Damn
Summary: "She's up against the closed door, his hands are everywhere, but as soon as it started, it stops. His lips are a breath away from hers, his eyes are closed, and with a ragged sigh, it's over..."
Author's Note: Brady and Chloe were and still are one of my absolute OTPs. When I heard Chloe was returning, possibly divorced, and without Brady, I was crushed. However, I was inspired to write for the first time in a while, and this angsty piece is what came about! I'm semi-watching DOOL now, but this doesn't follow the current storyline very much at all since I started this way back in November. I was inspired, in particular, by the song 'Damn' by LeAnn Rimes, which I suggest listening to, it's a great song! Reviews are most appreciated, I hope you'll enjoy!
Disclaimer: If Brady and Chloe were mine, they would be together, totally in love, making some babies...but obviously that's not happening, so they aren't mine...song either, sadly :(
For one last night, the former Chloe Lane Black allows herself to grieve for what might have been. She's not used to sleeping alone, even though Brady has been staying at a hotel for well over a month, she wakes up sometimes still expecting his arms around her. There are a few brief moments when she forgets her dreams have crumbled, she forgets they are estranged, divorced, over. Two years ago the idea of divorce would've been so foreign, not something she expected to go through, and yet, here she is. The worst part is that she can't seem to remember when everything fell apart. She thinks about it a lot during the many nights she spends tossing and turning. Could she have done something to stop this mess? As she lets the tears slip down her face, she thinks of the first time she met Brady Black, the first time they kissed, made love, and the last time she saw him. She wonders if she'll ever see him again. The idea of never seeing those bright blue eyes again makes her heart stop. Why did this have to happen, what went wrong?
She tortures herself with a thousand what if's, unable to fall asleep. She waits until the golden light of morning sun fills the room before rising. She quickly showers, finishes packing, and stares around the empty room, willing herself to be strong. Chloe lets herself feel the pain of her heartbreak one last time, and then, as the door closes behind her, so does her heart. She won't ever allow anyone to touch her soul again, last night was the last time she would think of him. The Chloe Lane that arrives in Salem is no longer recognizable, she is ice, stone, unfeeling, but it's the only way she can survive.
When she looks in the mirror now, she can't even recognize the woman in front of her. Alcohol sure helps, when she drinks enough to pass out, she doesn't dream of those blue eyes. Belle hates her, Shawn too, hell, most everyone finds her to be a bitch, yet she can't seem to care that much, feelings take up too much energy.
It's supposed to be their anniversary. She spends the day in her apartment, a loaded gun in one hand and a bottle in the other. She thinks death might be better than this hell. She's drunk enough that she can't stop herself from thinking of him. She almost pulls the trigger, her hands are shaking, she's got tears sliding down her face, the bottle of Jack sits empty beside her, but something stops her. No matter how intense the pain, she can't give up, can't end it all like this. She clings to the bit of old Chloe left inside and lays down the gun, she won't die tonight.
She doesn't know how, but suddenly a whole year goes by. She's spent three hundred sixty-five days living with only half of her heart, half of her soul, and every day it seems to get harder. Everyone in Salem can see she isn't the same woman, but the constant crutch of vodka stops her from seeing she's changed into someone completely unrecognizable. She drinks too much, and worst of all, she's been sleeping with Philip. He doesn't seem to realize that she fakes it every time, that or he doesn't care. She always keeps her eyes wide open, she doesn't want to risk imagining Brady's face.
When Philip proposes to her, after only a few months, she says yes. She tries to tell herself this will all work out. Maybe she can be happy with this new life, new husband, new Chloe, maybe she can learn to live again. She feels hopeful, so one night, she tries to sing for the first time in well over a year, but she finds the words won't come, the notes stay inside, she can't. Looks like Brady's stolen that too.
