Broken
Chapter Seven
By Karisma
Rated: PG-13
Genre: Alt, Romance
Karisma456@hotmail.com
Standard Disclaimers Apply
April 2002
This was not happening, Serena thought calmly. It simply could not, would not happen. Life had already thrown her a truckload of manure with no return address; this had to be where fate or kismet or destiny or God drew the line.
"What?"
Darien sighed and took her upper arms in his hands, pulling her to sit down. She wretched herself away from him before he could move her one step.
"What?" She repeated, her jaw clenched as she stared up at him.
She was actually going to make him say it, he realized. He obliged her grimly, his tone reluctant and full of anger. "His son, Ajay."
"He's a rapist." Serena clung onto the hope that maybe Darien was referring to someone else's rape that Ajay had caused. But as she looked into his eyes, the compassion and underlying emotion there was undeniably for her. "Who did he rape?" She asked stubbornly.
"Serena…" He began, not wanting her to hear the words, the cruel, blunt words that she had lived with for the past seven years.
Her voice was angry and demanding. "Who, Darien? Who did he rape!?" It was a yell more than a question and her hands were clenched tightly at her sides, her knuckles white.
"Raye," he answered softly. "Raye."
She gave a half cry half whimper and her fist flew to cover her mouth. Tears welled up in her eyes as her body shook with unshed sobs. "Oh, God," she whispered hoarsely.
Darien pulled her to him in a tight hug and she went willingly for a few moments, savoring the feeling of being comforted. A luxury that she never allowed herself. Why? Because, the answer dawned upon her coldly, you never deserved it. And nothing has changed, you still don't.
She pushed away from him and clasped her hand to her forehead, staring down at the lush carpet in frenetic thought. "Did you give him a specific reason why?"
Darien stumbled across the quick change in topic. "No."
She seemed visibly relieved as her shoulders drooped down a bit. A new question gnawed at her and without a moment's hesitation, she voiced it, "How did you find out?"
A dark blush swept across his high cheekbones as he looked away. And in one instant, it was all clear. But, as ignorance was bliss, she still clung unto the hope that he had come across it by entirely different, guileless means. Turning swiftly on her heel, she ran out of the building, ignoring Darien's commands to come back, and straight to her apartment. People shot her strange looks on the sidewalk, moving away from the apparently deranged woman. She was oblivious to it all and as she stumbled with the key, she prayed of Darien's innocence.
She flung open the door to her bedroom, the wood crashing into the wall as she flew in and sank into the carpet on her knees near the wicker basket. A flood of new tears waved over her as she dropped her head against the bed and mourned what the loss of the envelope represented.
It meant the loss of Darien, the loss of trust, the loss of her carefully kept guard.
And these losses meant so much to her. Because somewhere along the line of friendship and passion and laughter, she had fallen in love with him.
****
Seeing as how she would never see him again, the shock of having him know should not have hit her so hard. But maybe it was the blow of never seeing him again that hurt her. It would be rather funny, if it weren't so tragic. Here she had been fighting tooth and nail his advances, and now she wanted nothing more than to kiss him, to hug him, to have him hold her.
She cried for the first time in seven years and it was an odd action. Tears ran down her cheeks as she held a pillow close to her breast.
It was raining.
She could hear the heavy drops hit the roof above her, feel the coldness seep into soul and stay. It seemed, she thought with a bitter smile, that all her tragedies seemed to have their finales with rain. Supposedly cleansing, spiritual rain.
She didn't feel cleansed, she felt exactly as torn and broken as she had that day when she was left lying in the mud with only a faint hope of Raye's survival. She felt just as lost and despondent as that day. Only now it was somehow much worse. Because it proved how she would never be able to escape it like Raye had. She would never be able to have a normal relationship. She didn't deserve it. Fate had made sure of it.
She slowly pushed the pillow aside and got up. Wiping her eyes blindly, she reached for a pencil and a pad of paper. She then began to do something she hadn't done in over a year.
She began to draw.
****
Darien arrived the following morning.
She had expected him, so it wasn't too great of a shock to see him in her hallway, his size making the doorway and her apartment seem miniscule. She stepped back and allowed him access to the living room. After her eyes hurt from the copious tears they secreted, rationale had blessed her with its presence. Darien would never give this up without a fight or a full blown explanation. Maybe both. And so she had spent the rest of her waking hours mentally preparing herself for the conversation that would drain all of her remaining energy.
No words were exchanged as he stood in the center of the room, unsure of where to go. She made a silent gesture for him to sit down and he complied.
She looked like she had been to hell and back, he noted grimly, taking in her puffed eyes and raw nose. Her usually lustrous hair was let loose in a dull cloud that framed her sunken face. Her pallor frightened him to a degree, he had the urge to shake her to ascertain that she was still alive and with him. But then she moved, clearing her throat softly.
"What did you come for, Darien?" He looked at her so baldly, she could not keep his gaze and turned away to focus on a lamp fixture. "I can't work for you anymore," she said superfluously, her voice surprisingly calm and unwavering.
"Shocker," he replied dryly and Serena turned around swiftly, glaring at him with enough reproof to hold back an army.
"You'll pardon me if I don't find that amusing," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest in a movement that screamed defense mechanism.
"Good. I don't find it amusing either." He stood up and Serena wished he hadn't. Now, with his more than average height and build, Darien was suddenly in control of everything. The room, the conversation, the entire situation.
