Author's Notes: Hello! We are in a good mood today. Hope it all pans out and you like it.---edited 11/17/07...corrections, blunders and seamlessness. Heh. ES
Disclaimer: Same as all other chapters. I own nothing.
Brawn, Brains, and Beauty
As Clarissa sat on the rear bumper of the car, her posture speaking of her emotional state, Stephen stood beside her, wondering if he should offer her comfort. He was furious with her, just as Eric was, but he knew too that he would have risked the same things for Evelyn had the opportunity arisen. Clarissa cradled her head in her hands, silent as she waited for some word from Mim.
A few moments passed. Caine came round the far side of the car. He stood opposite Stephen on Clarissa's other side, his face unreadable in the darkness. Clarissa ignored him. Caine held out an unlit cigarette toward her.
"Pax, Clair?" She lifted her head, seeing the offering and shook her head.
"I'm still angry with you," she said, her voice tart. "You owe Uncle Stephen an apology."
Caine took a sharply drawn breath. He looked at Stephen. "I beg your pardon," he said, his voice brusque. Stephen nodded in acknowledgement. Caine turned his attention back to Clarissa. "Pax, Clair?"
She took the cigarette from him then and set it to her lips. Caine lit it for her, almost smiling. She shook her head at him. "You're lucky I can't hold a grudge against you." He chuckled.
"Nor I against you, Clair." Caine glanced into the back of the car. "Do you think he can help Bram?"
"God, I hope so." Clair drew on her cigarette. "Remember how vicious Bram was as a boy? I'd hate to face his rage without Mim." She looked up at Stephen. "Our Caine here is probably the best bare knuckles boxer the Fingermen ever trained, but Bram is all out savagery. He fights with a number of disciplines, all lethal and all terrifying." She shook her head. "I think the only way they kept him in was to keep him as sedated as possible."
"They did more than drug him," Caine said darkly. He cracked his knuckles. "I've half a mind to go back and take that bastard Jameson out…"
"No!" Clarissa snapped. "No more bloody vengeance. We're back together again. What more would you dare ask of the universe, Caine? Let the Fingermen rot under their own evil. We are not a part of that anymore. We can be free of it forever."
"Do you want to be free of it?" Caine asked. "You told me Atherton was dead. The fraternity has no head now. We could seize the reins of power and take control…"
She shuddered. "God, no!" she exclaimed. "Why the hell would I want that?"
Mim appeared. "Clarissa, he wants to see you." His voice was thick with tears. Clarissa handed her cigarette to Caine and moved to lean into the back seat. Bram's face was turned away, his black curls damp with sweat.
"Bram?" she said softly. "Bram, are you awake now?"
He shuddered. "I called you a name on our tenth birthday and you wouldn't talk to me for a week. What did I call you?'
She frowned. "When we were ten?" she repeated. "You called me Creedy's Sweetheart and I cried until Caine thrashed you and then I cried because you were hurt. You were an awful brat then."
With a grace she wasn't prepared for, he turned and lunged at her. His impetus shoved her out of the car and onto her back. He was atop her, his fingers digging into her shoulders, his eyes impossible to see in the dark. Clarissa cried out in startled fear, paralyzed by his sudden nearness and the pressure of his fingers. She writhed under him in panic. "Caine!" she screamed.
As suddenly as he'd landed on her, Bram's weight was gone.
Caine had him by the arms and was holding him fiercely. Bram howled in fury and Caine shook him like a terrier with a rat. "No one," Caine snarled. "No one hurts Clair, Bram. Not even you." He took a blow to his belly that made him grunt. "Damnit, you idiot, we got you free of that hell hole and you're going to fight us? I'll break your bloody head in, ingrate."
"Don't hurt him!" Mim shouted. Caine slammed Bram back against the car.
"Stay out of it," he growled. Bram got an arm free and caught Caine alongside the jaw. Caine shook off the blow. "Brother, that's your last free shot. Hit me again and, blood or no blood, I will rearrange those girly features of yours and make you look like me."
Bram cocked back his fist for another punch. His arm was caught by strong hands and Bram lifted eyes to the interloper. His eyes took in the one face he never expected to see. He went slack in Caine's arms, staring wide eyed. "Evelyn!" he exclaimed. He seemed to shrink in on himself. "Oh, God, not you too!"
