re: Just for clarification

[another email correspondence with 'Eve', dated about a week after the first]

Hey again,

Yeah, I guess I never really fully explained Sam and I to you, did I? I think... I think it was too much to explain, it never did make a lot of sense, and there were too many strands behind it.

So, here, I'll attempt to make some sense of it all for you.

What was the nature of my relationship with Sam? Despite my previous statement, it was simple, really. It was one based on mutual benefit, and hanging prepositions. She needed someone to rely on, I needed someone to take care of.
I could see from the outset, from the moment she was cursed with Ellinoria's power, that she would need help. That we would need to keep her normal, keep the madness down. Darjen's death immediately after only drove the point home for me. She had suddenly inherited incomprehensible power with which she could do nothing, and she had stood helplessly by while the man she loved died. I'm not sure any of us were aware of her feelings for him at the time, possibly she wasn't even aware. But since it has become very clear, to me at least, how deeply they ran.

She and I were always friendly before that, being clan-kin. Not only were we compatible in terms of personality, we also had to deal with the same Ventrue politicking bullshit, face the same prejudices, attend the same meetings. She was my introduction to the Jade Rose crew. Funny how the tables turned, I once relied on her support and connections, she has come to rely on mine.

And it only made sense at the time, as I was the closest to her (how quickly we develop bonds in times of trouble), as I was the closest to her, that I should keep an eye on her. Make sure she was holding up.

The first night I discovered that she was staying at Darjen's place is where I trace the roots of our more physical relationship. She was quiet that night, I suspected something was up. Escorted her to her own Haven, got a call from Alora, and hung around her doorstep to take it. As I hung up the cell, her light clicked out upstairs and in a rare moment of silence, I heard the window open. I glanced up in time to see her climb the fire exit to the rooftops.

It didn't take much to follow her, I shadowed her to the high rise, then strange to me, that I would come to know only too well. I let her go in, let her go up, watched the elevator numbers tick off to the top floor. It was one of those fancy old-fashioned things with the ornate metal grate, the numbers that lit up as it hit every floor. There was a fountain in the lobby, immaculately groomed bonsai trees, a classy chandelier, marble floors. Very nice place.

Grabbed the next elevator up, all the way, to the penthouse. She hadn't even bothered locking the door. I found her on his bed. She wasn't crying, she's too strong for that. But she looked lost. She'd known I was following her, maybe she was sick of suffering quietly. She told me she was alone, that this place made her feel like he was there, just in the other room, just on his way in. That apartment is so tragic. Things left strewn about, sketches and paintings half-finished. All poised for his return. He had left that place expecting to be back in the morning. Everything left half-done, almost finished. No wonder she felt like he was there. No wonder it moved me.

I think I aplogised for my inability to fill that gap, to make her feel less alone. Offered to go, probably. She told me not to, probably. All I know is I stayed that day. We did no more than sleep, but I remember thinking that it might help her to feel someone close, feel someone's arms around her. To remind her that she was not in a completely barren world. Maybe I wanted that too. I was probably lonely too. Whatever it was, we took some comfort in the simple existence of another cold body nearby.

Later it became more than that. It was a given, spending that much time together. When you've got eternity, things like that lose importance. She never mentioned his name, but I knew. We both knew it was empty in most respects.

For me it was more a matter of her, what she needed. Supporting her, saving her, giving her what stability I could. That became my mission.
Yes, I got attached, it was inevitable. But it's hard to let go entirely, to become attached when you've got two pasts breathing a cold breath down your neck, keeping history between you. I was ever conscious of my own past, and Darjen's presence was an ever-present weight. We were staying in his Haven, for Hyne's sake, surrounded by his things. It felt sacrilegious. Disrespectful. But again, when you've got eternity...

So, no, I wouldn't call what we had love. It became more than just convenience, for a while there, but it was less, a good deal less, than love. Can we love, dead as we are? I suppose we can. Look at Rielle and Marquis. Look at Ashurah and... whatsisname... Damien? Look at Sam and Darjen. Though I'm not convinced her current love for the dead man isn't some form of neurosis brought on by the power, the betrayal, the sudden death; overwhelming events stacked up.

Looking back, perhaps another body wasn't what she needed. Perhaps constant companionship, constant reminder of what she had not, perhaps that did more harm than good. I was not Darjen and Darjen was what she wanted. Perhaps I should have given her time and space to mourn. Perhaps she just needed more than one or two years. Perhaps pity, sympathy, and support were not what was required of me. I couldn't decide if it was space or love that she needed, and so I gave her neither. I gave her a shell.

I think, though, once I returned from burying my own past, I was ready to let myself love. I could have done what I hadn't yet, could have devoted myself entirely to her. I was ready to let my peace become hers. I don't know if it would have worked, but I was ready to try.
And that might explain my hostility toward Adam, my undercurrent of hurt. It wasn't a true blow, I hadn't lost anything more that physical intimacy and a constant companion, but the possibility was taken away. That was what hurt, the loss of possibility. I was cleansed, after those months away, but the world remained sullied, and I blamed that on him.

Perhaps you think me foolish for continuing to care. Perhaps it is folly to think that her sanity can be restored. In this naive childe she sees a dead man, for Hyne's sake, the face of one she saw die with her own eyes.
But even if it is folly, it is not a place close to her heart I long for. I don't expect that, it is not a lover's jealousy I feel. It is that she had become my quest, my mission, and it is that I have failed her so completely. That I cannot stand.

So what, you ask, was our relationship? She was a goal, an ideal, and our interactions were steps on the path toward it. Our relationship was a series of tasks to be performed, mostly separate from personal cares and desires. Our relationship was a means to achieve salvation.
And it failed.

We are the damned, Eve. It is not our lot to be saved.


Gus