Nature or Nurture Ch. 45-46

'We will, dad, but it's difficult with Vincent having to be at the theatre every night. He's between plays now, you know, rehearsals for the next play start next week.'

'He got the part in that new play by Mr Wilde?'

Her father is impressed.

'Then I'll probably have to come over to London, I've got to see that.'

'Please do dad, it would make us all very happy, and we can send Neil to fetch you, you don't have to subject Sparkles and Blinkers to city-traffic. Neil's very good with horses and used to driving in town. He got us out of a tight spot when we fetched Catherine, something scared the horses but he kept them from bolting through their love for him.'

That is an understatement, but Adison can hardly tell her father it had been a gytrash, a creature from folklore, that had scared them.

'And how is your work, my dear? Do you still work with Dr Frankenstein? He has quite the reputation for miraculous recoveries, even out here in the country, I'd like to meet him, too.'

Smiling, Adison replies, 'If you visit, you will certainly meet him, we're very close. We have a practice now, no more running around to make housecalls. And we've ordered bicycles, have you heard about them?'

Her father admits he hasn't, and Adison explains.

'It's a metal vehicle with two wheels, you power it with your own legs, it's very convenient in town, where the roads are improving almost daily.'

Thinking of Vincent riding, she adds, 'Though Vincent might have preferred a horse after all, he had a horse once, but the accident I helped him recover from took most of his memories, and he didn't know whether he would ever ride again. You have given him so much today, dad, he looked like a million pounds when he came off that horse.'

'You mean to tell me he got on Sparkles not knowing how to ride?'

Adison nods.

'That was a very brave thing to do. But he rides incredibly well, you say he remembered that in those few seconds before he rode off?'

'That is the way his memory works, apparently,' Adison replies, 'we danced last night, I explained the steps, I led him through two or three movements, then he took over and led me all over the room, even at top speed, it seems that's the new thing in London, polka dances, twirl and hop until you drop with dizziness and exhaustion.'

'And did you take notes of what sets him off remembering, and how much he remembers, when it's his body, when it's his mind, how far back? You could learn a lot about the brain that way.'

Adison looks at him in amazement.

'I totally forgot! That comes from working with Victor, you know, Dr Frankenstein, he tends to gather information with a surgical knife, in the mortuary.

I know every separate part of the human brain, have drawn and described and catalogued it, but I forgot to take notes on Vincent's memory returning.

It's so personal to him, he often needs me to remind him of our life together afterwards, his relationship to his late wife was very passionate and sometimes rather disturbing. We are slowly finding out that he was very different before the accident. Dad, I practically raised him, he remembered so little.'

Her father squeezes her hand a little to show his support, and observes, 'Well, apparently there is something you may teach your friend the doctor, observing behaviour is not a bad way to learn about people, and I think it is not too late, yet. Maybe you can write down everything you both remember, and keep notes on his memory from now on. I'm sure they will pay back the time they cost to make.'

Apparently this subject is closed to him for now, for he sits back and laconically asks, 'A totally different matter, Adison, did you ever develop a magic talent of some kind?'

As she gasps for breath like a fish on dry land, her father blithely continues.

'Your mother told me to keep an eye on you, and give you certain stuff, books mostly, if your talent ever manifested itself. It was still dormant when she died.

It is why she encouraged master Man to visit, and why I was glad you decided to study with him.'

At that very moment, Vincent comes back, how could it be different.

His expression, softened even more by reading to Catherine, changes to worry instantly, and he kneels by Adison, touching her with tenderness, 'What is it love, did you hear bad news? You look struck.'

Closing her mouth, Adison replies, 'No, not bad news, can you repeat what you just asked, dad?'

'Sure, I asked Adison whether she ever developed a magic talent, for in that case her mum left her some books she might want to have a look at.'

'That's not bad news at all,' Vincent says as laconically as her dad, 'you love books!'

'So you did get a talent.'

Her dad is mighty quick in taking the message from Vincent's seemingly innocuous remark. There is an unmistakeable connection between the two already.

'Yes dad, I have helped cure possession, and I am learning to heal with magic. But at the moment I am taught by a master mage in the Guardian tradition how to raise shields against magic and throw things back, like fireballs.

'Good,' her father observes, 'one of your mother's books can enlighten you on the different traditions, as soon as she knew she was not going to see you grow into your powers, she started acquiring books to help you on your way. But I'm glad to hear you have found instruction already.'