"I'm not Evelyn," the older man said gently. "Evelyn is dead, boy. I'm your uncle, Stephen. Atherton is dead and your brother and sister have rescued you." He held the arm firmly but gently. "You are safe here, Bram. All of us will keep you safe."
Bram collapsed in on himself, sobbing deep dry sobs that wracked his body. Caine hauled him against his broad chest, holding him with more tenderness than Stephen would have expected of the muscular man. Caine was joined by Clarissa, who stroked her brother's hair, fingering the tangled locks gently. They spoke together, muted whispers in a language that they seemed to understand, a shorthand version of English that made no sense to the listeners. Bram's agony lessened and he wrapped his arms around Caine and Clarissa, still sobbing but there was a sense of relief in them now.
Stephen watched them, agony in his chest as he recalled being that close to another person. He still missed his brother with an ache that would never fade. He'd understood Clarissa's endless grieving over her brothers and could well understand the desperate need that had driven her to act so rashly in order to reunite them all.
Evelyn's children had come to Gallowsmere, he thought. The home that nurtured their father could expand to hold the children he'd never known. Stephen turned away at last and went inside.
Evey was sitting with Eric at the kitchen table. Eric was still a sickly grey, his face expressionless, but his eyes lifted to Stephen in a desperate inquiry. "They have returned," the younger man told him quietly. "Unharmed and with their brother."
Eric's eyes closed and some of the terrible tension fell away from him. Evey looked at her lover. "Clarissa is unhurt, then?" she asked. Stephen nodded. She nodded. "Should I make some food?"
"I don't know that they are hungry." Stephen glanced out the back door. "They are far too interested in one another, I suspect, to think of something so simple." He shook his head. "They are very like my brother."
"Then they are like you as well," Evey said practically. The back door opened. Clarissa's voice called out hesitantly.
"Uncle Stephen, may we come in?" Stephen glanced down the hallway.
"Do you want to?" he asked. "I've never refused you before, have I?"
Clarissa came in, leading Bram, Caine walking behind him in support.
Bram was thin, almost to the point of being gaunt, but his face was surprisingly beautiful. He looked like a sculpture of a man, his brown eyes the same bittersweet as his sister's fringed with thick black lashes and his hair long black locks that hung well over his shoulders. He looked around the kitchen in a sort of numb surprise, as though he'd never seen something so normal and simple. The shapeless clothes hung off his body, hinting that he was far more delicate than his muscular brother, but the arms that clung to his siblings were corded with wiry muscles, not the heavy bulk that Caine sported. Clarissa urged him to a seat, glancing nervously at Eric then back to her brother.
"Bram, this is Stephen's fiancé, Evey. Evey, this is my brother, Bram. The big one is Caine."
Bram lifted his eyes to Evey and she read there a wealth of sadness. "Good evening," he said politely. His voice was soft and sweet, a tone similar to his sister's voice. "Pleased to meet you."
"Pleased to meet you, Bram," Evey said warmly. "Are you hungry? I'd be happy to make something up for you."
His eyes drifted closed at the thought. "Might I ask for some hot tea?" he asked. "It has been almost four years since I last had a cuppa." His eyes opened. "One thousand four hundred and thirty-two days, I believe." He sighed. "I can't remember anything else I could possibly want."
Clarissa stared at her brother, her stricken face turning pale. For a moment, she stood there then she was gone, slipping past Caine and Stephen and going back outside. Stephen followed her silently. He found her in the garden, her face lifted toward the sky. She was weeping silently, tears tracking glistening paths down her cheeks. He pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. She didn't fight him; instead she melted against him, sobbing harder.
"Tea," she gasped. "All this time, all his torment at the hands of the Fingermen, and he remembers tea." She pressed her face to her uncle's chest. "Oh, God, why didn't I know? Why didn't I find him ages ago? I left him there." She cried harder. "I should have forced Atherton to bag me; we might have been in the same cellblock."
He held her tightly. "No, Clarissa. You would have suffered far worse than what you did." He hugged her closer. "You have to make a future for all of you now. You have to work at making Bram able to tolerate his liberty, train him that he's free, and let him make his way in the world." He rocked her gently. "I wish you'd trusted me to help you with this. You did know that I would have helped."
