Bridgeport

Ariadne lifted the lid on Marko's favourite crate with trepidation. It had originally been made to store a small grandfather clock, and he'd started using it as a less macabre alternative to a coffin. She'd expected to find him looking particularly monstrous, an undead corpse sleeping an unnatural sleep, but except for his strange palour, he seemed very peaceful.

"Oh Marko", she sighed, gently touching his cheek. "You were never meant to go through this."

He clutched the runestone producing the restful sleep in his hand. Perhaps Maria had put it there, or perhaps he'd held it himself. Ariadne was half tempted to leave it there longer, but how long was long enough? He'd have to face what had happened eventually. Leaving it too long might make things harder. She gently removed the object from his hand.

His eyes fluttered open almost immediately and despite not needing to, he inhaled deeply. He acted like someone who has been started awake from a terrible nightmare.

"Easy-" Ariadne said gently, guiding him into a sitting position. "How do you feel?"

"A-Ariadne... I- I hurt them."

Heavy sobs beginning to shake his body. Ariadne leaned over the side of the crate as well as she could to put her arms around him.

"Not really. Rosa had a sprained wrist which will be better soon, Brahm bounced back in the ways vampires do. I'm sure they both understand that you weren't feeling yourself."

"It could have been much worse. How could I have let it happen? How could I- I hit my sister! I'm no better than my father!" he growled, climbing to his feet and out of Ariadne's embrace. He stumbled out of the crate with his usual drunken co-ordination and stood, seething. For a moment Ariadne was frightened that she would lose him again to his anger, but that emotion seemed to fade away. He found a chair, a castoff from the shop, and sunk into it, expression haggared and empty.

"I can't be your husband any more. You can't be my wife."

"Don't be stupid", she said softly, going to sit next to him. "I couldn't have had this exact situation in mind when I took my wedding vows, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to stand by you."

"No... you don't understand."

He took her hand in his and felt its fragile warmth.

"I am a ghoul, a feral, vicious supernatural being who is designed to blindly obey a master. Generally I have more wits about me than your average ghoul, but... retaining those wits gets harder every day, Ariadne. I think that ghoulish side to me is going to win out, eventually. I need to be controlled. I need a master. You."
"That's a horrible idea", she said, taking her hand away and giving Marko a strong glare. "Haven't we been trying hard to stop that situation from happening?"

"It's the best option. Think about the alternatives. If we keep going as we are, I will lose control completely at some point. I will hurt people. Kill people. Or, perhaps I call it quits and kill myself while I'm still in control-"

"-Marko..."

"Or I could surrender my will to you, the woman who knows me better than anyone."

Ariadne shook her head.

"That would rob you of your free will, Marko. That sounds like death of a different sort to me. You'd stop being yourself."

He smiled sadly, and leaned over to kiss her forehead gently.

"I would be myself, because you know me, you love me. You can decide what my will would be, if I was able to think clearly for myself. Order me to spend time with my grandchildren, to paint something, to read a book. I'm sure I could still feel joy in those things, still have moments of being myself. Only keep me reigned in. Keep me tame. You could do it."

Ariadne blinked away prickling tears that were starting to irritate her eyes. Even in the state he was in, Marko could think more clearly than her sometimes. She hated that this seemed to be one of those times.

"I... I see what you meant,before. I couldn't be your wife any more, could I? Our marriage is an equal relationship. That would have to end."

Marko nodded glumly.

"Please, Ariadne. I don't want to hurt anyone again. But I also don't really want to have to die."

Ariadne quietly slipped off her wedding and reached for his, delicately removing it. The two rings sat together on her palm, a matching set. She'd married young, been a widow young, and then suddenly been married again. She wasn't sure what she would be now.

She glanced around the cluttered basement full of stored antiques and quickly spotted something that would do: a little metal tin, designed to store cigarettes. She put the rings inside and then slipped the tin into her breast pocket.

"I'm not going to give up hope that we'll find a way to wear them again. This is temporary, until we find a better solution. I suppose we should... get started. Marko. Please go and..."

"...there can't be a please," he interrupted, "You need to order me. Like you did when I was attacking Brahm."

She looked at him, pained, but he simply gave a reassuring smile that was slightly crinkled around the edges. Her eyes fluttered closed as she concentrated on the connection between them and sending a message down it.

"Marko. Go and look at the photo album in my beureau and think about how many people love you."

The effect was instantaneous. The complex painting of emotions on his face - anxiety, love, trepidation, gratefulness, was replaced by a shallow obedient smile. He left the basement quietly. Ariadne sunk back into the chair and buried her head in her hands.