Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, except for my own. The rest
belong to Tribune Entertainment. And I should point out that some of the
backstory I've written here, as stated by my beta-reader Amanda, veers
somewhat off course than what is suggested by the TV series itself. But
since I'm playing god here with the characters...oh well....
I also want to credit AliasJaneDoe for giving me the inspiration to write this story back in January, when we were discussing the Bren/Shal relationship. And to everyone who's been asking, there's a reason why Brennan's POV in the present is not given. It'll come up soon.
Rated R upfront. PG-13 later.
Chapter 6
'Oh my God,' Emma gasped. 'That is such a sad, sad story. Oh Brennan.' She laid her hand on his cheek and stroked him. She felt tears coming to her eyes. 'I didn't know.'
He had quietened down. 'No one does,' he said unemotionally.
'And yet....' She felt her tears pool over and run down from the side of her eye onto the pillow. 'You told me.'
After a pause, he said, 'Yeah. I guess I had to tell somebody someday.' He turned his head away from her abruptly. 'But it happened a long time ago.'
They lay together for a little while, hands intertwined, in silence. She wondered if he was sorry he had told her. This storytelling idea of his, was it such a good idea after all? She squeezed his hand, wondering if he would let her in again.
'So what happened next?' She said after what seemed like an interminably long time.
He gave her a quick smile. 'That's for next time.' He kissed her, his good spirits returning a bit.
'That's your idea? Leaving your stories in a cliffhanger?'
'I learnt it from Scheherezade.'
She hugged him, sensing he was feeling vulnerable right now, and refusing to admit it. And kissed him back. 'Thank you for confiding in me.' And kissed him again. Sensing he needed this, possibly more than she did tonight. Until they were both kissing each other urgently, and passionately; his lips and mouth everywhere, just like she remembered the last time.
And it felt so very, very good.
When he had brought her to rapture four times, and her loins were ripe and moist with heat, and she felt an overwhelming, wanton need for him to fill her deeply now, she thought, her mind swimming, now's the time; he stopped.
'No intercourse,' he said, kissing her on the lips. 'Not yet.'
She felt the rush draining out of her.
Damn the man. Even his lovemaking was ending in a cliffhanger.
'You're not ready,' he added, getting up and reaching for his clothes. 'The time will come.'
She wanted to ask him to stay, for cuddling and for comfort, and perhaps she would fall asleep in his arms and dream a little. But the words died on her tongue when he said, 'Shalimar's prowling around. I'd better go back to my room before she gets suspicious. You wouldn't want her to find out, would you?'
No, she thought, we wouldn't want that. Though more you than me now, as I don't really care anymore .......
She watched him leave, and clutched his present against her chest.
*
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*
*
He surprised her again in the shower few days later. (What was it about this man and water?)
'I got you another present,' he said triumphantly.
'Brennan, you have to stop scaring me like this.' She was wet, dripping and naked. 'I might think you're a molester or something and blast you out cold. And you would have deserved it.'
'I'll survive.' He held up a little box. It wasn't gift-wrapped this time. She noted that he was in his gym apparel, loose shorts and Nike tank top, and he looked flushed and sweaty. Perspiration had beaded through his apparel and was staining the front of his shirt. He had apparently been pumping out, because his arm and pectoral muscles were more sharply defined than ever. He was barefooted, and panting slightly.
She wiped the water out of her eyes and took it. It was a bar of soap. Lavender scented. Very nice.
'It's organic,' he explained. 'Just in case you're into those sort of things.' He wrested off his tank top and shorts - it was so swift, she didn't have time to note anything other than he was naked beneath - and stepped in with her. 'Let's take that shower, shall we?'
'But I've already taken one,' she protested.
'Not like this,' he promised, kissing her between her breasts. 'Mmmmm...you taste nice. So clean.'
She didn't want to imagine what he would taste like right now.
He slipped the bar of soap out, the scent wafting out stronger as it came in contact with the water. 'Let me bathe you. It's quite a nice experience, or so I've been told.'
I'll bet, she thought. She wished he wouldn't keep shoving his other women in her face.
She let him do whatever he pleased anyhow, closing her eyes and savoring the sensation of his soapy hands roaming all over her body. His caresses were so voluptuous. His palms making little circular teasing motions, kneading her breasts gently, trailing a wet path down her stomach and she shivered to the sides of her body.
After a while, he knelt, using both hands to sculpt the firm lines of her legs, sweeping upward to her thighs, still avoiding her core. And cupping both her buttocks, he squeezed them with just the slightest bit of pressure until she gasped, the water from the shower running into her mouth.
'Oh Brennan,' she moaned, as his soapy fingers delved into her clefts and her most secret recesses; it was quite a sensation, she'd always wondered what it felt like, and now it was better than she had ever imagined.
'You're still very tight,' he whispered, withdrawing. 'You won't be ready, not yet.'
Detaching the shower nozzle off its hook, he sprayed the soapsuds off her, fingering them off the hard to reach places. 'Have you ever done fun things with a shower nozzle?' he teased. And proceeded to show her how, opening her legs and letting her experience the full trickling blast of the shower. Alternating the motion of the jet in undulating waves, slowly.... then more rapidly, building it up into a watery frenzy until she was gasping and clutching at his shoulders in ecstasy.
She had to give him marks for creativity.
As his hungry mouth closed over hers, she offered, 'Let me bathe you.'
She had never bathed a man before.
Smiling, he gave her the soap and held his hands up in a 'do what you want to my body' surrender. Oh, she was going to enjoy this. She was surprising herself. She had come quite a long way, now that the initial inhibitions of first gropings and awkward fumblings were well behind them, and she was as comfortable with him as he was as comfortable with himself.
Soaping her hands until she had worked out quite a foam (she remembered thinking it was very high quality soap), she now ran her hands over his chest. Exploring. The water was making his skin glisten. Very invitingly. She grabbed handfuls of his flesh, it was so taut that it kept slipping out of her hands, pinching his nipples ('Ow,' he said, slapping her hands. 'Do men feel anything there?' she asked playfully. 'Just as much as women,' he replied.') Stroking his washboard stomach, not a spare ounce of fat there, tracing the edges of his rectus muscles, the ones that gave him the six pack look.
He flexed his biceps, 'Don't you think they're nice? I've been trying to get them like this like forever.'
'I think you're vain.' She bit his right bicep gently, there was so much flesh there it filled her mouth completely. He had tilted his head back, his eyes closed in an expression of languor. His hair was dripping wet, and oh, he was so splendid looking. She soaped him further, sliding down his back - such firm muscles there - and his tight, tight buttocks. And his thighs....something about his thighs made her think erotic thoughts....
Again, she wondered if she dared.
'Brennan?' She knelt in front of him. 'I want to do something for you.'
He opened his eyes and looked down at her, smiling. 'Are you sure?'
'I'm not that much of a prude. Why does everyone always think that?'
'Haven't the faintest idea.' He grinned. 'Okay seriously....only if you want to...'
She had always wondered what it felt like, and now she knew. God, he was so huge. He tasted mostly....well, like flesh, with the mineral tang of tap water running all over it. She knew she wouldn't be able to get him fully in, but he didn't seem to mind. He was probably used to it.
He had leaned against the tiled wall of the shower stall, breathing a little harder. 'Boy, you're good at this .....are you sure this is your first time?' She flushed a little pink at his praise, always pleased whenever she was able to give him a little bit of pleasure, since she was so hopeless at everything else. She felt his hands come around her head, entangling fingers in her hair, guiding her. 'Mmmmm.....just imagine it's one giant popsicle....' (She bit down on him) 'Ow! Gently, it's not a toy....'
She knew he was reaching his peak when his hands left her head and began to grasp at the faucets in the wall, seeking purchase of some sort as his own ecstasy crescended. Squeezing them tightly, the temperature of the water began to vary, and it suddenly was very hot....
'Emma...' He suddenly grasped at her hair and pushed her away. 'You don't have to do this.'
She looked up at him wonderingly. 'You don't have to protect me, Brennan. I told you, I'm not that much of a prude.'
