Disclaimer: Don't own any of the Princess Diaries characters - just borrowing them for a while.


Fallen - part 12

It was difficult for Rose to accept, or even begin to understand, why Clarisse had gone to stay with Stephen in France. In fact she had never been able to understand her sister's relationship with her ex-husband. After divorcing him Clarisse had moved back to Britain, only to return to France several times over a two-year period to stay with him.

This ended when he became engaged to another woman but when that marriage ended five years down the line in another divorce it was Clarisse whom he turned to. The surprising thing was for such an incredibly intelligent and astute woman Clarisse always went. She had continued to visit him over the years and, although she never revealed it, Rose suspected she never had a separate bedroom when she stayed with him.

That was why it was unbelievably difficult for her to accept that once again the person she'd had turned to was a man who treated her badly. A man who made her life hell during three short years of marriage. A man who obviously used her for whatever whim and fancy he had. Rose knew that Clarisse would never find happiness with this man, and probably would never want to, so it pained her deeply that her sister thought so little of herself that she would still sleep with him.

Still, things being as they are, she was her sister, and she loved her dearly. Therefore the argument was never again mentioned and neither was Clarisse's obvious heartbreak at leaving Genovia. Summer moved onwards and Rose would quite happily admit to anyone who asked that she was delighted to have her sister living nearby again.

Much of Clarisse's time was taken up by the new house, as always everything had to be perfect. She designed each room herself, had landscapers create an oasis of a garden and generally spent every waking moment ploughing money and energy into her new project. It wasn't in Clarisse's nature to rest and Rose wondered just what she was going to fill her time with once the house was finished.

Rose flopped down onto the couch and swung her legs up onto her husband's lap.

"Hard day dear?" He said absently as he flicked through the T.V channels.

"Yes, that grand-daughter of ours is turning into a real terror. Coupled with trying to keep up with Clarisse and you have one very tired wife… rub my feet." She nudged his elbow.

He placed the remote control down on the arm of the couch and took hold of her foot rubbing her toes. "Why don't you go take bath and I'll see to dinner tonight."

"Ha, does that mean fish and chips then."

"Of course." He smiled squeezing her foot.

"Sounds fabulous." She sat up ready to move. "I'll go take your advice."

"Okay. Hey I saw that er place earlier, on the news."

"What place?" She asked glancing at herself in the mirror.

"You know, where your Clarisse worked, Geneva."

"Genovia, and why was it on the news?"

"Ah, something wrong with their King, apparently not been seen outside the castle…"

"Palace."

"Yeah palace… in over two weeks, lots of speculation that he's on his last legs, family says he's just ill."

"Oh… and why was it on the news?"

"Ah I don't know." He stood up stretching his arms above his head. "Supposed to be attending some to-do over here I reckon."

Rose turned to face her husband. "Oh I see."

"Wonder if Clarisse saw it, bet she has some connections, could probably find out if the old guy's snuffed it, could be in newspaper, make a few quid."

"Martin." She placed a hand on his chest. "Don't mention it to her hey, she's still a bit upset about it not working out there."

"She's probably seen the news."

"Maybe, but even if she has, don't say anything to her love."

"Okay, if that's what you want. I'll give you half-an-hour in the bath then I'm off to get the chips."

"Deal."


Clarisse glanced out of the kitchen window, the rain that had begun so softly two hours ago had now turned into a thundering downpour. Sighing she tucked one leg behind the other and scratched her left ankle with her right foot, her hands were covered with flour. She kneaded the dough on the counter one last time and proudly lifted it into the baking tin. Her first attempt at bread making… well her first since she was twelve years old and ended up with a burnt stone at the bottom of a tin. The memory still made her blush.

Moving to the stove she placed the tin on the bottom shelf and wiped her hands on her apron. She turned the dial on the radio and hummed along to the piece of music that was playing. She actually didn't mind the rain this afternoon, the house had been finished a week and now she felt thoroughly comfortable there. It felt good to be alone enjoying the solitude, not having a reason to do anything other than relax.

