Veneration of Dreams // Ransom Drysdale

fifteen // cabin fever

Katarina had to hold back the urge to laugh when she walked out of the en suite and found a brown paper bag with the words 'Victoria Secret' scrawled across the side, sitting on the bed. She smirked, digging through the bag to find a crimson turtleneck and a pair of high-waisted black jeans. There was a questionable stain near the ankles of the latter but she tried her best to ignore it. Shaking her head, she scrunched up the brown paper bag and tossed it halfway across the room.

"Sorry, I couldn't find the real thing. I think the lettering looks great though." Ransom said, catching the paper ball from the doorway.

Katarina jumped, glancing down as she fixed her towel in place.

"First, it was more of an ugly scrawl. Second, what the hell are you doing here?" She said, fighting the rising heat in her cheeks.

"I felt like a siesta," He said, settling onto the bed with a shrug.

"And there wasn't another bedroom for you to do that in?" Katarina asked.

"Only one bed," Ransom said simply, resting his hands behind his head and closing his eyes.

Katarina scoffed, "You know, most people would offer to sleep on the couch so their guest wouldn't have to."

"I never said we couldn't share. By all means..." He said, trailing off as he turned on his side. 

Katarina watched him for a second before snatching her clothes and...other things from where they were drying on the heater. Giving him a look, she marched back into the en suite and slammed the door shut behind her. When she walked out in fresh clothes, he was gone. Glancing at the closed door, she sat down on the foot of the bed, wondering whether all of that was just to annoy her.

Beyond his current preoccupation with frustrating her, however, she knew Ransom wanted one of two things, freedom or revenge. She wasn't sure which he would choose. He didn't seem too eager to get out of the country but she hadn't seen him devising any plans to destroy Marta Cabrera either. She knew the look of revenge, her years of policing had taught her to recognise it shining through the best faux composure, and he exhibited none of the usual tendencies. Except, he had also put himself at risk to recover the Whitegate footage, implying he wanted more than freedom.

"Ransom!" Katarina called out, unnerved by the silence in the cabin. She made her way to the kitchen, pausing when she saw the silhouette of a man standing by the sink.

"Are you alright? You're going all blair witch on me here." She said, unable to help herself as she flicked on the lights.

Still with his back turned to her, he opened the tap and splashed water on his face.

"There's no food in here, nothing that isn't expired anyway." Ransom said, planting his palms on the counter. He didn't move to face her.

"What about fish? Any local berries that you know aren't poisonous?"

He shrugged.

"I can't believe you have fifteen types of wine in the cellar but no food." Katarina said, inching closer only to stop when Ransom moved away, "Actually, I can...What's going on?"

"I'm tired," He declared, trying to walk around her and reach the exit. Katarina caught his wrist as he moved by, shocked to see how red his eyes were.

"No kidding. Have you been crying in here?"

Ransom wrenched his hand away, snickering.

"Now, that wouldn't be very on-brand of me, would it?"

"If I had a lake to shove you in right now, I would, but I don't so just tell me what's going on." Katarina demanded as he side-stepped her to the exit, "Ransom!"

"Fran." He said and moved straight for the crystal decanter in the living room.

"Ransom..."

"Relax," He replied sarcastically, catching the usual concerned line form between her eyebrows as he downed the tumbler in one go and went to pour himself another, "Your father taught me how to moderate."

"You regret it. You didn't think you would but now not a day goes by when the guilt doesn't consume you. You think about how different your life would be if you just controlled yourself, if you weren't so impulsive, and you hate yourself for it. I know what that feels like." Katarina said.

"I'm sorry, are you talking about the addiction or the fact that I killed a woman? Because the only experience you have with either comes through putting away people like me, officer, so I don't think you have a damn clue," Ransom replied, tipping a second amber shot down his burning throat. He watched over the rim of his glass as she sat on the plush leather settee, twisting her fingers together. Her silence was only broken by a sigh when he returned to the flask for a third time, pouring two glasses for once. He set hers down on the coffee table with a thud, standing over her.

"Or maybe you mean that time you moved too fast and got a hostage killed. Yeah, I found that case along with the footage and guess what? It doesn't count either, not for nearly as much brooding credit. God, you didn't even fire the gun."

Watching Katarina rub the tumbler in her hand, he tossed his drink at the fire, letting the flames spark. She barely looked up at the sound.

"The hostage thing was an accident, but I meant it when I burnt down the west wing." Katarina said, and hurled her glass at the adjacent wall. She stood abruptly, walking toward the shards on the floor. Ransom's reflection could be seen in the silver of the mantlepiece but she could hardly manage to glance at it.

"Innocent people died that night. Their families suffered the way I had for months but I can't remember feeling one morsel of guilt. Not back then, anyway. I was guarding a man alone, a man who was known for harming himself. They wanted me to make sure he made it to his evaluation in one piece but halfway through the night, he started spouting this bullshit about my father until he got me to step inside. He was chained to a portion of the room so I thought it would be no problem. The only thing that ever made me hesitate was fear for my own life but I should have...Listen, the guy burnt down an orphanage, he killed twenty children and he was hardly worth anyone's pity so I thought- I tortured him." She finally said, swallowing the lump in her throat, "I had my lighter on me and I hurt him...I told myself I was only trying to uncover this supposed secret he said he knew but it was more than that. No one can tell me otherwise. The feeling was...I mean, it was euphoric. I kept hurting him even after he said he knew nothing, I hurt him while he begged and I hurt him until the very moment I thought I was going to be caught. It was the jingling of keys which woke me up. I dropped the lighter and ran but no one was outside. By the time I realised I was safe, the guy had set himself on fire. My first thought was to help him, I swear, but when I saw the lighter, all of that changed. After I took it, I thought there was a chance I could get away with what I had done. I called Matthew and told him there was a fire. I lied that I had no idea how it started. The cell was padded so it went up quick and the rest of the ward followed. By the time they got a hold of the blaze, it had spread down to the cafeteria hall and there was not one shred of evidence left to prove I had tortured that poor man. We lost ten criminals and three officers..."

"Katarina," Ransom began, but she waved him off.

"No, I'm not done yet. The cameras had been incinerated and they were only backed up every morning so there was no footage showing me going inside the cell. At first, I was relieved and I planned to leave the country as soon as I could, I was that scared of being caught, but there was this doubt in the back of my mind. While some firefighters were handling the blaze from the courtyard, I went to the file room and, like I suspected, the video which Matthew told me didn't exist, the one you found, was there. You know how desperate I was to watch that video, Ransom. Desperate enough to release ten high-risk prisoners as a distraction."

"Prisoners from the East wing," Ransom finished. He grabbed her bicep when she stepped toward the door, turning her chin toward him with his free hand. To his surprise, she didn't fight him and to hers, there was no disgust on his face.

"I freed you," Katarina said, feeling the iciness of his fingers on her skin.

"I know."