Subj: Consequences of Falling ch. 62
Date: 8/15/01 1:23:15 AM Central Daylight Time
From: Nicole

The Old House, 6:30 PM

Constance did not know what had hit her. She had heard the glass shatter and quickly felt pressure slam her into the wall. As she slid to the floor, she saw their horrified eyes plastered on her. Did they know what had happened? Apparently so. Kelene fled the room, followed shortly by Cameron and Chris. Both Barnabas and Angelique examined the window, accessing the damage and looking for the cause. Quentin ran to her side, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her temples. "What happened?" mumbled Constance.

"You've been shot."

Constance could believe it. The pain began to spread throughout her chest and funneledinto each quadrant of her body. It was unbearable. She clung tighter to Quentin, hoping the pressure of his body against her would quell the pain. It did not. "I'll be fine," she said calmly. "It'll heal in a few minutes."

"I know," whispered Quentin, "but I won't leave you. I want to make sure that you're well."

In spite of the pain, Constance smiled. This was all the confirmation that the wait had been worth it. She kissed him, only allowing herself a small taste before the pain hit her again. Why wasn't the wound healing? "Please help me up?"

"Of course." Quentin took Constance's arm and began to lift her when two more shots fired out, followed by a scream. Both of them sank quickly to the floor. "Who was that?"

"It was probably Kelene. Check on her!"

"I won't leave you!" insisted Quentin.

"I'll be fine. Make sure she is too." Constance kissed Quentin once more before he ran into the other room. She tried to lift herself but could not. She turned to her right to see Barnabas kneeling before her. "What's going on?"

"It's Josef," he explained quietly. "He has a gun. He's shot Cameron and Kelene."

"Of course." Constance glanced around the room as her vision began to blur. She could still see that Quentin's portrait was in clear view. "Hide it!" she insisted. "Hide the portrait and hide yourself."

"Yes." Barnabas leaned in and touched the wound, sending an acute spasm of pain through her chest. He cringed and pulled away. "That's heinous, Constance. How bad is that pain?"

"Horrible, but...," murmured Constance, her hand wandering toward her back. She could feel an extra wound. It was wet and far from healing. "The bullet went through!"

"Do you need any help?"

"No! Hide the portrait."

Barnabas nodded and soon disappeared into the basement with Quentin's portrait. Constance pressed her back into the wall, and, while working against the pain, pushed herself up. She glanced to the side and saw the bullet in the wall. Carefully, she pulled the bullet out and examined it. It was silver. Constance had been shot more times than she could remember. Sometimes the bullets passed through her body but the wounds still healed. "Oh God, it can't be true!" she cried quietly. "The silver changes everything. I'm not going to heal. I've just found Quentin and I'm going to die!"

Constance wanted to wallow in her agony. Only a glance into the foyer at Kelene's slim foot made her think otherwise. She swallowed her growing pain and walked into the foyer. Angelique, Josef, and Quentin were no where to be seen. Cameron and Kelene lay along the floor, their blood pooling in a bright red puddle between them. Chris knelt beside them, frustration ripped through his features. When he saw Constance, he gasped. Constance calmed him and knelt beside the victims. Chris swallowed hard and said, "They're still alive."

"I know. They're not going to die." Constance bit one of her wrists and rammed it into Cameron's mouth. She knew the blood would heal him as it should have healed her. At first nothing happened, but he soon began to drink the clear viscous fluid. He began to sit up, and, upon noticing that he was suckling Constance's wrist, released her. Constance reopened the healing wound and gave it to Kelene, who followed Cameron's pattern. Constance turned to Chris and said, "Hide them upstairs."

"Not yet!" wailed Kelene. She grabbed Constance's hand and placed it on her belly. "Is it still alive."

Constance pressed her hand into Kelene's belly and she was able to feel the vibes of the werewolf child. "It's alive."

"Can you cure it?" asked Cameron.

Constance could not look at him. She could not tell him that she would not live out the night. "Yes," she whispered, "but go with Chris now!"

Cameron and Kelene hugged her and ran upstairs. Chris was hesitant to leave but Constance sent him upstairs. Constance started to followed them but Angelique pulled her into the drawing room. "How do I hurt Josef? I know you feel species loyalty but he is out of control!"

"Silver bullet," said Constance bluntly. "Just shoot him with it until he stops moving."

"Are you sure?" Angelique noticed the wound and screamed. She pulled Constance into the basement, both of the standing on the stairs so that Constance could brace her back against the wall. "What's happened to you?"

"Josef shot me with silver bullet and I'm going to die."

"You're being irrational."

"I'm too serious about this!"

"But this can't be happening."

Constance did not respond. The blood was pushing its way up her throat, attempting to flee through her mouth since it could not find the wound. She wanted to fall to the floor and let the blood seep out, let it wash her suffering away. But she soon heard commotion stream into the drawing room, accented by the scream, "You think you're a big man now, don't you?" It was Josef. Constance pulled away from Angelique and slipped into the drawing room. She was surprised to see Quentin and Josef, both of them tattered and covered in quickly healing wounds. Quentin had the gun, pointing it at Josef's head. Josef remained perfectly insolent until she saw Constance, at which point his eyes grew horribly large. "What happened to you?"

