Happy Together

You Gotta Be

“I didn’t,” Victoria said softly, her voice unwavering. “And I won’t. Because I see something in you, Alistair. I see the man you want to be—the man you could be, if you just let someone help you.”

He turned to face her then, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Why, Victoria?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why would you want to help me? After everything I’ve told you, why wouldn’t you just run?”

Victoria held his gaze, her expression both gentle and resolute. “Because I believe in you,” she said simply. “And I don’t think you’ve had anyone believe in you for a very long time.”

For a moment, Alistair was silent, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as he processed her words. But then he took a step back, shaking his head. “You don’t know what you’re getting into,” he said. “You’re safer if I’m not here.”

“Safer from what?” Victoria demanded, her voice rising slightly. “From Lucius? Do you think leaving will stop him? He’s a part of you, Alistair. You can’t outrun him any more than you can outrun yourself.”

“That’s exactly the point!” Alistair shouted, his voice raw. “I can’t control him, Victoria. No matter how much I want to, I can’t. And if I stay... if I hurt you—” He broke off, his voice cracking as he turned away, his hands clenched into fists.

Victoria hesitated for only a second before stepping forward, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. “You didn’t hurt me,” she said softly. “And I don’t think you will. But you have to stop punishing yourself for things you can’t change. The only way you’re going to get through this is if you let someone in.”

Alistair stood there, trembling beneath her touch, the weight of her words pressing against the crushing guilt and fear he carried. Part of him wanted to believe her, to let her in. But another part—Lucius’s part—whispered warnings in the back of his mind, dark and venomous.

She doesn’t know the whole truth, Lucius hissed inside him. Tell her everything, Alistair. Tell her about the others. Let her see who you really are.

Alistair shut his eyes tightly, trying to block out the voice, the poison, the memories. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he murmured, his voice broken. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

Victoria tightened her grip on his shoulder, forcing him to look at her. “You don’t have to do it alone,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere, Alistair. Not unless you make me.”

He stared at her, searching her face for any sign of doubt or fear. All he saw was determination—and something else. Something he hadn’t felt in years. Hope.

Finally, he exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “I don’t deserve this,” he said quietly. “I don’t deserve you.”

Victoria smiled faintly. “You deserve a chance,” she said. “That’s all I’m asking you to take.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Alistair nodded, a flicker of tentative resolve in his eyes. “Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll stay.”

But as Victoria led him back to the couch, Lucius’s voice lingered in the back of his mind, laughing darkly.

You think this will save you, Alistair? Lucius sneered. We’ll see how long she sticks around once she learns the rest.

Alistair woke up to the sound of soft clinking coming from the kitchen. For a moment, he felt disoriented, unsure of where he was, until the smell of fresh coffee and the faint murmur of the radio grounded him. He sat up slowly, his body sore, his mind heavy.

The events of the previous night came flooding back in an instant. Lucius’s outburst. Victoria’s unwavering presence. The impossible relief of her kindness mixed with the gnawing anxiety of her staying.

He stood and ran a hand through his hair, moving toward the kitchen. Victoria was there, dressed casually in jeans and a sweatshirt, humming softly to herself as she poured coffee into two mugs. She glanced up as he entered, her smile warm but tinged with cautious concern.

"Morning," she greeted. "Coffee?" She held out a mug toward him.

Alistair hesitated. “You’re still here,” he said, his voice rough with sleep. It wasn’t a question, but more of a stunned observation.

Victoria placed the mug on the counter near him. “Of course I’m still here,” she said matter-of-factly. “We’ve got things to talk about. And besides, I wasn’t going to leave you after everything that happened.”

Alistair lowered his gaze, his hands wrapping around the mug as if the warmth could steady him. “You really don’t have to do this,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to drag you into... into this mess.”

Victoria leaned against the counter, her arms crossed. “I’m already in it,” she said firmly. “And for what it’s worth, I’m not scared of you, Alistair.”

His grip on the mug tightened. “You should be,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

“Because of Lucius?” she asked, her tone calm but direct. “Because of what he’s done?”

Alistair flinched at the name, the guilt flaring in his chest. “Because of what I’ve done,” he admitted. “I may not remember it all, but it’s still me. I’m the one who let him take over. I’m the one who couldn’t stop him.”

