Somebody's Enemy

[Dempsey Dante]

Dempsey'd had a good day at work. Ogling the waitresses had taken up most of his time, but he'd had some fun toying with his co-chef, too. Gloria had some sort of strange superiority complex that he didn't exactly understand or care to. Still, he came home less sour than usual. In fact, Dempsey spared a glance at Dia and didn't send an acidic comment in her direction; he ignored her, plopping down on a chair in their kitchen.

It was different to not live in one big room with the six others. The privacy, Dem liked, but it was still just odd. It'd been basically a month since they'd moved in to Irvingly, but it still didn't quite feel like home. Home was wherever his family was, true, but... Sleeping in a bed that didn't quite feel like his own, and not inhaling the smog that London exhaled every minute of every day just felt wrong. Dempsey knew he had to adapt, and knew that this had been the right decision for them as a group/pack/herd, yeah, but it didn't make the adapting itself any easier.

Thank Merlin that he'd found a job he was good at, with new women around to leer at. That did happen to make adapting at least a smidgen easier.

With no intent of doing much of anything, Dem took in his surroundings and internally groaned. It was just him... and Acedia. The one person he could count of making his day take a turn for the worst. He was actually set on ignoring her until he noticed the glaring purple bruises all around her neck. She'd done nothing to disguise them; after all, what did she care about anything? But Dempsey wasn't just going to let this one go. She may have been heartless, but she was still sort-of kind-of family. (He may be many things, but he was the one in charge in the household and if someone had done this to Dia, he'd want to know who.)

"Oi. Your neck. What 'appened there?" he said, gesturing with his chin. He didn't want her to get the idea that he cared for her, specifically, but he did and he couldn't help it showing a little on his face. Of the two of them, he was the most human, anyways.

FOR DIA ♦

  

[Acedia Dante]

It was a rare occasion that Dia actually fed herself but after the previous night she was particularly hungry. She had little energy and only had a slice of bread with some cheese on it but it was good enough for her and so she was sitting at the table in the communal kitchen they had when Dempsey had come in. For a moment she just looked at him because he never failed to make her notice that he was exceedingly handsome. Contrary to his beliefs, she was not a heartless woman and while her heart was certainly cold as she'd trained it to be, he did - even if only slightly - garner a reaction from her that nobody else could ever seem to get. But she never let it show. Because showing such things was dangerous and Dia was scared of what might happen if she allowed herself to feel the emotions she kept locked away.

Besides, he wouldn't want her sentiments. He hated her now. She knew, of course, that it wasn't entirely true. She had hurt his pride - that was all. She knew him well enough to know that if he'd truly hated things would be a bit different. Maybe he thought he hated her, but she knew that he didn't. Underneath it all he was angry and hurt that she hadn't allowed herself to respond to the way she felt. And when she was with her 'employer' she felt the same way. When he hurt her she felt it all and she hated herself just as fervently as he thought he did in those brief, intoxicating moments. She'd only seen him a couple of times - last night her third - but already she knew that it would be how she managed to keep herself from exploding from the emotions that of late had been building up.

The thoughts weighed so heavily on her while she ate that she almost didn't notice Dem's question. When she did she looked at him with her eyes emotionless, apathetic as always. "My job." That was the best descriptor for what it was. It was her job to lie down and let that man torture her. Take her to the brink of death and bring her back. It was painful, grueling and exhilarating all at once. Dia had hurt herself before to help cope with things but time with her employer was different. He made her scream and wail and feel because she had no choice but to when she was bound and completely at his mercy. Much as many people would want to run away from the pain, she ran towards it. She embraced it. Because only then - only when her body was being tortured - could she let go of the apathy and allow all the emotions to flood back into her body.