She stumbled back a few steps and chafed her arms, more out of fear than cold. Even though she knew the reason for his being here, it still wasn't clear what he hoped to gain out of his visit. Surely he didn't expect her to come crying to him in a blubbering heap, wailing all the woes life had dealt her?
"What did you come for, Darien?" She repeated, forcing herself to meet his hard gaze and hold it, not portraying any of the turmoil inside her.
He sighed and ran all ten fingers through his already rumpled black hair. He still hadn't removed his long, black overcoat and Serena dumbly acknowledged that it must have still been raining, judging from the beads of condensation on his coat and hair.
"I don't know why I'm here, Serena. I really don't." He turned his back to her, rubbing his face in agitation. "I want you to talk to me"—he faced her to shoot her a rueful smile—"but that isn't likely, now is it?"
Her blue eyes flicking away from him was answer enough. But the silent verification only served to heighten his frustration as he crossing the room in two quick strides and grabbed hold of her arms.
"Why in God's name don't you talk to me!" He gave her a quick shake before releasing her and distancing himself.
Serena's mind was blank as she crossed her arms over her stomach tightly, reassuring herself she was okay and Darien meant no physical harm to her. Emotional, definetly. But somehow, a feeling in her gut told her he wouldn't hurt her physically for all the world. After a few seconds, she lifted her empty gaze to look at his fiercely pained face.
"What are you going to do about it?"
"It?" Serena blinked a few times.
"About what happened, Serena." His voice was now surprisingly gentle.
She laughed dryly. "What am I going to do about it, Darien?" Tears pricked her eyes as she let out another bitter chuckle. "I am going to do what I should have done two years ago: I'm going to let it go."
"So that's it then? You're just going to give, quit fighting and let them win?" He wasn't talking about any court battle, but Serena mistakenly thought he was referring to justice.
"Fight? Fight? Let me tell you about fighting, Darien. Fighting is standing in front of a judge while he tells you its your fault your sister was raped right in front of you. Fighting is having to watch your sister go through a painful pelvic exam to get the proof needed, only to have it "lost". Fighting is walking out of a courtroom with your head held high to tell every lawyer who will listen about the crimes a rich boy has done. Fighting is listening to the rejections from those same attorneys, day after day, saying they can't lodge a complaint since the evidence is circumstantial. Fighting is watching your mother realize what happened to your sister and crying. Fighting is having to retell that day over and over again, in all its humiliation, in the dismal hope that maybe this time it will bring justice.
"I've fought this seven years, Darien. You've "fought" for seven hours. Well, I'm sick of fighting. I'm tired, Darien. I'm tired. Go through that fight, walk that fight with me, and maybe, just maybe, you can sit there and tell me I haven't done enough. But until then, Darien, don't.
"And even if you wanted to, you couldn't. Statute of limitation, Darien. Rape crimes such as these can only last as cases for five years. Then files are put away and everything is dismissed. It's over." She rasped out one harsh breath and then fell back against her sofa, emotion and strain causing her chest to heave with labored gasps. Serena kept her eyes closed as hot tears trickled out of the tightly closed lids.
She didn't want to cry in front of anyone. Especially not him.
Darien watched as she curled herself forward, hugging her knees to her chest and slightly rocking back and forth. He heard her whisper, "It's over," and knew it was more for her sake than his. However the legal system worked, Darien knew it wasn't over. Nor would it ever be until she learned to forgive herself and shake off the demons that plagued her. He swallowed hard and stared at a point above her head. Darien clenched his jaw and walked over to the door, his strides taut. He opened the door, clutching the knob so hard he thought it would crumble. He didn't look back as he said over his shoulder, "Pack a suitcase and a carry-on. We're taking a trip."
Serena lifted her tear-streaked face in surprise.
But he was gone.
The question where was superfluous; he wanted her to go to India.
****
He slipped through the door a few hours later, not at all surprised to find the door unlocked and Serena collapsed in an exhausted sleep where he had left her a while back. Her form was still and exhausted in slumber, so he was surprised when she caught his wrist as he walked past the sofa. Her grip was strong and desperate. Darien looked down at her closed eyes.
"I can't go. Please don't ask me again." She then let his hand go as if it was too hot to touch.
Darien stared at her face. Unsure of where to go from there. Never in his years of higher education had he been trained how to deal with this. Never in all the deals he had negotiated, all the mergers he had formed, all the communication systems he had forced on countries, whether they really wanted them or not never taught him how to comfort and soothe in a situation like this.
He ran a hand through his hair and then pulled it down his face, distorting his features. Two months ago, had he been handed this exact same ordeal with the woman he was then currently seeing, he would have hightailed it out of there, after making sure she had the proper doctors attending to her. And then, after a week or so, he would have sent her a gift in the form of jewelry, to ease the misfortunes she had been dealt. It was his way, his tact, his lack of empathy.
But now, he knew that no amount of money and presents could ever take away the heart wrenching emotions Serena, and probably any another woman in her condition, was feeling. No, no other woman would take the guilt and responsibility Serena had burdened herself with. No professional, regardless of how many degrees he had obtained, would relieve the culpability she tormented herself with.
Only Serena could free herself, and she was the one who believed she deserved a life of unhappiness and solitude. The thought of her forcing herself to live miserably made his throat tighten and his next words sound harsher than he had intended.
"You're going."
Her head lifted up and his heart constricted at the sight of her tear stained face imploring him to understand. "I can't." Her body was trembling, but the words were clearer and more powerful than anything he had ever heard. Serena's bloodless lips pursed together as she continued the war he had engaged with his eyes. Her crystalline blue ones filled with more tears, but they never wavered from his own. But, in the end, she was the one to look away first.
