As he leant across her carefully, reaching to switch off the lamp on her desk, he couldn't help but feel her tremble. Shrouded now in semi-darkness, the only light coming from the door to her bedroom, he pulled her to him once again.
Her eyes surely closed, he felt her bury herself in his chest, and noticed that her breathing had become a little unsteady. Like him, she was nervous. Terribly nervous. For a moment he waited, simply holding her close, casually stroking her back, and then he spoke, his words nothing more than whispers in the still room,
"Clarisse…Clarisse, my darling…it's just me."
He felt her shift a little, her hands coming to rest against his chest, and she lifted her head slightly. In the dim light, her eyes were wide and her cheeks still glistening. She reached up and stroked a hand across his cheek, caressing his lips with her thumb, her voice catching slightly as she spoke,
"I just can't quite believe it, not yet. It's almost too much…"
He smiled, kissing her thumb gently,
"It's always been too much with us, my love…"
She nodded, seriously for a moment, and then, smiling, reached down and found his hand, entangling her fingers in his.
OoOoOoOo
As he waited in her bedroom, Joseph couldn't help but wonder at how she had spent her evenings previously. The room was comfortable, yes, but there was little in the way of distraction. No tv, no music…simply the book by her bed and, he noted, with a little shake of the head, an ominous looking pile of paperwork on a coffee table. And yet she had retired to her rooms early most evenings since they had been in San Francisco. Stepping over to the balcony doors, he opened one carefully and stepped out. The night-time air was still warm and thick with the heady scent of roses. Gazing out over the garden, he smiled at Clarisse's creativity. She really was rather the expert when it came to matters of horticulture. A few more weeks and the garden would be perfect. Everything would be perfect.
Wandering back into the room, he was still preoccupied though. Her nervous reaction had not surprised him but nonetheless it had concerned him. Feeling the butterflies surface once again, he couldn't help but wonder if he was right in pushing her now. But was he pushing her? He didn't know… So long had they danced around each other…so long since they had simply relaxed with each other. And now he found himself afraid they would never find that easy relaxation again.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, with his head in his hands, he struggled to process the last few hours. In all honesty, he had wanted to talk this evening, there and then. To get everything out into the open, to clear his mind, and, he thought ruefully, his conscience. He had wanted her to understand…wanted to make sure that she had understood. Before all this. But now it was too late, it was not the time, she was tired. He sighed, suddenly feeling weary himself. Screwing his eyes up, he rubbed his temples and groaned softly.
As a cool hand came to rest carefully on his shoulder, he almost jumped,
"Joseph?"
She wasn't changed yet, had simply taken off her jewellery and her jacket, and now she stood next to him, the look of concern clearly visible on her face.
He smiled, and gently brought a hand to rest on hers, stroking her fingers reassuringly,
"I'm fine…just tired."
She looked at him closely, seeing the lie, not knowing whether to push it. He saw her recognition, and, smiling weakly, drew her hand to his lips, kissing her tenderly.
"I know…honestly, Clarisse, it's nothing. I had just hoped we would talk…"
She sighed, her eyes still full of concern, and he continued,
"But not tonight…we are both exhausted. Tomorrow."
After a long pause, she nodded, slowly, her eyes sincere,
"Tomorrow"
OoOoOoOo
After she had disappeared again into the bathroom, he slipped off his shoes and socks, and set them carefully at the foot of the bed. As he padded round the room once again, he realised that he had come rather foolishly unprepared. Not only was he without a change of clothes for the following day but, and slightly more pressingly, he was without any nightwear. For a moment he wondered if he could make a quick dash back to his room, but soon realised that would be impossible. Glancing at the bathroom door, he contemplated knocking and explaining…but then decided against it. He could sleep in his boxers.
Slipping off his trousers and his shirt, he moved towards the bed, and threw back the covers. Shaking his head a little at the enormous mountain of pillows that Clarisse was so fond of, he began to shift some onto the floor. As he moved the last few, however, he was struck by the flash of a familiar fabric. Shifting another pillow, he was genuinely shocked to find what he immediately recognised to be one of his pyjama shirts lying there. Picking it up and unfolding it, he tried to remember the last time he had worn it. It had been months…no, nearer years. He couldn't remember. He remembered throwing the bottoms away several months ago, unable to find its matching shirt. He had assumed that housekeeping must have misplaced it, somewhere between his room and the laundry.
