"Do Not Disturb"
The choked intake of breath followed by a sharp sound torn from her throat made his heart clench and stomach go cold, dragging him abruptly back to awareness. Her sudden cry of astonishment and pain at what he had just done was loud and still echoed in his ears. He had never heard anything so shattering before in his whole life. He had hurt her. In that moment, in a handful of heartbeats that thudded in his head and in the space of two strangled breaths, everything seemed to collapse within him to a white hot point…"Julia."
He had been losing control more and more over the last year…and if he were honest with himself, much longer. The litany of his sins streamed back. He could not control his lustful thoughts or the working of his body. He tried self-sacrifice, to let her go to have a better life without him, and in that he turned out to have been a fool. All his efforts to be honourable and righteous, emulate the Jesuits in their calm, upright manner, be the polished gentleman he presented to the world - all of it was a fraud.
He was a fraud.
He had coveted another man's wife and run away like a coward when he could not have her and because he could not control his emotions. He had punched Darcy on the street, and worse: his actions contributed to the death of that man. He had been moody, breaking things, sharp with the men and on other occasions rough with suspects, possibly willing to beat Gillies to death in a rage. Letting Constant Gardiner go had simply been a sort of pretense, a rationalization for giving away everything he had ever wanted or worked for.
As punishment he had driven himself hard, taken grueling shifts at work, and equally grueling rides on his wheel for miles in the countryside to exorcize his demons. Still, he could not sleep. He had considered drinking, and did in the Yukon, since he was already on the road to becoming the one thing that terrified him: his angry father. His priest despaired for him—his confessions were the same week after week, and no amount of counsel or penance had helped. Ultimately, he even denied himself the comfort of the sacraments and stopped going to Mass, adding to his guilty conscience.
Then, after everything he and Julia had been through, he thought he was finally going to be able to put the past to right. Fate, perhaps tired of having its way with them, seemed to have relented. He had begun feeling a peacefulness he and not experienced in a very long time, perhaps not since he was a child-and probably not then because he was always worried about his future when he was younger. The peacefulness allowed him to relax, instead of being at constant war with himself. His focus improved, his patience with the world increased, a new boldness with her becoming more comfortable with him. She seemed to enjoy this looser side of him, enjoyed the struggle between them for balance, was receptive to him giving himself over to his passions instead of leashing them too tightly…but now he had taken it too far.
Once he had decided to die for her… and later she, in turn, had saved his life—straightforward and clear evidence of love. Now he felt confused and ashamed of his entire existence as it had brought him to… this.
He was a monster. He felt sick.
His eyes squeezed shut as she continued to struggle against him. This should not be happening, pounded in his head with each surge of his life's blood. Appalled, trying to move away, all he could think was: "I hurt her."
She grabbed him with her fingers, digging her nails painfully into his flesh. "Don't you dare!" she hissed. "Look at me, now!" she commanded.
He brought his head up slowly, using all the control left in him, his courage nearly failing, preparing to meet her anger or grief. He could not help the tears welling because he had no ready words, as usual. "I am sorry" would never be enough to repair the ruin of this moment. He saw she looked very fierce and focused, her eyes with dark centers, her breathing was harsh, and gasping.
"William Henry Murdoch, you listen to me!" she ordered. His mouth went even drier. She chose her words very carefully through gritted teeth. "Get out of your head. Your wife is about to have the most noisy and remarkable climax of her life, with you, husband, on our wedding night. That noise is pleasure, William, not pain." She ground her hips against his, moaning, still moving in rhythm. "But if you don't get yourself in motion again I will have to do all the work myself and you won't get any of the credit." She smiled wickedly and smothered his astounded mouth with a deep kiss.
William almost felt the gears shift in his head, closing off pain and opening a flood of joy.
He freed himself, following Julia, and nearly roared his completion.
# # #
**END*** (but only of this story….)
A/N: please review and send comments: I am trying to get the hand of the short, emotional one-shot...how am I doing?