Battlefield
Don't try to explain your mind
I know what's happening here
One minute, it's love
And, suddenly, it's like a battlefield
One word turns into a
Why is it the smallest things that tear us down
My world's nothing when you're gone
I'm out here without a shield - can't go back, now
"Oh I did not!" She walked down the hall, tossing her keys on the table in the hallway.
"Yes you did, you always do." He followed her forlornly, closing the door behind him.
Wilhelmina threw her head back and grunted in annoyance, too tired to have this conversation with him yet again. "Enlighten me Daniel, what exactly did I do to fracture your little ego this time?"
Daniel set his jaw firm and looked at his wife of two years. "Shit like that Willie, dismissing my feelings as if they were nothing more than those of a petulant child."
"Stop acting like one then!" She took a deep calming breath, closing her eyes and running her tongue along her top lip. "We went to the show, went into the tent, watched the little stick insects parade the pretty clothes and came home; what happened during that seemingly mundane sequence of events that's got you all pissy?"
He took his overcoat off and hung it in the hallway closet. "Forget it," he said, resigned and walked away from her, into their bedroom.
She stood in her position in the hall and opened her arms, shrugging at his attitude and looking at the now empty hall in bewilderment. When she finally deigned to follow her husband into the bedroom she leaned against the doorframe with her arms folded and watched him walk about the room, indulging in his bedtime ritual.
There was a rigidity to his movements as he walked about the room, pulling at the bow-tie she had, only hours earlier, expertly fastened for him. When he had been smiling at her, instead of sporting the scowl he now wore. He whipped the tie from his collar and threw it on the dresser. He started undoing the buttons on his shirt, not slowly and deliberately like he usually did - because he knew she took pleasure in watching him,- but popping them and pulling at the fabric. He took the shirt off and balled it up, launching it into the corner of the room.
He started violent tugging at his belt buckle. "Daniel..." she began gently.
"What!" He snapped at her, his tone instantly sending her heckles up. She pushed herself up from the door and uncrossed her arms, placing them on her hips, subconsciously going into her battle stance.
"If we're going to fight will you at least do me the courtesy of telling me what we're fighting about!"
He stopped his movements, letting the belt hang loose from his pants; he turned, bare-chested, to face her, mirroring her stance. "What happened after the show?"
She screwed her face up, thinking back and shrugged. "We left."
"As we were leaving."
"I gave a review of the show to Fashion Buzz," she stated, unsure of where he was going.
"And where was I?"
She shrugged again, her shoulders sagging heavier this time. "You were...around."
He took a step towards her. "I'll tell you exactly where I was, I was three feet behind you, standing on the sidelines, holding your purse like a good little puppy. And what did you say when Suzuki asked who Mr Wilhelmina Slater was wearing...which by the way, I fucking hate being referred to as."
"I said..." She sighed.
He started walking around the room, resumed pulling at the belt around him. "You said, 'Whoever I told him to wear'!"
"So?"
"So? SO!" His voice grew louder as his rage increased. "So you made me look like a fucking idiot, once again. I'm your goddamn husband, not your assistant. And why did they only want to speak to you? When did my opinion stop mattering?"
She walked further into the room. "Daniel, I'm not going through this with you again. It was a fashion show, you were the one who chose to step back from Mode. You were the one who decided to take on the role of CEO, involving yourself more with the publishing side than Editorial. We agreed one of us would have to step away; we couldn't live together and work together all day...we'd kill each other."
"Well we both knew it would have to be me wouldn't it, there wasn't a chance in hell you would willingly relinquish Mode to me."
She bit back a scream of sheer exasperation. "How many fucking times Daniel...don't you realise I could have insisted on us sharing the role of CEO? I own just as much of Meade as you do! I chose to let you have the power of CEO!"
"Exactly!" He clapped his hands together, showing her they had reached the pinnacle of his current anger. "YOU chose! Just like you choose everything; you choose where we eat, you choose what I wear, you even chose to make us live in your apartment, everything is you!"
"Is it my fault you were at the back of the queue the day God was handing out backbones?" she yelled at him, her irritation with his childishness was reaching boiling point.
"Nice Wilhelmina...really nice." He shook his head at her.
She sighed, deflating slightly, "I'm sorry...that was uncalled for. I don't want to fight with you."
"Too bad...I'm choosingto fight."
"Well I'm choosing to ignore you."
He reached his hands to his hair, pulling at it, making it stand on end. "God Willie! Do you have any idea how emasculating it is being married to you?"
"Well seen as you make a point of telling me every other fucking day, yeah I think I do."
"Don't start with the sarcasm."