'No no, It's not that. It's just that...' He looked away, then shook his head. 'Oh well, forget it.'
'No, what?' She took his hands, pulling herself up to stand until she was almost at eye level with his jaw. 'Tell me. I want to know.'
He seemed to hesitate. 'Well.....it's silly really...'
'Brennan, please.' Her heart was drumming against her rib cage in an adrenaline clatter, the way it always did when someone was going to tell her something bad, and she didn't want to hear it, but she was going to have to anyway. 'Tell me.'
'Okay.' She saw the beginnings of a flush appearing on his cheeks. It was amazing, Brennan Mulwray flushing. Or maybe it was heat from the shower, she couldn't really be sure. 'I...uh....I mean....you're not falling in love with me, are you Emma?'
Her heart skipped a beat. And now, the blood was rushing to her face. Oh God...God...
He glanced at her face in consternation. 'Forget I said it. I take it back.'
'No, no, Bren,' She placed her fingers on his lips. 'It's a legitimate question.' The beating of her heart was almost painful. How does one answer this? It was impossible to think about a question like this, it entailed a flood of emotions she wasn't ready to acknowledge. And what did he want to hear? 'What in the world made you suddenly ask that....and in the middle of....this?'
She had never been so tempted to get a hit off him as about now.
He seemed to pause for a while, perhaps to reminisce about some not so recent memory that had triggered him or to think of the right words to put whatever she was dreading he would say. 'I guess you could say it happens to me....a lot. With women I mean.' He hurriedly added possibly, she thought, because he was afraid it would make him sound too arrogant, 'It's not necessarily me. It's just that women tend to take these things differently.'
Emma licked her lips nervously. 'And you think I'm like your other women?'
Their eyes met and locked. And she now gave in to temptation, no, desperation - she had to know, and she had the power in her hands. Wildly, she flung out with her mind and plunged into his, oh God, please let me know what he's thinking about, just give me a clue so I'd know where I stand raw emotions shredded and tangled and she encountered..
gasping
..a brick wall. It was amazing, but he had managed to shield her. She looked into his brown eyes in surprise, wondering if he was even aware of it. Was it because they had been spending a lot of time together recently, and he had managed to hone his defenses up against her? Or was it because he, like her, was not prepared to face the barrage of complicated emotions that were required to be catalogued and reckoned with?
Breathing deep, she said carefully. 'I love you, Brennan. You're my best friend. I think you know that. But I'm not in love with you.'
She hoped she wasn't lying. At least, not yet. She didn't know. He hadn't given her time to sort out her feelings, and she needed the time damn him because right now they were a chaotic, disheveled mess where he was concerned, and where Shalimar was concerned too ...and oh, her head was throbbing.
Was the expression on his face relieved? Or disappointed? She couldn't tell? He was an expert at masking his emotions when he chose to.
'Okay,' he said. 'I love you too.' A pause. 'As a best friend, I mean.'
I'm glad we got that settled, she thought wryly.
Haplessly, she clung to him, her erstwhile lover and best friend; and prayed that no matter what happened, she would always have him to cling to.
*
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*
'I think the first thing that went through my mind was stark, sheer terror,' Brennan told Emma as they lay naked under the sheets of her bed, her head resting on his shoulder, 'because I thought my mother was dead, and that I had killed my stepfather. For a while, my mind just went blank, like a black hole had completely sucked it out and wrung it dry. I think I must have sat there for about 10 minutes, just looking at everything and nothing in particular.
'Then, sanity prevailed and I knew my mother had to come above everything. That's when I crept to the phone to call 911. Looking back, I think that was a mistake.'
He had called 911. His mother was not dead though the thought had occurred to him when he saw her lying there, and he knew he would have lost whatever shred of sanity he possessed had she been dead . But the same could not have been said about his stepfather.
I'm a murderer, he thought. I'm 10 years old and I'm already a murderer.
He was glad he didn't believe in hell, because he would have gone straight to it.
He was stoned throughout the entire period, his mind resisting all thoughts and ramifications blankly, when the ambulance came for them, and throughout the inquest at the hospital. He vaguely remembered someone asking him questions a doctor maybe, and them wheeling his mother away 'She's got a broken arm and a concussion, but she should be okay' .
And a pleasant voice in front of him, the doctor again, saying, 'Do you want to tell me what happened?'
He was silent for a long time. Just looking down at his palms. Finally, he mumbled, 'It was an accident.'
'Okay....your dad....was he abusing your mom?'
He wanted to say, 'He's my stepdad' but the words dropped right into his throat and stuck there.
They couldn't get anything else out of him that night. So they left him in a bed in a darkened room. The doctor paused at the door before he exited, however. 'There's going to be a police officer. Nothing to be alarmed about, he's just going to ask you some routine questions. But you're gonna have to tell us what happened, okay?'
He had a hard time falling asleep that night, even though they gave him sedatives. Some of the nurses popped in, to give him some hot chocolate and to tuck him into bed they thought he was cute, even back then but he stared listlessly ahead, wondering if he had to concoct a story. What did they call it in detective movies? Yes, an alibi. He wasn't too good at stories, yet. When he finally fell asleep, he was plagued by restless dreams that chased one another in a senseless, spinning vortex, all singular frightening stories - every one of them.
He was awoken sometime in the morning by the doctor, who ushered in a hard-faced, sandy-haired young man.
'Brennan,' he said. 'This is Detective Javier. From Homicide.'
'The moment I saw him,' Brennan said, 'I knew he was bad news. He must have been around 22, 23. Keen-nosed as hell.'
'But,' Emma interrupted, 'you didn't do anything other than in self- defense. And it was an accident.'
Brennan paused. 'If you touch a faulty electrical device and it electrocutes you, that's an accident. If you get hit by lightning under a tree, that's an accident. Or some would call it an act of God. I don't think what I did was an accident. And somehow, Detective Javier knew that.'
Detective Javier sat him down in a chair, like one of those interrogation movies he saw on TV. And asked questions. Threw out hypotheses. Did Brennan's mom manage to kill his stepdad before she hit her head? Did Brennan himself do the deed? Was it an accident? And how? Did his stepdad accidentally touch the electric kettle and got himself fried? But if he did, why was there a burn mark on his neck and not on his hand, which would be the most logical place to be if someone was touching something? Did Brennan hit him with an electric cattle prod? Where was the electric prod? Did he hide it?
And all that time, Brennan just sat there, mumbling 'I don't know, I must have blacked out.' Over and over again.
In retrospect, it was the best thing he could have said.
'I don't think he bought it for one minute,' Brennan told Emma in a monotone. 'But my mom had woken up, and I told her what happened. And she knew I had to do it before he killed her. But I think something inside her broke, like she was this fragile clockwork doll, and she was irreparable after that.
'We both decided to hush up. Meanwhile, the results on the coroner's inquest had come back, and it stated death by electrocution. There were 2 burn marks, one on his neck and the other at the exit, which was at his right foot. The electricity had burned a path right through him before it grounded, because that's what lightning always does you know, try to find ground; and when they opened him up, they could see burned tissues all inside. It was the first time I knew how devastating my powers could be.'
'Oh Brennan,' Emma gripped his hand. 'You don't have to tell me that.'
'I have to,' he said dully. 'Because once I start I can't stop.'
Since no one could prove anything or find any incriminating evidence, and no one quite knew how to piece together the events of the night, they let him go.
He felt his spirits lift for the first time since that dark night. He was free, both his mom and him. Somehow, someone decided to give him a second chance. It was like a kernel of hope at the end of his tunnel. It almost made him want to believe in the God of his Irish Catholic father.
As he helped his mom out of the hospital, she with an arm sling looking like she had aged 10 years overnight, her eyes hollowed and very, very old; and he - with just the slightest haste in his step to flee the accursed place and start anew with his mom somewhere else - he saw Detective Javier detach himself from a corner and walk to him.
Oh God, Brennan thought, and had the sudden desperate urge to run as fast as he could. But he couldn't move because he was holding on to his mom.