Constance was not looking at Josef. Her eyes focused solely on Quentin. He looked so frightened. He knew that the wound should have healed by now. Constance did not know how to tell him that he would not. She jerked her gaze to Josef and snarled, "You shot me! You shot a preternatural being with silver bullet. What do you think is wrong with me?"

"Silver bullet can't hurt you!" insisted Josef.

"Well, I didn't drill this hole in my chest for my health!" Constance repressed her laughter as she staggered towards Quentin, eventually collapsing in his arms. Josef dared not to move. "I'm going to die," she whispered into Quentin's shoulder. "I don't want to die but it's out of my control."

"You can't die!" cried Quentin as he pulled Constance into him, kissing her forehead and covering the blowout on her back with his hand. "This can't happen."

"Of course she can't die!" wailed Josef. He moved closer to Constance but stopped once his forehead met the gun. "Quentin, you know as well as I that an incubus/succubus can't die."

"What if I tested that theory?" asked Quentin, his finger grazing the trigger. Josef stepped out of the way. "What's wrong, Josef? Afraid something will go wrong?"

"Of course not," snapped Josef, backing away until he stepped into broken glass. "I don't like pain, that's all."

"You know nothing of pain," snarled Quentin.

"How dare you?" screamed Josef. "I've lived longer than you. I've known agony you can't imagine."

"Excuse me guys, but I'm topping you both on the pain scale right now!" Constance turned to Josef and snarled, "You only bring pain, not feel it."

"You have no clue. I've been so alone, so miserable."

"Because you push people away and manipulate them. You torture and abuse."

"Not compared to what Avery did to you?"

Constance attempted to attack Josef but Quentin held her firmly in place. "You knew that he would do that! You knew, you could see it in me. Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't really care," sighed Josef. "It was yours, not mine."

"What are you talking about?" demanded Quentin.

Constance remembered that Quentin did not know about their child. She could not tell him now, not as Josef watched on in silence. "Oh, it doesn't matter what he's talking about. All that matters was that he knew there was a problem and he did nothing," she said. "That's Josef's way: he claims to love you but then he turns his back on you. Think of the way you treated Angelique. I can't imagine why you wanted her dead!"

"It's like I explained to Quentin: I figured that she would kill him," explained Josef.

"That old excuse." All turned to see Angelique standing by the door, a clay doll in one hand and a handkerchief in the other. "I found this amongst my things," she said innocently. "I considered sending it back to you, but I decided to save it for a rainy day...or a moonlit night."

"You can't kill me with image magick," warned Josef.

"I know," she moaned as she looped the handkerchief around the doll's neck, "but it does hurt, doesn't it?"

Angelique tightened the loop and Josef fell to his knees, his hands struggling against the invisible rope. Constance stared on in wonder, the pain ebbing as she mechanically ran her hands through Quentin's hair. At first she felt like laughing but that urge was soon replaced by the need to vomit. She pushed away from Quentin and her knees buckled. As she hit the floor, the warm sticky fluid steamed from her mouth. It tasted and smelled of burned sugar. She did not look up as commotion stormed behind her. Angelique pulled her to her knees and she saw Josef once again cowering on the floor with Quentin pointing the gun at his head. "Do you believe now?"

"It's true," wept Josef. "You're going to die."

Quentin shook his head and walked closer to Josef, placing the barrel of the gun at his temple. "Shut up, just shut up! This is your fault."

"I didn't mean...," stammered Josef.

"Who gives a damn what you meant!" screamed Quentin, his voice breaking mid-sentence. "It doesn't change the fact that you've done this. You're not sorry. You never are. You deserve death."

Josef attempted to run. Quentin did not attempt to stop him. Angelique had retrieved the dull and recommenced the strangulation. Quentin grabbed him by the collar and dragged Josef back into the drawing room. "You...you can't do this," stammered Josef. "Co...Co...Constance, have mercy! You know what I meant!"

Constance sat on her knees, steady for a moment but quickly forced to brace herself on trembling fingertips. Quentin ran to her side as Angelique kept Josef busy, folding her to his chest and covering the back wound with his hand. "Josef didn't mean to kill me," she whispered hoarsely, "but he meant to take life. Let him wither. I want him to die."

Quentin nodded. "What do you want for yourself?"

"Lay me down," she cried. "I can't take this anymore! The pain is unbearable. I just want to die!"

Quentin held her closer. Constance could feel his tears dripping onto her. "I've just found you," he whispered. "I don't want to let you go."

"I don't want to go." She pulled back and wiped the tears from his cheek. "I suppose it's my turn to be the calm one, huh?"

He smiled weakly. "Constance, I love you. I don't want you to go thinking otherwise."

"I always knew that you did."

Quentin choked back a sob and kissed her. When they released, he carefully laid Constance down. She placed a hand under the wound as she watched him walk to Josef. The pain swelled while she witnessed Angelique ease her grip on the handkerchief. Almost instantly, Quentin fired a shot into Josef's head, followed soon after by the remaining bullets. She smiled and removed her hand. The pain eased as the fluid left her body, a pool spreading beneath her and filling her nose and eyes. Her vision went black. She felt nothing but orgasmic relief.