"I couldn't take you from Evey, Uncle Stephen. I had to do this with Caine. Bram is our brother." She lifted her head to look at him. "I couldn't risk your life on something that wasn't your problem. You have a baby coming, that takes precedence." She looked back at the house. "I couldn't risk you, any of you."
"You drugged Eric, Clarissa, which hurt him." Stephen looked down at her, his expression grim. "He loves you but you've betrayed him deeply. It may be too much."
She turned her face away. "If I'd left him mobile, he'd have tried to follow us. I wasn't about to put him in the way of danger." Her shoulders slumped. "I had Mim watch him for me but I couldn't risk him trying to follow."
"You must talk to him, Clarissa."
She swiped at her cheeks. "I will," she whispered.
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Bram looked at the stranger sitting across the table, returning the measuring stare the man was giving him. "We haven't been introduced," he said slowly. "Have we?"
"Eric Finch," Eric said, extending his hand. Bram stared at it for a moment before accepting it. His hand shook slightly.
"Bram Avery," the younger man said, lifting his chin. "Nice to meet you. Are you a friend of Clair's?"
"You might say that," Eric hedged. He wasn't sure what he felt about Clarissa at this moment. This young man was obviously in poor health, the effects of years of deprivation showing on his strained features. Mim had come in and was sitting near him, one hand reaching out to touch the young man as if to prove he was real. Bram smiled at the touch, dropping a hand to cover Mim's, their fingers lacing together.
"I'm free," Bram whispered to the little therapist. "I was always afraid they'd find you and I'm so glad they didn't." He lifted Mim's hand to his lips. "I held on to the memory of you, to the memory of Clair and Caine, to get me through the worst times. I imagined your face every night before bed, every morning before they started in. I knew I was loved. They couldn't take that away from me."
Mim's blue eyes were full of tears. "I tried to find you, Bram. I looked through any databases I could access. When I found your sister in one, I put myself into place as her therapist to learn if she knew where you were. When she said you were dead, I tried to make my peace with it but I couldn't. Then she came to me and told me Caine had come, that they were going to find you. I worried all day that they would fail."
Caine snorted. "I don't fail," he growled. "It wouldn't have mattered how bad things got, I was not coming home without him." He laid his hand on his brother's shoulder. "I would have carried him out on my back if that is what it took." Bram's free hand covered his brother's.
"You always were the brawn of the bunch," he said affectionately.
"And you were always the beauty, you pouf." Caine's laughter rumbled in the kitchen. "Poor Clair got stuck as the brains. Sucked for her that you got all the prettiness."
"Clarissa is quite beautiful," Eric snapped. "As for brains, that might be up for consideration." He got to his feet, the action jerky, and left the room. Evey paused in what she was doing and looked after him, her expression sorrowful. Bram noticed the look.
"Evey, what did he mean?" he asked when she set his tea before him. She hesitated. He smiled gently. "Did Clair do something stupid?"
"She and Eric were…involved. She drugged him this morning to keep him from interfering in your rescue." Bram's eyes widened. He looked toward Caine.
"Was that your idea?" he asked. "You'd be bloody minded like that but not our Clair."
Caine shrugged. "She was trained by Grandfather, Bram. Our Clair has done a damn sight worse than slipping someone a Mickey." He tilted his head back. "She was afraid that Stephen and the policeman would interfere. She got rid of one but the other stayed behind. She changed plans in the middle." Caine seemed thoughtful. "I didn't know she was shagging him. That's an annoying thought."
"Eric is a good man," Evey snapped at him. She glared at the large man angrily. "He brought out the best in her these past few weeks. You seem to have brought out the worst in her quite a bit faster."
Caine nodded. "I may have done," he agreed flatly. "But it was always there, you know. We aren't very civilized under these charming exteriors." He turned to leave the room. "Bram, will you be alright?"
"I'm fine. Go see to Clair. She'll need one of us." Bram sipped his tea, eyes closing in blissful enjoyment of the hot beverage. "Thank you, Evey. This is marvelous."
