think, that I managed to become a proper lady in five years Noel? It would honestly take over a decade for me to even think about that," she let out a soft laugh, not quite relaxing, but slipping into something almost familiar as she accepted the fork and poked at the breakfast. "I think I can manage eating from the pot without wounding my pride."

Stopping her playing she finally and put the food in her mouth, chewing slowly before going for some more.

"Not bad, maybe I should have let you cook more often."

Glancing upwards at the snort, Noel allowed his lips to slip into a small, amused smile. He had spent nights after she had left him trying to figure out exactly why he had ever loved her- now, he thought it was astounding that he had ever forgotten.

"Beautiful, charming, intelligent, witty," He listed, one eyebrow raised at the woman. "It's not as if you'd have to gain any new skills." He commented, before frowning and shaking his head. "Pot? Pan. Take it from the master-chef." He teased, then moved to pour orange juice into two glasses.

"I can cook now more." Noel said, not realizing the implications that came with his sentence.

Head ducked, Vera spent more of her focus on the food that she was slowly but systematically placing in her mouth rather than the man that sat across from her. There as a fondness for him, she could not deny that feeling. He had after all managed to claim her first relationship, and although not her 'innocences' in a traditional sense, he had certainly taken something from her. There was something else, though, that she could not deny lurking beneath the otherwise friendly meeting.

There was a danger with Noel that nothing could erase. Nothing could remain with the man when she was only safe until the next thing set off his uniquely touchy temper. She couldn't, and wouldn't live like that. Not again.

Not even if she didn't already love somebody else.

There was just no way she could tell him that - without falling into the exact danger she was trying to escape from.

"Oh, a Pan, such a big difference," Vera rolled her eyes, and slid the pan closer to the man. "Just take some food Master Chief." Risking a soft grin, she avoided saying anything else. Joking seemed like safe ground. What else did she have left to do?