She never says she loves Philip, she says 'me too' and 'ditto' a lot. Surprisingly, he never catches on, he probably wouldn't care if he did. He still wants Belle, hell, they both want other people. He thinks Chloe's happy with him and he convinces himself he's happy too. When he's inside her at night, he likes to tell her this is all meant to be, like some sort of fairytale. But, too many lonely nights tell Chloe Lane that there's no such thing as fairytales, only tragedies exist in the real world.
She doesn't cry at her wedding, Phillip makes some speech about how fate reunited the and he couldn't be happier. It could have been a really sweet speech, if he hadn't given Belle such a longing glance at the end. Chloe doesn't pay attention anyway, instead she gulps champagne, needing something to help her get through the long night ahead. She's so drunk by the end of the reception that she spends their wedding night on the bathroom floor, head in the toilet. Philip is angry, and when she finally manages to crawl into bed, still drunk and beyond tired, he's rough and consummates their marriage when she's nearly passed out.
She's been Mrs. Kiriakas for two months when Brady Black comes back into her life, tearing everything apart. She's at Tuscany, wearing an uncomfortable dress, drinking expensive wine as Philip talks business with employees from Titan. She's bored as hell, along with the other wives, some Christmas party. She wants to leave, but Philip would be pissed. He already told her she was to be a dutiful wife, the finger shaped bruises on her wrist remind her of the promise she made to behave. She could be the lovely Chloe Kiriakas for this one evening, she doesn't want to make her husband angry. She tells herself no more wine and tries to smile a little as she turns to the woman beside her, trying to make some sort of idle conversation. She wants this life to fit, but somehow, she can't seem to tame the ragged edges. There are too many broken pieces that just don't belong.
She decides to head to the bathroom, she needs to get away for a second, the boring chit-chat is making her head hurt. Philip's eyes watch her leave, and she pretends that his leering gaze doesn't make her nauseous. She almost makes it around the crowded tables, almost, but fate steps in and Chloe manages to trip rather gracefully into a table filled with people, rather she trips practically into the lap of her ex-husband.
She feel like every nerve is on fire, she doesn't need to look in his eyes to know it's Brady's hands on her body. She manages to stand up on shaking knees, she feels like her lips are sewed shut, talking isn't an option. Brady looks like he's seen a ghost, and everyone at the table is silent as they have a stare-down. She finally manages to murmur some sort of apology, and before she can further embarrass herself, she runs to the bathroom.
For the first time in ages, Chloe feels the sting of tears in her eyes. She blames it on the wine she had, the eyelash in her eye, her throbbing ankle, not on the dull ache in her chest, not on her heart of stone, slowly cracking. She takes a few minutes to get herself together, but when she goes back to her table, her hands are still shaking. Philip gives her a kiss as she sits down, and Chloe Kiriakis returns again, she is cold as ice.
She doesn't know why she does it or what the hell she's thinking. Rationality is clearly not something she seems to possess. Philip is out at a business dinner, she's supposed to meet him, but at the last second, her car turns in the direction of Brady's loft. She heard it through the grapevine he's taken up temporary residence in his old building. Her heart hammers in her chest and she has to force herself to slow to the speed limit, she feels reckless. It's been a week since the first encounter at Tuscany, and only a few hours since their last meeting, but it feels like years. She and Philip had been out at Salem Place, of course, as fate would have it, so had Brady. The sight of Philip's hands on her waist and the gleaming diamond on her hand had darkened Brady's eyes. She could still hear the anger in his voice, husky with emotion as he said congratulations.
She's wearing a tight, low-cut, very sexy black dress, her hair is curly and her makeup is flawless. She feels beautiful, wild, daring. She wants something indefinable as she stands outside his door. For the first time in a long time, Chloe feels a spark, something inside her is being consumed with a blazing fire.
She knocks, and when he answers, she's shocked. Bare -chested, glistening with sweat, and eyes smoldering with anger, Brady Black looks dangerous and sexy as hell. The electricity between them crackles in the air and the look in his eyes fills her with a pang of longing and desire.