Darien stroked her cheek lovingly and nearly cried with joy when she didn't recoil, but turned to him. His euphoria was short-lived, as her words softly hit home. "You went behind my back when I was vulnerable and took something that was no business of yours. You then opened my mail, which a federal offense in itself, on top of qualifying as a damn good reason to never trust you again.
"If I had wanted you to know, don't you think I would have told you?" Serena's delicate eyebrows creased slightly as she expressed her disappointment. "Did you maybe realize that I would tell you when I was good and ready? Did you stop and think that perhaps I wasn't prepared to inform you about that part of my life yet? Or did you simply just bulldoze on through, like you do with everything? I'm not a business transaction, Darien. You could have respected my wishes and waited until I—"
She broke off and bit her lip, looking away from his impassive face. Swallowing hard, she turned to him again, taking in his seemingly placid face with a bitter laugh. "And after all that, you don't even really care, do you? All you want is to be a knight in shining armor and save the victim. And then what? You leave in search for another waif?" Another laugh, punctuated by a sniff. "NO, thank you, Darien. I'm not interesting in being the charity case of the month—or is it week?" Wiping her face free of fresh tears, she giggled. "Do you think you could write me off as a tax deduction?"
She had not noticed his jaw twitch imperceptibly throughout her babbling tirade. But at her last attempt at a wise crack, he moved. It was a motion too fluid and fast for a human eye to track. Before she knew, Darien's hands were confining her face with barely concealed strength. He brought her trapped face so close to his, Serena could feel the heat emanated from him.
"Don't," he hissed, his magnetic blue eyes now shards of ice that nearly made her shiver. "Don't ever make a joke of it, Serena."
She didn't fight his force over her, Serena knew it would be futile. But she continued to use her voice as a weapon. "Give me one good reason why I should go with you…other than your newfound sense of goodwill toward mankind."
His eyes narrowed a sliver at her last barb, but he answered straightforwardly. "I don't want you to hurt anymore."
Serena's eyes widened and her lips parted in disbelief. She tore herself away from his now tender hold. "Well, guess what? It hurt me when you betrayed me by taking something that was private. It hurt me when you went behind my back. So please spare me your bull."
He pinched the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb, as if praying for patience. She got up and moved to the printed armchair, the furniture that happened to be the one furthest away from him.
"I want to help you, Serena."
"Why?"
"Because—"
Because it kills me to watch you cry.
Because I want you so bad it hurts to look at you.
Because I need you so much it scares me.
Because I love you.
He said none of these replies, however, so surprised with the thoughts that tumbled nearly over one another. Blinking hard, he swallowed and averted his eyes from her suddenly penetrating ones. Clearing his throat to stall, he finally decided on something to tell her. "Because I care about you."
Did she look vaguely disappointed or was he simply imagining it? In any case, she hugged the satin throw pillow closer to her chest and looked down so a curtain of golden hair shielded her expression from him. She stayed that way for quite some time. Then, in one burst of action, she lifted her head up and glared at him.
"Get out."
Darien would have tripped had he had been standing up. The succinct words and calm expression had a shocking impact on him. "What?"
"Is there something wrong with your hearing?"
"You know there isn't."
"Then I don't think I need to repeat myself, but allow me to regardless: Get out." When he made to move to leave, Serena opted to continue. "Didn't I just tell you? I don't need your pity. Give it to the Save the Whales Foundation. I'm not some little bird that you can consider your pet project and then pat away as good as new once you grow weary of the responsibility.
"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, I have for years now. And I was managing fine before you decided to meddle. So take your high and mighty twelve steps to total recovery and get the hell out of my apartment!"
Darien glared at her for quite sometime, his blue eyes clashing with hers with enough electricity to light up a small town for days. When he spoke, his voice was low. "All right, I do feel compassion. But perhaps it is not for you, did you ever consider that possibility? Perhaps it is for the misfortunate people that have had to put up with your sour disposition for the past seven years!"
"Do you ever get tired of being such a bastard?"
"No, it's what I live for."
"If I go, will you leave me be after we get back?"
"If you want me to."
"I do, believe me. I do."
"Liar." He smiled fondly and stroked her cheek. "Our flight leaves at one a.m." He chuckled at her aghast expression. "I know. But lets get your bag packed."
"How long will we be there?"
"As long as it takes."
****
Darien leaned against the slightly comfortable chair in business class. When it squeaked lightly in protest to the movement, he shot a glance at the sleeping woman besides him, making sure she had not woken. If someone asked him what he was hoping to accomplish with all this fanfare and hubbub, he wouldn't be able to give a coherent reply. He wasn't the least bit equipped in handling matters of this delicacy.
He sure did not know what he was doing, but he was certain on the why part of the equation. Instinctively, he turned to look down at her tilted head again. Her head was resting on a pillow propped against the closed shield of the window. Strands of blonde hair fell around her smooth cheek and parted lips.
He loved her.
Darien watched as she stirred and blinked sleepily. He smiled in return when she offered him a soft one.
"How many more hours?" Her voice was husky and low, clogged with sleep. Its deep tone was enough to send blood pumping.
He lowered his head to check his watch in the dark cabin. "Three."
"Good God." She let her head fall back, exposing the fair skin of her throat. "I'd forgotten how hellish the trip can be." She lolled her head to look over at him. "Did you sleep?"
