His words echo in my ears.
A fucked up sonofabitch. My words. Could I have picked a worse thing to call him? Even if in that moment they were exactly fitting and called for I am suddenly filled to the brim with impossible regret. I close my eyes. Is there any undoing this?
"Leave."
He's whispering now, almost inaudible, and his eyes are once again fixed on the Seattle sky line as Taylor bursts into the room, still on the phone with the doctor I can only assume. Taylor passes the phone to Dr. Flynn and bounds easily across the room. I assume he will move to Christian but instead he kneels by my side and gently pulls me to my feet.
"Let's go." He quietly tries to lead me but I resist. I look at him, wondering what he is trying to do. He knows Christian needs me. Doesn't he? But even as my eyes ask him why he's trying to escort me, he continues to press my shoulders away from Christian.
"Miss Steele. He wouldn't want you to see him like this."
I look back over my shoulder at Christian. I wonder when the tears will stop seeping from my eyes. Taylor. As usual, I know he's right. And I'm again amazed by his loyalty to this man. But it's too late...some things you can't unsee. I turn away from Christian and lean into Taylor for support. We pass Doctor Flynn and I am comforted knowing that he is moving to Christian's side.
"I'll help you to your room. Why don't you relax there while I try to get things under control here. You look like you could use some sleep."
Right, again. Not that I will find sleep easy to come by. I walk with Taylor to my room, and strangely it feels like coming home. I inhale deeply as I enter it. Taylor pats my back gently as I turn to face him.
"Promise me you'll come for me as soon as the doctor is here."
I plead at him with my eyes, my body slumping in exhaustion.
"Promise me you'll rest and I will."
He smiles just a touch as he backs away from my door, pulling it closed. I hear him move from my doorway and I turn back to examine my surroundings. Unchanged since I left them. I slip out of my shoes and wearily move to my bed, sinking into it and unleashing a floodgate of emotions. Sadness. Guilt. Anger. How do I have any tears left? I barely notice them soaking the pillow as I drift off against my own will.
My eyes are sore and swollen as they flicker open and notice the lights of a darkened Seattle skyline. Fuck. How long did I sleep? I clumsily rise from bed and out of my room, trying to smooth my hair as I do. Still barefoot, I make it to the great room and immediately look to the piano.
Did I dream it all?! No Christian, no ash tray, no Flynn, no broken glass. I walk around to the kitchen only to find it spotless as well. Suddenly I'm not alone.
"I trust you feel better."
Doctor Flynn greets me warmly from behind. I turn and attempt to offer him a smile.
"Taylor said he'd wake me..."
"He tried." Flynn interrupts, "you needed your rest. You were as much help as you could have been."
"I need to see him." I whisper pleadingly, anticipating resistance.
"Soon." He is coddling and I don't like it.
"Now." I say, indicating with both my voice and my posture that this is not up for discussion. Flynn runs a hand through his hair and exhales. He nods faintly and I know he won't fight me. I slink past him and try to steady my feet and my breath as I move towards Christian's room.
I gently slide the door open a crack to see Taylor standing in the window. He hears me enter and turns only slightly, gazing first at the bed and then towards me. Without a word, he crosses the room and moves towards the door. I am anticipating more resistance but this time it doesn't come. Taylor slips past me and out of the room, walking down the hall without even a backward glance. I am silently grateful.
I walk into the room, shaking. I round the door and push it closed behind me. Christian is tucked safely into the center of his bed. Crisp sheets tucked up around him, his copper hair wet and messy around his freshly shaven face. Did Taylor bathe him I wonder absent mindedly as I take him in. He is still frail, but more of the Christian I know and less of the shell he was even hours ago. I move to the side of the bed and gently sit on it. He stirs.
His grey eyes slowly flicker open. They focus first on the ceiling and then...as he inhales sharply...slowly...he turns them to mine. I offer him a slight smile but he doesn't return it. Instead he stares at me as though I am a mythical creature. Moments pass. We stare at each other...both unsure what to say. Finally he slices through the silence with a tired, low murmur.
"You're still here."
He whispers as if he is in awe.
"I should never have left" I say slowly after a silent moment of thought, still not sure if I believe my own words and sure he doesn't. He turns his gaze from me.
"I can't give you what you want." He is so distant it's as if he isn't talking to me. It stings. I fumble with my hands unsure of how to say what I need to say.
"Christian. You're all I want."
My voice cracks. This...I know I mean. But I'm afraid to lay my heart out with him now. He says nothing. He doesn't turn.
"Please." Still nothing.
"I love you..." I'm not sure the words even come out they are so small, but the tightening in his chest let's me know he heard me.
"You shouldn't." He is broken. And still breaking as he speaks. How do I fix this?
There is a darker silence and it hangs in the air like a thick blanket that almost chokes me. He is stoic in his resolve and I see him content in his unloveable mess. I stand and walk from the bed, turning my back to him to mask my tears. I hear him shift slightly.
"You're crying." He whispers, his voice husky, gravely and low. I can hear a slight tinge of familiarity this time. He's wounded but worried. I turn back towards him and place my hands, still dewy from wiping my cheeks, at my sides. I want him to see he isn't the only one hurting here.
"Yes."
