A/N: Before reading this, I HIGHLY recommend getting on you tube and turning on Moonlight Sonata. Not just any version. This version: http /nT7_IZPHHb0

Obviously, get rid of the spaces. When it starts playing, start reading. I swear, it's like emotional overload. Its what I listened to the entire time I wrote this chapter.

Chapter Eighteen

The trip back from Crampton was very silent. For his part, John could think of nothing to say. There were so many things swimming around in his head he couldn't be certain what to make of any of them. His mind, his body, his heart, his very soul, seemed to be at war with each other. Each part wanting something that another part refused to be a part of. It was this battle which kept him silent. They had stayed much later at Crampton than he had originally planned, eventually dining there before bidding Margaret's father a very late goodnight. He was so tired. He was starting to believe that he would never feel rested again in his entire life. Those days without sleep had exhausted him more than he realized, and he was not ashamed to admit how very much he was looking forward to the prospect of his warm bed. He glanced quickly over at Margaret, noticing that she was already looking at him with that unfathomable expression that seemed to grace her features more than ever before. He wondered what it meant, what emotion it signified, or what thoughts it betrayed. Perhaps one day he might know, might understand…but for now it left him invariably curious.

"What are you thinking of?" He found himself asking quietly, before turning his attention back to the deserted street.

"Well-I-um…" Margaret stuttered before trailing off. John assumed that she was not expecting such a direct, if not personal question from him. "You, actually. I was thinking about you." John stopped quite abruptly in the street. Of course, with Margaret's arm through his own, she stopped with him. He turned to face her, mind burning with a million questions, heart feeling a million emotions at once.

"What?" He asked bluntly. She was thinking about him.

"You asked me what I was thinking about; I was thinking about you." She spoke quietly, but determinedly, as though she were trying to give herself strength.

"What of me?" He asked, cursing his continued bluntness. He searched her eyes, begging for some sort of response, but non came. She just looked at him with that unfathomable expression, baring him from seeing whatever true thoughts and emotions lay beneath. It could not hide the blush that tainted her cheeks, but that in itself only confused him further.

"You did not sleep for six days?" Her eyes seemed to beg him for understanding, for answers, but he could not give one. It wasn't necessarily something he felt like talking about. How did she even find out? He could not answer her, but she had asked him outright. He would have to answer eventually. He knew her well enough to know that she would only ask again. If he refused, she would ask someone else. Why he did not want her to know, or why he would not tell her himself was something he could not explain. But he knew it was true. He hadn't wanted her to find out, but it seemed she had. He turned back to the street, and continued walking. If he was to discuss such things, it would not be in the middle of the street. Margaret must have assumed he had ignored her question, which was true in a way. He never made a reply, but continued walking. It wasn't until they had reached the house, and retired to the sitting room that she broached the subject once more.

"Is it true?" she asked as he walked over to the fireplace, resting his arm on the mantle. He did not need to inquire as to what she was asking. He already knew.

"No." He said. His tone was cold, somewhat unfeeling, but he did not know why.

"But my father-" Margaret began, but he cut her off abruptly, knowing once more what she would say before she said it.

"It was five days, not six." Margaret stood somewhere off to his left, but he was resolutely studying the mantle in front of him, not wanting to look at her face. There was silence in the room. A heavy silence, weighted with many questions and emotions, but John would not give in.

"You did not sleep for five days?" She asked, her tone curiously void of defining emotion. Oh how he wished he could just disappear and reappear at a later time. He really did not want to talk about it. It was a memory; a horrible, terrifying memory that he could bury in the recesses of his mind and never think of again, if only Margaret would stop talking about it. Why did she want to know? What did it matter? He glanced over at her, not giving himself enough time to take in her face or her eyes, but hoped it would be acknowledgment enough. She took a hesitant step toward him. "You nursed me back to health?"

John suddenly felt very agitated. He could no longer just stand there, and abruptly turned away from her, pacing in very small circles. "You stayed by my side for six days?" She asked him. He paused his pacing, and looked at her, emotion burning intense inside of him. She did not turn from him as he expected. No, she stepped closer one more step. Her expression gave nothing away, and had not wavered from the unfathomable look it had been portraying for some time now. He turned away from her again, still pacing, but moving further away. This did not seem to deter her in any way, and she continued with her questioning. What was she doing?