"Some." All of a sudden it was incredibly hard to keep the policy he had instated while she slept. The hands-off policy. He had decided to keep his romantic intentions at bay for the duration of their trip. Not only was it better for Serena to sort through her emotions without the pressures of a relationship near, it was time for him to sift through the conflicting sensations that ran inside him. It was prudent. Pragmatic. Sagacious.
He saw her stretch her legs in front of her, conforming the white turtleneck tighter against her body as she arched her back.
It was suicide.
****
There was a multitude of surprised hugs and kisses as Serena entered the threshold of the Khan's home. Darien somewhat felt like an interloper at first, standing with the baggage and staring at the effusive reunion with as much involvement as oil had with water. Soon enough, the family noticed the stranger their guest had brought. Darien, for the first time he could recall, felt awkward. Serena, noticing his discomfort with her usual perceptiveness, put a small hand over his arm and introduced him as a close friend.
The Khan's shared a knowing look that portrayed that they knew what the euphemism "close friend" entailed, but were to polite to share it verbally. Serena blushed, but Darien seized the situation with his usual aplomb. Kissing her hand and then leaving it ensconced in his own, he smiled cheerily and stated how glad he was that they had decided to take the trip over here, regardless of how lacking he felt in the hygiene department.
That successfully broke the tension as everyone laughed and suddenly Serena and Darien were shooed away into separate bathrooms to bathe.
When they each came out, everyone joined together in the family room and lively discussions about movies and anything under the sun soon erupted. The rambunctious structure of the family did nothing to turn Darien off. He thoroughly enjoyed the dismayed groans that ensued when someone brought up an opinion that nobody agreed with, the laughing when someone made a comment that was humorous, the entire feel that this was a family and he wasn't an outsider. The unspoken agreement was that everyone spoke English.
Darien sat on a flat couch surface with Serena, his back against the wall, and his legs stretched in front of him, he leaned against the circular stuffed pillow behind him. Serena lounged beside him, voicing her opinions with as much enthusiasm as the rest of the family with more livelihood then he had ever seen.
Although he was more than able to follow the conversation, his eyes continuously wandered to watching Serena bob her head and smile in agreement or wrinkle her nose in disgust and quickly refute whatever had been said. He loved her smile. This was the first time he had really seen its affect. She had a dimple in her cheek, it was small but Darien marveled at how it emphasized the glow of her face.
Some time later he was aware of another pair of eyes on him. The young woman who had introduced herself as Neha was staring at him knowingly. A smirk quirked the corner of her lips as she arched a brow at him. She shifted her gaze over to Serena for a millisecond before pointedly returning to him. For the first time he could remember, Darien flushed. Neha's mouth turned fully into a smile as she winked at him.
And suddenly, he knew he had an ally.
****
"Tie me?" Serena walked over to Megan and gave the already dressed woman her back.
Megan's warm fingers brushed Serena's almost bare back to deftly tie the four ties that consisted of the top's back. When she was done, Serena stood in front of the mirror, a hand instinctively going to the waistband of the long, flowing skirt that made up the rest of the assemble. She tugged it up, trying to cover up as much skin as possible.
Megan shoved her fidgety hands away, firmly pulling the band down to reveal her flat stomach. "You know that's the way it's supposed to look."
Serena sighed, shifting her body to and fro to make the beautiful layers of her skirt swish back and forth. The red material was deep and dark, a wine color rather than a blaring red. The gold embroidery on the square neckline and short sleeves accented the small dots of gold scattered throughout the heavy layers of her skirt.
"I know. It's just that I never realized that India could be so… skanky." Megan's brow creased at the foreign word and Serena laughed. "So revealing."
"Ah," Megan smirked. "How else do you think we got such a great population?"
Serena laughed as she walked to the bed, admiring the way the skirt moved around her. She felt elegant. Picking up the matching burgundy duppatta, she deftly folded and tucked it in all the right places, letting the sheer material cover her upper body in a diagonal before pinning it over the tight bun she had pulled her hair into. The rest of the gauzy strip flowed behind her as she turned around to look at Megan.
Her friend was dressed in a similar fashion, only Megan's peacock blue gown had her duppatta around her neck, with the two remaining ends left loose behind her. Megan had something that made her entire outfit complete. She had the tinted skin, the dark hair and large eyes that the entire line of Indian dresses was made for. But, Serena had to admit, she didn't look half bad.
She couldn't wait to see his face when he caught a glimpse of her.
She frowned, what did he have to do with this? He had brought, no dragged, her here. And although she was beginning to be quite happy he had, it most certainly did not mean that she was romantically inclined toward him.
Serena gave her reflection a stern nod, as if to cement the lecture she had given herself. Then, slipping into a pair of gold sandals, she lifted up her long skirt with one hand and walked out the door, Megan by her side.
"Oh, rukhna!" Megan rushed back into the room they had just evacuated. Serena understood the request to stop and wait so she idly rubbed the material of her skirt between her thumb and forefinger. When Megan came back, Serena could see the small sticker on her friend's index finger.
She bent her head obligingly and allowed Megan to carefully place the burgundy bindi on her forehead. Serena glanced at a mirror; Megan's last touch was truly was beautiful, perfectly slender and shaped in the form of a teardrop.
Serena sucked in a deep breath, suddenly nervous. All right, she could admit to herself at least, if no one else. She wanted Darien's approval. She wanted that grin that let her know he thought she was the most gorgeous thing to ever walk the earth. She wanted it so badly, she could already feel the pain of not receiving it. She could hear his voice in the next room, deep and soothing in low timbers.
She reveled in it. Then, she took another calming breath and walked in.