'I just want to say a couple of things to you, kid,' Detective Javier said. He stubbed his cigarette out with his foot. 'You may think you got away with it, but I know you did it. Somehow. And I'll be waiting till you slip up again. So you just watch your back.'
Brennan had never been so petrified in his entire life. He stood frozen to the spot as Javier walked away.
They rented a little apartment in a tenement, because neither of them could go back to the trailer. There was only one room, a huge stain on the ceiling; the plaster had flaked, and at night, the constant wailing of police sirens kept him awake. The Hispanic neighbors next door were always fighting, and he could hear (though not understand) every word through the thin walls. They also had bed bugs and he woke up constantly itching and scratching at 4 am in the morning.
But he was happy. He had his mom again and they didn't have to live every day wondering where the next blow was coming from.
Gradually, they were getting their lives back.
'My mother was healing,' Brennan said. 'She went back to the diner to work and I ..well, I was having problems of my own.'
It was okay to be cute as a little boy, but now he was growing up. And where he lived, being cute put you at a disadvantage. The other boys would round up on him, sometimes five against one, in the back alleys after school. Most of them belonged to one gang or another and some of them had switchblades. And after the incident with his stepfather (and the specter of Detective Javier looming above him), he did not dare use his powers on another human being.
'Hey gay boy,' they would catcall and make kissing sounds. Then they would nudge one another and say, 'Let's have some sport.' And descend on him.
It also didn't help that he had an Irish sounding name. It was the streets after all and it was considered cool to be racist.
He fought them, glad for whatever self-defense classes he had taken. He would come home with a bruised eye and cut lip, and be proud because he had held back four of them all by himself. There was even once he came back with a pen knife stab wound in his abdomen. He had gone to bed without cleaning it and it had festered.
He didn't tell his mother - he was too embarrassed to admit he was picked on for being too pretty. But she knew anyway, and dressed and stitched up his cuts with a 'Try not to fight too much, honey' and a promise: 'When I've saved up a bit of money, we'll get out of this place and go somewhere better.'
He knew it wouldn't have mattered. There were always going to be problems anywhere they went. Besides, he didn't want her to go out of the way to do it. She had been getting tired lately, she wasn't sleeping well and he could hear her coughing at night.
'I thought she was getting old real fast,' Brennan said to Emma. 'And we didn't have medical insurance, so we pretty much took care of each other. I really hated looking the way I did back then. I wasn't interested in girls..'
Emma raised her eyebrows
'...at least not yet. So I made up my mind to be so big and tough and mean that no one would ever mess with me again.'
Powers were never something to rely on so it was best he did it the traditional way. He had struck puberty and was determined to build himself up. He swam and ran and ate as much as his mother could afford to feed him. He began to sign up for martial arts classes. Serious ones. Tae kwon do and kickboxing.
It succeeded.
At 13, he was already 5' 10" and showed no signs of stopping his growth. He was big and strapping and an able street fighter, known for never backing down even when the odds were against him. The bullies learned to be wary of him. So did the teachers. In fact, only one thing stopped him from being a bully himself. He didn't trust his own strength around other people.
'It also had a side effect,' Brennan said. 'I was 13, but I looked two years older. It made me very attractive to girls. And to older women.'
Looking at him, Emma could believe it. 'Is this the part where you tell me about your first time and ask me to connect to you?'
He gave her a rueful little smile. 'First times are never easy.'
'So you were 13?' She laughed. 'Thank God. I thought you were going to tell me you were 11 or something when you did it.'
'Nah. I was pretty behind in this aspect.'
He had his pick of girls around his age, and also those who were a little older, from the eight or ninth grade. They would give him smiles as he walked past and then giggle behind him; which made him feel acutely uncomfortable, like he had forgotten to zip up his fly or something. Now and then, one of them would come up to say 'Hi' with her urging friends giggling in the background, get all blushing and tongue-tied when he said 'Hi' back, and run away, clutching her books.
It made him feel weird.
'I'd always been curious what guys like you go through,' Emma said. 'I mean, there have always been you guys in every school - I've seen them myself - and little girls always act like that around them. How do you handle it?'
'Well, you don't notice it after a while. It becomes part of your life. I think I stopped noticing it when I turned 15 or so. And also, when the girls got older, they became more predatory. So it was easier to know where they stood. But at that time I was thinking all girls were weird. If you want to talk to me, come up and hold a conversation with me. Don't make me feel like a freak.'
'But you are a freak.'
'I can always count on you to remind me, Emma.'
There was one particular girl he was interested in. She was 14, with long blonde hair and green eyes. She had an unconscious innocence and a smile that sent all the guys blazing. And the nicest thing was that she was completely unaware of the effect she had.
'Her name was Dash. She was really really beautiful. She had these dimples, and the most perfect teeth. She wasn't that smart but that was okay with me. She was nice to be with because her needs were simple, and at that time, I didn't really care for complicated women. She didn't want much, except maybe to be loved.'
Don't all women want that? Emma thought sadly.
Now he was the one who was tongue-tied. She was after all one year older than him.
'How do you think I should approach her?' He asked his best friend, Rico.
'Are you kidding me? Go up and talk to her, I've seen her looking at you. She's got the hots for you, man.'
'But what should I say?'
Rico rolled his eyes. 'God man, say anything, it doesn't matter. She doesn't want you for your brains.'
Great. Now he was going to make Dash feel like a freak.
'But don't screw it up with her, okay?' Rico warned. 'She's got a mean son of a bitch for a brother. That's why most of the guys lay off her.'
Yeah. Everyone knew Dash's brother. 18 year old high school dropout Frankie, who led one of the gangs in the neighborhood. Rumors were rife with Frankie, they said he was a drug dealer, a pimp, a thief. Some said he had even killed a guy. Knifed him in the back.
I won't hurt her, Brennan promised himself.
They started tentatively at first. Rico was right. Dash was not immune to his charms. He didn't even have to make great conversation before he was walking her home, holding her books in one arm and her hand with the other. He liked being with her. She was so...happy, for want of a better word. So summery, like the way he used to be before everything happened. Being with her, he felt innocent again.
Not long after that, they began kissing. Sweet little kisses at first, and then not so innocent ones. Like those they saw in the movies. Tongues searching, interlocking, probing.
After a while, she said, 'I think I love you, Brennan.'
He wasn't sure how to reply to that.
'Do you know what happens after they kiss in the movies?' she asked.
'I think they take their clothes off,' he replied honestly.
'Do you know what happens after that?'
'I have some idea, but I'd better find out more.'
Gad, he was really honest in those days. It didn't take him long to find out though, Rico was a font of information.
'Oh fuck!' Rico exclaimed. 'You're going to second base, man. I'm still jerking off to Playboy, and you're getting the real thing. You just have to do what comes naturally, and tell me all about it.'
The trouble was finding a place he could go to second base to. They settled for the janitor's broom closet, there was a bit of space there and the door had a lock. More importantly, there was a light overhead, and he could watch Dash as she nervously unbuttoned her blouse, displaying a white bra that made her look terribly virginal.
'Brennan, are you sure we're doing the right thing?' she asked worriedly.
He kissed her before she could change her mind, and unclasped her bra. She had sweet little budding breasts; these he kissed too, eliciting a moan from her. He kissed her on the neck, feeling her shudder, then on her smooth belly, sliding off her panties as he did so. She had a pubescent body, and she was the most glorious thing he had ever seen.
She blushed as he luxuriated at the sight of her. Crossing her legs and clasping her arms across her breasts, she whispered, 'Don't look at me like that.'
'But you're beautiful,' he assured her. 'Look, I'll take off my clothes too.'
And he hurriedly did, leaving them in a pile on the floor. She gazed at him, 'Oh wow' and turned frightened eyes on his hardness.
'I'm really really scared, Brennan.'
'It's gonna be okay,' he said as he pushed her down and entered her. He must have been a little rough because she cried out, and he had to put his hand on her mouth to keep her from alerting anyone. But oh, she felt so good. So warm and wonderful, and wet and soft. He found himself settling into a rhythm 'It'll come naturally' and hoped she was enjoying it as much as he did.