"You found me unconscious in my father's home," she stated. "And carried me to my room." She was coming toward him faster now, taking larger strides, and he felt himself backing away, unexplainable emotions coursing through him. "You brought me away from the rioters, carried me inside to safety." He did not understand, he could not think. His heart was working too hard, anxiety ripping through him. His back touched the wall behind him. "You married me, saved me from destitution." She was too close, much too close. He felt trapped, his back (literally) against the wall. She had cornered him, much like a dog in a cage, and he could do nothing. There was no where for him to go, and it frightened him. "You undressed me on our wedding night." His heart seemingly leapt into his throat. God, she knew, she knew about that! What would he say? Was this why she had cornered him? Did she know how much he avoided that topic, how he in all likelihood would have ignored her questions regarding that night, and sought to trap him in the sitting room and demand answers out of him? He could not answer her. His mind was working too fast, and heart beating too wildly. It seemed as though communication had failed him. It did not stop Margaret, who was now standing directly in front of him, gazing up into his eyes with a burning intensity that made him want to die. He was frozen, transfixed by the look in her eyes that he could not explain. He could not look away, even though he wanted to. He could not move even though he wanted to. He was completely helpless. "And you told my father that you did not want to marry me." God, how he wanted to escape this situation, to run out of this room and not look back. But he could not. "Why?"

Her question seemed to echo in his mind. It was one question, with a thousand others attached to it. It was the foundation of their relationship, the foundation of their very marriage. Why? Why couldn't he move, why couldn't he think, why was Margaret here, why had he married her, why had she married him? Why did he show her (in not so many words) that he loathed her very existence, why was her father so unwaveringly kind to him? Why did he love her as much as he did, why could she not love him in return, why did she shield him from the rioters, why did she lie to him? Why was she so very close to him right now and why was he so very terrified about it?

"I do not understand you." She said, gaze burning him with its intensity while her voice was oddly breathless. "I do not believe I ever will. But I would like to know why." His voice, when he located it, sounded unusually strangled.

"Why what?"

"Why am I here?" The words that followed were spoken seemingly without his knowledge. A question to answer a question.

"Why did you marry me?" He waited, transfixed upon her eyes with horror, dreading what her reply would be, dreading that he had gone too far. She stared at him for several long moments before answering.

"Because you asked me to."

He didn't understand what that statement meant, and understood her meaning behind it even less. He didn't understand her expression, or the significance of the questions she had asked, but he did understand one thing. One thing that guided everything that followed. The one thing that had been determining all of this actions for months. The one thing that he knew with his soul: that he loved this woman more than he could ever make her understand. That was the answer to all her questions. It was the defining reason that drove every decision that caused every action she did not understand. And he could answer that question, easily. All it took was three words. Three small, one syllable, seemingly insignificant words. But his voice had failed him again, and he could not speak, still frozen by the woman herself, trapped by her overwhelming presence, and her untimely questions. He needed her to understand, to see what he saw, to feel how he felt, but he couldn't. He was desperate to make her see, to get away from her and just breathe, to somehow feel less than he was feeling right then. Perhaps it was desperation that drove him then, perhaps it was something more. But he did not know. In fact, he did not understand what he was doing until after he had already crashed his body against hers, kissing her with all the fiery passion of the emotions still warring inside of him.

A/N: Alrighty, another chapter! Even though it isn't very long, haha. Updating will obviously (well, hopefully anyway) be happening more often then it has been now that the semester is over, and I'm free for the whole summer! Yay! So before we get to the good stuff, let me just make a few rather important notes here about the story so far, because I don't think I made it entirely clear in my writing, and for that I apologize.

Melissa72 asked a great question: Why is John refusing to remove the wedding clothes? There isn't an easy answer that I can give at this point. There are several contributing factors, some that I can explain, some that I can not. I'm sure you have noticed (after all, I haven't really been hiding it), that John's thoughts and actions, specifically words spoken (or sometimes not spoken), are turning…well, darker I suppose. He can barely control his emotions, something that is completely out of character for him. Things are scattered around in his brain, and he can't make sense of them. I didn't place too much emphasis on this, (I hoped that you might pick up on it without me), but in the last chapter specifically, there are things he knows, things he wants more than anything else in the world, and they're right there in front of him, simply waiting to be claimed. His heart will accept them, but his mind cannot. This is important. No, I will not tell you why, you will understand it on your own very, very, very soon. It's important for you to understand the spiraling chaos in his mind. That's why things feel….dark, and overly emotional when I'm writing John's perspective. That why he lost control while Mr. Hale was talking to him. No, crying like a little boy is generally very "not John". But I promise, you will understand. I'm not just throwing in random nonsense.

And this is precisely why I cannot answer the riddle of the wedding dress just yet. But again, you will understand soon. It is not John's attempt to force himself to tell Margaret what he did, but that is a good guess. ;)

As I'm sure you're aware, seeing as how I've been mentioning this from…I don't know, maybe fifteen chapters ago, things are reaching a climax. Building slowly, yes, but the time is coming.

To guest Beka: I always try to write things with as much subtle humor as I can ;) it's makes reading more of an adventure in my opinion.

To guest PS: No sudden happily ever afters here. You're in for the long haul ;)

To everyone else, you are so wonderful and amazing that you probably cant even comprehend it on your own. Let me just say I love all of your reviews, and am so outrageously grateful for the everlasting support and praise you have given me since I started this story. When the time does come, I will be sad to see this one go because your company has meant the world to me.

I love you all! :D