Author's note: Hello all! After a long detour to the PD fanfics, I made a pitstop here to see how Robert and Catherine are doing. This story came about after a talk I had with my friend Sue. You see, Sue is convinced that Catherine's line "I know...it was one special night..." has more meaning that just a nice reference to the title. According to her, Catherine and Robert are way too giddy on their car ride home. I wasn't convinced and needed some time to think about it - and now it's Sue's birthday and I decided to write out the scene as a gift for her - but also to see this scenario in my head. Would you like to see it too? Then read this story. It's a one shot, just one scene, one special moment. I hope you'll enjoy - please leave me a review if you have comments for me :)
Wind of Change.
Something was different. He felt different. For a few slow seconds, he didn't know where he was. He blinked slowly, inhaling deeply.
He had learned to fear moments like this. It always came unannounced, the attack on his consciousness, a brutal cold shiver that shot from his head to his toes, waking up every fibre in his body. It would take his breath away, making him gasp in surprise, panting in agony as he realized it had happened once more. His hands would form into fists, his nails pressing his palms, his eyes would blink fiercely – desperately trying to change the darkness that surrounded him. For a few long minutes, his body would tremble, his hands would shake, until he would finally find enough self control to lie down again. Straight away, his mind would start to wonder during those times, and he couldn't recall ever falling asleep afterward.
But to his relief, this night was different. His eyes weren't lost in the black darkness, but a soft glow of light came from right in front of him and he was drawn to the source. Right there, in the fireplace, were countless little embers, glowing with their last bit of strength. The fire wouldn't last for much longer, that much was clear, and somehow, somewhere, he felt the strange urge to stop it from burning out, to keep feeding the fire.
Yes, tonight was different. He wasn't cold, for one thing. He wasn't shaking nor trembling. His heart was beating calmly and steadily. His eyes were half open, his fingers loose, his legs strangely relaxed, in spite of the uncomfortable position he had been sitting in. And when he inhaled deeply, he did not the smell the cold and disturbing scent of emptiness, of solitude. Right now he smelled a light and sweet scent, coming from somewhere close, very close. He lowered his head, staring down, with a small smile looking at the woman who was sleeping calmly, her head resting on the pillow on his lap. His heart started to beat a little faster as he heaved a deep sigh, careful not to wake her.
If he stretched his neck just a bit, he could see the side of her face. Her eyes were gently closed, her mouth slightly open, her chest rising and falling calmly underneath his arm and hand. The soft tickle against his other hand came from her hair, her soft, short golden hair. Somehow it moved him to feel her breathing, it soothed him, feeling the comforting pattern underneath his hands. Unconsciously he synchronized his own breathing with it, closing his eyes for a moment, breathing in, deeply, steadily, breathing out, over and over again.
What a strange day this had turned out to be. Full of mixed emotions, an emotional roller coaster ride in a snowy environment. Completely unexpected, yet something meaningful, a chance meeting that had surprised and amused him deeply. He breathed in deeply, smiling as he heard her deep sigh that seemed to come simultaneously with his own.
Then, suddenly, he heard her sharp intake of breath and he opened his eyes, feeling how she moved underneath him. Slowly she turned onto her back, blinking her way back to consciousness. When her eyes met his, she seemed surprised. Her eyes shot from left to right, trying to focus.
"Hello," she simply said, losing her voice in the hoarse tone she always had when she was disturbed in her sleep.
"Hi," he responded and he smiled at her, reassuringly so.
For a moment she seemed lost, but then he saw her realize where she was, what her head was leaning on, and that her body was leaning against him. As he had expected, immediately she pulled away from him and sat up, leaving the pillow on his lap.
Swearing softly under her breath, she pulled her hands through her hair. "I'm sorry," she said, her cheeks reddening underneath his kind stare, "I am."
"It's all right," he said in a soft tone, glancing aside. "Did I wake you?"
She frowned, trying to get the dizzy feeling out of her head. Her head seemed to be filled with cotton, it had been a while since she'd slept this deep. "I'm not sure," she said just as softly, blinking a few times. "What time is it?"
"I don't know," he said, leaning a little to the side to reach into his pocket and take out his watch. "It's almost 3 in the morning."
She gasped. "I must have dozed off," she said, finally regaining her composure a bit. Breathing in slowly, she looked at him, her eyes narrowing. "Why are you awake?" she asked, "Is something wrong?"
He smiled at her, a calm, kind smile. It surprised her to see how at ease he was, in comparison to her confused state of mind. "No," he said, shaking his head. "Not really, I was just…you know…" He turned his head towards the dying fire again, sighing deeply.
Understanding began to dawn as she studied him more thoroughly. He seemed relaxed, yet there was an expression in his eyes which she understood and related to all too well. A sense of being lost, as if he was wandering around with no solid home base.