'What do you feel, Emma?' he said, looking deep into her eyes and taking her hand to put it against his head. Which was symbolic really, because her power was in her mind.
She closed her eyes. It was too complex to put it into words, all the sensations coursing through her. 'It feels wonderful. And.....so different.'
He kissed her closed eyelids, whispering, 'I told you so.'
He came fairly swiftly, gasping. It was only when he rolled off her that he noticed Dash was crying.
'I didn't know it hurt so much,' she sobbed.
He looked down at himself. He was covered in her blood. 'I'm sorry....I didn't know.' He didn't think it would be so traumatic. All that blood was making him a little queasy. He stammered, 'I...I think it would be better next time.'
He hoped there would be a next time. He had to coax her for a while before she agreed to try again. This time he took a longer time in kissing her and playing with her breasts. And when he entered her again, she didn't cry out.
'I learnt early on women needed a lot of foreplay,' Brennan explained to Emma. 'It made the whole experience so much better for them. And for me. Because making it better for them was the whole point.'
They spent the entire summer making out whenever and wherever they could. Dash got to like sex with him a lot, at least he liked to think that she did. But more importantly, she wanted him to love her.
'I love you so much, Brennan,' she said while he was inside her. 'Don't you love me too?'
'I love you,' he dutifully said. He would have said anything just so she would allow him to keep going. The truth was, he wasn't very sure what he felt for her was love. Lust and affection definitely. But love? That was too complicated to even define.
And then one day, it all fell apart. Dash came to him after the second class and pulled him into a corner. There were hollows in her eyes, as though she had been crying all night.
'I think I'm pregnant, Brennan.'
He was thunderstruck. He wasn't prepared for this. 'How do you know?' He was thinking, oh God...all those times they made love....completely without protection. He was old enough to know about that. Well maybe not that old - he was only 14 - but if he was old enough to have sex, he should have been thinking about protection.
What in the world had he been thinking of?
'I know, okay,' she said softly. 'I stole my sister's test kit and tried it out. Three times. Then I went to the doctor and she confirmed it for me. She wanted me to tell my folks. But I'm so scared. What should we do, Brennan?'
He was feeling every bit as scared as she was. 'How...how far are you gone?'
'Four months.' Tears ran down her cheeks. She looked so vulnerable. 'Maybe we should get married or something.'
'No!' His vehemence shocked even him. 'We can't even think about that. I'm too young...I mean, we're both too young.'
'But I thought..you loved me.'
'I do...I mean, I do..but this is just so....' He held up his hands. She was crying openly now. 'We're not ready for this. You just have to get rid of it.' His mind was swimming, he wasn't quite sure he knew what he was saying.
'But I don't know how!' she cried.
People streaming by were beginning to look at them. He pulled her away. 'Look, I can't think about this right now. I don't have the answers...but I will go back and think about it. And I'll get back to you. Okay? You've got to give me time. We'll fix this, okay?'
'I'm not something to be fixed, Brennan.' Something in her voice broke. 'I really thought you cared for me.'
'I do,' he said anxiously. 'But....I just need time to think about this okay? You just stay put. And I'll get back to you.'
He walked away from her, his mind racing wildly. The thoughts were jumbling in his head, a dozen possibilities streaming one after the other. What had he gotten himself into? He was getting a splitting headache, just trying to sort the cascade into a semblance of order. Maybe he had to ask Rico about this. Or maybe not Rico...someone more...adult. Like his mother. But God forbid he could never tell his mother. She would be too mortified.
He didn't have time to sort anything out. Before the day was over, and he had gone zombie-like through several classes, he noticed the principal walking into the schoolroom, looking dead serious. Everyone looked up.
Oh God, he thought. She told on him. Damn her, why couldn't she wait till he had time to sort things out? Now he was going to be in so much trouble.
'Mulwray,' the principal said. 'Will you come into my office, please?'
His heart was pounding in his chest. He could feel everyone staring at him as he walked out. He didn't want to look at anybody.
Outside the principal's office, there was a hive of activity. He recognized a lot of teachers, all who paused in their conversations to look at him as he went past. The principal held the door open for him as he entered.
'Sit down.'
He did, feeling the blood rush into his head. He suddenly felt giddy. In the chair next to him, Carol - Dash's best friend - turned her tear- streaked face to look at him. He couldn't read her expression.
'Mulwray,' the principal said. 'An hour ago, somebody found Dash McKenzie in the girls' bathroom at the second floor. There was a lot of blood all over the stall and her clothes. Carol here tells me she's pregnant, and that you're the father.'
Oh God....Dash.....He was so busy thinking about himself he hadn't thought about her.
'Is...is she okay?'
'She was trying to get rid of her baby.' The principal looked at him sharply. 'She tore herself up pretty bad. She must have lain there for a couple of hours before somebody found her. We called for the ambulance. Carol says you had a fight with her.'
His mind was reeling. 'I..I didn't think it was a fight.....'
'That's not all. Her wrists were slashed. She was trying to kill herself. We don't know if she'll make it.'
As the principal looked somberly at him, he felt his world drowning. Oh God....God, please don't let me be responsible for this....
*
*
*
'Don't you have any happy stories to tell, Brennan?' Emma said, stroking the line of his jaw.
'They're coming up,' he gave her a peck on the cheek. 'I just had a rough childhood.'
'And all the people around you.'
'Yeah.'
She hugged him, sensing that his mood had shifted into a pensive mode. 'Do you want to stay with me tonight?'
He seemed to consider it. 'Yes, I would like that.'
She tucked both of them in tenderly, and cuddled up to him, laying her head in the crook of his shoulder. He was so warm and wonderful. She could lie like this forever, basking in his scent, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against her cheek as he peacefully slid into slumber.
When she was certain he had fallen asleep, she raised herself on her elbow to gaze at him. He was the epitome of tranquility, and he was so...oh God, she thought.....so very beautiful. She loved the way his lashes curled up, the perfect line of his cheekbones, the sensuous turn of his mouth, the glow of his skin in the lamplight. He looked almost angelic, the way she thought Lucifer might have looked like before he fell from heaven; that same otherworldly joyous beauty.
In a sudden shocking revelation, she realized she was in love with him. Oh God...
Her hand flew to her mouth.
When..when did this happen? Was it when he first kissed her? The images and sensations were flashing in her head now - that first kiss in the motel bed, so chaste and hesitant. His later kisses, so urgent and powerful with need. His lips and tongue everywhere, exploring hungrily. The silky feel of his skin and his taut muscles under her caresses....But no...it was far more than a physical thing, of this she was certain.
Was it when he began telling her his stories? Herself sinking into them, experiencing his growth and angst through his eyes, that tangible vulnerability that he hid from them in the day, displayed in its stark naked state for her and her only. Did that make him become irresistible to her? A man, his soul stripped bare for her compassion. Did that not unlock something within her - a nurturing instinct perhaps - that made her want to hold him in her arms and shield him against the world forever?
Or had she loved him from the very beginning, the day they met so long ago? Only she had kept it hidden, in denial from herself. And as their friendship grew, so did their caring. So many vivid images; the two of them, almost dying, being saved by each other, more rebirth and dying, like a needy cycle that feeds on itself, a dragon that devours its own tail.
She felt almost dizzy with all the reeling images and emotions that besieged her. But there was no going back. She loved him. She was in love with him. She loved him for the man he was, the man he was not, and the man she wanted him to be. She loved him with her heart, her soul and her bones, and she knew it was like no love she had ever experienced before, not with Tyler....or with anyone. She loved him with a deep, deep rapture; it was something that filled her with agony, and yet with heady delight. She loved him in spite of his past and his present, his faults and his inadequacies, his deficiencies and his failures, his hopes and his dreams, his deep secret yearnings; in spite of himself.
She wanted to emit a mental scream in the air, of triumph and declaration - I love you, Brennan. I love you, I love you!
The euphoria settling around her, she drew her knees into her arms and clasped them. Okay, she thought, so I'm in love with him. Now what the heck am I going to do about it?