She can tell he's furious, that he's probably been in a rage since he saw her that afternoon. Things are smashed all over the apartment, chairs toppled over, and the smell of whiskey permeates the air. His knuckles are raw and bleeding, he's more angry than she's ever seen him, if she had any sort of sense she would turn and leave, but she can't, she feels rooted to the spot.
He doesn't say anything, but she can tell he's struggling with a myriad of emotions. Suddenly, a dam breaks inside him and he reaches for her, his hands sliding around her neck, cupping her face. She can feel the blood from his hands on her skin, and when he kisses her, it rough and hard and bruising. His hands rake through her hair, messing the curls, his lips nip at hers, his tongue is forceful, he knees are shaking, but she's never felt more alive.
She thinks she could die right now, and it might be alright. This is hell, she knows, but god, what a way to go out. She's up against the closed door, his hands are everywhere, but as soon as it started, it stops. His lips are breath away from hers, his eyes are closed, and with a ragged sigh, it's over. He tells her to go, she's confused and scared and aching for him so badly it hurts. He pushes himself away from her, and says, 'You still fucking get to me, but I'm not playing this game, you're not mine, Chloe. I should've known you'd go right back to Philip, maybe you wanted him all along, so just fucking go, I can't deal with this.'
She's so angry and hurt she sees red. Biting back tears of frustration, she hastily fixes her dress, runs a trembling hand through her hair and tells Brady to go to hell. She runs to her car, makes it to dinner with her husband, and that night, when he's on top of her, she makes sure she's extra loud. Fuck you, Brady.
She sees him out at a club with a blond a few weeks after their torrid encounter. The girl is all over him, and the anger is so intense, so choking, that she can't breathe. She makes sure to be extra affectionate to Philip, her hand sliding up his thigh as she gives him a small smirk. He smiles, and kisses her hard and possessively. When she pulls away, she can feel Brady's eyes, burning her skin, and she smiles in satisfaction.
They play this evil game for several months, eager to push the other to their limits. Every time she goes out, playing the part of the perfect socialite wife, she inevitably sees him. He's with some new, nameless women usually, and even though it shouldn't, it breaks her. The cracks in her heart get bigger, and when he catches her looking, the angry smirk he gives her always sends her to the bar for another round of blissful oblivion. She pays him back by giving Phillip lingering kisses, sure that Brady can see the way Phillips hands slide possessively around her body. She doesn't know why she still feels, why they want to hurt each other so bad, why they can't seem to stop such a destructive cycle.
He's the one that breaks first, finally pushed too far. They're at a party, a celebration for Shawn and Belle. She's been an extra good trophy wife tonight, Philip is happy and Belle and Shawn have begun to warm up to her again. Brady's been staring at her all damn night, he's got a fucking girl with him, and he's being extra loving and sweet to her. The sight of him dancing with that bitch makes Chloe's blood boil, she wants to scream, throw things, yell. Instead, she leaves Philip with a scorching kiss and goes outside. It's cold, and she can hear the crunching of snow as someone comes out behind her, she knows it's him before she turns. His eyes are so blue, filled with such a heavy sadness, he looks so broken. She wants to say so much, tell him she's sorry, tell him she still loves him, but he breaks the silence first. He says something like 'I can't', and the words break off as he reaches for her and kisses her with a bruising force, branding her forever his, always his.They manage to make it to the coatroom before they practically tear each other apart. She needs this so bad she can't see straight, it's been too damn long, oh god. She has to bite her lip so hard she draws blood when he's finally inside her, she wants to scream, nothing has ever felt so right so perfect, so much like home. She doesn't realize she's crying until he brushes her tears away. For the first time since that last night in her empty room in Europe, Chloe Lane emerges. As they stand together, hearts beating wildly, his face buried in the crook of her neck, she wonders how he always manages to save her just in time.
She doesn't know how things are going to work out, but she does know that they are soulmates, and in the end, no matter what life throws at them, they belong together, forever.