She walked across the room and sat on the bed with a thump. "Daniel, you knew who I was when you married me, I haven't changed."
He turned to look at her, his voice came out low and unnerving. "Oh but you made damn sure I did."
She looked away from him, shaking her head, determined not to answer. She was exhausted by his constant need for validation, by him forever instigating fights in order to assert his masculinity. She just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep. When she had married him, she knew it wouldn't be easy, she wasn't an idiot; but she had genuinely believed the pressure would come from third parties, that the tension would be caused by outsiders. She truly believed her and Daniel were solid, that the first two years of their relationship before they married had proved to each other that they were willing to go the distance. Knowing that they could withstand whatever was thrown at them as long as they faced it together.
She fiddled with her jewellery, taking her time placing it on the dresser beside the bed. When she looked up Daniel was still staring at her, waiting for her to bite back. She saw the glean in his eye; he was enjoying this. She hated backing down from a fight, but if she was honest with herself, she hated fighting with her husband even more. He was the one person who was supposed to have her back, the person for her to lean on.
Swallowing her pride and her better instinct, she stood and walked to him; she tried to cup his face but he shirked his head from her touch. She exhaled, "Daniel, we can't keep doing this...I can't keep doing this."
He heard the melancholy and the weariness in his wife's voice and he felt his muscles uncoil slightly, allowed himself to relax. He inclined his head back to her and this time he allowed her to place her hands on his face. He hated doing this, hated fighting with her, hated making her feel responsible for everything. He knew it wasn't entirely her fault; he had happily taken the back seat, allowing his wife to revel in the limelight. It wasn't her fault that he had removed himself so much that he had become nothing more than Wilhelmina Slater's husband. The majority of the blame lay with him, but he couldn't help resenting her for stealing all the notoriety and when she made slights about him in public it reminded him of the woman who had worked against him for so long; not the woman he had gradually and surprisingly fallen in love with.
Looking into her eyes, he visibly sagged. He could kick himself for what he was letting their marriage become: a constant battle. When they were inside these walls he loved her more completely than he had done anyone, but outside; his insecurities set in and the fear of becoming invisible eclipsed his feelings for her.
"Daniel...I don't know what else to say other than that I love you. You know that the media expects a certain image from me. You know that it helps the success of our magazine...but I'll rein it in if it's going to do this to us."
Looking down, he sighed and brought his hands up to run his fingers down her arms. He looked up into the eyes that held the ability to terrify and arouse him in equal measure and suppressed the small shameful part of him that was pleased that he could cause Wilhelmina Slater to hurt. "Just get them to stop calling me Mr Slater...I think after two years it's about time they called you Mrs Meade."
She smiled at him, "Done. Anything else?"
He shook his head, slowly. "That'll do...I'm sorry."
She leaned in to kiss him, drawing it out as she felt his hold on her arms tighten. She hooked her fingers into his pants and pulled him close to her. "Make it up to me then." She whispered, smirking.
He smiled before moving in to kiss her; this was one aspect of their marriage where there were no problems whatsoever.
Both hands tied behind my back for nothing, oh, no
These times when we climb so fast to fall, again
Why we gotta fall for it, now...
I never meant to start a war
You know, I never wanna hurt you
Don't even know we're fighting for
Why does love always feel like a battlefield
When she woke the next morning it was to feel her body reacting to his touch. Groggily, she began to come round from her slumber, aware of his form spooned around her from behind. He was lazily placing kisses on her shoulder, his hand draped over her torso, fingers trailing over her breasts. She rolled until she was on her back and smiled up at him sleepily. "Good morning."
"Morning." He dipped his head to her, his mouth leaving light kisses along her jaw-line and neck as his hand crept lower beneath the cover, increasing pressure. She arched her neck, letting the sensation wash over her, all the while craning her neck to look at the clock on their bedside table. She pushed at his biceps, "Daniel...we don't have time."
He used his weight to push her back down to the mattress. "We're in charge, we can make the time." His mouth latched back onto the skin under her chin.
She moaned, almost relenting to the feeling as he continued his exploration beneath the sheets. Resolute, she pushed him back again. "Daniel, I have a shoot all morning, a final layout meeting in the afternoon and meeting scheduled in every available 5 minute slot in between."
He rolled back onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. "Fine." He huffed.
She rolled her eyes, careful not to let him see, not wishing to incite another argument when they had only just made up. Placing a smile firmly on her face she turned to him, propping herself up on his chest. "Come get me in the studio at lunch time, I'll let you take me out for a bite," she said suggestively.