"I know," she said. She bit her lip, not sure whether to continue or to let it go. Then, she took a deep breath. "It's daunting isn't it?"
He didn't look at her, just kept staring in front of him. "What?"
Slowly she shrugged, tilting her head so she could see his expression better. "Realizing that it will be like this from now on."
His smile was soft. "Alone you mean?" he asked, staring down to his folded hands on his lap.
She let out a humming sound.
"Can I ask you something?" he then asked, his voice soft.
"Naturally."
He glanced at her again, she was looking right at him he saw. Somehow he couldn't manage it, her kind eyes resting on him. He diverted his stare, gazing at the fireplace again.
"Does it ever go away? The loneliness?"
She contemplated her reaction. "Honest answer?"
He nodded. "Honest answer."
"No," she said. "No, it doesn't go away."
He nodded again, as if he had expected it, this time with closed eyes. Somehow, somewhere in his heart, he had hoped that she would be able to reassure him. Yet he knew that she was right, she had to be right, how could it go away? He looked aside when she spoke again, a change in her voice was evident. She sounded hoarse, spoke with more difficulty, and he waited for her to continue.
"It changes, though, slowly. It's so raw at first. It's an ache that just won't go away." She placed her hand on her chest, her hand forming a fist. For a moment she was silent, breathing deeply, somehow trying to find the right words. Then, she smiled at him, as if to reassure him. "Eventually you learn to cope with it...you go on. But part of you is always sort of looking over your shoulder, as if waiting...as if expecting things will somehow be normal again." She paused again, considering whether she should continue. Taking another deep breath, gathering courage, she spoke again, this time looking directly into his eyes. "It still seems like a part of my life is missing. I don't think that will ever go away. But I can also say that what everyone says about memories is true. The sad ones fade, and the good ones remain. And it's the good ones that help get you through each day."
His eyes held hers. The tears in her eyes shook him to his core. Here was a woman who had lived it, was still living it. The pain, the despair, the loneliness. He turned towards her now, leaning his arm on the back of the couch. "And what else helps you get through each day Catherine?"
In her throat she felt it forming, that familiar lump she had learned to fight. She tried to swallow past it like she always did, yet this time she didn't succeed completely. "I have my work, my patients," she said, sounding broken. "I'm counting my blessings."
Somehow he felt the need to touch her, to hold her. He reached out, slowly, taking her hand in his. She felt cold. "Does it help? To be surrounded with new life?"
She tried to blink the tears away that had formed in her eyes, staring down at her hand that was safely in his grasp. He felt warm, comforting. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes it helps. The children…they remind me that…that…" She stopped herself and blinked fiercely, pressing her lips together, diverting her face from his inquiring stare.
"That life goes on," he whispered, heaving a big sigh as he rubbed her palm with his thumb. "I know."
She looked up, unwillingly, her eyes grateful and teary. "It does go on Robert."
For a moment they stared at each other and he held his breath, seeing her fragile smile on her pretty face. The silence lengthened and she sighed deeply, moving her head back against the softness of the cushion.
Neither of them spoke, it was as if the storm outside did the talking for them – the loud rushing sound of the wind that slammed the violent snow against the window. The white covered branches of the trees fought against the forces of nature, they were bending, not breaking, moving constantly. The contradiction felt strangely protective, the violence of nature outside only strengthened the sense of warmth in the cabin.
Slowly, the embers in the fire place died, becoming weaker and weaker until there was nothing left. Still they didn't speak, they were just sitting there, gazing at one another.
Even though she had calmed down a bit, he was still rubbing her palm, reassuringly so. She hadn't expected to break in front of him, surely she never meant to do it. She wasn't accustomed to this, to sharing her emotions, her worries, even though she always gave her patients that exact advice.And yet, what normally would have made her extremely uncomfortable and tense, instead gave her a warm sensation in her stomach. She felt a deep sense of relief, a sense of finally being able to share it with someone who knew what she meant without her having to explain it.
She didn't talk, she didn't have to, but in a sudden urge to comfort him and to let him know she was there for him, too, her free hand slid off her lap and closed around his knee, squeezing it slightly.
The darkness prevented him from seeing more of her than just her profile, but he kept looking at her. Her vulnerability melted him, made him reach out to her. It felt like a natural thing to do and he acted on it, without thinking, without contemplating the consequences. His arm lifted as if someone did it for him and he pulled her against him, slowly, tenderly, feeling how her softness nestled against him. His hand closed on her neck, stroking her hair calmly, his thumb brushing her temple.
She closed her eyes in response, breathing in deeply, relishing his touch. It had been so long since she'd felt this warmth of a human body nearby. She opened her eyes as she heard his shaky breath and felt the slight tremor in his hand. "Robert…?" she whispered in concern, making an attempt to lift her face off his shoulder.