'I have, dad,' Adison replies, 'and I think from a very able mage who is also a very upright man. Though he is a bit of a taskmaster.'

'You'll be fine, you never shied from hard work anyway, nor were you ever easily frightened.'

'She has proven that beyond doubt when she saved me from a fate worse than death,' Vincent states, his infatuated expression belying his firm way of speaking.

'Will you ever tell me about that, Vincent?' her father asks her husband, 'Adison's letters suggest that is where your closeness started, and I would love to hear that particular story, from both of you.'

'I do not mind telling it, it explains a lot about me, and about the two of us,' is Vincent's reply, 'we will probably find the time this week, maybe Catherine should hear it, too, she has heard only the short version.'

'I'll show you the books tomorrow, Adison, it's too dark by now. I usually go to bed early, and rise with the sun, it is difficult to change one's habits suddenly. Do you mind if I turn in now, and we talk again tomorrow?'

Her father does look tired, but of course he is not used to company at all, so it is not remarkable or worrying that he should be eager to turn in already. They are the ones with the weird schedules, living in town, with Vincent working late and Mina waking late, but it has been a hard day and Adison feels she may soon be able to sleep herself. With a hug and a kiss she wishes her father a good night, and Vincent gets a warm hug from her father.

Looking at Vincent, she can see he is tired, emotionally especially, and she sits on a sofa and holds out her arms. He sits right beside her and lets her embrace him, and when she strokes his hair he lies down in her lap, as he used to do when he was just a few weeks old, when she still treated the wound on his temple.

'Have you ever wondered why that wound on your temple did infect? You've never had an infection since.'

Vincent looks at her and says, 'You must be the most curious person I know, you never forget to question anything.'

His eyes are nearly closed, he's enjoying her caresses very much, he's almost asleep in fact.

'My father asked me whether I timed your flashbacks and categorized them according to duration, subject, physical or mental memory, date, to learn more about how memory works. I guess I have that from him.'

'And did you? Categorize my memories?'

He's even starting to sound sleepy.

'I forgot. I blame Victor, he's always answering questions with a surgical knife, I never think of other methods of learning about the human body anymore. Which means my dad is still the most curious, and I suspect the brightest.'

'He's nice, he didn't give the slightest hint of finding my appearance disconcerting. And he loved Catherine. And didn't scold me for riding off with his horse like that. Adison, I loved riding, I still feel that strength under me, and the speed. Joseph taught me riding, the guy who always beat up on me. Heathcliff hated him.'

Adison can see this affects him after all, but there is nothing she can do, those memories will not stop surfacing. She can only try to make it bearable to him, and she continues her affectionate stroking, now including the scar on his temple as she almost always does.

But as she touches it, she can feel him tense, and since she wants him to feel relaxed, she moves her hand elsewhere.

A husky voice says, 'Please don't stop.'

With a sudden thrill of excitement she moves her hand back to his temple, not just tracing the scar but massaging it lightly, lovingly.

'That is so good, you're so good to me, beloved.'

Still very husky, very enticing, but those are not his usual lines.

He rolls from the sofa and kneels in front of her, face in her lap, and she continues to caress the scar, not just the visible part, but also the extensive scarring on the side and the back of his head, covered by his raven hair.

Her beloved looks up, and his yellow eyes are fixed on her, not on fire strangely enough, but in supplication. He needs to be kissed, that is evident, and Adison bends over and kisses her wild creature, now not so wild, on his lips.

He answers the kiss, not frantically, as she expected, but rather with yearning, as if there is something he needs very much, but cannot ask for.

'What is it, love, what do you need from me? Tell me or show me, and I will give it to you if I can, you know I will.'

'Will you make love to me gently?' the same husky voice, but where is the violence, the dominance? Has her creature been broken? Nothing has happened, has it? No matter, her beloved needs her, and she will give him whatever he wants.

Sitting beside him on the floor she kisses him again, and strokes him under his shirt. They get up together and walk to their bedroom hand in hand. Once there, he starts to undress her slowly, relishing every moment. She unbuttons his shirt, caressing the scars all over his chest, so many of them, she kisses them, nuzzles them, so many hurts in such a short time. Suddenly she starts to realize why her creature is showing such need, such uncertainty.

