(no subject)

[chierii]

Title: Introspect
Source: SJ, SMT DR
Rating: G
Pairings: Mastema/Zelenin (adarkerangel/secular_saint)
Warnings: Uh.  A bit angsty?  Otherwise none.
Summary: The heightened tension after the Mall's Conception brings Mastema face to face with renewed guilt and some of his difficulties with communication.
Notes: So this was originally gonna be a summary of SJ from Mastema's perspective (as relating to Zelenin).  But the muse realized how pathetic he was being.  So...yay?

The Mall had settled into its natural state once again.  It was as if nothing had ever happened.  But, for a moment, it had seemed as if a madman was going to reshape the world in his own image, and to people who dearly loved the Velvet Mall as a second home, or in Mastema's case, the only home that was left, it was deeply unsettling.

 

Perhaps this state of unease was the reason for his renewed discomfort as he gazed at the scars on Zelenin's back.  He couldn't bring himself to focus on instead her serene features, body deeply relaxed in sleep, and the calming scent of peppermint still in the air from the massage oil.  They were things he was aware of, as Watchers are aware of many details of their surroundings, but they did not command his attention.

 

Instead, melancholy thoughts came to mind.  That these scars were the result of whippings, which themselves were only one of many terrible things done to her at the hands of Mitra's minions.  That he now knew of those things.  That he was there the whole time.  That he had not cared.

 

He stood and pulled the bedsheets up to cover her.  But the anguish of guilt remained even with the scars out of sight.  He left the room to restlessly pace the pews of the largely-unused church, but the movement did not ease the bitter ache in his chest.

 

He knew she was aware that he had first thought of her as nothing more than a tool to achieve his ends.  And she still loved him.  If she could overlook what he had been, then why couldn't he?  He had to do something.  For a moment, he considered deliberately finding a television he could fit through.  How would a Shadow purposefully confronted act?

 

But, no, he decided, that was far too dangerous, for the both of them.  Still, he had to purge these feelings somehow.  He did not want to speak with her about them, even if that seemed the most obvious route.  Even if, time and time again, she had proven herself able to love him despite everything she learned.  Her love for him and her faith in his master's worthiness to be her master as well were two pillars which seemed impervious to all assault.  And yet, every time, he could not help but think they were more fragile than they seemed.  That the most innocuous of skeletons dragged from the closet, that the wrong show of tyranny or lack of fundamental understanding would shake love or faith such that it would collapse.

 

God, but he didn't deserve her, insecure wretch that he was.

He would speak with her after all.  She deserved nothing but complete honesty from him.  But rather than letting himself stew in his thoughts waiting for her to awaken, he instead found some paper to write on.

 

Dearest Nadya,

 

I must relieve myself of this burden of thought.  I considered hiding it from you, but you deserve more than that.  You already know much of how I thought of you before, and with the note I left for you in your Bible, you already know why.  And yet, knowing you know and that you still love me, I cannot escape the guilt I feel.  I cannot help but feel that you do not fully understand; how else can you still love me?

 

…And that was the problem, wasn't it?  How many times was he going to present her with the worst of his past, particularly when it had wronged her, and present her with the question, "Knowing this, do you still love me?"  Would he continue to do so until she finally gave him the answer he thought he deserved?

 

With a sigh, he crumpled the paper and returned to his room, dropping the aborted note in the wastebasket before climbing into bed beside her.  She smiled in her sleep and moved subtly towards his embrace.

 

"I love you," he whispered.  "Regardless of where these feelings began and what came before them."

 

He would try to sleep.  Perhaps these feelings would not persist.