Chapter Seven
By Karisma
Rated: PG-13
Genre: Alt, Romance
Karisma456@hotmail.com
Standard Disclaimers Apply
April 2002
This was not happening, Serena thought calmly. It simply could not, would not happen. Life had already thrown her a truckload of manure with no return address; this had to be where fate or kismet or destiny or God drew the line.
"What?"
Darien sighed and took her upper arms in his hands, pulling her to sit down. She wretched herself away from him before he could move her one step.
"What?" She repeated, her jaw clenched as she stared up at him.
She was actually going to make him say it, he realized. He obliged her grimly, his tone reluctant and full of anger. "His son, Ajay."
"He's a rapist." Serena clung onto the hope that maybe Darien was referring to someone else's rape that Ajay had caused. But as she looked into his eyes, the compassion and underlying emotion there was undeniably for her. "Who did he rape?" She asked stubbornly.
"Serena…" He began, not wanting her to hear the words, the cruel, blunt words that she had lived with for the past seven years.
Her voice was angry and demanding. "Who, Darien? Who did he rape!?" It was a yell more than a question and her hands were clenched tightly at her sides, her knuckles white.
"Raye," he answered softly. "Raye."
She gave a half cry half whimper and her fist flew to cover her mouth. Tears welled up in her eyes as her body shook with unshed sobs. "Oh, God," she whispered hoarsely.
Darien pulled her to him in a tight hug and she went willingly for a few moments, savoring the feeling of being comforted. A luxury that she never allowed herself. Why? Because, the answer dawned upon her coldly, you never deserved it. And nothing has changed, you still don't.
She pushed away from him and clasped her hand to her forehead, staring down at the lush carpet in frenetic thought. "Did you give him a specific reason why?"
Darien stumbled across the quick change in topic. "No."
She seemed visibly relieved as her shoulders drooped down a bit. A new question gnawed at her and without a moment's hesitation, she voiced it, "How did you find out?"
A dark blush swept across his high cheekbones as he looked away. And in one instant, it was all clear. But, as ignorance was bliss, she still clung unto the hope that he had come across it by entirely different, guileless means. Turning swiftly on her heel, she ran out of the building, ignoring Darien's commands to come back, and straight to her apartment. People shot her strange looks on the sidewalk, moving away from the apparently deranged woman. She was oblivious to it all and as she stumbled with the key, she prayed of Darien's innocence.
She flung open the door to her bedroom, the wood crashing into the wall as she flew in and sank into the carpet on her knees near the wicker basket. A flood of new tears waved over her as she dropped her head against the bed and mourned what the loss of the envelope represented.
It meant the loss of Darien, the loss of trust, the loss of her carefully kept guard.
And these losses meant so much to her. Because somewhere along the line of friendship and passion and laughter, she had fallen in love with him.
****
Seeing as how she would never see him again, the shock of having him know should not have hit her so hard. But maybe it was the blow of never seeing him again that hurt her. It would be rather funny, if it weren't so tragic. Here she had been fighting tooth and nail his advances, and now she wanted nothing more than to kiss him, to hug him, to have him hold her.
She cried for the first time in seven years and it was an odd action. Tears ran down her cheeks as she held a pillow close to her breast.
It was raining.
She could hear the heavy drops hit the roof above her, feel the coldness seep into soul and stay. It seemed, she thought with a bitter smile, that all her tragedies seemed to have their finales with rain. Supposedly cleansing, spiritual rain.
She didn't feel cleansed, she felt exactly as torn and broken as she had that day when she was left lying in the mud with only a faint hope of Raye's survival. She felt just as lost and despondent as that day. Only now it was somehow much worse. Because it proved how she would never be able to escape it like Raye had. She would never be able to have a normal relationship. She didn't deserve it. Fate had made sure of it.
She slowly pushed the pillow aside and got up. Wiping her eyes blindly, she reached for a pencil and a pad of paper. She then began to do something she hadn't done in over a year.
She began to draw.
****
Darien arrived the following morning.
She had expected him, so it wasn't too great of a shock to see him in her hallway, his size making the doorway and her apartment seem miniscule. She stepped back and allowed him access to the living room. After her eyes hurt from the copious tears they secreted, rationale had blessed her with its presence. Darien would never give this up without a fight or a full blown explanation. Maybe both. And so she had spent the rest of her waking hours mentally preparing herself for the conversation that would drain all of her remaining energy.
No words were exchanged as he stood in the center of the room, unsure of where to go. She made a silent gesture for him to sit down and he complied.
She looked like she had been to hell and back, he noted grimly, taking in her puffed eyes and raw nose. Her usually lustrous hair was let loose in a dull cloud that framed her sunken face. Her pallor frightened him to a degree, he had the urge to shake her to ascertain that she was still alive and with him. But then she moved, clearing her throat softly.
"What did you come for, Darien?" He looked at her so baldly, she could not keep his gaze and turned away to focus on a lamp fixture. "I can't work for you anymore," she said superfluously, her voice surprisingly calm and unwavering.
"Shocker," he replied dryly and Serena turned around swiftly, glaring at him with enough reproof to hold back an army.
"You'll pardon me if I don't find that amusing," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest in a movement that screamed defense mechanism.
"Good. I don't find it amusing either." He stood up and Serena wished he hadn't. Now, with his more than average height and build, Darien was suddenly in control of everything. The room, the conversation, the entire situation.
