Title: Bathside Manners (
02. Bigot)
Genre: Romance.
Characters: Evan Rosier, Daphne Greengrass
Rating: PG, for talks of blood and murder
Word Count:794 words
Summary: Evan's been a-killing again and Daphne can't take it anymore.
Author's Notes: Evan Rosier may or may not be in character. Jenny?
Daphne sat in her bathtub quietly, hugging her knees to her chest. The water had gone cold over three hours ago, but she still sat there, unwilling and unable to move. She stared blankly at a spot at the bottom of the tub, letting her mind go blank. The mind was always most comfortable when it is blank. She worried her lower lip constantly, stopping every now and then so it wouldn't bleed. She wore the dark green babydoll she had gone to bed in and the sheer robe that went with it. It had been over five hours and she still sat there.
The door opened. Her first instinct was to turn her head, but she forced herself to stay still, to leave her mind blank. She wanted to run away, but she forced herself to stay. She was many things, but she was not a coward. Long fingers dipped into the water and someone told her the water had gone cold. She bit back the biting retort that sprang to her lips and continued to watch the same spot. The same fingers that had tested her bathwater now touched her head and stroked her hair. She still did not move.
"Daphne, are you all right?"
"You killed her because she was different. You cut her up and fed her to...did you even think twice? Did you even--" Daphne fell quiet as she heard the tremor in her voice.
"Is that what this is about?"
"Yes."
Evan kicked his shoes off and removed his outer robes, dropping them on the tiled floor before joining Daphne in the bathtub. The water sloshed loudly. He tried to get her to look at him, but she continued to stare at the same old spot. "Daphne. Orders. I follow them."
"You enjoy killing and you hate everyone that isn't like you. You'd kill anyone that disagrees with you. Even if there hadn't been orders, you'd have gloried in killing her. You love death, Evan. You love it more than you love anything else. You love it more than your family."
"Daph, love," Evan began, but she cut him off.
"You know what I'm sick of, Evan?"
"What?"
"I'm sick of perpetually worrying if this is going to be the last time I see you."
Evan was quiet for a moment. "A lot of people feel that way about the people they care about. Rod, for instance--"
"What I feel is different," Daphne hissed as she looked up. "What I'm afraid of is that I'll never see you again because I'll be dead."
Evan looked at her.
"I just keep waiting for the day we have an argument and you decide to kill me."
"Daphne!"
"Shut up, Evan. You know you'd do it," she declared, getting on her knees. "You know that if I were to say at this very moment that I'm a halfblood, you wouldn't think twice. You'd grab your wand, shove it against my heart and kill me."
"Daphne."
"Stop saying my name like it means anything!" she declared, hitting him angrily. "You keep saying it like it'll fix things, when you know it can't! The fact that you can't even deny any of the things I'm saying--" Daphne choked on her tears and stopped abruptly, hanging her head. "I can't be with you anymore."
She began to get out of the tub and he grabbed her. She fell backwards into his arms and he held her tight. "Don't...please. I beg you."
"Evan...?" she clutched at his wet clothes.
"Don't leave me. You're the only thing that makes sense anymore."
It was Daphne's turn to be quiet as Evan hugged her tightly against him.
"When I'm out there, it's crazy. I'm crazy. There are no thoughts in my head, no remorse, no pain. Nothing. But when I'm here, with you, when you're in my arms, when I smell your perfume...things make sense. The world isn't a scary place. It's safe here, Daph. You make me feel safe. You're...you keep me alive out there."
Daphne got to her knees and looked at Evan, stroking his hair back. "How so?"
"I don't do something stupid like get myself killed because I know I have to come home to you."
"Evan."
"So, don't leave me, Daph. Not yet."
"I could never leave you," she whispered, kissing the the side of his head gently. They were quite for a little while.
"Daph?"
"Yes, Evan?" she asked as she loosened his tie slowly.
"I think I might love you."
"Be sure," she whispered against his neck. They were quiet again; the silence punctuated only by Daphne slowly removing Evan's clothes.
"I do," he said finally.
"How do you know?"
"I'd kill for you...and I'd die for you."