A.N. I originally wrote this story for Ian/Mickey from Shameless, but figured the lack of Hannah/Darren stories was abysmal and since I don't have any inspiration atm, id use this story again but in a separate format, y'know?
Also, R&R is my favourite thing in the world XD. You wanna know how to review? Check out Gothic-Romantic99, she rules at reviews!!!
If you've read some of my other fanfiction, you'll know that I never know how its gunna end when I start it. Obviously I know how this ends, as I have used it before, but when I originally started it, I was unaware. This time I had to kill a character off, I dunno if you can guess who it is but you probably will. So whatever, hope you enjoy!!!
Kahlil Gibran once wrote: "Your reason and your passion are your rudder and sails of your seafaring souls. If either be broken, you could but toss and drift or else be held at a standstill amid seas. For reason, running alone, is a force confining. And passion, unattended, is a flame that burns to its own destruction."
Hannah Ashworth did nothing to subvert the expectations of this theory. Not that she would ever understand that quote. It was not as though she was thick, or simple-minded, she was deeper than anyone could ever imagine. She just had something on her mind. Something that would distract her from any theories about her reason and her passion. Something that, well, was her reason and passion.
Her reason and passion were the same thing. They were embodied in one spirit, homed by one existence. Darren Osborne.
Darren Osborne was the only person who could hurt Hannah. An Ashworth never let anyone walk all over them – apart from the one who held the key to their heart. Look at the evidence – Nev and Suzanne, Rhys and Beth, Rhys and Hayley. And possibly most obviously, Josh and Amy. Everyone knew how Amy had treated Josh; they all thought he was thick for sticking with her. When they had got back together, Amy had promised that she would never hurt Josh again. She did.
Nobody knows whether she would have hurt him again given the chance. Nobody ever would. Nobody could predict the future, and they certainly could not deduct what may have happened if past events had differed, affecting how future events turned out. Like if Darren hadn't had that obvious pole up his ass that made him turn Hannah away and break her heart – one of many times. If Darren had only been aware of what he was doing, aware of Hannah's feelings as well as his own, aware of how their relationship would become a tightrope. Both too scared to walk to the other on the opposite side in case they plummeted to a bloody death in a mysterious pit of blackness, the fall seeming to go on for eternity.
After the funeral, Hannah had returned home alone. She arrived a long time before any of the others, desperate to get some well needed sleep. Darren had insisted on walking her part of the way home until Hannah sent him back to The Dog. The walk had been agonising, a moonlight stroll in complete silence, the ability to cut the tension with a knife. Hannah was torn between grieving for her brother, pulling Darren into one of the many dark alleyways they passed and hitting him for the pain he had caused her. Darren was torn between supporting his grieving friend and wife, running away and falling to his knees in despair of his own cursed heart.
Hannah had sensed this, telling Darren to return to the pub and to give her some privacy. And despite the pain that the first half of the walk had brought, the pain of walking home alone was much worse. And if Hannah thought that was bad, she could only wait for the pain she felt whilst trying to shut her drooping eyelids without thinking of Darren.
That night, the night of the funeral, the planets aligned. Things changed, the stars held fates for Hannah and Darren. It was a night to be remembered, for it was the beginning of always. Neither could sleep for thoughts of the other. The self-conflict they felt was overwhelming, but a much larger conflict was to arrive. One that could not be gratified with a simple slap on the shoulder or laugh over a pint. They had persisted through life alone for so long, persevered with the fates and destiny. However, they were not about to be rewarded.
A month later…
The fates were not rewarding Hannah and Darren. Ever heard of the calm before the storm? Before the worst. That is what they were experiencing here. Except today was the day all that would change, the day that the storm would arrive. And all by one simple admission, by Darren's words. Words that would break Hannah's heart, certainly not for the first time. Words that told how Darren would be leaving Hollyoaks village once again for the mistress of California.
Hannah nodded. She brought her left hand to her face and rubbed slightly, as though to allow this information to seep through her more clearly. As though on autopilot, without saying a word, she turned on her heel and walked calmly through the apartment.
Darren was confused, had expected a confrontational showdown, expected Hannah to be heartbroken. However, she appeared to be showing no emotion, as though she was completely unaffected by the news. He quickly followed Hannah, determined to find out what was running through her head.
As he reached their bedroom, Hannah was nowhere to be seen. He heard the faint sounds of running water, and entered the bathroom to be enriched with an unusual sight. Hannah was kneeling on the floor, filling a cup with water from the bath taps. In the sink, the plughole was covered with a bath bomb. Hannah poured the water over the bath bomb and silently watched it erode away. As she went to fill the cup with more water, she explained her theory to Darren.
"The water and the bath bomb have this unusual relationship, right? The water sparks off this chemical reaction to the bath bomb, and the bath bomb gives the water a bit of colour – gives it some interest. On another note, the water destroys the bath bomb – signifies pain. It breaks it down piece by piece, until there nothing left to it. I was just wondering, how much pain can the bath bomb take before it actually fights back, refuses to be hurt anymore? How long before it finally stands up for itself and prioritises everything? That's what I wanna know."
And as Hannah falls back against the bath, and puts her head in her hands, Darren's heart just about breaks. He never meant to hurt her – he loved her for gods sake. But that just wasn't enough.
Darren's body slumped down against the radiator and he forced his mouth closed to capture the whimper that was trying to escape from his lips. It killed him to see Hannah like this, and even more to know that his cursed heart was the one causing it. He didn't know why he kept doing this, it was just instinct to do these things, and he hated that Hannah was hurt because of it.