After a moment, she spoke again. "You always say that I need to pull my own weight. Now I am." Her employer paid her two galleons per session, and he got his fill of torturing her body. Most of the wounds he healed but some he left - bruises mostly. And the one on her neck was no different. She didn't care if people saw it. It was her business and she had no reputation to speak of. Besides, if she were honest with herself she'd say that she liked the evidence of the torture she endured. She liked it because it reminded her of the blissful moments where she felt. Where she felt the agony of life, the love for Dempsey and all the affection for her family. They were her little treasures and she would proudly wear them, even if she could never show that.

  

[Dempsey Dante]

"Your job? Leave the fightin' to Ulysses, Dia." he scoffed. Her job! That was rich! What did she fancy herself? Dempsey knew that she was smarter than that. Not only did he wonder how she'd gotten a job in the first place, being her obviously proactive self, but what sort of job entailed being strangled. Definitely not one that he wanted a person he loved felt responsible for doing.

If her employer had done this to her, well, he had another thing coming. No one hurt someone he cared about and walked away unscathed. Especially when that someone was Acedia, because Merlin fucking knew how well she could take care of herself. If it had been Eris, Dempsey imagined, he would certainly have felt the same growing rage he felt now. Certainly! Dia was no longer someone special to him, anymore. Not special at all. Whatsoever. Sure. Because he didn't go out, get drunk, and wake up in an alley seeing stars the night after she'd come to his room. He no longer felt angry at her for rejecting him, denying him time and time again. Nope.

"Who did this to you, eh?" he questioned. His voice was louder than before, expressing his intent to get an answer from her whether she liked it or not. He knew Ulysses was always up for making some trouble, and Dempsey was itching to make trouble for whomever had laid a hand on Acedia. Just as he would for any of his siblings, probably.

FOR DIA ♦

  

[Acedia Dante]

"I wasn't fighting." She said, taking another bite of her sandwich nonchalantly. That much was true - she willingly subjected herself to the torment at her employers hands. She didn't know his name. Not really. When she addressed him she simply called him 'Master' because he liked that. She was under no illusions that her employer was a good man in any variety. He had intended to take her against her will initially but when he found she was willing to let him take out his sick fantasies on her he had instead opted to not do something that was illegal such as abducting her.

When he asked who had done that to her, she could tell he was angry. Of course he would be. Even if he wanted to make believe that he hated her, she knew that he didn't. Even if he thought so she was still his 'family' and that meant something to him whether he wanted it to or not. So of course he wouldn't take kindly to the fact that someone had hurt her. But she didn't much care what he thought about it because she needed this. She needed the release that being hit and cut and bloodied granted her. It gave her what she needed to keep from breaking down completely under the weight of all the emotions that she was keeping locked tightly away.

"Master did this to me." She said it simply, because as far as she knew that was the only name he had. Of course she knew it wasn't truly his name but she didn't care. That was what she called him and that was what he was known to her as. She took another bite of her sandwich and looked at Dempsey with listless eyes. She wasn't going to offer him any further explanation. It wasn't his business. This was hers, her thing, her treasure, her release. She wasn't going to tell him more than he asked for - more than he needed to know. She wouldn't do anything that could jeopardize her getting to see him and getting to feel all the things she would never allow herself to feel otherwise. No matter how angry Dem got over it, she wouldn't let him take it away from her.

  

[Dempsey Dante]

Dempsey leaned back in his chair. He wasn't going to yell at her and start a row because she'd done something stupid. She wasn't worth the time or breath that would take. Not to mention, he'd had a pretty decent day up until now! He wasn't going to blow up in her face like last time. Dem had more self-control than that. At least he liked to tell himself such a thing.

It wasn't until he heard the word 'master' that all semblance of self-control packed its bags and said goodbye.

"Master. Master?" he barked, eyes widening. Apparently, she'd been gone a lot more than he had noticed as of late. For her to be working in a household, as a servant or maid or something, was fairly inconceivable. Those jobs required work, and he could hardly imagine Dia lifting a finger to do anything. Maybe that was why her 'master' had choked her? Dempsey didn't honestly care, but he wanted to find out the bastards name so he could repay the kindness he'd done unto Dia.

