None of this belongs to me; Meg Cabot and Disney own it though

Her clothes were damp, and she sat parked on the side walk for a good thirty minutes trying to warm up and get her self together. The heater of the car hummed, and she looked at the people, rushing past the window as wet blurs of speed shielding them selves from the cursed rain. Opening the door, she breathed in the sharp air and gracefully stepped pout of the car, locking it behind her as she shielded herself with the umbrella.

The hospital in the city of Pyrus was strangely quiet and the whiteness of the place made it unwelcoming. Some solitary nurses floated up and down the corridors but no one stopped to look at her because they were engrossed with the little work they had to do.

Directly in front of her, in the deserted reception was a desk, with a young girl sitting behind a cheap tabloid, engrossed. Clarisse stood patiently for some time, her head bowed just in case she was to attract the attention she so wanted to avoid. She grew impatient and tapped her manicured fingers on the polished surface. The girl, with a huffy sigh looked over her paper and appeared to startle for a moment. She was recognisable alright.

"Joseph Cruz", she muttered before the girl could speak at all, "Quickly", she ordered forcefully.

"Ah- err," the girl blundered as she fiddled with the key board of the computer, "Room 201, Your -"

"Enough", Clarisse said quietly, interrupting her, "Please".

She smiled slightly, her face cold and hard and then studied the signs on the walls, finding "Rooms 200 -220", she followed the direction.

The corridors were quiet, a few open ward doors, a few doctors on rounds, a few radio's playing the Genovian station. The hospital made her skin crawl; she hated the smell of bleach and did not allow the vile stuff to be used to liberally in the palace. She felt unclean already, as if someone had infested her skin.

Room 201 was right at the end of the whitewash corridor, far away from the realness of disease.

She stood outside and looked at the white door, inside he was laying, near dead and all of that, in its severity was vile. He was dying, she was dead. It did not matter; she did not matter because she felt nothing. She pushed the door and it was unbelievably heavy under her hands, it seemed it took forever to open.

He was lying on the bed and the sight did nothing to her, she was surprised that tears did not rush to her eyes, that rage did not fill her heart. All she felt was infinite pity and unquenchable guilt. On the bed was a mangled man, his head bandaged, his face bruised and bloodied. Tubes and wires were ribbons from his body, with each struggling breath monitor bleeped recognition of his struggle.

In the corner, there was a chair and she moved to sit, without taking her eyes from the gruesome sight, suddenly it occurred to her, she was a murderer - even if he was not dead.

For hours, she sat motionless. Her clothes were dry but smelled awful, her face was tight and sore, and her head was thumping. She thought about everything, about him about how he felt underneath her hands all those years ago, how he had not changed at all. He had only become angry, harder, colder. He had to match up with her, to compete with her. She started to shiver and tears, long over due began to gurgle from her tired eyes. From the back of her throat, a strangled sob wretched and echoed around the room. He had not woken and he would not wake and if he did, he would never forgive her.

"Don't!" she looked up, and again, a sob escaped without permission. This time, his eyes, cold and lifeless sprung open.

"I said "Don't!" he growled, with a shocking amount of strength, "Do not cry over me!" abruptly, she stopped and ceased to shake. Across the room, there was huge square window and weakly she lifted herself from the chair in silence and came to stand before it. While she moved, she could feel his eyes on her, watching her back.

Out on the street, she noticed there were few people now and she understood why ; when a huge torrent of rain beats down on our shoulders, we cower, we hide we do not face what might hurt us. The silence that ensued was painful enough to kill her. She could feel his eyes on her back but she did not turn, out of shame she could not.

"It's raining", she whispered, "It's dreary".

"I see that", he answered, "I see you".

"There's no need to see me", she chocked, not turning from the window.

"I see you are killing yourself, I see that one day you'll fall and then, you won't be able to get up anymore! I see -"

"Please!" she begged, his words tearing her apart, "Don't say this to me".

"I won't tell you what you want to here anymore", he sighed, almost sadly," Because you are dragging me down with you".

"I drag you, because I need you", she sobbed, almost inaudibly.

"I love you so much Clarisse!" he cried out, "But let me, for all that's on this earth, let me hold you!"

"It's not so easy!" she nearly screamed, swivelling on her heels to face the bed, "It's not that easy!"

"Stop shouting", he said, "It will attract attention".

"I don't care anymore!" she screamed, "I don't care about anything because you fill my thoughts all the time, every second and it's wrong!"

"For a night, 20 years ago you saw nothing wrong with it!"

She looked at him and then hung her head.

"I've lived with the guilt of that for too long, Joseph!"

"Oh, please Clarisse". He said viciously, "If he had cared, he would have said something - if he had loved you, he wouldn't have screwed every other girl in Genovia!"

"I know all that!" she screamed, "I know that."

"Well, don't us e the guilt card my dear, because you're too old for that!"

"I want you so badly! Don't you see that but how can I bring you into this world, it will stifle you like it stifled me!"

"No it wouldn't, because I know that inside you, inside that dark heart there's a woman worth loving, that's the only reason I've stayed all these years! And you know what, I'll always stay because I can't survive without her, because she's what I get up for in the morning - even if she doesn't show her face that day!" he was almost crying now, his voce straining but he continued,

"I think she's dead but, if I could see that women I spent that night with 20m years ago, I'll live another 20 without her".

"I'm not her anymore", she sighed.

"It can't be helped, we grow, we change - and some of us buckle under pressure, some of us want the thing we can't have most", he whispered, staring at the ceiling, "and I'll never stop wanting you".

"And, I you", she admitted, "I love you, I desire you more than anything else in the whole world - but it's not enough to stop me hurting you!"

"You've never hurt me Clarisse", he answered, softly, "Only yourself, then you hurt me because I watch you suffer, you deny yourself what you want, you deny me what I want".

She looked at him and in a moment, she had moved from the window to the side of the bed. She had thrown herself onto him, her lips crashing onto his, her tears covering his face.

"I can't deny you, I won't, not any more", she sobbed as she covered his face in kisses, "Because I've killed you, I've reached the bottom with you".

Please review!

Yours,

M

Xx