Victoria shook her head. “No, Alistair. That’s not fair to yourself. You didn’t choose this. Lucius is a part of you, yes, but he’s not the whole you. And last night? You fought him. You came back.”

“For now,” Alistair said bitterly. “But he’s always there, Victoria. Watching, waiting. It’s just a matter of time before I slip again.”

Victoria set her coffee down and stepped closer to him. “Then we’ll figure out how to stop him,” she said, her voice steady. “Together.”

He looked at her, his expression a mix of hope and despair. “Why are you doing this?” he asked. “Why would you want to help someone like me?”

Victoria tilted her head, studying him for a moment. “Because I think there’s more to you than you see in yourself,” she said. “And I think you deserve a chance to prove that Lucius doesn’t get to define you.”

Alistair opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a voice interrupted, cold and familiar.

“That’s cute.”

Alistair froze, his body going rigid. Victoria noticed the change immediately, her heart sinking as she saw the flicker in his expression—the subtle shift that told her Lucius was there.

“You really think you can ‘fix’ us?” Lucius’s voice taunted, dripping with sarcasm. “You have no idea what you’re up against, sweetheart.”

Victoria’s stomach churned, but she refused to back down. “Is that you, Lucius?” she asked, her voice steady despite the chill that ran through her.

Alistair—or Lucius—grinned, his posture changing, his movements more languid and deliberate. “You catch on quick,” he said, his tone laced with mockery. “Good morning, Victoria. Sleep well?”

“What do you want?” Victoria asked, her eyes narrowing.

He chuckled, stepping closer to her. “What do I want? Isn’t it obvious? I want you to understand how pointless this little crusade of yours is. You think you can save Alistair, but you can’t. He needs me, whether he admits it or not.”

“No,” Victoria shot back. “He doesn’t need you. You’re just a shadow, feeding off his pain. You’ve made him believe he’s powerless, but he’s not.”

Lucius’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, his gaze hardening. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “But you don’t know him like I do. You don’t know what he’s capable of—what I’m capable of.”

“Then tell me,” Victoria challenged, stepping forward. “If you’re so desperate to scare me off, Lucius, tell me everything. Show me who you really are.”

For a moment, Lucius stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then he leaned in, his voice low and menacing. “Careful what you wish for,” he said. “You might not like what you find.”

Before Victoria could respond, Alistair’s body stiffened, his head bowing slightly as he clutched at the counter for support. When he looked up again, his eyes were softer, his breathing ragged.

“Victoria?” Alistair’s voice was hoarse, his face pale. “Is he... is he gone?”

Victoria nodded, though her hands trembled slightly. “For now,” she said. “But we need to talk about how to stop this, Alistair. For good.”

Alistair slumped into a chair, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t know if that’s even possible,” he murmured.

Victoria knelt beside him, her voice filled with quiet determination. “Then we’ll find a way,” she said. “No matter what it takes.”

But even as the words left her mouth, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Lucius’s presence wasn’t gone—it was merely lurking, waiting for its next opportunity to strike.

Alistair sat in silence, his head still buried in his hands, as Victoria stood and grabbed her coat. She hesitated for a moment by the door, watching him with concern, before speaking softly.

"We have to go to work, Alistair," she said, trying to keep her tone light despite the tension hanging in the air. "And so do you. I’ll see you later, okay?"

Alistair finally lifted his head, his expression weary but faintly surprised. “You’re... you’re going to trust me even after everything that just happened?”

Victoria gave him a small smile, her resolve clear. “Of course. But I also have a job to do, and so do you. You’ve got a life to live, Alistair. Don’t let him stop you from doing that. Feel free to take a shower; the door will lock itself behind you. I’ll see you later.”

Alistair stared at her, the warmth of her words settling over him like a fragile shield against the storm inside. “I’ll try,” he murmured.

“That’s all I’m asking,” she replied. She opened the door, hesitating for just a second before adding, “And Alistair... if you need me, call. Anytime.”

He nodded slowly, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. “Thanks, Victoria. Dinner at mine tonight. My way of saying thanks.” She stopped and smiled. "That sounds great." Flashing a warm smile she left. “You gotta be” by DJ Okawari softly played in the background.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Alistair sat back, exhaling shakily. Her apartment was eerily quiet now, save for the faint ticking of a clock. He glanced toward the window, sunlight spilling in through the blinds, and for a moment, he allowed himself to hope.