"No." His hand slid to her head and softly, yet with determination, he increased his pressure. "Don't move," he whispered. "Please."
She hesitated, knowing somehow that she should withdraw, but something in his voice made her relax again, resting her head back on his shoulder. His arm slid further down, his warm hand closing around her shoulder, going back up, stroking her neck, playing with her hair.
Her one hand was still resting on his knee, warm, steady, for now the other stayed safely in her lap.
Inhaling deeply, she again noticed that the well-chosen scent he wore that she'd noticed when he carried her inside, a dark, oriental, spicy cologne blended by that typical male freshness, was suddenly much stronger by his proximity.
He inhaled deeply. "This is nice."
Keeping her eyes closed, she nodded. She couldn't count the times in which she had longed for a human touch during the cold nights she had spent alone in her bedroom. She detested the sensation of her stiff, frozen toes, she hated the chill that went through her spine when she crawled in her too large bed. But most of all, she hated waking up alone. Always alone. From dusk to dawn, coldness in her heart, the chilliness of solitude.
The realization of that made her dare to turn her upper body just slightly, finally, hesitantly, tightening her free arm around his waist. He was close enough that she could hear his heartbeat and feel their every breath, matching rhythms.
Turning his head, he smelled her hair, it was fresh, soft, a little damp in the neck still – even though it had been a while since she had washed it. The scent of her filled his nose, his mouth, it was as if it was rushed by his blood through his entire being. Slowly his hand slid downwards, closing around her waist. Closer, he needed her closer, he wanted to make her feel better, just like she was doing this for him.
She closed her eyes as he took her hand in his again, his fingers tightening around it as if he never wanted to release her.
She moved her head just slightly so she could listen to the calm beating of his heart. The storm outside seemed to reach its peak, the branches smacked against the window panes with full force, yet they didn't hear it or didn't want to hear it. She felt so safe, so warm, so alive, and it was so perfect and so unexpected that tears welled up in her eyes. Fighting against it, she breathed deeply, pulling her face back to get more air and she ended up looking straight in his eyes. Robert smiled at her, a pleasant, warm, comforting smile.
Their eyes locked, he couldn't help it. He had noticed the blue shade of her eyes before, but now they seemed almost black in the dusky cabin. Catherine was warm, inviting, her eyes sliding across his face, her breath tickling on his skin. Looking at her, taking in her sad smile, he saw tears, one slowly running down her cheek.
"Don't cry Catherine…" he whispered. He meant it, he simply wasn't strong enough to witness her tears or her pain much longer. Whether it was the darkness that surrounded them, or the violent storm outside, he didn't know – yet he couldn't fight the urge to lean in, pressing a light kiss on her warm cheek. He wanted to take her pain away, to offer her safety and warmth, just like she had offered it to him.
Closing her eyes at the contact, she lightly tilted her face so he could touch her cheek with his lips. It was delicate and sweet; hidden behind his strong wall was a tender and warm man. Yet, somehow she had expected him to be just like this. Attraction had sparked between them ever since the first moment, she had felt it, she had pushed it away, and now she felt it again. It tingled in her veins. It surprised her that unconsciously she had given it some thought, his tenderness, his warmth.
Releasing her waist, her hand, his hands came up to frame her face. "Please don't cry," he whispered once more, kissing her other cheek.
She sighed deeply, searching his gaze. His grasp was strong, his dark brown eyes questioning She wanted to speak, needed to tell him how grateful she was for his presence, but as she lifted her head to do so, he lowered his. And before she realized what was happening, their lips had found each other. The touch was soft, they were tentatively searching one another, brushing the softness that was suddenly exposed to both. It was a single kiss, just lips, softly, tenderly, yet filled with so much warmth and comfort that she gasped slightly.
"Robert…" she whispered as she pulled back from him, for a moment looking down as his eyes were seeking hers. Her cheeks were burning and she breathed deeply and uncontrolled, yet she faltered when she felt his grasp tighten. She tried, but couldn't stop her eyes from sliding down his face, from his dark eyes to his nose, his mouth, his strong chin, then back up. He was so close, so alive, so vital; so masculine – it made her fingers tremble.
He held his breath as he stared into her eyes, those dark blue sparkling eyes that had held him captive ever since he stared into them the very first time. Those eyes, so warm, so inviting. The same eyes that said that she understood, the warmth they gave to him, the need they asked from him, those eyes, he couldn't tear his gaze away from them.
"Don't talk," he said as he pulled her closer and claimed her lips again, this time more urgently. Her lips were soft; the kiss was warm and strangely captivating, as if this woman gave him everything she could, in every way she knew. By kissing her, he was taking so much from her and giving it back, compassion, warmth, a hidden need for a human touch, in a way they were both giving back…life.
