He lay around another twenty minutes before forcing himself to start pulling the bed sheets off the bed. Just as he tossed everything into the washing machine, he heard the front door unlatch. When Elsa’s scent drifted in along with a cold gust of air, he sighed miserably.

Why couldn’t she just leave him alone?

When he came out into the living room she was waiting by the fireplace, warming her hands.

She stared into the fire when she spoke. "I need you to make Mr. Black take a backseat for this conversation. I need you to promise that you'll keep him reined in."

"Mr. Black isn’t here,” he responded tetchily. “Anyway, I can't promise you anything until you tell me why you’re here."

Elsa glared at him. “I didn’t intend on coming back, but you called…”

“I wish I hadn’t,” he crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a cold stare.

“Well you did and I’m here. You look ridiculous standing there pretending like you don’t give a shit about me, so do me a favor and lose the pretense. It’s unattractive and makes you look older than you are.”

Victor couldn’t do anything to control the rapid influx of emotions her words were stirring within him. He also couldn’t control the chemical reaction his body was having to her smart-ass mouth. He wanted to punish and fuck her relentlessly for her inability to hold her tongue, shut the hell up and accept her fate, though he knew doing so had never been her strong points.

"I mean it, Victor. Promise me you’ll keep Mr. Black out of this."

Resigned to the fact that she wasn’t leaving until she had aired her feelings, he threw himself onto the couch. "Why? Is this discussion going to piss me off?”

“Probably, but it’s important. Please…”

Puzzled by her insistence, he shot her a look of upset but gave into her request. “Ok. I promise. Now dispense with the drama and get it over with."

***

Elsa paused to reconsider what she was about to do before reaching into her coat pocket and handing over the folded envelope she had brought along with her. She had received the letter in the mail days before and the results were just as she had suspected. But after the way Victor had nearly attacked her and then simply walked out on her, she was too hurt to seek him out to relay the message. He hadn’t even called or checked up on her, and she had decided that it was best to just let things end, no matter how much she wanted to be with him.

If he hadn’t called, she would’ve just let it go and allowed him to live his life of lies since that seemed to be what he wanted. But he did call, and she knew that no matter what the consequences would be, he needed to know the truth. All of it.

Victor gave her another bewildered look but promptly opened the envelope and began reading the letter. When he flipped over the first page and began reading the results of the paternity test, she prepared herself for the worst.

"What? This can't be... When?" he eyes rapidly flicked over the document.

"When I went to see Anthony that day. I went there out of morbid curiosity, and, yes, to prove that the man I…” she swallowed loudly but refused to acknowledge her true feelings. “…Was really the son of a serial killer. But the more I talked to him and the more I looked at him and watched his mannerisms, the more I realized there was nothing of you in him. On a whim, I asked him for the piece of gum he was chewing as a souvenir. I took a swab of you while you were sleeping and sent them both in for a paternity test. I’m sorry I lied to you, but I had to know, for my own peace of mind."

"This has to be wrong..."doubt throbbed in his voice.

"You seem disappointed in finding out the serial killer you thought was your father, isn't. Why is that?" she asked in astonishment.

"This is bullshit!" He stood and slammed the paper onto the coffee table.

"What's bullshit is that you convinced yourself that a sociopath was your father. And what’s bullshit is that you created Mr. Black out of some misguided sense of guilt and shame."

"We’ve already been through that! I didn't create Mr. Black. He's a part of who I am; a piece of my personality," his voice rumbled loudly.

"Fine. He's part of you,” her voice rose in response. “We all have a side to us that's dark, dirty and secretive. All of us. You're no exception. But you let that part of you run loose and ruin lives, namely yours."

His massive shoulders heaved with his labored breathing. "The other half who created me is still indisputable.”

"I don't want to hear you compare yourself to your mother because there is no comparison. Yes, she was a horrible parent and a cruel person, but you pulled yourself out of that situation. You rose above it. You’ve helped people. You're noble and brave when you want to be, and even when you don't mean to be. Has it been so many years that you can't remember the person you were before Scarlet Greene came along?"

"Don't say her name,” he growled so deeply it startled her, making her back away.

"Jesus, Victor. You're the one with the psychology degree. Can't you focus that high-powered analytical lens into your own brain and see what you've done to yourself?"

"Why did you do this?” he yelled as he lunged toward her again. She feared the worse, but he simply shook her by the shoulders. “What the fuck were you trying to prove?”

“That you’re not the man you think you are. I don’t know how you came to the conclusion you did, or even who your real father is, but it is not Anthony Bruce,” she whispered.

“I went on what my mother told me…” he appeared to be frantically trying to recall the past as his hands tightened around her shoulders. “I even did the math in case she was wrong. I went on the details she gave me - his age, what he looked like, when they met, when I was born… I did the fucking numbers. She told me it was Anthony Bruce…” His eyes scanned the room, trying to find something that wasn’t there.

“Your mother was a drunk and a liar by your own account, Victor. Did it ever occur to you that she might have lied?” Elsa was astounded. Victor’s destiny had been revealed and he was still trying to dispute the DNA evidence that was staring him in the face. When she reached up to touch his face, he jerked his head away and moved to the other end of the room.

“Why would she do that? There would be no reason for her to lie about that…” his eyes stabbed into her.

“I don’t know…” she shook her head. All she could do was guess, like him. “Maybe she got it wrong. She was drunk when she was with the man who fathered you. And she was cruel. Maybe she did it to make you doubt yourself and make you feel weak, and hate yourself. To make you think you were less than the amazing man you are…” She took a step toward him but he promptly put his hands up to stop her.

“Shut up. Please, God, Elsa, just shut the fuck up!” he fisted his hair. “I’m not amazing. I can’t think…” He began pacing the living room. “Why do you always have to be so Goddamn nosy?” his voice cracked. “Why couldn’t you just let me go on believing that…” he swallowed loudly. “That I’m a worthless piece of shit,” he choked out. “Why did you have to come back here tonight?”

When he sank onto the chaise and hid his face in his hands, she fell to her knees in front of him. With her face pressed against his thighs, a sob escaped her throat. This beautiful, tortured man… this cruel son-of-a-bitch, this confused little boy… she had broken him. She had finally broken him…

“You’re not, Victor. You’re not. Can’t you see what I see in you?”

“Why…” he finally drew his hands away from his tear soaked face.

The words she wanted to say clogged her throat. The day she was released from the hospital after her breakdown, she had promised herself she wouldn’t ever take him back, but she had been forced to, and now, here she was, breaking the other promise she made to herself by falling in love with him again.