Caroline and the Unfortunate Circumstance
Chapter Eight: The Healing Power of Chocolate
By S. Arallion
Disclaimer: All characters in this story are owned by their respective copyright holders—namely, not myself. Anything you don't recognize is my fault. I make absolutely no profit from my use of these characters. ~~Arallion
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Goodnight Annie, Del," Caroline called out the door as her two friends vanished down the hallway, Del ostensibly to 'walk Annie to her door'. She shook her head as she shut the door behind her. Some things in her life were so strange, she mused, walking to the kitchen.
A soft knock on the door made her freeze in her tracks, and she turned around cautiously. Tiptoeing across the room, she peered through the peephole. A familiar tousled blond head came into view, and she relaxed with a sigh of relief. "Richard..."
"Richard, I thought you were going home. Is something wrong?" she asked worriedly as she opened the door and let him inside.
"I, ah... forgot that I had changed clothes here." He looked faintly embarrassed. "I left them on my chair... along with my car keys."
Caroline tried to stifle it, but the giggle sneaked out anyway. "Oh. Oops. Well, since you're here, would you like a cup of coffee?"
"If you're going to make some, sure," he replied distractedly, grabbing his street clothes off the chair. He turned to her as she started the coffeemaker. "Do you mind if I change out of this? It's rented, of course," he said wryly.
"No, of course not..." Caroline smiled. "As a matter of fact, I think I'll get out of this thing, too."
She trudged upstairs after he disappeared into the bathroom, and struggled out of her dress with a sigh. It was always a little depressing to change back into normal clothing after an evening like she'd just had. A bit like Cinderella turning into the pumpkin, she grumbled, looking at her bruised arms. At least she was still purple and blue... she raised her eyebrows and chuckled at herself. Being sarcastic was Richard's job. She turned resolutely away from the mirror and slouched back downstairs in her sweats.
Richard was seated in his chair with his mug cradled in his hands, staring out the window into the darkness. The lights she'd strung up for Christmas were the only ones on in the room, but they gave off a warm, cheerful glow. Caroline hesitated on the stairs, gazing at her assistant curiously. His face was drawn into its habitual serious expression, but it was sadder than usual, pensive. He didn't seem to have noticed her movement at all.
She continued down the stairs and helped herself to a cup of coffee. Richard jumped and darted a quick look at her, which she pretended not to notice. "So, it was awfully nice of you to do all of this for me, Richard," she said earnestly. "I think that's the best time I've ever had at an awards ceremony."
Regaining his composure, Richard snorted quietly. "Ah, but the fun's not over yet. Just wait until Del and Annie see their picture in the news tomorrow." Caroline choked on her coffee in laughter.
"So, will you be in tomorrow?"
"Do I have a choice?" Richard asked out of habit.
"Well..." Caroline shrugged. "I thought you might like a day off."
The artist avoided her eyes, backtracking. "It's not a problem. Unless you wanted to have time off?"
Caroline laughed. "Me, time off? According to Del, I have all the time off I need anyway. I'm just getting ahead of myself this week, you know that."
"How about I come in around eleven tomorrow, then? That'd be a nice break."
"Richard, you come in at eleven all the time," Caroline said in a stern tone.
"Yes, but this time I wouldn't have to come up with an excuse for being late," he replied flippantly. She laughed helplessly and walked back into the kitchen for another cup of coffee.
Richard pulled on his coat and picked up his suit carrier and keys. "I should probably be going," he muttered uncomfortably.
She turned back to him rapidly. "Oh, really? Are you sure you wouldn't like another cup..." Her voice trailed off and she cleared her throat, looking down. "Um, probably not. It is late, isn't it. Well, goodnight, then."
She waited for him to leave, but he wasn't moving. He just stood there in his coat, looking at her.
"Caroline, you're not sleeping well, are you." The comment wasn't questioning.
She glanced up, trying to look cheerful. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," he stated, "that you look exhausted, and not just this evening. Your eyes are burned holes in your head. Not to mention that this is the best coffee you've ever been able to make, and you must have been practicing sometime."
She smiled halfheartedly at the last comment, but sighed in resignation. "All right, you caught me. No, I haven't been sleeping well. Actually, I've sort of given up on it-- that's why the coffee. Annie gave me some sleeping pills, but I can't bring myself to take them. What if there's a fire, or someone... well, you know what I mean."
Richard winced. Unfortunately, he thought he did know what she meant. "Look, Caroline..."
"Richard, you've done so much for me already," Caroline sighed. "I can deal with this. Just go home, have a good night's sleep. You deserve it."
He looked at her with a faint hint of irritation on his face. "You didn't let me finish. I was going to say, it's one in the morning anyway. If you have some extra blankets, and you think it might help you sleep easier, I'll just stay down here on your couch."