She was warm, responsive, her lips that were moving underneath his were soft and moist, kissing him oh so tenderly. He felt like he knew her soul, that somewhere, somehow, this night was a special gift that had brought them a connection that took them both by surprise.
It was so very new, and yet so strangely familiar, feeling her against him, a woman so tempting that his heart started to pound.
Her hands slid up his face, cupping his neck on both sides, her thumbs stroking the rough skin of his cheeks. He felt so good, so right, so perfectly close that she wasn't thinking, was only feeling, pulling him closer to her face. She moved her lips in perfect synchrony with his, tilting her head as he slid his hands to her waist, sighing deeply as he groaned ever so softly against her mouth.
It had been the last thing on his mind for months, years even, it had been so far stored in his memory that his desire surprised him deeply. The beautiful woman in his arms sparked his natural longing for the sensation of a woman's touch, her hands, her smell, her feminine curves. This woman in particular. Her touch in particular. Catherine was suddenly posing a temptation to him, completely unexpected, her womanhood and sparkling energy coming alive underneath his exploring hands.
Her soft chest was pressed against him now, his lips moving feverishly on top of hers. It had been such a long time since she'd felt this way, so long ago since sensuality held her in its grasp – her heart was beating fast, her fingers were trembling, her stomach filling with endless little butterflies.
Then, she tasted him completely, her tongue touching his, deeply, warm, as captivating as only a kiss can be. His hand slid to her lower back, to her leg and reached the edge of her robe. Heat gathered in parts of her that had been abandoned for far too long. This man, his touch, was overwhelming her senses.
Her desire was growing, reaching the point of no return, she knew it, she felt it, she felt the need to grasp his collar with both hands, to unbutton his shirt, to feel him on top of her…
She knew her desire was matched equally by his own, she could feel it in the deepness of his kiss, the urgency of his touch, his sweet murmurings in her ear. It would be so easy, so wonderful to follow her heart, to do all that her body was willing her to do. She wanted nothing more at this moment than to share herself with this man. And yet, somewhere an inner voice whispered to her – telling her to take care, that their emotions were too raw; that both of their hearts were somehow too fragile; that perhaps now was not the time for them…not yet.
It was with great difficulty that she pulled away from him, her breathing unsteady. Her eyes sought his, and in them she saw the desire that she knew was still reflected in her own. Slowly, and with regret, her fingers slid to his half open mouth, pressing it lightly. She licked her lips, still tasting him, pressing them together as if to stop them from reaching out to him. She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. Once. Twice.
It was exactly that gesture from her that he needed to pull back too, blinking as he looked at her. "Catherine…" he said, sounding hoarse, out of breath, his body simply refusing to obey him.
She was whispering, her voice simply wouldn't be stronger. "I don't want either of us to wake up tomorrow and regret what happened between us." She shook her head slightly, keeping her trembling fingers on his longing lips. After slight hesitation, she smiled softly. "No matter how good it feels."
He drew a shaky breath, searching for her loving gaze. To his great relief it was still there when he looked into her eyes, she was still as warm and inviting as he needed her to be. His body felt as if it belonged to two people, a deep rooted desire was still shooting through him, yet there was also this other side that called out to him, waking him up. "I'm sorry, Catherine," he said as his fingers tightened on both her hands, slowly bringing them to his mouth. Shaking his head, he pressed a single kiss on her palm, feeling how she squeezed his hands. "I shouldn't have….."
"No. Don't be sorry," she said softly as she smiled at him. "I wanted it, too. I'm just not sure this is something either of us can handle right now…."
"I know," he interrupted. He smiled sadly at her, as he gently reached to brush a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. As he regretfully leaned in to give her one last, tender kiss, he smiled again. "I know."
Outside the storm was gradually coming to a rest, the snow falling down more peacefully, the trees managed to stand tall against the freezing wind. He now realized that it was getting colder in the cabin, not sure whether it was only his imagination because of the heat that had been burning between them. She was leaning against him now, her forehead resting against his. Still holding her hands safely in his grasp, he sighed deeply. "Can I please hold you?"
She smiled, she couldn't help it. Slowly she untangled her hands from his hold, sliding them up his chest, over his shoulders. "Yes you can," she nodded, swallowing as she found his endearing gaze resting on her. "I'd like that very much."
And so he did. His arms circled her waist, his hands finding each other on the small of her back, pulling her as close as he could get her. Inhaling deeply, he buried his nose in her neck, taking in her sweet scent, her softness, her love and understanding for what could be the very last time. For now, he would take what he could and he would give whatever possible – enjoying the unexpected present that life had thrown their way. This could be the beginning of something new, at least a friendship born out of mutual understanding, sympathy and, yes, a very real and sparkling attraction. He would appreciate it all to the fullest. She had shown him how.
THE END.
Till next time! PD's, here or somewhere else - who knows? Love, Janet xxx