He's at a crossroads, his old life at the theatre come to a close, an entirely new life starting. His insecurity towards her father was not just that, it was insecurity towards his new life! He must be in agonizing doubt, is this the right thing to do, will they accept me as my old friends do? Vincent worries that he will not find a place amongst the serious actors, that he belongs with the weird crowd of the penny dreadful show.

And the creature reflects the part of him he cannot let out easily. She overreacted when he tried to share his concern just once, he must feel curbed from talking about his insecurities. Well, it's never too late to make up.

Leading him to the bed, she gently lowers him on it, and sits beside him, still stroking, still kissing, making the most of him. Even the creature has trouble letting it out, he's nearly choking with suppressed feelings, and Adison feels it's her fault, for not wanting to hear him disparage his own looks.

'I'm sorry love, I've practically forced you to keep your doubts and worries to yourself. Will you please share them now? I'm here for you, please let them out.'

She takes him in her arms, she can't lift him of course, but she nestles beside him and holds him tightly.

And he does let go, instead of overwhelming her, this time the creature rests his head between her breasts and weeps. Quietly, he doesn't sob so much as overflows, and she keeps stroking him, very slowly and very gently. His back is as broad as his chest but much less scarred, it is very smooth and feels very nice to her touch, his warm breath on her breasts, his dear face still hidden between them.

She doesn't speak, and neither does he, he just lets everything out, a whole year of doubt, and self-hatred, and confusion, they all find their way out, until he is done.

Then he rests his head on her chest for a while, and says, still huskily, 'Thank you so much, my love, I needed that. I don't know why I care what people think. No-one has ever mocked me for being ugly. They praise my posture and my athleticism, and my acting skills, and my expressive face, even my fancy shirts.

And then I look in the mirror and think: don't they see what I see? Are they deriding me in their minds, and praising me to my face? Doesn't anyone see what I see?'

Adison squeezes him tightly one more time, then sits up, straddles his chest, and asks, 'Do you remember the first time you went outside?'

His face becomes soft with the memory.

'As if it was yesterday. We had made love for the first time just the night before. I loved you so much already. And I was so overwhelmed by the play that I forgot to be jealous of Victor admiring you.'

'Our fates were sealed from the moment we first met, beloved, I don't think Victor ever stood a chance, not even if he had been interested from the start. Anyway, that evening, I was afraid people would deride you, scoff at your colour and scars, and you know what Victor said?'

He looks at her with intense love, those memories are still so strong.

'He told me people are mostly too busy fearing what other people think of them to look at other people's flaws. Everyone has something he fears, nobody is perfect. And I saw plenty of people looking less than beautiful that night.'

'Victor is beautiful.'

'He is, but he is also heartbreakingly shy and unable to share his feelings. Without the events your creation set in motion, he might never have found love, he'd still be intensely lonely. You're not as beautiful as he is, no, but you are outgoing, people like you, they trust in you, they believe every word you say.

On the stage, you are beautiful, because you are the hero and heroes are beautiful, and strong, and good, and they believe you when you tell them you are all those things. I believe you, though as your beloved I must also realize that you have a right to your doubts, and need someone to share them with once in a while.

You are a fabulous actor, and you are a wonderful person, and that is why people don't deride you, or make fun of you. It's not coincidence, it is not something that is going to change in a different role, or a different theatre, or before a different public. Mr Wilde came to your show, and Mr Alexander. Do you think they'd bother if they felt secret contempt for you?'

He shakes his head, he believes her.

'I know you cannot lay aside your doubts, love, but please let me address them once in a while, I'll not deny them or silence them ever again, I'll listen and then give you reasons why they are unnecessary. Will you listen to me, too?'

'I will, my gorgeous, I already have, and I feel much better. In fact, leave the tender loving for some other time, just sit on my face, you're nearly there anyway.'

And Adison does just that, and when he has gotten her to an absolute height of passion, he lifts her bodily, lays her on the bed, and proves to her that the creature still has it. But is it indeed the creature? A certain light in his eye makes her doubt, a glint of humour.

She can't finish that thought, ecstasy takes over, but when they are both exhausted and sated, he says, 'We're no longer two, him and me, we've mixed roles so much, we may just as well be one from now on. Prepare to be overwhelmed without warning in the future.'

And somehow, that is so funny they both have to check their laughs for fear of waking Catherine.