But she had had it all along. For a few seconds, he sat, just contemplating the shirt. As it began to sink in that she must have kept it…slept with it…all this time, he couldn't help a weak smile from forming on his lips. All this time.
OoOoOoOo
In the bathroom, Clarisse was looking at herself in the mirror. Freshly showered and wearing her favourite white cotton pyjamas, she felt much better. As she carefully removed the remainder of her eye makeup from her lids, she wondered for a moment if she might reapply it. She had actually got as far as to reach into her makeup bag before she decided against it. Her hands were still a little shaky, and the liner would no doubt come out all wrong…but more than that. This was Joseph. He had seen her scream and shout, cry and fall to pieces. He had seen her frozen and shivering, and hot and uncomfortable. He had seen her, he saw her, it was that simple. And so she replaced the liner in the bag and decided to brush her teeth.
OoOoOoOoO
As she walked back into the room, Clarisse was instantly relaxed by the dimmed lights. She was still nervous, her heart, as clichéd as it might sound, was quite simply racing, but it was getting easier. Joseph was sitting up in bed, pretending to read her book. She smiled at his apparent ease, and almost instantly regretted it as tears began to prick once again. He was wearing the shirt.
For a split second she felt strangely guilty…at the comfort she had drawn from him without his consent, the way she had clung to that shirt as she had so often cried herself to sleep. But then he looked up and, dropping the book onto the floor, gave her a tender smile and a cheekier wink.
"Yes…it most definitely looks better on you, Joseph"
He laughed, and casually throwing back the covers next to him, gestured for her to join him.
"Ah yes, well, I was about to ask you a few questions about that."
His tone was teasingly stern, and, as he held out his hand, she stepped closer, and allowed him to draw her into the bed.
"You see, I've been looking for this shirt for quite some time, young lady…and I did have rather firm words with some of the domestic staff about its mysterious vanishing..."
She giggled softly and, still holding his hand in hers, lay back onto the soft, cool pillow, and looked up at him. To her surprise, his eyes were glistening with tears and, just as she was about to voice her concern, he looped his free arm around her, and lifted her seemingly effortlessly to lie against his chest.
"I'm sorry…it's just…well, it's been so long since I've seen you laugh like that…"
He kissed the top of her head, gently letting his lips smooth over her hair, explaining simply,
"I've missed it."
Turning carefully, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him tenderly on the lips,
"And I've missed you, Joseph."
As they slid down to lie flat on the pillows, their arms still wrapped around each other, both let out shaky sighs. For a long moment, they simply looked deep into each other's eyes, lost in the moment, knowing that words would be superfluous. Their exchanged gaze was eloquent enough. Finally, brushing a strand of hair from her face, Joseph began to whisper,
"Forgive me, my darling…for everything? For the things that I meant, and the things that I didn't?"
She smiled, snuggling closer, until her forehead was pressed against his, her lips millimetres from his own,
"I forgive you…I forgave you long ago." She paused, not sure where to begin, not having anticipated this just yet, "Can you? I…I know the pain I caused you, the things I asked of you…I understand…I know why you left, why…"
She broke off, realising that she was babbling, and he kissed her quickly, his action far more efficient that any words.
"I never left Clarisse…"
Her eyes opened and looked into his deep brown ones, struck immediately by his honesty.
"Perhaps you should have…"
"Never."
She smiled, and kissed him slowly, savouring the feel of his lips against hers once more. Finally.
"And…my darling…just so we are clear on this…" He kissed her nose lightly, teasing her, but with such care that it was almost heartbreaking, "I forgive you. And, now, darling Clarisse, we should sleep."
With that, he pulled her against him again, and wrapping his arms about her, began to stroke her back. She yawned quietly, unable to think of any reasonable protest, and, shifting a little, her leg coming to lie between his, began to feel herself growing sleepy. Pressing her lips to his chest, she kissed him goodnight, and proceeded to drift away, unsure whether the "I love you" came from his lips or her own…
sorry this took so long - hope you all like it, now it's finally up! Please review if you have time. Next episode will take us through the morning after in San Francisco, and then coming back to the present and the big refusal scene...woohoo!