"What's his name, Dia? Has it happened before?" he demanded. Patience was not something he'd ever had, and Dem wasn't about to start now. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now. (He also wanted a bat, but he supposed that could be arranged a bit later.)

FOR DIA ♦

  

[Acedia Dante]

If she'd thought he was upset before, the word 'Master' sent him completely over that edge into anger. She wanted to feel good that he'd seemed to care about her well being but it was dangerous to let any emotions through at any time other than when she was with her employer. She didn't want to end up showing him - making him think she could feel - when she knew that no matter how badly she wanted to she would be unable to live her life with emotions like her family had. She couldn't live like that, no matter how badly she wished to at times. She just couldn't be that person that he wanted her to be and nothing hurt more than that in the times when she did allow the emotions through.

"I don't know his name." She said it simply. She didn't know his name - she didn't even really know where she was when he took her away. All she knew was that he gave her pain that allowed her to feel everything she didn't allow herself to feel normally. That was all she knew - all that mattered. She didn't care about anything else. When she was with him she was free. Funny that her freedom should come when she was bound and naked, completely at the mercy of a sadist who took great joy in the screams she gave to him. Weird as it seemed, she truly felt that way. She truly felt as though she were free when she was with him. Free to experience all the pain, the joy - everything that her emotions gave her.

Tilting her head slightly she looked at him. He didn't get it. He didn't understand that it was her job to get hurt like this. "It's my job Dempsey. Of course it's happened before." She gave him the answer without care in her voice. She knew it would anger him. Perhaps she hoped it would. She'd be lying if she said she didn't feel a tug of something at the idea that he was very upset by the thought of her being hurt. Whether she expressed it or not she craved his love. She wanted it more than anything in the world. She didn't fully realize that until after she'd lost it but it was the truth. She wanted Dempsey in ways she never thought she'd want anything.

  

[Dempsey Dante]

"You don't know 'is name? Well, y'best get to remembering." he said incredulously. How could she not know his name? Dempsey would make it a point to know the names of people who'd done something like fucking strangle him. Not like him and Dia were anything alike, but he had hoped that perhaps something of his character could have rubbed off on her over the years and make her less ridiculous.

"What exactly is your job? Being someone's punching bag? Sounds like you don't remember how wonderfully that ended up for you last time." he pressed. That was a bit of a sore spot for him, as was anything pertaining to that night, but... blast and damn! It irked him to no end that she was doing her usual honesty-but-not thing with him. It irked him even more that someone had hurt her, no matter what convoluted logic that displayed.

FOR DIA ♦

  

[Acedia Dante]

It was funny to her how he could claim hatred yet display such care for her safety. Funny in a way that didn't make her laugh, but funny nonetheless. She liked that he cared. That even though she had hurt him, he still loved her in some way at the very least. She was inclined to believe he still loved her as he had before even if it was marred and tainted by the anger he'd had for so long. She knew Dempsey and he wasn't one to stop caring about someone just because it was convenient. So he just pretended he did. That was what he did and Dia saw right through it because whether he liked it or not she knew him better than anyone in the world ever could.

His question caused her to just look at him. "I suppose so." That was, in essence, what she was. She didn't care, however. She reveled in the pain and agony that he put her through. The way he made her sweat and cry and feel as though she could die all the while keeping her alive and well. She loved it all and she didn't want it to ever stop. "I'm whatever Master desires of me. And what he desires is to make me scream." She said it so coldly that she was sure anyone who was unused to her would get a chill. Because she truly did not care if she died during this, if her employer failed to keep her alive. She didn't care about that because in truth death would have been a welcome reprieve.

  

[Dempsey Dante]

Dempsey's blood boiled. Had she learned nothing from the other night? He wished that she could speak with some tone of loathing or spite, so at least he knew he'd done it because he hadn't. "What is the bastard's name, Acedia?" he roared, slamming his hands down on the table. That wasn't a smart idea, because his palms started to sting a moment later, but he hoped it got his point across.