TBC
P/s: Okay, so I've reached the theme I wanted to explore. Can a man and a woman who are best friends have a sexual relationship without falling in love? As always, please R & R to keep me going.
I also want to credit AliasJaneDoe for giving me the inspiration to write this story back in January, when we were discussing the Bren/Shal relationship. And to everyone who's been asking, there's a reason why Brennan's POV in the present is not given. It'll come up soon.
Rated R upfront. PG-13 later.
Chapter 6
'Oh my God,' Emma gasped. 'That is such a sad, sad story. Oh Brennan.' She laid her hand on his cheek and stroked him. She felt tears coming to her eyes. 'I didn't know.'
He had quietened down. 'No one does,' he said unemotionally.
'And yet....' She felt her tears pool over and run down from the side of her eye onto the pillow. 'You told me.'
After a pause, he said, 'Yeah. I guess I had to tell somebody someday.' He turned his head away from her abruptly. 'But it happened a long time ago.'
They lay together for a little while, hands intertwined, in silence. She wondered if he was sorry he had told her. This storytelling idea of his, was it such a good idea after all? She squeezed his hand, wondering if he would let her in again.
'So what happened next?' She said after what seemed like an interminably long time.
He gave her a quick smile. 'That's for next time.' He kissed her, his good spirits returning a bit.
'That's your idea? Leaving your stories in a cliffhanger?'
'I learnt it from Scheherezade.'
She hugged him, sensing he was feeling vulnerable right now, and refusing to admit it. And kissed him back. 'Thank you for confiding in me.' And kissed him again. Sensing he needed this, possibly more than she did tonight. Until they were both kissing each other urgently, and passionately; his lips and mouth everywhere, just like she remembered the last time.
And it felt so very, very good.
When he had brought her to rapture four times, and her loins were ripe and moist with heat, and she felt an overwhelming, wanton need for him to fill her deeply now, she thought, her mind swimming, now's the time; he stopped.
'No intercourse,' he said, kissing her on the lips. 'Not yet.'
She felt the rush draining out of her.
Damn the man. Even his lovemaking was ending in a cliffhanger.
'You're not ready,' he added, getting up and reaching for his clothes. 'The time will come.'
She wanted to ask him to stay, for cuddling and for comfort, and perhaps she would fall asleep in his arms and dream a little. But the words died on her tongue when he said, 'Shalimar's prowling around. I'd better go back to my room before she gets suspicious. You wouldn't want her to find out, would you?'
No, she thought, we wouldn't want that. Though more you than me now, as I don't really care anymore .......
She watched him leave, and clutched his present against her chest.
*
*
*
*
He surprised her again in the shower few days later. (What was it about this man and water?)
'I got you another present,' he said triumphantly.
'Brennan, you have to stop scaring me like this.' She was wet, dripping and naked. 'I might think you're a molester or something and blast you out cold. And you would have deserved it.'
'I'll survive.' He held up a little box. It wasn't gift-wrapped this time. She noted that he was in his gym apparel, loose shorts and Nike tank top, and he looked flushed and sweaty. Perspiration had beaded through his apparel and was staining the front of his shirt. He had apparently been pumping out, because his arm and pectoral muscles were more sharply defined than ever. He was barefooted, and panting slightly.
She wiped the water out of her eyes and took it. It was a bar of soap. Lavender scented. Very nice.
'It's organic,' he explained. 'Just in case you're into those sort of things.' He wrested off his tank top and shorts - it was so swift, she didn't have time to note anything other than he was naked beneath - and stepped in with her. 'Let's take that shower, shall we?'
'But I've already taken one,' she protested.
'Not like this,' he promised, kissing her between her breasts. 'Mmmmm...you taste nice. So clean.'
She didn't want to imagine what he would taste like right now.
He slipped the bar of soap out, the scent wafting out stronger as it came in contact with the water. 'Let me bathe you. It's quite a nice experience, or so I've been told.'
I'll bet, she thought. She wished he wouldn't keep shoving his other women in her face.
She let him do whatever he pleased anyhow, closing her eyes and savoring the sensation of his soapy hands roaming all over her body. His caresses were so voluptuous. His palms making little circular teasing motions, kneading her breasts gently, trailing a wet path down her stomach and she shivered to the sides of her body.
After a while, he knelt, using both hands to sculpt the firm lines of her legs, sweeping upward to her thighs, still avoiding her core. And cupping both her buttocks, he squeezed them with just the slightest bit of pressure until she gasped, the water from the shower running into her mouth.
'Oh Brennan,' she moaned, as his soapy fingers delved into her clefts and her most secret recesses; it was quite a sensation, she'd always wondered what it felt like, and now it was better than she had ever imagined.
'You're still very tight,' he whispered, withdrawing. 'You won't be ready, not yet.'
Detaching the shower nozzle off its hook, he sprayed the soapsuds off her, fingering them off the hard to reach places. 'Have you ever done fun things with a shower nozzle?' he teased. And proceeded to show her how, opening her legs and letting her experience the full trickling blast of the shower. Alternating the motion of the jet in undulating waves, slowly.... then more rapidly, building it up into a watery frenzy until she was gasping and clutching at his shoulders in ecstasy.
She had to give him marks for creativity.
As his hungry mouth closed over hers, she offered, 'Let me bathe you.'
She had never bathed a man before.
Smiling, he gave her the soap and held his hands up in a 'do what you want to my body' surrender. Oh, she was going to enjoy this. She was surprising herself. She had come quite a long way, now that the initial inhibitions of first gropings and awkward fumblings were well behind them, and she was as comfortable with him as he was as comfortable with himself.
Soaping her hands until she had worked out quite a foam (she remembered thinking it was very high quality soap), she now ran her hands over his chest. Exploring. The water was making his skin glisten. Very invitingly. She grabbed handfuls of his flesh, it was so taut that it kept slipping out of her hands, pinching his nipples ('Ow,' he said, slapping her hands. 'Do men feel anything there?' she asked playfully. 'Just as much as women,' he replied.') Stroking his washboard stomach, not a spare ounce of fat there, tracing the edges of his rectus muscles, the ones that gave him the six pack look.
He flexed his biceps, 'Don't you think they're nice? I've been trying to get them like this like forever.'
'I think you're vain.' She bit his right bicep gently, there was so much flesh there it filled her mouth completely. He had tilted his head back, his eyes closed in an expression of languor. His hair was dripping wet, and oh, he was so splendid looking. She soaped him further, sliding down his back - such firm muscles there - and his tight, tight buttocks. And his thighs....something about his thighs made her think erotic thoughts....
Again, she wondered if she dared.
'Brennan?' She knelt in front of him. 'I want to do something for you.'
He opened his eyes and looked down at her, smiling. 'Are you sure?'
'I'm not that much of a prude. Why does everyone always think that?'
'Haven't the faintest idea.' He grinned. 'Okay seriously....only if you want to...'
She had always wondered what it felt like, and now she knew. God, he was so huge. He tasted mostly....well, like flesh, with the mineral tang of tap water running all over it. She knew she wouldn't be able to get him fully in, but he didn't seem to mind. He was probably used to it.
He had leaned against the tiled wall of the shower stall, breathing a little harder. 'Boy, you're good at this .....are you sure this is your first time?' She flushed a little pink at his praise, always pleased whenever she was able to give him a little bit of pleasure, since she was so hopeless at everything else. She felt his hands come around her head, entangling fingers in her hair, guiding her. 'Mmmmm.....just imagine it's one giant popsicle....' (She bit down on him) 'Ow! Gently, it's not a toy....'
She knew he was reaching his peak when his hands left her head and began to grasp at the faucets in the wall, seeking purchase of some sort as his own ecstasy crescended. Squeezing them tightly, the temperature of the water began to vary, and it suddenly was very hot....
'Emma...' He suddenly grasped at her hair and pushed her away. 'You don't have to do this.'
She looked up at him wonderingly. 'You don't have to protect me, Brennan. I told you, I'm not that much of a prude.'
'No no, It's not that. It's just that...' He looked away, then shook his head. 'Oh well, forget it.'