Hannah stood, and with a look of disdain she passed Darren into the hallway. Darren reached out a hand and grabbed Hannah's before she could walk any further. Hannah turned, throwing a disgraceful look onto Darren.
"How… how are you feeling? I mean, like… what do you feel?"
"What do you mean, what do I feel? You want to know what I feel?"
Darren nodded. He regretted his decision almost immediately – although he loved Hannah, and wanted to share her pain and make her feel more comfortable, he was terrified that this was the moment Hannah would erupt. She had been so calm throughout everything they had been through, and it was only a matter of time.
"Honestly?" Hannah rubbed Darren's hand with her own as Darren nodded once more. She bent down to Darren's level, and whispered in his ear. "Nothing. I feel… nothing."
Hannah then left the room, and the house, back to her family. Darren was left on the bathroom floor, with the sounds of the tap still running and the chemical fizz of the eroding of the bath bomb filling the air, wondering what the hell just happened.
Hannah never lied. Honestly… she felt nothing. What she didn't tell Darren was that she felt nothing because there was nothing left of her to feel. She was like the bath bomb – she never fought back. Never stood up for herself. But unlike the bath bomb, which was still eroding, Hannah was already gone.
She didn't know anything anymore. She wasn't even sure of her own name. While the world around her was crumbling, the only thing that remained a constant, standing tall and tough, was emptiness. Slightly strange, as emptiness is nothingness, and nothingness does not exist. But to Hannah, nothing existed anymore. Time, space, love, justice – all were non-existent. So why should this be any different?
The house was filled with the loud boom of the door. Hannah's conscience refused to move. Rhys shook his head at her through the open space. Rhys got up to answer the door, then shouted back that it was Next. When he did not receive an answer, he let him in anyway.
"Oi, Blondie, you wanna exp…" Next entered the room and saw his friend in her bed, curled up into the foetal position as though to protect herself. Any last scrap of Hannah Ashworth there was. Fresh tears sprouted down her face as Next leapt across the room to comfort him. With his arm around her shoulder, Hannah wept. Not cried – wept. She was beyond the stage of crying now.
After a few minutes, Hannah lifted her face to meet Newt's. "What… what was it you wanted to ask?"
Next shook his head. "Nothing mate. I was gunna ask why my brother was in floods of tears on the phone to me last night but apparently it was guilt. What's he done this time?"
Hannah explained the whole America thing to Newt, careful to leave out the part about the bath bomb. She didn't wanna seem completely pathetic. She told Newt how Darren had asked what she felt and she told him honestly… nothing.
Newt shook his head again. "You know, I will never understand you. This seemed like a potential moment for Darren to stay, and you blew it. Made him think there was no reason. And there must be a part of you that feels something, right, or you wouldn't be sat here upset. See?" he offered gently.
Hannah nodded, rubbing fresh tears away from her eyes. It still didn't solve the problem though. "But what do I do about this?"
Newt looked at the floor thoughtfully. He hadn't pictured this far ahead.
"Well, its obvious aint it? You've gotta go around there and tell him how you feel before its too late – before he leaves again."
Both Newt and Hannah raised their heads in surprise, at the calm, soothing voice of Rhys from the doorway. For once in his life… Rhys made sense.
"Darren!!!"
"Aww, come on Darren, I know your sulking somewhere. Can you just come out so we can talk? Please? Newt's here."
"For gods sake Darren, would you stop being so bloody ignorant and…"
After clattering her way through the apartment and entering the bedroom, Hannah found nothing but a letter on her pillow. Her eyes grew wide and she leapt back through the apartment to drag Newt out of the door.
"What the?"
"Ill explain on the way."
"Move. Move. Move. Move." Newt became exasperated.
"YOU HEARD THE MAN – MOVE!!!"
Sometimes there were advantages to Hannah's extremely loud mouth.
The pair struggled through crowds and security guards galore, flying with an inhumane speed towards the gate registered for Darren's flight. Its funny how something always appears to be much bigger when you're in a rush. It seemed the faster they ran, the longer it took the two to arrive at the gate. After what seemed like a lifetime, they got there just in time to see Darren pass through the door.
"DARREN!!!" Darren popped his head around the door rather slowly, already knowing who it was and exactly what they wanted. He knew his wife – or should that now be ex girlfriend? – was outside and she wanted him to stay. He knew Hannah wanted Darren to refrain from breaking her heart yet again. But he couldn't do it.
"I'm sorry."
With that, Darren left through the silver door, and it was closed behind him by a guard in what Hannah saw as slow motion, whilst everything else seemed to rush past her. A comforting hand was placed on her shoulder by Newt, and instead of taking this as support, Hannah took it as the final hit. Her legs turned to jelly and her knees buckled as her shins hit the floor, and her backside hit the back of her legs.
Hannah threw her head back in defeat, tears springing to her eyes as her heart took its seat on a flight to California. Her arms found the impossible strength to raise as her hands ran through her long hair in disbelief. She honestly thought he would stay.
A ship cannot be used without a rudder and sails. They are the most important part of a ship, bearing home to the action of a seafaring soul. Without a rudder and sails, a ship cannot take flight from the dock of the bay. Hannah was held at a standstill amid the seas of people eager to catch their flights, and could only drift from her spot to her home. But even that appeared to be far in the future. For now, her spot was right here on the floor. She currently held no emotion, but soon anger would appear, anger that would burn this Ashworth to her own dismal destruction.
A.N. Hopefully you enjoyed this XD. Like I said, this was originally written for Ian/Mickey so a few things may not add up. You guys did get it that I killed Josh off, right? Sad, I know, but essential XD. It also really upset me to hurt Hannah, since I love them as a couple! Please read + review, it means a lot to me! XD xoxo