He dragged his eyes from the ceiling to meet hers and she pouted at him, a childish expression which never failed to make him smile and she damn well knew it. "Okay." She smirked at his answer and pecked his lips once, before pushing herself from him and getting up from the bed. She faced him, putting on her robe. "Are you getting up?"
He cleared his throat and gestured to where the bedclothes had slightly tented at his groin. "Uh...give me a minute." He closed his eyes. "Anna Wintour in a bikini, Anna Wintour in a bikini," he repeated to himself like a mantra, trying to appease his condition.
She laughed at him and walked from the room, glad they were once again speaking.
Can't swallow our pride
Neither of us wanna raise that flag,
If we can't surrender
Then, we're both gonna lose we have, oh, no
Both hands tied behind my back for nothing oh, no
These times when we climb so fast to fall, again
I don't wanna fall for it, now...
At a little after noon he walked into the studio. It was decked out in a Film Noir theme; the models were hanging about looking bored, and as he scanned the vast space looking for his wife his eyes fell on a familiar face; he grinned, walking up to the woman who was currently preening one of the models.
"Hey you."
The woman turned and smiled. "Well if it isn't Mr Slater," she said, smiling.
He set his mouth in a line. "That's kind of a sore spot Amanda, glad it's catching on," he said sarcastically.
She scrunched her face up. "Sorry."
He waved a hand, dismissing the faux-pas. "It's fine, have you seen Wilhelmina?"
"She's behind the set, trying to convince the photographer to come out and shoot, he's being a bossy-boots."
Daniel smirked, imagining the man trying to boss his wife around, and went in search of her. He walked behind the set and stopped in his tracks, watching Wilhelmina interact with the man.
"James darling, you know just how much I admire you, personally as well as professionally." She placed a hand on the man's arm, he lifted his head to her and she cocked an eyebrow as their eyes met.
"Dear me Wilhelmina, I wonder what your pretty boy husband would say if he heard you talking like that." He smirked at her, speaking in a hushed tone.
"Yes, I wonder," Daniel spoke, startling the pair.
The photographer smiled and left them alone. Daniel kept his eyes on Wilhelmina, and as soon as the man was out of sight she rolled her eyes, snorting. "Thank God, that man is a colossal pain in the ass."
"Yeah, it really looked like you couldn't wait to get shot of him." The sarcasm was blatantly dripping from each word.
She looked at him incredulously. "Are you serious?"
"What's with all the personally and professionallybullshit?" he drawled, doing a poor imitation of her.
"He was being a diva! He's a notorious flirt Daniel, if a few kind, suggestive but ultimately EMPTY words give him the ego boost he needs to go out there and start clicking away, then so be it."
"Funny, I seem to remember your tactics being more along the lines of scaring not schmoozing."
She held her hand to her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose, on disbelief that they were right back where they had been last night. "Daniel, it's James Hickey, the man is world renowned for Christ's sake, I've been trying to bag him for Mode for the past six months. He knows how sought after he is, I give him any of my usual brand of persuasion he will pack up his things and saunter right on down to one of our competitors."
He took a deep calming breath, still reeling from the look he had seen on her face when speaking to Hickey. "Fine, whatever; are you ready?"
"Ready?"
He nodded at her slowly. "Yes. Ready. Lunch, remember?" He punctuated each word sharply.
"I can't Daniel, the shoot was supposed to start two hours ago, and thanks to James's antics I'm going to be behind schedule for the rest of the day. I can't squeeze you in."
"Squeeze me in?I'm your husband, not a manicure."
"Look, I've already had to cancel meetings and I'm going to be late for the final layout approval." The snappish tone was returning as she brushed past him, back to the front of the set.
He followed her round and found her standing behind Hickey's shoulder. "Fabulous, oh you really are a visionary dear," she sweet talked him. He hated this side of her, the complete fake side she trotted out whenever she needed something.
He walked to stand beside Amanda and folded his arms, grimacing.
"What's with the sulking?"
"Nothing." He looked away and Amanda laughed.
"You are a total five year old."
"Don't, okay? I don't need someone else making me feel like a child." He sighed. "What are you doing here anyway?"
"Well, I'm a stylist Daniel, what do you think I'm doing?"
"Staying out the way and looking as if you know what you're doing?"
"Correct." The two of them shared a laugh.
Amanda watched him watch his wife, saw the hardness of his stare as she continued to praise the egotistical photographer, placing light touches on him whenever he paused to show her the shots he had taken. "Daniel...he really was being a pain, she's just trying to placate him for the sake of the shoot."
"Yeah...at my expense."