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Caine wandered outside to find his sister in their uncle's arms. He could hear her sobbing and the sound of her pain moved him as little else did. He joined them, walked silently up to the pair. "Private party?" he asked. Clair's cheeks were wet. Caine frowned at her. "Clair, my love, what is it? Is it that policeman? He's not worth your tears, if it is."
"Caine," she said brokenly. "He loved me and I betrayed him for you, for Bram."
"You drugged him." Caine shrugged. "It was a means to an end. Not personal." He sighed at her expression. "Don't look at me like that, love. It's not like you knocked him out violently, you just gave him a sleeping draught. Simple, non-violent and polite. If I'd known you were bedding him, I would have knocked him out for you."
Clarissa's mouth fell open and she stared at him dumbfounded. "That's not how this works, Caine," she said after a moment. "I accept you for who you are. There may be things about me you don't care for but you have to accept them or not. You don't get to make me into the person you think I need to be. Yes, I was sleeping with Eric. Want to make something of it?" She drew herself to her full height. "I may be a girl, but I rather think I could put a dent in that hideous ego of yours."
Caine chuckled. "Better men than you have tried it," he warned. "I beat them all."
Clarissa's chin lifted defiantly. "I fancy I could set you on your ass in under five minutes."
Caine laughed. "You might try," he scoffed. She launched herself at him, fists coming down on either side of his thick neck in a practiced move. Caine was taken by surprise and the force of the blow staggered him. His knees gave and he hit the ground. Clair drew back and aimed a kick at his sternum. He deflected it, slower than he expected. She moved faster, her reflexes at top form. Caine found himself on his back, her foot on his throat.
"That wasn't even three minutes," she mocked. "Never doubt that I trained as hard as you did, brother mine. I learned my lessons well." She vaulted into a backflip that carried her out of his reach. "I was a Fingerman Elite without the perks of really being a Fingerman." She eyed him as he rose. "In the last few years, I had to be hard enough to survive alone. I didn't have you or Bram and I was a girl. Some people thought that meant I was fair game. I learned to play by their rules, Caine, and I got really good at it. Ask Uncle Stephen." She turned toward the house, her footsteps heavy. "Now I have to beg my lover's forgiveness for what I did."
Caine got to his feet, staring after her. "She's good," he said approvingly. "I thought she was just all attitude." He rubbed his neck. "Damn."
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Clarissa mounted the stairs, her legs trembling and her belly full of anxiety. Eric hadn't been in the kitchen so she headed for her room, wondering if he were there. She felt horrible about the drugging but hadn't seen any alternative to it. She still didn't.
Eric wasn't in her room. She moved down the landing to his old room and hesitated, one hand raised to knock on the door. Dread paralyzed her and she could not bring herself to rap on the wood. As she stood frozen in place, the door opened and Eric stood in the frame, his eyes dark with fury.
"Hello," he said coldly. "Can I help you?"
She licked dry lips. "I was hoping to talk to you, Eric." Her voice sounded strained to her own ears. He hesitated then stepped back to let her in. She entered the room, fighting her desire to cry. Eric closed the door behind her softly. He paced around her to sit in the armchair by the window. From there, he just looked at her grimly. She folded her arms across her belly protectively. "Eric, I…" Words failed her. She could feel his rage and it was frightening to her. He was so cold.
"You drugged me." He said each word clearly, enunciating each one carefully. "You left me here and went off on a harebrained scheme. No back up, no contingency plan. Nothing, Clarissa. Hours of waiting, incapable of moving while that narcotic was in my system. Do you have any idea how that felt?" He studied her as though they had never met. "Did you care?"
"I did," she protested. "I thought of nothing but getting Bram home safe and begging your forgiveness, Eric. I expected you to go into town with Stephen and Evey, to be out all day…"
"I didn't want to leave you, Clarissa." He leaned back, looking at her steadily. "I thought the dreams were making you act strangely, that you needed a shoulder to lean on. I thought that would be me." He huffed a bitter laugh. "Instead you had that already taken care of, didn't you?"
"I couldn't tell you, Eric." She moved a little closer to him. "I couldn't betray Caine…"
"But you betrayed me, didn't you?" He shook his head at her. "I was just your lover, not someone to trust, not someone to bring into the plot. I was just an obstacle you needed rid of to go and risk your skin. You sat across from me, sipping your tea, knowing the whole time that I was drinking the drug. You played it well, Clarissa, you never let me guess that you would do something like that to me."