"If you can't be bothered to take care of yourself, the least you can do is stay out of bloody trouble!" he continued. Thoughts of the nice day he'd had flew out the window, eloping with his self-control, and were quickly replaced by the boundless contempt he had for the way Dia behaved. Dem used the table to support himself as he stood up and leaned over it, grabbing her wrist before she made to take another nonchalant bite of her sandwich.

Dempsey was lying to himself if he thought the anger he felt at Acedia and whoever had done this to her was because she was simply someone he cared about platonically. Because even that was a stretch. He couldn't stand the thought of her being with another man, being at the mercy of another man. The image of someone fucking her and leaving marks on her skin took root in his mind, starting what would surely be a long career of bothering him. Had she screamed out for her 'master', when she hadn't for him?

"Where did this happen? How? You will tell me!" he whispered harshly, peering into her eyes and tightening his grip on her wrist. He didn't realize that he was grabbing her as tightly as he was, but he had sufficient reason to be distracted.

FOR DIA ♦

  

[Acedia Dante]

If she were anyone else she might have flinched when he slammed his hands down at the table and yelled at her. But she wasn't anyone else and she'd expected such a reaction from him. She knew that the idea must make him crazy that she had allowed herself to be hurt. Because Dempsey was different from her - so different - and he wouldn't understand what it meant to her to do that. To allow herself those brief moments where she didn't have to worry about keeping herself strong and cold. In those moments nothing had to matter to her and yet those were the moments when everything did. It hardly made sense and she didn't expect him to understand it even if she did tell him. And she didn't intend on doing so.

When he grabbed her it was so rough that she was pulled from her seat, gut hitting the edge of the table and he stared into her eyes with so much fury. His grip tightened and Acedia had no thought in her mind save for the word hypocrite. "You're angry that someone hurt me and yet here you are - hurting me." Her eyes moved to his grip on her wrists. It was painful, but she wouldn't show it to him. She wouldn't revel in it with him. Because it would be weak and she couldn't be weak around him. Never around him. So she kept a stoic face and her eyes traveled back to his before she breathed the word: "Hypocrite." She said it tonelessly. He was a hypocrite and she wasn't afraid to tell him that much.

Dia would have said more. If she'd let all the feelings go she would have told him that she did it because it kept her sane. It was helping her express emotions that otherwise she knew no idea how to express. It was forcing her to feel and she so desperately needed those now. Before she hadn't. With him, she was as close to heartless as she'd ever been. But more and more she felt the swelling of emotions and more and more it was getting hard to keep them at bay. She needed the pain, the torment, the physical torture to be able to let herself free. Even for the briefest of moments. But she couldn't tell him that. He'd never understand.

  

[Dempsey Dante]

He didn't have words to reply to her, saying that he was hurting her. Psh, as if she had never broken his fucking heart after he'd presented to her on a fucking silver platter! If anyone had the right to hurt Dia, it was him. Not some sadistic stranger who was using her to fulfill his disgusting fantasies. So he kept on squeezing her wrist because if he couldn't yell some sense into her, perhaps he could squeeze until something snapped in her fucked up head. But it wasn't something of Dia's that snapped when she calmly, almost tauntingly, let slip the word 'hypocrite'. Dempsey released her wrist before slapping her soundly across the face, positively steaming with anger.

He was shocked that she had the audacity to... That she could call him a hypocrite when she expected him to feel for her still and to be fond of her still and she did nothing in return! I miss you, Dempsey! Like fuck she did. Acedia had never shown him that he meant anything more to her than someone to pay for a roof over her head and make sure she kept breathing. And it didn't even matter, because he still loved her, and he still wanted her, and he still took care of her even though ever fiber of his being told him to despise the very thought of her. Yet here he was! Again! Caring about someone who'd probably been raped in an alley somewhere and cared so little about herself that she invited whomever had done it to do it again to her!