Constance could still hear voices although they were heavy and blurred. She ignored them, choosing to fall into oblivion. She was surprised to feel pressure bend into her legs and the bluntness of hands pressing into her back. She certainly did not expect a knife the penetrate her back. As she screamed, fluid filled her mouth and dulled the sound. Constance bit her lip weakly as the knife went deeper, turning in a circle before the intruder removed it. She felt hands plunge into the wound, fingers delving into her and puling out tissues. Once the hands left, however, she felt the tingle of regeneration. Bone, muscle, and flesh began stretching and expanding, healing. When the tingle ceased she felt hands roll her over. Her vision cleared and she saw her attacker. "Quentin! What's going on?"

"Shh," he whispered. "I cut out the dead tissue and you healed."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

Quentin nodded curtly and unceremoniously plunged the knife an inch away from the hole. Constance had not realized the length of the blade and it frightened her. She bit the inside of her cheek as the knife circled the wound. Quentin removed the knife and deftly peeled away the dead skin, the glint of silver rimming the entry wound. The dead muscle and bone were soon removed and placed to the side with the rest. The wound began to mend instantly. Once the tingling ceased, Constance ran her finger over the wound. It was abnormally smooth and supple, sensitive. She grabbed Quentin's hand and pulled herself into sitting position. "How do you feel?"

"I'm a little woozy but I think I'll be okay." Constance wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. She could feel the goo that stuck to his hands seeping into her sweater. "I can't believe you've done this!"

"I wasn't going to let you do," he whispered. He wiped the hair from her eyes but pulled back when he noticed the goo on his hands. "I'm sorry."

"It's nothing." Constance pulled off the mutilated sweater and let Quentin wipe his hands on it. The cold air hit her immediately. She eased back in Quentin's arms, letting him pull her in and keep her warm. "God, when was the last time we sat like this?"

"It's been too long." Quentin kissed her again but pulled away quickly. "What's that?"

Constance sniffed the air, the odor of burned sugar filling her lungs. She looked over to see Josef's quickly decaying corpse. "That could have been me."

"But it's not." Quentin kissed her forehead and looked her over, his eyes landing on the former sight of the wound. He ran his finger across the new skin, eliciting a guttural moan from Constance. He considered touching it again but placed his hands on her shoulders. "That spot looks so strange. It's pale...paler than you."

"It's just new skin. It will probably blend in a few weeks." She sighed and fell forward, her forehead braced against his chest. "You saved my life. I'll never be able to repay you."

"I was returning a favor. I have my reward."

Constance smiled and kissed his cheek. She would have gone further had she not remembered Kelene. "Can I wear your coat?"

"Sure." Quentin handed her the coat, helping her into it before she rose to take tentative steps toward the foyer. "Why?"

"I'm not going to flash Kelene when i work with her."

"Oh...who's Kelene?" asked Quentin.

"Cameron's girlfriend. You know, the pretty dark haired girl. She's pregnant with Cameron's child and I must cure it."

Quentin stared at her, an exasperated "ugh" escaping his lips before he began to laugh. "I don't believe it. It's hard to think of him as anything but a child."

"Well, he's an adult and you're going to get to add another great to your grandfather status." Constance, surer on her feet than before, returned to Quentin and helped him to his feet. "Cameron is 28. He's four years...oh, never mind."

"What?" Quentin grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. "What were you going to say?"

Constance had let half of it slip. It would be best to tell him to rest. "Cameron is four years older than the age our child would have been."

"Our child?" asked Quentin softly. "Why didn't you tell me before! Where is it? What's happened to it?"

"It's dead, Quentin. Avery gave me an injection against my will and I miscarried," she sobbed. "But don't worry: Avery's being tortured large strong men with hot pokers as we speak. He's being tortured. I've seen to it."

Quentin slipped back to the floor. Constance knew that the information could have affected him negatively but she knew that he had to know. "Did this happen before or after I projected?"

"After."

"Oh God, I can't believe you went through that on your own."

Constance sat beside him, wrapping him in her arms and letting him lay there a moment. "I'm fine. You're find. We're both going to be all right. I try not to think about it. Neither should you."

"Can you forget?" asked Quentin in monotone.

"No. I think about it at least once a day. I wonder what it would of looked like, what it would have acted like, or what it would be by now. What gets me," she whispered, "is that I don't know if we can do it again. Some say you can and others say that you can't. It's so strange."

Quentin pulled back and wiped the hair from her face. "Well, we have quite a long time to find out, don't we?"

"Yeah," sighed Constance. She fell back into Quentin and closed her eyes. "Now I have to go cure her child. I'm not sure if I'm ready."

"Do you want to wait awhile longer?" asked Quentin.

"No. It's not her fault." Constance leapt to her feet and helped Quentin to his. "I can do this and then I can rest. After a night like this, I think we could all sleep for days and not feel rested." Constance took Quentin's hand and together they walked to Cameron's room.

Dark Shadows is a Dan Curtis Production.