My voice betrays me as I stand before him crying. Even though I am standing tall and he is laying beneath me, I can feel the familiar charge and the energy between us crackles and pops as it starts to return to it's normal balance. Without kneeling before him physically I feel myself do it emotionally as he looks me over the way he did the first time he saw me.
"Don't cry." His voice is an echo. It hurts him to see me like this as much as it hurt me to see him bloody and broken on Escala's cold floor. And as I watch him through cloudy eyes...I can see his face change. His resolve breaks. His eyes themselves glass over and shine. His lower lip quivers. There are words trapped in his throat, I can almost see them there. For a second I see the small boy inside him emerge. I take a step towards the bed as I raise the back of my hand to wipe a tear from my jawline.
But he shifts.
He breaks his gaze and returns to his loneliness. He is staring at the ceiling and I catch him wincing a bit as he shifts under the sheets. He adjusts himself dutifully and I catch a glimpse of the gauze that is perfectly wrapped around his torso. For as many times as my heart belabored the tiny scars on his chest and damned the man that put them there, the idea of a new set of them that are self inflicted gives me a new resolve and purpose.
I lower my tear soaked hands again and grasp the hem of my tshirt. Without a thought as to why, I carefully pull it over my head and toss it to the chair beside me. The noise regains his attention and he can't help himself. He turns with an arched eyebrow as I stand before him. His eyes run over my body and my clean white bra as I reach back to release my hair from my pony tail. He inhales. He doesn't know what I'm doing any more than I do.
I hook my thumbs in my jeans and slide them down without unbuttoning them. I don't take my eyes off of him as I know he is assessing the fact that I have lost enough weight since leaving him to do this. He frowns.
But his frown is fickle and gone as quickly as it came. I stand up straight and step from my jeans. I stand before him in laughably virgin white panties and a bra, and as he takes me in I reach behind myself to undo the bindings of at least half of my attire. I let the straps slip down my shoulders and arms and then drop it to the floor.
I pause for a moment making sure he is still with me. His grey eyes are losing their steel as they trail over my breasts and back up to my eyes. My chest heaves under his gaze. I take a step towards him. He could reach out and touch me if he wanted. I'm that close. But he doesn't. I want to give him more. More what? Temptation? Reason to want me? Reason to love me?
I tuck my thumbs into my panties and lower them. As they are slowly gliding down over my thighs, exposing myself to him in a way I am desperately trying to not feel insecure about, he raises the arm closest to me and puts his outstretched hand over the outside of my thigh...effectively stopping me from lowering them further.
"Don't." He whispers still, but there is command in his voice.
My ego is shaky. My inner goddess is feeling unwanted and it isn't sitting well with her. I watch his face for signs and try to maintain my confidence as I push against his hand. He let's it fall as I touch it with my fingers...the silky material of my bottoms the only thing between our hands. I wriggle them down until I can step out of them as gracefully as possible. His hand lingers on the outside of my bare thigh. His eyes travel too slowly back up my body. I feel myself get wet under his gaze.
"You should have stayed away from me."
His hand travels my thigh to my hip, his fingers barely grazing me. My body erupts in goosebumps as he speaks. There is desire there.
"Probably." I answer him with a hint of sarcasm and his eyes lift to meet mine. I cock a lazy half smile hoping he senses my tone.
"But I didn't. And now I can't."
We stare at each other for a moment as if we are silently accepting the fact that whether it is fate or curse...we are stuck together.
I take an extra step towards the bed until my knees are hitting it. I reach down and turn the sheet down, my throat hitching as I reveal more of his gauze wrapped torso. I stop momentarily.
"How would you feel if I hurt myself?"
I am brazen suddenly in my question. He swallows hard and watches me. All of the sudden he is the errant school boy.
"I couldn't bear it." His honesty is too appealing. I press on.
"What if you thought it was because of you?"
He frowns. Discontent. Trying to assess my question. I arch my eyebrow to remind him to answer out loud.
"Worse. But this wasn't..."
I know where he is going and it doesn't matter.
"Maybe. But what if it seemed that way."
I soften my voice as I lower into his bed beside him, careful to be gentle with him even as my weight slightly moves him on the mattress. I'm beside him now.
I lay out long and right beside him. My need for him coursing through me like fire as I stretch out beside him. I press against him as he quietly wraps the sheet around my lower half which I subsequently press slowly against the side of his hip. My breasts are pressing into the side of his chest as I lay down on his outstretched arm. I nuzzle my head into the crook of his chest inhaling as I do and becoming lost in his scent. I still sense his apprehension.
"I'm sorry. For the things I said." My voice cracks beneath the weight of my words. A tear escapes my eye and rolls into his arm. He reaches his other hand to wipe it and let's it linger on my cheek. His movement is still too labored.
"I'm sorry. For the things I did." He whispers his apology to me and I know he means it. "I will never. Ever. Hurt you again." His words are stern and pleading and sound. Our eyes lock as we lay together. I press against him tightly to tell him with my body that he is forgiven. The truth is I would take a million floggings with whatever instrument he wanted to use if it meant undoing the past few weeks.
His eyes are heavy as are mine. And we stare at each other through heavy eyelids without another word.
And sometime, after long minutes pass...we drift to sleep that way.