"Oh, Richard, I--"
"Or, I could sleep outside the door, and bark loudly if someone tries to come in," he interrupted dryly. She chuckled despite herself.
"Would it help?" he repeated seriously.
"You wouldn't mind?"
He exhaled a long-suffering sigh. "Caroline, I offered, remember?"
She held his eyes for a moment. "All right, I'll get you some covers and a pillow."
Richard watched her scamper up the stairs, then closed his eyes and hit himself in the face with a pillow from the couch. "What am I doing," he moaned to himself and Salty, who watched him from her place on a plush chair. He made a face at the cat. "Easy enough for you to judge. You're spayed."
Caroline's footsteps pattered down the stairs again. "What was that, Richard?" She could hardly see over the mound of bedding she was holding, and the artist rushed to grab it from her before she tripped over anything.
"Oh, nothing. Hey, it's not this cold in here," Richard protested, counting four blankets as he set them on the couch.
"You'd be surprised. I turn the heat down at night. It usually lets me sleep better," the red-haired cartoonist assured him, fluffing the pillow she'd brought. "Are you sure about this?"
No, he told her silently. But that's because I'm a fool. "Yes, Caroline. Stop worrying about me. Unless you want to pay me for this...?" She grinned at him. "Didn't think so. Go upstairs, sleep well. I'll be down here if you need anything."
"Thank you Richard," she whispered.
He looked around as she moved to the stairs. "You won't mind if I turn on the television, will you? I'm a night owl, and I think I might sit up and work on some sketches for a little bit."
"No, I don't think it'll bother me. If it does, I'll tell you," Caroline promised, her voice light. She vanished up the stairs.
"Oh, and Caroline?"
"What, Richard?" Her head popped back into view.
He glanced up at her, settling in on the couch with a sketchpad and pencils. "I don't know if anyone told you...you looked stunning tonight. I thought you should know." His face was unnaturally still, shuttered.
Caroline stared at him for a long moment, a warm feeling creeping into her chest. A little smile grew on her face. "Goodnight, Richard," she whispered, and tucked herself into bed with the smile still on her lips.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A strangled cry woke Richard out of a sound sleep. He sat up and scrabbled around for his glasses in a panic. Finally discovering them under the sketchpad, he vaulted over the end of the couch and up the stairs to Caroline's bedroom, looking around wildly.
The blinds let only a small amount of watery moonlight in, slashing across the rumpled-- and empty-- sheets of Caroline's bed. He squinted, trying to adjust his eyes to the darker areas of the room, and cautiously walked further in. Another gasping cry led him to the foot of the bed, and he slid to his knees, peering into the shadow. A huddled form lay there, breathing in terrified gasps. "Caroline?" he called with a sinking heart, afraid to touch her and frighten her more.
The figure froze, then drew in a shuddering breath. "Richard? I'm so sorry; I woke you up again... I just don't know what's happening to me," she finished with a wrenching sob. He reached unthinkingly out to her and pulled her to his chest as she dissolved into tears again.
To his dismay, she was not wearing very much. He couldn't very well pull away, however, so he rocked her shaking body gently and tried not to think about it. Instead, he worried about the fact that she had been sleepwalking and ended up on the floor very near the area where she had presumably been hurt before. He suddenly felt very paternal and quite angry.
Caroline's crying eased finally, and she pushed herself away, eyes downcast. "I'm really sorry. I don't know what happened," she muttered, sniffling slightly.
Richard was suddenly reminded of what he was trying not to be reminded of. "Ah-- Caroline... could you put on a bathrobe, or climb back under the covers, or something..." Even the moonlight did little to wash out his blush, as he intently studied the ceiling.
She looked down at herself in embarrassed realization. "Oh, my gosh. I'm sorry, Richard--"
He kept his eyes averted, but she could see the exasperated expression. "Stop with the apologizing, already. It's not your fault you were sleepwalking."
She scrambled to her feet and pulled on a robe. "Okay, I'm dressed. You can stop looking at the ceiling now." Sitting tiredly on the end of the bed, she wiped at her eyes.
Richard sat beside her. "So, how long has this sort of thing been happening?"
"Ever since I got back," she said faintly. "At first I tried to get myself so tired that I had to fall asleep, but then the dreams were worse, because I was so afraid that I wouldn't wake up if something happened. And I've tried lots of things to keep myself from being afraid, but they just don't seem to work." She trailed off, suddenly choking back tears again. "I can't believe this happened to me."