She stumbled back a few steps and chafed her arms, more out of fear than cold. Even though she knew the reason for his being here, it still wasn't clear what he hoped to gain out of his visit. Surely he didn't expect her to come crying to him in a blubbering heap, wailing all the woes life had dealt her?
"What did you come for, Darien?" She repeated, forcing herself to meet his hard gaze and hold it, not portraying any of the turmoil inside her.
He sighed and ran all ten fingers through his already rumpled black hair. He still hadn't removed his long, black overcoat and Serena dumbly acknowledged that it must have still been raining, judging from the beads of condensation on his coat and hair.
"I don't know why I'm here, Serena. I really don't." He turned his back to her, rubbing his face in agitation. "I want you to talk to me"—he faced her to shoot her a rueful smile—"but that isn't likely, now is it?"
Her blue eyes flicking away from him was answer enough. But the silent verification only served to heighten his frustration as he crossing the room in two quick strides and grabbed hold of her arms.
"Why in God's name don't you talk to me!" He gave her a quick shake before releasing her and distancing himself.
Serena's mind was blank as she crossed her arms over her stomach tightly, reassuring herself she was okay and Darien meant no physical harm to her. Emotional, definetly. But somehow, a feeling in her gut told her he wouldn't hurt her physically for all the world. After a few seconds, she lifted her empty gaze to look at his fiercely pained face.
"What are you going to do about it?"
"It?" Serena blinked a few times.
"About what happened, Serena." His voice was now surprisingly gentle.
She laughed dryly. "What am I going to do about it, Darien?" Tears pricked her eyes as she let out another bitter chuckle. "I am going to do what I should have done two years ago: I'm going to let it go."
"So that's it then? You're just going to give, quit fighting and let them win?" He wasn't talking about any court battle, but Serena mistakenly thought he was referring to justice.
"Fight? Fight? Let me tell you about fighting, Darien. Fighting is standing in front of a judge while he tells you its your fault your sister was raped right in front of you. Fighting is having to watch your sister go through a painful pelvic exam to get the proof needed, only to have it "lost". Fighting is walking out of a courtroom with your head held high to tell every lawyer who will listen about the crimes a rich boy has done. Fighting is listening to the rejections from those same attorneys, day after day, saying they can't lodge a complaint since the evidence is circumstantial. Fighting is watching your mother realize what happened to your sister and crying. Fighting is having to retell that day over and over again, in all its humiliation, in the dismal hope that maybe this time it will bring justice.
"I've fought this seven years, Darien. You've "fought" for seven hours. Well, I'm sick of fighting. I'm tired, Darien. I'm tired. Go through that fight, walk that fight with me, and maybe, just maybe, you can sit there and tell me I haven't done enough. But until then, Darien, don't.
"And even if you wanted to, you couldn't. Statute of limitation, Darien. Rape crimes such as these can only last as cases for five years. Then files are put away and everything is dismissed. It's over." She rasped out one harsh breath and then fell back against her sofa, emotion and strain causing her chest to heave with labored gasps. Serena kept her eyes closed as hot tears trickled out of the tightly closed lids.
She didn't want to cry in front of anyone. Especially not him.
Darien watched as she curled herself forward, hugging her knees to her chest and slightly rocking back and forth. He heard her whisper, "It's over," and knew it was more for her sake than his. However the legal system worked, Darien knew it wasn't over. Nor would it ever be until she learned to forgive herself and shake off the demons that plagued her. He swallowed hard and stared at a point above her head. Darien clenched his jaw and walked over to the door, his strides taut. He opened the door, clutching the knob so hard he thought it would crumble. He didn't look back as he said over his shoulder, "Pack a suitcase and a carry-on. We're taking a trip."
Serena lifted her tear-streaked face in surprise.
But he was gone.
The question where was superfluous; he wanted her to go to India.
****
He slipped through the door a few hours later, not at all surprised to find the door unlocked and Serena collapsed in an exhausted sleep where he had left her a while back. Her form was still and exhausted in slumber, so he was surprised when she caught his wrist as he walked past the sofa. Her grip was strong and desperate. Darien looked down at her closed eyes.
"I can't go. Please don't ask me again." She then let his hand go as if it was too hot to touch.
Darien stared at her face. Unsure of where to go from there. Never in his years of higher education had he been trained how to deal with this. Never in all the deals he had negotiated, all the mergers he had formed, all the communication systems he had forced on countries, whether they really wanted them or not never taught him how to comfort and soothe in a situation like this.
He ran a hand through his hair and then pulled it down his face, distorting his features. Two months ago, had he been handed this exact same ordeal with the woman he was then currently seeing, he would have hightailed it out of there, after making sure she had the proper doctors attending to her. And then, after a week or so, he would have sent her a gift in the form of jewelry, to ease the misfortunes she had been dealt. It was his way, his tact, his lack of empathy.
But now, he knew that no amount of money and presents could ever take away the heart wrenching emotions Serena, and probably any another woman in her condition, was feeling. No, no other woman would take the guilt and responsibility Serena had burdened herself with. No professional, regardless of how many degrees he had obtained, would relieve the culpability she tormented herself with.
Only Serena could free herself, and she was the one who believed she deserved a life of unhappiness and solitude. The thought of her forcing herself to live miserably made his throat tighten and his next words sound harsher than he had intended.
"You're going."
Her head lifted up and his heart constricted at the sight of her tear stained face imploring him to understand. "I can't." Her body was trembling, but the words were clearer and more powerful than anything he had ever heard. Serena's bloodless lips pursed together as she continued the war he had engaged with his eyes. Her crystalline blue ones filled with more tears, but they never wavered from his own. But, in the end, she was the one to look away first.