'No, what?' She took his hands, pulling herself up to stand until she was almost at eye level with his jaw. 'Tell me. I want to know.'
He seemed to hesitate. 'Well.....it's silly really...'
'Brennan, please.' Her heart was drumming against her rib cage in an adrenaline clatter, the way it always did when someone was going to tell her something bad, and she didn't want to hear it, but she was going to have to anyway. 'Tell me.'
'Okay.' She saw the beginnings of a flush appearing on his cheeks. It was amazing, Brennan Mulwray flushing. Or maybe it was heat from the shower, she couldn't really be sure. 'I...uh....I mean....you're not falling in love with me, are you Emma?'
Her heart skipped a beat. And now, the blood was rushing to her face. Oh God...God...
He glanced at her face in consternation. 'Forget I said it. I take it back.'
'No, no, Bren,' She placed her fingers on his lips. 'It's a legitimate question.' The beating of her heart was almost painful. How does one answer this? It was impossible to think about a question like this, it entailed a flood of emotions she wasn't ready to acknowledge. And what did he want to hear? 'What in the world made you suddenly ask that....and in the middle of....this?'
She had never been so tempted to get a hit off him as about now.
He seemed to pause for a while, perhaps to reminisce about some not so recent memory that had triggered him or to think of the right words to put whatever she was dreading he would say. 'I guess you could say it happens to me....a lot. With women I mean.' He hurriedly added possibly, she thought, because he was afraid it would make him sound too arrogant, 'It's not necessarily me. It's just that women tend to take these things differently.'
Emma licked her lips nervously. 'And you think I'm like your other women?'
Their eyes met and locked. And she now gave in to temptation, no, desperation - she had to know, and she had the power in her hands. Wildly, she flung out with her mind and plunged into his, oh God, please let me know what he's thinking about, just give me a clue so I'd know where I stand raw emotions shredded and tangled and she encountered..
gasping
..a brick wall. It was amazing, but he had managed to shield her. She looked into his brown eyes in surprise, wondering if he was even aware of it. Was it because they had been spending a lot of time together recently, and he had managed to hone his defenses up against her? Or was it because he, like her, was not prepared to face the barrage of complicated emotions that were required to be catalogued and reckoned with?
Breathing deep, she said carefully. 'I love you, Brennan. You're my best friend. I think you know that. But I'm not in love with you.'
She hoped she wasn't lying. At least, not yet. She didn't know. He hadn't given her time to sort out her feelings, and she needed the time damn him because right now they were a chaotic, disheveled mess where he was concerned, and where Shalimar was concerned too ...and oh, her head was throbbing.
Was the expression on his face relieved? Or disappointed? She couldn't tell? He was an expert at masking his emotions when he chose to.
'Okay,' he said. 'I love you too.' A pause. 'As a best friend, I mean.'
I'm glad we got that settled, she thought wryly.
Haplessly, she clung to him, her erstwhile lover and best friend; and prayed that no matter what happened, she would always have him to cling to.
*
*
*
*
'I think the first thing that went through my mind was stark, sheer terror,' Brennan told Emma as they lay naked under the sheets of her bed, her head resting on his shoulder, 'because I thought my mother was dead, and that I had killed my stepfather. For a while, my mind just went blank, like a black hole had completely sucked it out and wrung it dry. I think I must have sat there for about 10 minutes, just looking at everything and nothing in particular.
'Then, sanity prevailed and I knew my mother had to come above everything. That's when I crept to the phone to call 911. Looking back, I think that was a mistake.'
He had called 911. His mother was not dead though the thought had occurred to him when he saw her lying there, and he knew he would have lost whatever shred of sanity he possessed had she been dead . But the same could not have been said about his stepfather.
I'm a murderer, he thought. I'm 10 years old and I'm already a murderer.
He was glad he didn't believe in hell, because he would have gone straight to it.
He was stoned throughout the entire period, his mind resisting all thoughts and ramifications blankly, when the ambulance came for them, and throughout the inquest at the hospital. He vaguely remembered someone asking him questions a doctor maybe, and them wheeling his mother away 'She's got a broken arm and a concussion, but she should be okay' .
And a pleasant voice in front of him, the doctor again, saying, 'Do you want to tell me what happened?'
He was silent for a long time. Just looking down at his palms. Finally, he mumbled, 'It was an accident.'
'Okay....your dad....was he abusing your mom?'
He wanted to say, 'He's my stepdad' but the words dropped right into his throat and stuck there.
They couldn't get anything else out of him that night. So they left him in a bed in a darkened room. The doctor paused at the door before he exited, however. 'There's going to be a police officer. Nothing to be alarmed about, he's just going to ask you some routine questions. But you're gonna have to tell us what happened, okay?'
He had a hard time falling asleep that night, even though they gave him sedatives. Some of the nurses popped in, to give him some hot chocolate and to tuck him into bed they thought he was cute, even back then but he stared listlessly ahead, wondering if he had to concoct a story. What did they call it in detective movies? Yes, an alibi. He wasn't too good at stories, yet. When he finally fell asleep, he was plagued by restless dreams that chased one another in a senseless, spinning vortex, all singular frightening stories - every one of them.
He was awoken sometime in the morning by the doctor, who ushered in a hard-faced, sandy-haired young man.
'Brennan,' he said. 'This is Detective Javier. From Homicide.'
'The moment I saw him,' Brennan said, 'I knew he was bad news. He must have been around 22, 23. Keen-nosed as hell.'
'But,' Emma interrupted, 'you didn't do anything other than in self- defense. And it was an accident.'
Brennan paused. 'If you touch a faulty electrical device and it electrocutes you, that's an accident. If you get hit by lightning under a tree, that's an accident. Or some would call it an act of God. I don't think what I did was an accident. And somehow, Detective Javier knew that.'
Detective Javier sat him down in a chair, like one of those interrogation movies he saw on TV. And asked questions. Threw out hypotheses. Did Brennan's mom manage to kill his stepdad before she hit her head? Did Brennan himself do the deed? Was it an accident? And how? Did his stepdad accidentally touch the electric kettle and got himself fried? But if he did, why was there a burn mark on his neck and not on his hand, which would be the most logical place to be if someone was touching something? Did Brennan hit him with an electric cattle prod? Where was the electric prod? Did he hide it?
And all that time, Brennan just sat there, mumbling 'I don't know, I must have blacked out.' Over and over again.
In retrospect, it was the best thing he could have said.
'I don't think he bought it for one minute,' Brennan told Emma in a monotone. 'But my mom had woken up, and I told her what happened. And she knew I had to do it before he killed her. But I think something inside her broke, like she was this fragile clockwork doll, and she was irreparable after that.
'We both decided to hush up. Meanwhile, the results on the coroner's inquest had come back, and it stated death by electrocution. There were 2 burn marks, one on his neck and the other at the exit, which was at his right foot. The electricity had burned a path right through him before it grounded, because that's what lightning always does you know, try to find ground; and when they opened him up, they could see burned tissues all inside. It was the first time I knew how devastating my powers could be.'
'Oh Brennan,' Emma gripped his hand. 'You don't have to tell me that.'
'I have to,' he said dully. 'Because once I start I can't stop.'
Since no one could prove anything or find any incriminating evidence, and no one quite knew how to piece together the events of the night, they let him go.
He felt his spirits lift for the first time since that dark night. He was free, both his mom and him. Somehow, someone decided to give him a second chance. It was like a kernel of hope at the end of his tunnel. It almost made him want to believe in the God of his Irish Catholic father.
As he helped his mom out of the hospital, she with an arm sling looking like she had aged 10 years overnight, her eyes hollowed and very, very old; and he - with just the slightest haste in his step to flee the accursed place and start anew with his mom somewhere else - he saw Detective Javier detach himself from a corner and walk to him.
Oh God, Brennan thought, and had the sudden desperate urge to run as fast as he could. But he couldn't move because he was holding on to his mom.
'I just want to say a couple of things to you, kid,' Detective Javier said. He stubbed his cigarette out with his foot. 'You may think you got away with it, but I know you did it. Somehow. And I'll be waiting till you slip up again. So you just watch your back.'