"I can't either," the artist muttered softly. She leaned up against his chest, shaking again. Unhappily, he stroked her hair and rubbed her back soothingly until she calmed again. "Well, I was hoping that having a guard in the front room would help you, but I can see this calls for more drastic measures." His tone became deceptively light, and she curiously turned to look into his face. "Get yourself a blanket and pillow, and come on downstairs in a minute," he told her briskly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When she finally straggled down the stairs, a wonderful smell made her eyes widen. "Richard, what did you do?"
He was standing by the stove, stirring something in a pan. "Put your stuff on the couch, Caroline," he ordered. "And find something silly to watch on T.V.... it shouldn't be too hard, at this time of night."
She followed her assistant's directions, bemused. "But, Richard, what are you doing?"
He turned and carefully walked to her side, holding a mug and the sugar bowl. "Here. It's real cocoa. You know, the hard way? With milk, and sugar 'to taste'." A slight smile was on his face.
"Wow, you didn't even scald it," Caroline chuckled, amazed. She took several spoonfuls of sugar.
The smile widened. "You want me to leave the bowl?"
Caroline's mouth dropped open, and her lips quirked. "Well, it is my bowl..."
Richard snorted in amusement. "True. Can I have some too, though?" He rose to get his mug.
"Oh, I suppose so," she replied casually. "But only because you've been so nice lately." He shook his head wryly at her as he returned to her side and sat cross-legged on his blankets, which were on the floor.
"Now. This is what I propose we do," he stated matter-of-factly, spooning sugar into his cup. "We curl up in our blankets, drink our cocoa, watch insanely stupid early morning television shows, and make fun of them until we both fall asleep. Sound good?"
Caroline laughed. "Why are you doing this, Richard? It sounds fine to me, but it doesn't sound like something you would do."
"Hey." He looked up at her from his place on the floor with an offended air that was completely spurious. "Let that be a lesson to you... never assume you know what someone will do." When her look of disbelief intensified, he relented. "All right, I learned it from some friends in college. Satisfied?" She raised her cup and an eyebrow to him, a gesture that he returned before turning and making an impossibly sarcastic comment about her program choice.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Her head rested lightly on his shoulder, her arm curved over his chest as she snuggled closer against the chill in the air. Sleepily, Richard gathered the warmth to him, in his dream caressing her smooth shoulder, inhaling the citrus fragrance of her soft hair against his cheek. He felt a breath against his neck as she turned slightly in response. A familiar purr resounded in his ear.
His eyes flew open as he was startled into wakefulness. Salty gazed enigmatically down at him from her perch on the couch, purring loudly. Richard blinked at her fuzzily, with a nervous flutter beginning in his stomach. Something was definitely resting in the crook of his shoulder, and pressing closely to his right side. He turned his head slowly to see what he held in his arms if not the cat.
Looking down he saw an image from his dream. Caroline's short, red gold hair tickled his cheek. Her face was still and peaceful, as she slept without fear for the first time in a week. Richard watched her for a moment, then closed his eyes, hoping that the moment might last.
The arm tightened across his chest as she burrowed under the covers with a small sigh. Her hand stroked his arm gently, but the motion stopped abruptly. Richard lay quietly, trying to appear asleep as he felt her weight shift.
Caroline awoke from her comfortable sleep a little surprised to find herself cradled in her assistant's arms. For that matter, she couldn't remember exactly how she'd gotten from the couch to the floor in the first place. After a brief moment of worrying about whether or not she might have rolled off of the couch and fallen on top of Richard, she dismissed the thought—even he, in his current "thoughtful" state, wouldn't have been able to avoid yelping if he'd been jabbed with her sharp elbows.
She turned, as carefully as possible, to look at Richard. He looked like he was sleeping, but even in sleep his expression was faintly worried. She wondered what he might dream about that would make him uptight even in his sleep. Paintings chasing him around the city? Charlie on his rollerskates, loose in a room full of masterpieces? Maybe even—having to act as Salty's personal assistant? She couldn't help but giggle at that thought.
Richard's eyes flew open. Several emotions swept across his features, among them embarrassment and guilt. "Ah--"
Surprise, Caroline noted, was definitely NOT among the expressions he displayed. "You were awake," she accused mildly, smiling.
"Ah…" the artist mumbled again, avoiding her eyes. Or, rather, he attempted to avoid her eyes. It was somewhat difficult when he was partially pinned under Caroline's arm and chest. He made a valiant effort to pull his thoughts together for an explanation of some sort. "Caroline, I—um—I'm sorry. I don't know how this happened--"
She interrupted him with a sigh of relief. "Oh, good!"
"What?" Richard blinked.
"Good, because I thought that I might have rolled off the couch on top of you, and I was worried that it might have hurt," she explained innocently.