Darien stroked her cheek lovingly and nearly cried with joy when she didn't recoil, but turned to him. His euphoria was short-lived, as her words softly hit home. "You went behind my back when I was vulnerable and took something that was no business of yours. You then opened my mail, which a federal offense in itself, on top of qualifying as a damn good reason to never trust you again.
"If I had wanted you to know, don't you think I would have told you?" Serena's delicate eyebrows creased slightly as she expressed her disappointment. "Did you maybe realize that I would tell you when I was good and ready? Did you stop and think that perhaps I wasn't prepared to inform you about that part of my life yet? Or did you simply just bulldoze on through, like you do with everything? I'm not a business transaction, Darien. You could have respected my wishes and waited until I—"
She broke off and bit her lip, looking away from his impassive face. Swallowing hard, she turned to him again, taking in his seemingly placid face with a bitter laugh. "And after all that, you don't even really care, do you? All you want is to be a knight in shining armor and save the victim. And then what? You leave in search for another waif?" Another laugh, punctuated by a sniff. "NO, thank you, Darien. I'm not interesting in being the charity case of the month—or is it week?" Wiping her face free of fresh tears, she giggled. "Do you think you could write me off as a tax deduction?"
She had not noticed his jaw twitch imperceptibly throughout her babbling tirade. But at her last attempt at a wise crack, he moved. It was a motion too fluid and fast for a human eye to track. Before she knew, Darien's hands were confining her face with barely concealed strength. He brought her trapped face so close to his, Serena could feel the heat emanated from him.
"Don't," he hissed, his magnetic blue eyes now shards of ice that nearly made her shiver. "Don't ever make a joke of it, Serena."
She didn't fight his force over her, Serena knew it would be futile. But she continued to use her voice as a weapon. "Give me one good reason why I should go with you…other than your newfound sense of goodwill toward mankind."
His eyes narrowed a sliver at her last barb, but he answered straightforwardly. "I don't want you to hurt anymore."
Serena's eyes widened and her lips parted in disbelief. She tore herself away from his now tender hold. "Well, guess what? It hurt me when you betrayed me by taking something that was private. It hurt me when you went behind my back. So please spare me your bull."
He pinched the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb, as if praying for patience. She got up and moved to the printed armchair, the furniture that happened to be the one furthest away from him.
"I want to help you, Serena."
"Why?"
"Because—"
Because it kills me to watch you cry.
Because I want you so bad it hurts to look at you.
Because I need you so much it scares me.
Because I love you.
He said none of these replies, however, so surprised with the thoughts that tumbled nearly over one another. Blinking hard, he swallowed and averted his eyes from her suddenly penetrating ones. Clearing his throat to stall, he finally decided on something to tell her. "Because I care about you."
Did she look vaguely disappointed or was he simply imagining it? In any case, she hugged the satin throw pillow closer to her chest and looked down so a curtain of golden hair shielded her expression from him. She stayed that way for quite some time. Then, in one burst of action, she lifted her head up and glared at him.
"Get out."
Darien would have tripped had he had been standing up. The succinct words and calm expression had a shocking impact on him. "What?"
"Is there something wrong with your hearing?"
"You know there isn't."
"Then I don't think I need to repeat myself, but allow me to regardless: Get out." When he made to move to leave, Serena opted to continue. "Didn't I just tell you? I don't need your pity. Give it to the Save the Whales Foundation. I'm not some little bird that you can consider your pet project and then pat away as good as new once you grow weary of the responsibility.
"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, I have for years now. And I was managing fine before you decided to meddle. So take your high and mighty twelve steps to total recovery and get the hell out of my apartment!"
Darien glared at her for quite sometime, his blue eyes clashing with hers with enough electricity to light up a small town for days. When he spoke, his voice was low. "All right, I do feel compassion. But perhaps it is not for you, did you ever consider that possibility? Perhaps it is for the misfortunate people that have had to put up with your sour disposition for the past seven years!"
"Do you ever get tired of being such a bastard?"
"No, it's what I live for."
"If I go, will you leave me be after we get back?"
"If you want me to."
"I do, believe me. I do."
"Liar." He smiled fondly and stroked her cheek. "Our flight leaves at one a.m." He chuckled at her aghast expression. "I know. But lets get your bag packed."
"How long will we be there?"
"As long as it takes."
****
Darien leaned against the slightly comfortable chair in business class. When it squeaked lightly in protest to the movement, he shot a glance at the sleeping woman besides him, making sure she had not woken. If someone asked him what he was hoping to accomplish with all this fanfare and hubbub, he wouldn't be able to give a coherent reply. He wasn't the least bit equipped in handling matters of this delicacy.
He sure did not know what he was doing, but he was certain on the why part of the equation. Instinctively, he turned to look down at her tilted head again. Her head was resting on a pillow propped against the closed shield of the window. Strands of blonde hair fell around her smooth cheek and parted lips.
He loved her.
Darien watched as she stirred and blinked sleepily. He smiled in return when she offered him a soft one.
"How many more hours?" Her voice was husky and low, clogged with sleep. Its deep tone was enough to send blood pumping.
He lowered his head to check his watch in the dark cabin. "Three."
"Good God." She let her head fall back, exposing the fair skin of her throat. "I'd forgotten how hellish the trip can be." She lolled her head to look over at him. "Did you sleep?"