Brennan had never been so petrified in his entire life. He stood frozen to the spot as Javier walked away.
They rented a little apartment in a tenement, because neither of them could go back to the trailer. There was only one room, a huge stain on the ceiling; the plaster had flaked, and at night, the constant wailing of police sirens kept him awake. The Hispanic neighbors next door were always fighting, and he could hear (though not understand) every word through the thin walls. They also had bed bugs and he woke up constantly itching and scratching at 4 am in the morning.
But he was happy. He had his mom again and they didn't have to live every day wondering where the next blow was coming from.
Gradually, they were getting their lives back.
'My mother was healing,' Brennan said. 'She went back to the diner to work and I ..well, I was having problems of my own.'
It was okay to be cute as a little boy, but now he was growing up. And where he lived, being cute put you at a disadvantage. The other boys would round up on him, sometimes five against one, in the back alleys after school. Most of them belonged to one gang or another and some of them had switchblades. And after the incident with his stepfather (and the specter of Detective Javier looming above him), he did not dare use his powers on another human being.
'Hey gay boy,' they would catcall and make kissing sounds. Then they would nudge one another and say, 'Let's have some sport.' And descend on him.
It also didn't help that he had an Irish sounding name. It was the streets after all and it was considered cool to be racist.
He fought them, glad for whatever self-defense classes he had taken. He would come home with a bruised eye and cut lip, and be proud because he had held back four of them all by himself. There was even once he came back with a pen knife stab wound in his abdomen. He had gone to bed without cleaning it and it had festered.
He didn't tell his mother - he was too embarrassed to admit he was picked on for being too pretty. But she knew anyway, and dressed and stitched up his cuts with a 'Try not to fight too much, honey' and a promise: 'When I've saved up a bit of money, we'll get out of this place and go somewhere better.'
He knew it wouldn't have mattered. There were always going to be problems anywhere they went. Besides, he didn't want her to go out of the way to do it. She had been getting tired lately, she wasn't sleeping well and he could hear her coughing at night.
'I thought she was getting old real fast,' Brennan said to Emma. 'And we didn't have medical insurance, so we pretty much took care of each other. I really hated looking the way I did back then. I wasn't interested in girls..'
Emma raised her eyebrows
'...at least not yet. So I made up my mind to be so big and tough and mean that no one would ever mess with me again.'
Powers were never something to rely on so it was best he did it the traditional way. He had struck puberty and was determined to build himself up. He swam and ran and ate as much as his mother could afford to feed him. He began to sign up for martial arts classes. Serious ones. Tae kwon do and kickboxing.
It succeeded.
At 13, he was already 5' 10" and showed no signs of stopping his growth. He was big and strapping and an able street fighter, known for never backing down even when the odds were against him. The bullies learned to be wary of him. So did the teachers. In fact, only one thing stopped him from being a bully himself. He didn't trust his own strength around other people.
'It also had a side effect,' Brennan said. 'I was 13, but I looked two years older. It made me very attractive to girls. And to older women.'
Looking at him, Emma could believe it. 'Is this the part where you tell me about your first time and ask me to connect to you?'
He gave her a rueful little smile. 'First times are never easy.'
'So you were 13?' She laughed. 'Thank God. I thought you were going to tell me you were 11 or something when you did it.'
'Nah. I was pretty behind in this aspect.'
He had his pick of girls around his age, and also those who were a little older, from the eight or ninth grade. They would give him smiles as he walked past and then giggle behind him; which made him feel acutely uncomfortable, like he had forgotten to zip up his fly or something. Now and then, one of them would come up to say 'Hi' with her urging friends giggling in the background, get all blushing and tongue-tied when he said 'Hi' back, and run away, clutching her books.
It made him feel weird.
'I'd always been curious what guys like you go through,' Emma said. 'I mean, there have always been you guys in every school - I've seen them myself - and little girls always act like that around them. How do you handle it?'
'Well, you don't notice it after a while. It becomes part of your life. I think I stopped noticing it when I turned 15 or so. And also, when the girls got older, they became more predatory. So it was easier to know where they stood. But at that time I was thinking all girls were weird. If you want to talk to me, come up and hold a conversation with me. Don't make me feel like a freak.'
'But you are a freak.'
'I can always count on you to remind me, Emma.'
There was one particular girl he was interested in. She was 14, with long blonde hair and green eyes. She had an unconscious innocence and a smile that sent all the guys blazing. And the nicest thing was that she was completely unaware of the effect she had.
'Her name was Dash. She was really really beautiful. She had these dimples, and the most perfect teeth. She wasn't that smart but that was okay with me. She was nice to be with because her needs were simple, and at that time, I didn't really care for complicated women. She didn't want much, except maybe to be loved.'
Don't all women want that? Emma thought sadly.
Now he was the one who was tongue-tied. She was after all one year older than him.
'How do you think I should approach her?' He asked his best friend, Rico.
'Are you kidding me? Go up and talk to her, I've seen her looking at you. She's got the hots for you, man.'
'But what should I say?'
Rico rolled his eyes. 'God man, say anything, it doesn't matter. She doesn't want you for your brains.'
Great. Now he was going to make Dash feel like a freak.
'But don't screw it up with her, okay?' Rico warned. 'She's got a mean son of a bitch for a brother. That's why most of the guys lay off her.'
Yeah. Everyone knew Dash's brother. 18 year old high school dropout Frankie, who led one of the gangs in the neighborhood. Rumors were rife with Frankie, they said he was a drug dealer, a pimp, a thief. Some said he had even killed a guy. Knifed him in the back.
I won't hurt her, Brennan promised himself.
They started tentatively at first. Rico was right. Dash was not immune to his charms. He didn't even have to make great conversation before he was walking her home, holding her books in one arm and her hand with the other. He liked being with her. She was so...happy, for want of a better word. So summery, like the way he used to be before everything happened. Being with her, he felt innocent again.
Not long after that, they began kissing. Sweet little kisses at first, and then not so innocent ones. Like those they saw in the movies. Tongues searching, interlocking, probing.
After a while, she said, 'I think I love you, Brennan.'
He wasn't sure how to reply to that.
'Do you know what happens after they kiss in the movies?' she asked.
'I think they take their clothes off,' he replied honestly.
'Do you know what happens after that?'
'I have some idea, but I'd better find out more.'
Gad, he was really honest in those days. It didn't take him long to find out though, Rico was a font of information.
'Oh fuck!' Rico exclaimed. 'You're going to second base, man. I'm still jerking off to Playboy, and you're getting the real thing. You just have to do what comes naturally, and tell me all about it.'
The trouble was finding a place he could go to second base to. They settled for the janitor's broom closet, there was a bit of space there and the door had a lock. More importantly, there was a light overhead, and he could watch Dash as she nervously unbuttoned her blouse, displaying a white bra that made her look terribly virginal.
'Brennan, are you sure we're doing the right thing?' she asked worriedly.
He kissed her before she could change her mind, and unclasped her bra. She had sweet little budding breasts; these he kissed too, eliciting a moan from her. He kissed her on the neck, feeling her shudder, then on her smooth belly, sliding off her panties as he did so. She had a pubescent body, and she was the most glorious thing he had ever seen.
She blushed as he luxuriated at the sight of her. Crossing her legs and clasping her arms across her breasts, she whispered, 'Don't look at me like that.'
'But you're beautiful,' he assured her. 'Look, I'll take off my clothes too.'
And he hurriedly did, leaving them in a pile on the floor. She gazed at him, 'Oh wow' and turned frightened eyes on his hardness.
'I'm really really scared, Brennan.'
'It's gonna be okay,' he said as he pushed her down and entered her. He must have been a little rough because she cried out, and he had to put his hand on her mouth to keep her from alerting anyone. But oh, she felt so good. So warm and wonderful, and wet and soft. He found himself settling into a rhythm 'It'll come naturally' and hoped she was enjoying it as much as he did.
'What do you feel, Emma?' he said, looking deep into her eyes and taking her hand to put it against his head. Which was symbolic really, because her power was in her mind.
