"I don't know what we're doing here," Luke Castellan said in a sad tone.
Killer Frost turned her body to look at him, having been distracted and dazed, staring down from up high on the balcony. The view had actually done her no good at all; the day wasn't clear, the sky was a light yet still dark and empty sort of gray that seemed to only represent melancholy and deprivation.
"What I meant to say is that.... I don't know exactly what it is that we actually mean to one another, and what it is that we both want for our adjoined future," he expressed with difficulty.
Killer Frost's eyes lit with surprise. "Oh."
Luke nodded. "Yeah. I think it's time we have that conversation. We've put it off long enough, don't you think?"
"Yeah. I guess so," Frost nodded regretfully.
"Before you say anything, I know that neither one of us is very good in this department," Luke explained.
She nodded. "Yeah, that's definitely an understatement. Understatement of the century. I should know."
"Frost...."
"It's okay, Luke. I'm alright. I just don't know what to say."
"Yeah, I get it. That thought caught me off guard too, believe me," he promised.
"Luke, I'm scared," she said quickly. "I'm scared because I don't know what to do. But.... there is one thing that I do know," she sighed.
Luke only stared into her eyes as he stood intimately close to her.
"The only thing that I do know is that I.... I love you, Luke. And that means a lot coming from me. I never thought that I would love someone; that I would even be loved."
"Frost, that's.... that's good. Because I love you too. Don't worry about it," he said quickly, walking out of the bedroom.
"Luke," Frost sighed.
He only looked back with a shameful, pitiful smile.
"Luke!"
"Frost," he sighed. "We can't do this, not right now. Let's just finish one thing at a time. We can't be distracted by anything with the sacrifice coming up tonight."
Killer Frost's expression softened noticeably. "Of course. You're right," she nodded. "As usual," she mumbled, leaving the room, shoving mercilessly past Luke.
But then she came to a sudden halt, turning to face him. She stared right into his soul, or so he perceived, for what seemed to both like an hour or more.
"This isn't right," she said finally, her voice coming out coarse and raspy after a while of silence. "We can't just be picture perfect on the outside; we can't be the Kennedys, Luke. Not with our Marilyn lurking about."
****
Killer Frost had retreated to a surprisingly secluded area of the club; the comfort bar. The comfort bar was definitely a popular area; a fully stocked bar, mostly of wine, near a multitude of comfortable sofas and tables surrounded by a soundproof wall. It was more of a cozy coffee shop than a bar inside of a corrupt club for fugitives,criminals,gang bangers, and corrupt figures of authority and power. There were even bookshelves placed nicely throughout the area. Killer Frost sat curled up on a small loveseat with an old novel, Labors of Love. A vampire novel, which both Killer Frost and Diana very seldom enjoyed, or even tolerated.
"I simply do not understand you," Marilyn told Gerald.
"What is it that fails to capture your attention, Marilyn? What could possibly evade you at this point in time? There is nothing that I have not already said to you about my inner feelings!" he shouted as a result of his internally boiling rage and frustration.
"It is not I who is failing to comprehend, Gerald."
"Yes?" he bade her proceed.
"You seem not to realize that what it is that the acts that I would be willing to perform at your command reach absolutely no limit whatsoever," sobbed Marilyn desperately, losing control of her composure.
Tears came to Gerald's pained, stinging eyes. "Perhaps we simply do not make any sense together."
"That's what you think?!" she sobbed. "After every situation that we have endured together? You would honestly just give in?"
Gerald was beyond frustrated. "Marilyn, I don't know anything! I don't know the reality of our situation, and I don't know what is the right thing to do. All that I know is that I love you, and hopefully you love me. Marilyn, I'm done trying to reason with you. I only want to spend eternity with you, and happily."
Then, startling yet amazing Marilyn, he pulls out a vampire-killing blade. "Let's truly spend eternity together, and happily. Let us delve deep into the beyond, my beloved Marilyn"
"Into the beyond, my dearest Gerald."
"Anastasia," Nicholas called, sobbing desperately. "Anastasia! Can you even hear me? Please, please respond."
Anastasia was, essentially, dead. Again, seeing as she was a vampire. Nicholas was currently debated whether he should revive her; but it would come with a terrible price. If he resurrected his darling Ana, she would return as not her lovely and beautiful self that he had fallen in love with all those years ago, but a malicious demon in her form for at least the length of her previous life, which was over one thousand years. But nonetheless, he could not bear seeing Anastasia's lifeless and frighteningly still corpse, and dreaded spending a hellish eternity without her by his side. There would be no purpose to his existence whatsoever. Anastasia was the only reason that he had decided to join the creatures that eternally walk the night all those years ago. All of his loved ones were dead, seeing as he had lived well past his time, and everyone that he knew absolutely loathed him, because of everything that he had done in Ana's name. But he could not allow himself to violate and pervert Ana's body in such a way. He had to do the difficult yet right thing, and allow her to die peacefully. He hoped dearly that Ana's soul would find rest after such a long and tormenting existence. He also knew that he had to continue living and let her pass into the next chapter of her existence, seeing as it was what she would have wished. He did not like it, not in the least, but it was almost comforting for him to know that he was making the right decision.
That got Killer Frost thinking, and more than she would have liked. What was the right thing to do for her and Luke? What path of decision would grant them their good ending? Spontaneity, romance, and passion? Or love, sacrifice, and selflessness? Frost could only wonder for the time being. Her mind refused to operate, and only wished her back to a time of greater happiness and simplicity; she wished so dearly that she and Luke could be as happy as the Kennedys could only appear to be. She supposed that they were the same in that department.