"You want to be hurt, Acedia? Well I can hurt you worse than your fucking master ever could, can't I? Because deep down, you care that it's me that struck you, even if you won't ever let it fucking surface like a normal human being." he spat, grabbing hold of both her shoulders and shaking her firmly. The table below him was narrow and rickety and shook with her. Disgustedly, Dem let go of her. He walked to the doorway that led to the hallway, where their rooms were, and stopped, changing direction to stand face to face with Dia, but still a few feet apart. He didn't trust himself to be close to her and be calm enough to say what he needed to say.

"I..." he took a deep breath before continuing. "I don't know what's wrong with you, I don't know if you're fixable or if you're worth fixing, but... but that man is going to pay for doing that to you because if you don't care about yourself, someone else has to. That's just the way it works." There. He'd said it. Sure, he'd said it in anger and at a volume that would rival Ulysses at his finest, but it'd been said. He felt a little better. But Dempsey knew that what would make him feel even better would be to beat the sick thoughts and memories of Dia out of her fucking master's head.

FOR DIA ♦

  

[Acedia Dante]

Of all the things she could have expected, she hadn't expected him to slap her. Her head jerked to the side, stinging from the sharp hit of his palm to her cheek. She had to take deep breaths to keep from doing something, the emotions wanting to burst through but she wouldn't let them. She she squeezed her eyes shut and just listened to him, breathing deeply and trying to find her calm. Because she couldn't show Dempsey everything. She couldn't let him in like that - she couldn't let anyone in like that. It was different with her employer. With him, she had no choice. But with Dempsey it was different. She wouldn't let him see it all - everything she felt. All the sadness, the pain and even the love.

His words made it even more difficult for her to keep her composure but she managed. She managed and when he turned to leave his words hit her hard. She looked at him, eyes betraying the emotions of sadness while the rest of her features - and even her voice - remained impassive. She didn't know that her eyes were showing it, the hatred and fear she held for herself and life. If she had she wouldn't have spoken. But she did and her words were cold and emotionless as always: "When will you learn that I don't care for myself because there's no reason to care." It was a statement of self loathing though it could be mistaken as the purest form of apathy.

It was all conflicting. She wanted him to get that her words were true. That she was nothing worth caring over. That she should be left to wither away. And yet at the same time she wanted his love. She wanted him. She wanted to be better. But it was all confusing and contrary. And she didn't know how to handle it all, so she swept it under the rug because that was better than confronting and attempting to sort out everything. It was much better. "I should be left to die." She finished, words hollow yet eyes still betraying her. She wanted to die but she couldn't be bothered to actively do it herself.

  

[Dempsey Dante]

"I won't learn. I never learn. Haven't in nearly nine bloody years, Acedia." he said quietly, looking away. He didn't know what it was about
her words that made the anger simmer rather than boil, but they did. While Dia's voice conveyed no emotion, as per usual, her eyes looked scared and pained. Dem guessed that that was what did it, what cowed him enough to not be able to look her in the eye. Because he was always saying how she couldn't let herself feel, and even though her voice was unwavering and calm, her eyes were nothing less than a window to her soul at that moment.

He knew that she hadn't expected him to hit her like he had and, well, he hadn't expected it either. To let out his frustrations, and to see a glimpse of what Dia might be without her stupid stoic facade, was worth it, though. He wished he had done it earlier, so that he wouldn't feel the tinglings of guilt he did now. All he'd wanted was to seek vengeance on the miserable being who had done this to her, and look what had happened? Now Dem was the villain, as always; even when he fucking tried to look out for her, despite doing it in an aggressive way, he did something wrong!

It didn't matter, anyways. This little glimpse of an Acedia with emotions was likely all he was going to get, unless he provoked her more. And Dem's goal had never been to get her to fear him. Sure, he entertained the idea once or twice, but that wasn't the point. The point was for her to grow a pair and stop being scared of her feelings, not start being scared of him.