She closed her eyes. It was too complex to put it into words, all the sensations coursing through her. 'It feels wonderful. And.....so different.'
He kissed her closed eyelids, whispering, 'I told you so.'
He came fairly swiftly, gasping. It was only when he rolled off her that he noticed Dash was crying.
'I didn't know it hurt so much,' she sobbed.
He looked down at himself. He was covered in her blood. 'I'm sorry....I didn't know.' He didn't think it would be so traumatic. All that blood was making him a little queasy. He stammered, 'I...I think it would be better next time.'
He hoped there would be a next time. He had to coax her for a while before she agreed to try again. This time he took a longer time in kissing her and playing with her breasts. And when he entered her again, she didn't cry out.
'I learnt early on women needed a lot of foreplay,' Brennan explained to Emma. 'It made the whole experience so much better for them. And for me. Because making it better for them was the whole point.'
They spent the entire summer making out whenever and wherever they could. Dash got to like sex with him a lot, at least he liked to think that she did. But more importantly, she wanted him to love her.
'I love you so much, Brennan,' she said while he was inside her. 'Don't you love me too?'
'I love you,' he dutifully said. He would have said anything just so she would allow him to keep going. The truth was, he wasn't very sure what he felt for her was love. Lust and affection definitely. But love? That was too complicated to even define.
And then one day, it all fell apart. Dash came to him after the second class and pulled him into a corner. There were hollows in her eyes, as though she had been crying all night.
'I think I'm pregnant, Brennan.'
He was thunderstruck. He wasn't prepared for this. 'How do you know?' He was thinking, oh God...all those times they made love....completely without protection. He was old enough to know about that. Well maybe not that old - he was only 14 - but if he was old enough to have sex, he should have been thinking about protection.
What in the world had he been thinking of?
'I know, okay,' she said softly. 'I stole my sister's test kit and tried it out. Three times. Then I went to the doctor and she confirmed it for me. She wanted me to tell my folks. But I'm so scared. What should we do, Brennan?'
He was feeling every bit as scared as she was. 'How...how far are you gone?'
'Four months.' Tears ran down her cheeks. She looked so vulnerable. 'Maybe we should get married or something.'
'No!' His vehemence shocked even him. 'We can't even think about that. I'm too young...I mean, we're both too young.'
'But I thought..you loved me.'
'I do...I mean, I do..but this is just so....' He held up his hands. She was crying openly now. 'We're not ready for this. You just have to get rid of it.' His mind was swimming, he wasn't quite sure he knew what he was saying.
'But I don't know how!' she cried.
People streaming by were beginning to look at them. He pulled her away. 'Look, I can't think about this right now. I don't have the answers...but I will go back and think about it. And I'll get back to you. Okay? You've got to give me time. We'll fix this, okay?'
'I'm not something to be fixed, Brennan.' Something in her voice broke. 'I really thought you cared for me.'
'I do,' he said anxiously. 'But....I just need time to think about this okay? You just stay put. And I'll get back to you.'
He walked away from her, his mind racing wildly. The thoughts were jumbling in his head, a dozen possibilities streaming one after the other. What had he gotten himself into? He was getting a splitting headache, just trying to sort the cascade into a semblance of order. Maybe he had to ask Rico about this. Or maybe not Rico...someone more...adult. Like his mother. But God forbid he could never tell his mother. She would be too mortified.
He didn't have time to sort anything out. Before the day was over, and he had gone zombie-like through several classes, he noticed the principal walking into the schoolroom, looking dead serious. Everyone looked up.
Oh God, he thought. She told on him. Damn her, why couldn't she wait till he had time to sort things out? Now he was going to be in so much trouble.
'Mulwray,' the principal said. 'Will you come into my office, please?'
His heart was pounding in his chest. He could feel everyone staring at him as he walked out. He didn't want to look at anybody.
Outside the principal's office, there was a hive of activity. He recognized a lot of teachers, all who paused in their conversations to look at him as he went past. The principal held the door open for him as he entered.
'Sit down.'
He did, feeling the blood rush into his head. He suddenly felt giddy. In the chair next to him, Carol - Dash's best friend - turned her tear- streaked face to look at him. He couldn't read her expression.
'Mulwray,' the principal said. 'An hour ago, somebody found Dash McKenzie in the girls' bathroom at the second floor. There was a lot of blood all over the stall and her clothes. Carol here tells me she's pregnant, and that you're the father.'
Oh God....Dash.....He was so busy thinking about himself he hadn't thought about her.
'Is...is she okay?'
'She was trying to get rid of her baby.' The principal looked at him sharply. 'She tore herself up pretty bad. She must have lain there for a couple of hours before somebody found her. We called for the ambulance. Carol says you had a fight with her.'
His mind was reeling. 'I..I didn't think it was a fight.....'
'That's not all. Her wrists were slashed. She was trying to kill herself. We don't know if she'll make it.'
As the principal looked somberly at him, he felt his world drowning. Oh God....God, please don't let me be responsible for this....
*
*
*
'Don't you have any happy stories to tell, Brennan?' Emma said, stroking the line of his jaw.
'They're coming up,' he gave her a peck on the cheek. 'I just had a rough childhood.'
'And all the people around you.'
'Yeah.'
She hugged him, sensing that his mood had shifted into a pensive mode. 'Do you want to stay with me tonight?'
He seemed to consider it. 'Yes, I would like that.'
She tucked both of them in tenderly, and cuddled up to him, laying her head in the crook of his shoulder. He was so warm and wonderful. She could lie like this forever, basking in his scent, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against her cheek as he peacefully slid into slumber.
When she was certain he had fallen asleep, she raised herself on her elbow to gaze at him. He was the epitome of tranquility, and he was so...oh God, she thought.....so very beautiful. She loved the way his lashes curled up, the perfect line of his cheekbones, the sensuous turn of his mouth, the glow of his skin in the lamplight. He looked almost angelic, the way she thought Lucifer might have looked like before he fell from heaven; that same otherworldly joyous beauty.
In a sudden shocking revelation, she realized she was in love with him. Oh God...
Her hand flew to her mouth.
When..when did this happen? Was it when he first kissed her? The images and sensations were flashing in her head now - that first kiss in the motel bed, so chaste and hesitant. His later kisses, so urgent and powerful with need. His lips and tongue everywhere, exploring hungrily. The silky feel of his skin and his taut muscles under her caresses....But no...it was far more than a physical thing, of this she was certain.
Was it when he began telling her his stories? Herself sinking into them, experiencing his growth and angst through his eyes, that tangible vulnerability that he hid from them in the day, displayed in its stark naked state for her and her only. Did that make him become irresistible to her? A man, his soul stripped bare for her compassion. Did that not unlock something within her - a nurturing instinct perhaps - that made her want to hold him in her arms and shield him against the world forever?
Or had she loved him from the very beginning, the day they met so long ago? Only she had kept it hidden, in denial from herself. And as their friendship grew, so did their caring. So many vivid images; the two of them, almost dying, being saved by each other, more rebirth and dying, like a needy cycle that feeds on itself, a dragon that devours its own tail.
She felt almost dizzy with all the reeling images and emotions that besieged her. But there was no going back. She loved him. She was in love with him. She loved him for the man he was, the man he was not, and the man she wanted him to be. She loved him with her heart, her soul and her bones, and she knew it was like no love she had ever experienced before, not with Tyler....or with anyone. She loved him with a deep, deep rapture; it was something that filled her with agony, and yet with heady delight. She loved him in spite of his past and his present, his faults and his inadequacies, his deficiencies and his failures, his hopes and his dreams, his deep secret yearnings; in spite of himself.
She wanted to emit a mental scream in the air, of triumph and declaration - I love you, Brennan. I love you, I love you!
The euphoria settling around her, she drew her knees into her arms and clasped them. Okay, she thought, so I'm in love with him. Now what the heck am I going to do about it?
TBC
P/s: Okay, so I've reached the theme I wanted to explore. Can a man and a woman who are best friends have a sexual relationship without falling in love? As always, please R & R to keep me going.