She opened the fridge and scanned the contents mentally ticking off what she could scrape together for dinner, there was a bottle of wine chilling and she contemplated opening it there and then. However it was only 4:30 in the afternoon, best wait til at least 6:00. She passed the stove again and bent down glancing in, nothing happening yet, but then it had only been 10 minutes.

Her musings were invaded by a dull thudding on the door, whoever would venture out in this weather? It was hardly as if her neighbours were close, a good brisk 10 minute walk at least from door to door. Unless it was Rose, she often got bored in the afternoons and popped over regularly now for a chat over tea.

Switching the radio off yet still humming to herself she wiped her hands on her apron again and moved across the kitchen to the back door, the front was still waiting to be fitted and as such at the moment a fake one kept the weather outside. Through the panels of frosted glass she could make out a figure stooped in the rain, she quickly slid the bolt back ready to drag Rose inside and scold her for being out in such weather.

Frozen to the spot Clarisse gripped the door handle a little tighter, the pressure of the metal cutting into her skin. She couldn't bring herself to speak, couldn't find the words. She blinked attempting to wake herself from whatever dream she had fallen into.

"Hello Clarisse."

His voice was different to how she remembered, lower, bitter even. He looked so very old standing there, so very old.

"I know this is a shock to you but do you think it might be possible for me to come indoors."

Shaking herself awake she stepped back allowing Joseph entrance to her warm dry kitchen. For a second she contemplated running out into the wet weather and escaping but common sense took over and instead she closed the door. Although it took her rather a few seconds to be able to turn to face him.

"I don't understand…" she finally said.

"No."

"That's all you have to say." She folded her hands together as she stared at him. "I can't believe you're here, standing in my kitchen. I can't… goodness you're soaking."

"I couldn't decide whether to knock on the door or not, I've been standing in your driveway for a while."

"Joseph." She said his name gently, almost reverently. "Let me get you a towel."

She was gone for merely a second or two, not even time for him to glance around and gain his bearings, take in his surroundings.

"Here." She handed him the towel, careful not to touch his hand as she did so. "Now, why exactly, I mean… I mean after these past months, why are you here?"

"I wanted to call, to write, I never knew what to put."

She noted he was trembling as he spoke, as he patted his face and head with the towel.

"But, Joseph, we decided. You can't simply turn up." She was clasping her hands together and then unclasping them again unconsciously as she tried to make sense of what was happening. "Where is your security, are they in the car... I should make them some coffee or something, did you fly, how did you find me?"

"It took a while, I have, people do these things. You have a beautiful home."

"How can you stand there and say that… how can you be standing here, oh god." She clutched her face, trying to regain a sense of where she was and what was actually happening.

When she looked up at him again she noticed the trembling had turned into physical shaking, his whole body seemed to be overtaken with it. His shoulders heaved and his face… she hardly recognised his face.

"Joseph, sit down." She said gently finally reaching for his arm and leading him to a chair. "I'll get you something to drink, whisky, tea, something to warm you." She hastened around the kitchen putting the kettle on and then disappearing into another room and returning with a decanter. "I only have Brandy." She said absently. She poured him a glass and took it over to the table.

"Here."

"Thank you." He took is shakily and lifted it to his lips taking a sip.

"I hope it tastes okay, not as good… Joseph." She caught his hand before he dropped the glass and helped him take another sip. Tentatively she laid a hand on his forehead. "You're burning up."

Standing back she placed her hands on her hips. "You shouldn't be here. I heard… or rather I saw, on the news, you've been ill… I wanted to call somebody, I would have called Richard but of course…"

"He stayed." Joseph said slowly. "I asked him to stay."

"Oh." She was rather taken aback by this. "Well, good. Are you better, obviously not, what was wrong, what is wrong?"

"I'm fine, just the rain. Fear."

"At seeing me." She bit down on her lip. "You've lost weight."

"My Doctor tells me the same thing, I haven't been that hungry." He smiled sadly lifting his face to hers, staring intently at her. "You look so well, so good."

The kettle boiled and she welcomed the diversion. "I'll make you some tea. Where are you staying, I can drive you there, you really should take a bath and go to bed, try and warm yourself up."

"I'm not used to you being like this." He croaked finishing off his brandy.

