Title: Penance
Author: Fallenbelle
Rating: K
Summary: For what seemed like the thousandth time that evening, Isaac Tash's words reverberated in a repeating loop, without ceasing.
Notes: Set immediately after 2x06 Shades of Grey. I'd long believed that where others would turn to drinking, gambling, whoring, etc, William would overdo physical exercise in self-punishment at a mistake of his and I'd long been toying with the idea of writing that. Rewatching season two at present, this is what happens when you wonder how William would react to following the truth, whatever the cost. Thanks to RomanticNerd for reminding me about the punishment via physical exercise. Words italicized and bolded are dialogue from the show. Italicized text is taken from an actual letter from Thomas Jefferson to his purported mistress, Maria Cosway. This relationship is explored in the film "Jefferson in Paris."
In an effort to drive the thoughts of self-loathing that had possessed his mind all afternoon and all evening, William pushed himself to the limits of his considerable physical endurance. He'd ridden his wheel well outside of the city to a secluded area at a furious speed where once stopped, he had finally given himself permission to cry, secure in the knowledge that no one was around to witness the break in his composure. However much he had despised the need to cede to his feelings, it had proven to be an outlet for frustration at his feelings of loss, hurt, and betrayal. But the simple act had failed to cure his desolation.
"You're going to wish you had left this alone."
And oh, God, he wished he had. Not for the first time he cursed his fanatical pursuit of the whole and complete truth, and not for the first time he wondered if he'd ever learn just to let some things go. Too late, he could admit that Isaac Tash, the man he had only hours before feared as a rival for Julia's affections had been correct.
"Now tell me nothing's changed."
For what seemed like the thousandth time that evening, Isaac Tash's words reverberated in a repeating loop, without ceasing. Of course he'd tried to tune them out, but they were to only be replaced by Julia's parting statement and subsequent apology. He couldn't decide which proclamation was worse: he wished he had left things alone and he wished he had been able to tell her that nothing had changed.
Only he wasn't able to do either of those things. If only...
There was no point in wondering about what may have been, he admonished himself in disgust. He'd had the choice to choose between a future with Julia and the cold, lonely truth, and like the utterly predictable and masochistic fool he was, once again he'd chosen the truth. A decision he'd made once more.
Would he ever learn?
Consumed anew by the rage from within, he picked up his wheel and rode like the devil back into town in an attempt to silence the demons that threatened his sanity despite the fact that twilight had already set and some of the dirt roads back into the city weren't exactly in the best of repair. As a result, he'd taken more than one tumble, and ruined his suit jacket while scraping an elbow, but he just couldn't seem to bring himself to care.
Flesh wounds were the least of his worries right now.
Once home, he continued his physical punishment, ignoring his body's protests resulting from his earlier physical exertions and did pushups until his arms could no longer support his weight at which point he performed horizontal inclinations until every muscle in his body burned.
He relished the burning muscle fibers; they were well earned in his opinion and they reminded him that he was alive even if his heart was shattered.
He would have liked to continue for several hours more, as his broken heart demanded, but as his body already loudly protested, he ceased his exertions for the evening. He did however, decide to deny himself the comfort of a bath; opting to wash himself with only a cloth and a bowl of cold water so that his coworkers wouldn't be forced to endure his foul odor the next day.
Having dressed for bed and kneeling by the side bed to pray, mind nearly blank with exhaustion, he suddenly remembered one of the love letters written by the American statesman, Thomas Jefferson to his purported mistress, Maria Cosway. The letter between Mr. Jefferson's head and heart had always resonated with him, undoubtedly because it was similar to multiple conversations that had taken place between his own head and heart on more than one occasion and expertly highlighted the struggle that he could never quite master.
In fact, he'd read it so many times, he practically had it memorized, and recited it to himself, identifying with the conflict between the two identities just as Mr. Jefferson before him; William struggled mightily between what his mind demanded versus what his heart cried out for. In his sparse and lonely bachelor's room, he recited the introduction.
Head: Well, friend, you seem to be in a pretty trim.
Heart: I am indeed the most wretched of all earthly beings. Overwhelmed with grief, every fibre of my frame distended beyond it's natural powers to bear, I would willingly meet whatever catastrophe should leave me no more to feel or to fear.
Head: These are the eternal consequences of your warmth and precipitation. This is one of the scrapes into which you are ever leading us. You confess your follies indeed: but still you hug and cherish them, and no reformation can be hoped, where there is no repentance.
Heart: Oh my friend! This is no moment to upbraid my foibles. I am rent into fragments by the force of my grief! If you have any balm, pour it into my wounds: if none, do not harrow them by new torments. Spare me in this awful moment! At any other I will attend with patience to your admonitions.
Forcing his mind back to the Rosary, William completed his recitations, seeking divine relief for his sorrow before climbing into bed. Once settled, William allowed himself the comfort of remembering how wonderful Julia had felt like against him, how her soft curves had proven a delicious contrast to his hardness; the way she tasted and smelled, his memory recalling her Jasmine fragrance as well as the sound of her laugh. Admonishing himself for the pathetic act of a broken man, he chastised himself for his folly, and cried himself to sleep.
Blessedly, his sleep was without dreams and the next morning dawned soon enough.
Stiff from lack of movement all night, William's body protested mightily at the agony he felt from even the slightest task or action while the part of his mind disgusted with himself was pleased at the discomfort.
Yet strangely enough, as he prepared himself for the day and read his morning devotions, it was Christ's admonition to forgive along with another section of Mr. Jefferson's letter to Mrs. Cosway that immediately came to mind. These proclamations were from the heart, and he knew that over night, his own heart had prevailed over his head, and that it was a struggle no more. That there was but one course to take, and thus, with hope in his heart, he knew he had no choice but to forgive her, and accept her for the person she was, foibles and all. For the good Lord knew he certainly had more than his share.
Heart: True, this condition is pressing cruelly on me at this moment. I feel more fit for death than life. But when I look back on the pleasures of which it is the consequence, I am conscious they were worth the price I am paying. Notwithstanding your endeavors too to damp my hopes, I comfort myself with expectations of their promised return. Hope is sweeter than despair, and they were too good to mean to deceive me.
Accepting that for all his logic and scientific thought, he willingly chose to be led by his heart, because his heart wanted Julia, and loving anyone could never be a bad thing.
Of course, accepting that his heart wanted Julia was one thing. It would quite another to convince her that loving her would never compromise his beliefs as she had feared. He only had to devise a way to win her back, he quipped to himself with a snort.
Just how would he achieve such a thing? He had to admit that he was at a loss.