Amanda moved until she stood in front of him. "I'm serious Daniel, she's been working her ass off all morning, trying to get this mother up and running, complaining that if she didn't get it sorted she wouldn't be able to see you. Between Hickey and that stroppy bitch of a model, it's a miracle we got started at all."
"Stroppy model?" Daniel questioned her.
"Yeah, " Amanda pointed to a young blonde woman, sitting on one of the director's chairs at the side. "She's been a demanding little douche since the moment she stepped in here. Wilhelmina's about to tear her face off." She laughed.
"Oh really?" He straightened up and began walking to the frowning young model who was obviously recovering from a scolding à la Slater.
"Daniel, what are you doing?" Amanda whispered harshly as she watched him go.
He turned, still walking backwards. "I'm just going to, how did you say it? Placate her...for the sake of the shoot, of course."
Amanda watched worriedly as Daniel took a seat next to the girl, she watched Wilhelmina and saw her clock him too. Her face hardened as she took in the sight of her husband clearly flirting with the model. He was trying to antagonise her; let him, she thought, turning her concentration back to the shoot.
Amanda marched over to where Daniel was sitting joking with the blonde. "Daniel, stop this. You do realise your wife is right over there right?...and you do remember that she's terrifying beyond all reason?"
He leaned back in the chair to look at Wilhelmina. "And you do realise she's practically got her fucking tongue in that guy's ear?"
Amanda shook her head. "Jealously is so unattractive on you, Daniel."
In the distance, the photographer shouted for the model Daniel was speaking with. She got up and made her way to the set, Daniel made a show of following her with his eyes, making sure his wife saw him as he followed her over. He stood beside Wilhelmina and could feel the animosity coming off her in waves.
Her blackberry trilled in her pocket, pulling it out she opened a message from Marc; she was needed upstairs urgently. Two advertisers were currently fighting over space after both being told they would receive prominent places in the magazine.
Groaning and rolling her eyes to the back of her head, she dimly registered how much easier it had been when they were both in charge. Especially considering she currently had no creative director to lean on. "Shit," she whispered.
"Problem?" Daniel asked, still staring ahead.
"I'm needed upstairs but I can't leave the shoot unsupervised."
"I'll do it." He shrugged.
She turned to him and noticed his gaze, still on the model. "Oh I'm sure you'll do a wonderful job, if you manage to register any other people in the room other than the Russian twig."
"I'm sure I won't be able to flirt with the photographer quite as well as you do, but I was a fashion Editor for three and a half years."
"In title at least," she bit back at him.
He laughed, mirthlessly. "Look I'm offering to help you, take it or leave it."
She took a deep intake of air through her nose. "Fine...thank you," she said through gritted teeth. Turning to the photographer, her expression instantly transformed into a dazzling smile. "James, my darling, I'm afraid I have to leave you. There's a crisis upstairs that I simply cannot let the buffoons that call themselves Editors handle; but Daniel will see you through the rest of the session."
James Hickey stopped snapping with his camera and faced her, he took her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing it while looking in her eyes. Daniel rolled his eyes at the cheap gesture. "So lucky to have such an attentive husband, Wilhelmina." Hickey smiled at her.
"Quite, I must say it is nice that he's always free. Sitting at a big desk all day, pretending like he knows how to run a company, isn't as time consuming as you might think. It's handy that I can trot him out whenever it's required," she said, a malicious smile curving her lips.
Daniel felt himself redden at her words, could feel his anger with her escalating even higher. Was this not the exact same thing she had promised to tone down? He glared at her when she faced him again, she looked him up and down with disdain, before walking past him, deliberately bumping his shoulder with hers as she past.
I never meant to start a war
You know, I never wanna hurt you
Don't even know we're fighting for
Why does love always feel like a battlefield,
Better go and get your armour
I guess you better go and get your
He stayed for the remainder of the shoot, although he was superfluous to what was happening. Wilhelmina's words had effectively castrated him in the photographer's eyes and he paid him no heed.
The reptilian grin his wife had worn as she stalked out the studio was firmly etched in his mind; it was times like these when he remembered just who he had married. He may have been able to move past the steely exterior and see the woman she was, but that didn't take away from the fact she had wronged him greatly in the past. He had promised her before she agreed to marry him that he would let it all go, that he had to for the sake of their relationship. But had he really?
Could he really forget she had used his father, driven his parents apart, played quisling to Alexis when she had first tried to dominate him after her return. When she spoke to him and looked at him like she had done today, emasculating him, beating away at his confidence in front of important people in the industry, could he honestly say that it didn't throw their turbulent past in his face?
He watched the photographer clear away his things and leave the studio without so much as acknowledging Daniel's presence in the room. He felt a vibration in his pocket and pulled out his phone.