"Some." All of a sudden it was incredibly hard to keep the policy he had instated while she slept. The hands-off policy. He had decided to keep his romantic intentions at bay for the duration of their trip. Not only was it better for Serena to sort through her emotions without the pressures of a relationship near, it was time for him to sift through the conflicting sensations that ran inside him. It was prudent. Pragmatic. Sagacious.
He saw her stretch her legs in front of her, conforming the white turtleneck tighter against her body as she arched her back.
It was suicide.
****
There was a multitude of surprised hugs and kisses as Serena entered the threshold of the Khan's home. Darien somewhat felt like an interloper at first, standing with the baggage and staring at the effusive reunion with as much involvement as oil had with water. Soon enough, the family noticed the stranger their guest had brought. Darien, for the first time he could recall, felt awkward. Serena, noticing his discomfort with her usual perceptiveness, put a small hand over his arm and introduced him as a close friend.
The Khan's shared a knowing look that portrayed that they knew what the euphemism "close friend" entailed, but were to polite to share it verbally. Serena blushed, but Darien seized the situation with his usual aplomb. Kissing her hand and then leaving it ensconced in his own, he smiled cheerily and stated how glad he was that they had decided to take the trip over here, regardless of how lacking he felt in the hygiene department.
That successfully broke the tension as everyone laughed and suddenly Serena and Darien were shooed away into separate bathrooms to bathe.
When they each came out, everyone joined together in the family room and lively discussions about movies and anything under the sun soon erupted. The rambunctious structure of the family did nothing to turn Darien off. He thoroughly enjoyed the dismayed groans that ensued when someone brought up an opinion that nobody agreed with, the laughing when someone made a comment that was humorous, the entire feel that this was a family and he wasn't an outsider. The unspoken agreement was that everyone spoke English.
Darien sat on a flat couch surface with Serena, his back against the wall, and his legs stretched in front of him, he leaned against the circular stuffed pillow behind him. Serena lounged beside him, voicing her opinions with as much enthusiasm as the rest of the family with more livelihood then he had ever seen.
Although he was more than able to follow the conversation, his eyes continuously wandered to watching Serena bob her head and smile in agreement or wrinkle her nose in disgust and quickly refute whatever had been said. He loved her smile. This was the first time he had really seen its affect. She had a dimple in her cheek, it was small but Darien marveled at how it emphasized the glow of her face.
Some time later he was aware of another pair of eyes on him. The young woman who had introduced herself as Neha was staring at him knowingly. A smirk quirked the corner of her lips as she arched a brow at him. She shifted her gaze over to Serena for a millisecond before pointedly returning to him. For the first time he could remember, Darien flushed. Neha's mouth turned fully into a smile as she winked at him.
And suddenly, he knew he had an ally.
****
"Tie me?" Serena walked over to Megan and gave the already dressed woman her back.
Megan's warm fingers brushed Serena's almost bare back to deftly tie the four ties that consisted of the top's back. When she was done, Serena stood in front of the mirror, a hand instinctively going to the waistband of the long, flowing skirt that made up the rest of the assemble. She tugged it up, trying to cover up as much skin as possible.
Megan shoved her fidgety hands away, firmly pulling the band down to reveal her flat stomach. "You know that's the way it's supposed to look."
Serena sighed, shifting her body to and fro to make the beautiful layers of her skirt swish back and forth. The red material was deep and dark, a wine color rather than a blaring red. The gold embroidery on the square neckline and short sleeves accented the small dots of gold scattered throughout the heavy layers of her skirt.
"I know. It's just that I never realized that India could be so… skanky." Megan's brow creased at the foreign word and Serena laughed. "So revealing."
"Ah," Megan smirked. "How else do you think we got such a great population?"
Serena laughed as she walked to the bed, admiring the way the skirt moved around her. She felt elegant. Picking up the matching burgundy duppatta, she deftly folded and tucked it in all the right places, letting the sheer material cover her upper body in a diagonal before pinning it over the tight bun she had pulled her hair into. The rest of the gauzy strip flowed behind her as she turned around to look at Megan.
Her friend was dressed in a similar fashion, only Megan's peacock blue gown had her duppatta around her neck, with the two remaining ends left loose behind her. Megan had something that made her entire outfit complete. She had the tinted skin, the dark hair and large eyes that the entire line of Indian dresses was made for. But, Serena had to admit, she didn't look half bad.
She couldn't wait to see his face when he caught a glimpse of her.
She frowned, what did he have to do with this? He had brought, no dragged, her here. And although she was beginning to be quite happy he had, it most certainly did not mean that she was romantically inclined toward him.
Serena gave her reflection a stern nod, as if to cement the lecture she had given herself. Then, slipping into a pair of gold sandals, she lifted up her long skirt with one hand and walked out the door, Megan by her side.
"Oh, rukhna!" Megan rushed back into the room they had just evacuated. Serena understood the request to stop and wait so she idly rubbed the material of her skirt between her thumb and forefinger. When Megan came back, Serena could see the small sticker on her friend's index finger.
She bent her head obligingly and allowed Megan to carefully place the burgundy bindi on her forehead. Serena glanced at a mirror; Megan's last touch was truly was beautiful, perfectly slender and shaped in the form of a teardrop.
Serena sucked in a deep breath, suddenly nervous. All right, she could admit to herself at least, if no one else. She wanted Darien's approval. She wanted that grin that let her know he thought she was the most gorgeous thing to ever walk the earth. She wanted it so badly, she could already feel the pain of not receiving it. She could hear his voice in the next room, deep and soothing in low timbers.
She reveled in it. Then, she took another calming breath and walked in.