At her next words, the guilt continued to seep in. They didn't surprise him. He wouldn't be surprised to find Dia hanging from her ceiling fan one day, because he honestly didn't know how such a person continued to go on with life. Even if he didn't know how, though, it didn't make the thought any less painful. She was many things - Dempsey was the first one to admit this - but she shouldn't be dead. Dia was smart and curious and had a way of viewing life that was completely her own. Even with rage and shame clouding his thoughts, he believed that. And perhaps that was why he took the few steps between him and Dia and kissed her roughly, one hand fisting her hair and the other falling to the curve of her waist, and as if her life depended on it.

FOR DIA ♦

  

[Acedia Dante]

If he'd felt any guilt, it wasn't her intention. She didn't need him to feel guilty because it wasn't his fault that she was like she was. Acedia knew she was messed up - she was terribly messed up and there was no way she could fix that. She wanted to. More and more she wanted to let the emotions in completely but it was a bloody scary thought to even contemplate. So she kept on going the way she was, she kept on restraining every flicker of emotion. That was all she could do and Dem needed to realize that. She wished he would but then at the same time the fact that he cared made her pleased in ways she didn't want to acknowledge.

She hadn't expected him to close the distance between them. Even less did she expect what her reaction to it would be. At first, she tensed. Every bit of her body tensed but it lasted only a second because he was kissing her and she liked it. She couldn't help it. At that moment the love she had for him completely breached her walls and she wrapped her arms around him and clutched him like a life line, kissing him back with all the love she couldn't seem to hold back in that moment. It was easily the most passionate display she'd ever given to anyone in her life and it was such an overwhelming sensation that she didn't know how to handle it.

Her eyes were starting to sting with unshed tears and she knew she couldn't take it anymore. She pushed away from him roughly and with wide eyes looked at him for a moment. Only a moment before she pushed past him and dashed down the hall, not looking back and ducking into her room. She couldn't face him. She couldn't face him after that. She couldn't handle it and with her back against her shut door she fell to the ground, breathing deeply and trying to bring back all the calm she usual had. She did this until she felt nothing again. Because feeling nothing was better than all those things that Dempsey made her feel.

  

[Dempsey Dante]

He was actually shocked when she responded, kissing him back fiercely. The overwhelming elation that it had finally happened, that Dia had let him in, hit him like a ton of bricks. His hand on her waist tightened, drawing her closer to him. Even though the thought that this was too good to be true pestered him, he ignored it blissfully the moment she wrapped her arms around him.

Perhaps it was misplaced or distasteful, but the pride and accomplishment that Dempsey felt was intoxicating. He'd won at last, and it felt so good to have Dia in his arms that he couldn't see how things could so easily fall apart. They were a mess; a mix of bad deeds and good intentions that was too tangled to undo. But he was blind to that fact for the moment, too enamored with what could be to see what was.

Then she shoved him away, eyes wide and shiny. He wished after the fact that he would have grabbed her, forced her to stay and face her emotions, but before he knew it she was fleeing to her room. The shock he'd felt when she'd kissed him back returned, but this time fueled by disbelief. She'd finally let it out! She'd finally proved that everything she came moping into his room about that night was true! And now she was running away from him? Dem wasn't going to let that fucking happen. It had been nine years of the same shite. Not a single person had ever called him a quitter, and that wasn't going change any time soon.

"Running away from your problems isn't going to fix any of them, Dia!" he roared, following her to her room. The door was shut and locked, but he knew well enough that the walls were thin in their new home. Slamming both fists against the wood, he felt like a fool for being so hopeful. Dia had been a lost case for nine years, and he was an idiot to think that she would suddenly stop because of a kiss. With one final punch to the door, which would probably result in bruises on his knuckles the next day, he huffed and stalked away to hopefully find oblivion with a bottle of home-distilled scotch.

FOR DIA ♦