From: Willie
To: Daniel
MSG: Layout a disaster, will be here all night. Don't wait up, not that you would actually bother to.
He snapped the phone shut, reeling. He could imagine her condescending tone even as he read her words. One by one the people in the room left, until only he and the young model he had been speaking with remained: she was obviously waiting for him to speak to her. He grinned, biting his lip. He hadn't noticed the other remaining person in the room until she felt him pull on his shoulder. "Whatever you're thinking, Daniel, don't do it," Amanda warned him.
He lifted her hand from his shoulder and dropped it by her side. "What's the harm in a drink?"
"Daniel...you love Wilhelmina."
"Maybe, but what if I just want to be in someone's company who doesn't make me feel like a second class citizen for a change? A drink's a drink Amanda, totally innocent," he reasoned.
Amanda watched him walk to the girl and flash her the same smile she used to be on the receiving end of, back when she was Monday's girl. She shook her head as she watched him make what could turn out to be the biggest mistake of his life.
We could pretend that we are friends, tonight
And, in the morning, we wake up, and we'd be alright
'Cause, baby, we don't have to fight
And I don't want this love to feel like a battlefield,
Why does love always feel like a battlefield,
I guess you better go and get your armour...
The layout had been saved much quicker than she anticipated. At 1am she let herself into the apartment. Yawning as she closed the door, she walked down the hall, massaging the tired muscles of her neck. She paused outside her bedroom door, part of her hoping Daniel was already asleep in order to avoid yet another spat, the other wanting him to still be up so they could work this all out before it got out of hand.
She twisted the knob of her bedroom door and froze as it swung open. Her gaze was fixated on the bare back, moving up and down on top of a body on the bed. She watched the hands sneak round the body and grip it tightly, her eyes caught a glint of light reflecting from the wedding band.
The man underneath sat up, crushing his body to the blonde riding on top of him. His eyes were squeezed shut as he thrust upwards. She had no way of knowing how long she stood there, no way of telling how long it took for his eyes to open and meet with hers across the room.
His expression was horrified, he tried to push the woman from him. "Shit! Stop...fucking stop!" he shouted.
The body moving on top slowed. "What!" she exclaimed, breathless. The young woman followed his gaze and she paled as she saw Wilhelmina at the door.
Willie could feel her heart pounding in her chest, felt her stomach constrict and could hear nothing but the roaring of blood in her ears. She wanted to turn and flee, she wanted to walk over to that bed and kill them with her bare hands. Instead she fought to maintain her calm exterior. "You know Daniel, you really shouldn't just stop like that. Do you know how frustrating that can be for a woman?" she asked him, arching her eyebrow.
She turned on her heel and walked down the corridor to her kitchen, amazed that her legs were still supporting her. Daniel pushed the body off him and jumped from the bed, grabbing his discarded boxers and hopping down the hall as he tried to put them on. "Willie! Willie wait!" he called after her.
He found her standing at the door. "You might want to put more than that on, it's cold outside." She told him, no feeling in her voice.
"Willie...I'm sorry, I fucked up...can we talk about this?"
She looked at her husband and felt as if she was seeing a stranger. "Talk about what? About how, the second my back is turned, you take it as an opportunity to bring your little whore over?"
"It's not..."
"I'm fighting to stay calm Daniel, but I'm telling you if you try and tell me it's not what I think it is, when I just walked in on you fucking another woman in our bed I will not be held responsible for my actions." Her voice took on a dangerous edge.
"Willie..." he began again and reached for her.
"Don't touch me, don't ever fucking touch me!" Her voice rose for the first time and Daniel could hear the hysteria creep in.
"Wil –..." He tried for a third time, panic and desperation setting in as the reality of the irrevocable damage he had caused his marriage set in. He was cut off by a shuffling from the other end of the hall. Wilhelmina glared at the girl, daring her to look up into her eyes. She kept her head down as she hurried forward, having no choice but to pass the couple if she wanted to leave the apartment. She stopped in between them and bravely raised her head to attempt to look Wilhelmina in the eye.
"I'm so...I'm so sorry." she said, her voice breaking.
Wilhelmina regarded the girl in front of her, staring deep into her eyes, the hatred emanating from her stare. Without warning she swung her hand and gave the girl a back handed, stinging slap across the face. The stone from her wedding ring leaving a small but perfect line where it cut the skin.
"Get the fuck out of my house, Amanda."
I never meant to start a war
You know, I never wanna hurt you
Don't even know we're fighting for
Why does love always feel like a battlefield, a battlefield, a battlefield