Richard felt a little flutter in his stomach at the idea of her having fallen on top of him in any way, and quickly visualized a net, with which he proceeded to beat the butterflies mercilessly down. "I think I probably would have remembered that," he muttered in a fair imitation of his normal pained tone.
Caroline giggled again, her grey eyes sparkling, and rolled away from him so that he could get up if he so desired. He remembered that he hadn't heard such a lighthearted laugh from his cherished friend for quite some time now. It was good to hear again.
Scrubbing at his face to jolt himself back into reality, he rolled to his side and groped blindly for his glasses. They'd disappeared somewhere under the coffee table, if he recalled correctly.
"They're on the table, Richard," Caroline interrupted his search with a matter-of-fact tone.
Sheepishly, he reached up and found the wire frames. The familiar pinch as they settled into place on the bridge of his nose made him feel slightly more comfortable. Plus, now he could see. He glanced over at Caroline with a raised eyebrow. "Thanks."
"No problem," she replied, smiling slightly.
He cleared his throat. "Well, you're feeling better then, I presume?"
Caroline gazed at him with a serious sort of look that made his heart beat faster. "I really need to thank you, Richard," she responded quietly. "I mean, everything you've done for me so far, since—well, you know," she faltered. "It's not something I really expected."
Richard's face went bleak when she skirted around her experience. "None of this was expected," he said darkly.
Naturally, Caroline was having none of his dour moods, though. She swatted his chest lightly and glared at him. "Obviously, but that's not my point. I know you hate it when I make a fuss over you, but bear with me for a second."
"I don't hate it when you make a fuss over me." The comment slipped out before he could stop it.
She appeared not to notice his little slip. "Anyway, I want you to know that I appreciate all you've done. If I can ever do anything for you…"
This was really too much, Richard thought, feeling his cheeks beginning to flush. "You're welcome," he said gruffly.
"Is this making you uncomfortable?" Caroline was still watching him intently.
"What—this conversation or the position we're in while having this conversation?"
She shrugged. "Either. Both. Are you?"
"Am I what?"
"Uncomfortable."
"Oh."
Silence fell for a long moment while Richard seemed to be considering his answer. In reality, he was berating himself soundly for not getting up earlier, reminding himself that it was his moment of weakness that had gotten him into this conversation in the first place. He was so intent upon the idea that he didn't even notice the impish look that crept onto Caroline's face until it was too late.
"Hey!" Richard jerked backward and hit his head on the edge of the coffee table.
"What?"
"You tickled me!"
"So?"
Such a grin, he thought bitterly, had to be illegal in some states. "Well, if I wasn't uncomfortable before, I certainly am now," he grumbled, rubbing the back of his head.
"Awww…." Caroline's repentant expression was marred by the smirk that kept creeping onto her lips. "Why?"
"My head hurts, for one," the artist complained, with a suspicion that she wasn't asking about the lump on his head but rather something else that he wasn't quite prepared to talk about yet. He glanced at her, with her coppery, tousled hair glowing in the morning sunlight, and swallowed hard. She was so perfect, her joy and contentment in life the ultimate antidote for his habits of gloom and cynicism… If he had experienced a trauma as deep as what she had suffered so recently, he wasn't at all sure he would have survived it. And she was thanking him for his help?
"What are you staring at, Richard? Don't tell me you hit your head so hard it's caused permanent damage." Her expression was a combination of mirth and concern.
It suddenly struck him, less painfully than the coffee table had, but just as startling. Was she actually encouraging him to say something more? Were the things that Annie had mentioned to him the previous evening true?
Caroline's grey eyes followed his expressions closely, a faint worried line appearing between her eyebrows. "Richard? Are you okay? I mean… you didn't really hurt yourself, did you?" She reached out to touch his hair tentatively.
The rattle at the door caused them both to freeze.
"Caroline! You awake yet?" Annie burst through the front door in her morning coffee-hunting state, groggy and half-dressed. She stopped abruptly to stare at the astonishing sight of her best friend camped out on the floor in front of the television in an incriminating position with the man she considered her favorite scratching-post... The blank look on the dancer's face turned slowly to sadistic glee. "Geez, Caroline, did the bed get boring already?"
Caroline turned bright pink. "Annie!" she yelped. "Don't you ever knock?"
"Not that I remember," Annie grinned widely. "Sorry." She looked down at Richard, who was almost as pink as Caroline, but appeared to be trying to smother himself with a pillow. "But I've got to say—it's about damn time. I'll just.. let myself out, shall I?" She smirked at them both and sauntered back out the door.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To be continued…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Note: My deepest apologies for the long delay in posting more to this fic... life does intrude at the most awkward times (darn that Murphy, anyway). I hope this whets your appetite, and please forgive me for not being able to complete the story in this chapter! Nine is a good number for me, though… ;) ~~Arallion