"Like what?"

"Fussing about, you're always so organised."

"You've rather shaken me." She replied replacing the milk in the fridge and taking his tea across.

He stared at it and then back up at her. "I haven't got a place to stay right now, I landed only a short while ago, I didn't exactly plan this. I needed to see you."

"Oh Joseph, perhaps a telephone call would have been better."

"Too impulsive, always my problem. How have you been?" He asked hesitantly.

"Fine." She lied. "Well, busy, with the house… fine."

"Good, I'm glad. I missed…"

She held her hand up to silence him. "Don't, don't say that."

"Wonderful smell." He added quickly to cover the silence.

"Oh god my bread." She flung open the stove door and retrieved the loaf. "It shouldn't be ready yet, I must have had the temperature too high, I always ruin it." She put the tray down and chewed down on her lip as she slid a knife into the centre of the bread. "Still sticky inside." She said downhearted. "And black on the outside, story of my life."

She turned back to him, realising he was still there watching her amused.

"Well, I guess there is no bread for dinner." She said attempting to smile.

She untied the apron from her waist and went to the sink rinsing her hands. There was a smashing sound behind her and she turned as Joseph leant towards the floor attempting to scoop up the broken pieces of the cup.

"Damn it, I'm sorry, sorry…" he mumbled.

"It's okay, it's fine, Joseph don't touch it with your hands you'll cut yourself." She caught hold of his still trembling fingers. "I'll do it."

He tried to hold onto her hands but she stood again and went to a cupboard returning with a dustpan and a cloth. He could only watch as she cleaned up the mess.

"I'll buy you a new cup."

"It hardly matters." She sat back on the floor glancing up at him. "You need to rest. You can hardly hold yourself up."

"You're always so honest." He smiled but his eyes no longer had that warm glow she was so used to when he looked at her, in fact his eyes were desperately tired.

"You'll have to stay here, the spare room still smells of paint, that won't be any good for your chest, don't want this developing into a cold. You take my room, I'll sleep in there."

"Imposing old fool, it's okay, I'll call someone, leave you alone."

"No, I'm assuming you came all the way here for a significant reason, obviously we can't talk about that now…"

"The travelling took it out of me I guess."

"Yes," she stopped trying to work out what exactly was going on. "Whatever it is you feel we need to discuss we'll do it when you're better. I'm not so heartless to throw you back out into that weather."

"Not heartless at all." He said reaching forwards to touch her but she stood up too quickly and moved to the sink dropping the cloth in and rinsing it.

"You have no luggage." She said matter of factly.

"In the car."

"Keys?"

"Here." He dropped them onto the table. "Picked it up at the airport, new bloody things, can hardly work it out."

"I'll fetch your bags later. Come on," she held her arm out for him, standing at the side of his chair. "Let's get you upstairs."

"I've only just arrived."

"No jokes Joseph."

He nodded resolutely and took her arm, she almost had to pull him up.

It was a slow and steady job getting him up the stairs, half carrying him, he was almost passing out as they reached the top.

"Okay, here we are, you can sleep here."

Joseph fell back onto the bed and Clarisse moved to close her curtains.

"Do you want a bath?" She glanced over to where he now lay. "Perhaps better when you're able to hold yourself up."

She quickly stripped him off his shirt and shoes but wasn't quite prepared to take his trousers off, she went as far as removing his belt and helping him beneath the sheets. Resting her hand on his forehead she couldn't help but feel her chest tighten as she took in his appearance, bed sheets bunched up around his neck, still shaking so violently.

"How did you let yourself get so weak?" She whispered.

"I was a fool." He mumbled.

"You have a fever."

"Couldn't eat, couldn't sleep…" His eyes were squeezed shut.

"Sleep now."

"Missed her…"

Clarisse stepped back from the bed and bent to collect his shirt, she hung it on the back of a chair and listened as his breathing evened out, he was settling into sleep.

She moved to the door to leave, to go and get herself a strong drink and the hour be damned!

"Clarisse." He moaned.

"Yes?" She stepped back in looking to the bed. He still slept.


Well i guess the next part of the story begins... please review xx Rhonda