"I didn't see an option…" she said but he cut her off.
"You could have trusted me. My girl would have confided in me." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I thought I knew you, that you held me in your heart as I held you in mine. I see now that I was wrong. I may be in your bed but I am not in your heart. There's only room for your brothers in there." He got heavily to his feet. "I'd show you out, Clair," he used the diminutive with emphasis. "But I rather think you can find it yourself."
Her heart was pounding so hard that she could barely breathe. "Eric, I didn't mean to hurt you. I wanted to protect you."
"Well, you failed, Clair." He was only three feet away from her, his body taut with anger. She stared at him wildly.
"Eric." She propelled herself across the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Please, please, don't think I don't love you!" She pressed kisses to his jaw, trying to reach his mouth. "Please, Eric, I love you. I wanted to keep you safe."
Suddenly he kissed her lips, his mouth fierce on hers. She clung to him, crying in earnest again, wanting him to understand, to forgive her. He ran his hands over her body, stirring her nerves to life, and she whimpered as his touch turned from demanding to punishing. She kissed him desperately. "I love you," she whispered. "I love you. Please…"
He stripped her, shredding the crimson blouse, tearing the fastenings of the slacks. He didn't speak to her, his hands busily at work, his mouth occupied with every inch of skin he bared. Clarissa felt burned by the fury in him, all too aware that she had caused the pain he was venting on her clothes but not on her yet. She ran her fingers through his hair, tried to ride out the storm but it only seemed to make him angrier still.
He pushed her onto the bed, leaving her only to shed his clothes, coming back to her hard and ready. She opened herself to him, accepting the punishing kisses, the silence as her due for her betrayal. He thrust into her, found her wet and welcoming and the joining seemed to leech away some of his anger. His next thrust was gentler, more what she knew from him. He brought her hands over her head; lay over her like a blanket and she bucked under him, shifting her hips to take him deeper still. He lifted his head back, his face still closed to her, but she knew the signs that he was close. She tried to match his rhythm and her body sang to it perfectly. As she reached her peak, she felt him thrust hard into her and felt him spill his seed inside her and he cried out with it. She joined him, locking her legs around his hips as her body shook and quaked with pleasure.
Dazed, she lay under him, feeling his heart pounding against hers. "Eric…" He cut off her words with a kiss.
"We'll talk later," he said gruffly. "Not now." He shifted to lie behind her, his body still humming with energy. She curled against him; certain she had convinced him of her remorse. She fell asleep listening to him breathing behind her.
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Morning came and Clarissa woke to a cold bed.
Puzzled, she sat up and saw the closet door standing open. Nothing hung within it. She got out of bed and walked to the dresser. The drawers were also empty. Nothing remained in the room except her and her ruined clothes. It took a few minutes for the awful truth to filter into her head. Even then, she hurriedly wrapped the bed sheet about and went to her room. Looking out the window, she saw that his sedan was gone.
She stared at the empty space, thinking for a moment that she would blink and the car would reappear. She felt the loss as keenly as if someone had flayed the skin off her body. She went to her knees at the window, pressing her wrist into her mouth, sinking her teeth into the tender skin. It blocked the cry of agony that filled her throat and she stayed like that a long time, until she could force herself to rise and go to the bathroom. She promptly voided her stomach until her heaves ran dry then forced herself to bathe and dress.
Downstairs in the kitchen, she found Evey waiting for her. Evey's face told Clarissa that she already knew. Clarissa lifted her chin. "He's gone back to London, hasn't he?" she whispered. Evey nodded sadly. Clarissa shuddered. "It's no more than what I deserved," she said heavily.
"I am so sorry, Clarissa." Evey reached out to the girl and Clarissa went into her arms, weeping silently.
"It's my fault," Clarissa confessed. "I did it all wrong." She trembled against Evey, needing the comfort of her friendship. "I've wrecked everything, Evey, and I can't fix it."
"There has to be a way," Evey murmured into her hair. "He loves you. He's just hurt."
Nice to think so, Clarissa thought as grief choked her. But he's hurt so badly that he can't be with me. There's no way to fix this.
