Disclaimer: Don't own, never will, just playing...
Fallen - part 24
It was dark when Clarisse woke up, she hadn't intended to sleep, she meant just to lie down for a while, to have a minute to herself. But her mind was exhausted, mentally, physically, emotionally, she was exhausted.
She got up from the bed and rubbed her face, it had been raining, she could smell it in the air. Shivering she moved to the window and closed it, in the distance she could hear the sea, steady and unchangeable tides creeping in.
This had to end now, one-way or the other. Honestly she didn't want them to part on bad terms, she cared too much for that, far too much. But right now she couldn't see another way.
The situation had gone from bad to worse; they'd clambered from one emotion to the other, exchanged insults, thrown their hurt back and forth.
Honestly she didn't want it to end badly, yet if she were really honest with herself she knew that it probably would.
With a heavy heart she made her way back downstairs. The rooms all lie in darkness, the kitchen seemed eerily cold as she stepped into it. Yet he'd moved, she didn't trip over his legs when she'd entered the room.
"Joseph?" She whispered reaching for the light switch.
"I'm here." He blinked as the harshness of the light filled the room.
"How are you?" she said hesitantly, he looked like hell.
"Bearing up. You slept?"
"Yes… for a while." She realised he must have come and checked on her, she hadn't noticed it before, but she wasn't under the sheets when she lay on the bed. "Have you eaten anything?"
"No, not yet."
"Shall I make you something?"
"You don't have to."
"You haven't eaten all day."
She passed by him as she moved to the table, collecting up their breakfast dishes. He held her from behind, his hands winding around her waist, his head on her lower back.
"I need you."
"Joseph…" she warned. "This won't help."
"Hold me, please, just hold me for a while, I need your warmth, I need you to fix me."
"I can't." she attempted to pull away again, it broke her heart but she did it nevertheless. "You have to fix yourself, not rely on me. I'll make us dinner."
"I don't care about dinner! Clarisse, talk to me."
"I don't want to argue anymore."
"Neither do I but I need to know, we need to sort this out."
"We have sorted this out, you know how I feel, Joseph you should never have asked, if you'd never said those words we could have enjoyed the last day, you would have left in the morning and all would be as it should be. A brief moment, some escapist memory."
"And how do you think it would have gone, hmm? My leaving? Would it have been plain sailing, you kissed me goodbye and I disappear like some good little boy without a second thought on the matter. Don't you know you have my soul here. You're tearing me apart."
"What we have isn't exactly clear is it Joseph, not really, you couldn't have thought for one second that this…"
"That this was more than just sex for you, damn it, damn you," he was storming around the kitchen now, restless, fuming. "For gods sake, how can you be so cold to me, such a total bitch."
"Joseph!"
"How can you, just screwing around for you, just some light entertainment until the next one comes along. That's all it's ever been… sex, well Clarisse I sure hope I reached your expectations, sure hope I get a good report for when you reveal all to the next lucky beggar."
"Stop it."
He kicked one of the cupboards.
"Stop this right now!"
"What do you want from me?" He whispered, then broke into a roar. "What the hell do you want from me? To walk away tomorrow and never think about you again, or to suffer for the rest of my life dreaming about this? What kind of sadist are you? Shall we just fuck on the kitchen table one last time before I leave?"
Breathless he stopped, forcing air into his lungs, gripping the edge of the worktop in an attempt to steady himself.
"Are you finished?" She whispered. "Because if you are I think you should leave now, before you say anything else."
"For gods sake," he cried out. "Who the hell taught you to be so cold, do you feel nothing, nothing?"
"You have no right to speak to me like that, whoever you are, whatever titles you hold." Shaking she attempted to pull herself together and steadily crossed the kitchen opening the fridge and taking out a bottle of wine. "You're in my home."
"I'm not speaking to you as some haughty royal, listen to me." He grabbed her arm forcing her to turn. "I'm speaking to you…"
"Let go of me." She yanked her arm back but he held onto it.
"I'm saying this as your lover of the past few days, as the man who is in love with you, so fucked up, so deeply I can't see, I've been blind as to how you really are."
"Take your hands off me."
"Stop struggling, stop fighting me."
"Don't touch me, let go, you selfish egocentric bastard!" She pushed him back with her free hand, slapped his face hard and scathingly.
He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back against the worktop, the wine bottle toppled from the side and smashed at her feet.
She glanced down as Joseph winced, felt the liquid seep into her slippers and drench her toes. Then she noticed Joseph was bare foot, his grip on her loosened and he dropped his head.
"I'm sorry." He whispered. "Sorry for everything."
Trembling he stepped away from her, not one flit of emotion now showed on his face. She watched as he crunched through the glass and out of the kitchen.
Groping the side for support Clarisse shook violently, this wasn't how it should have gone; this wasn't how it was meant to end. Not like this.
Her throat felt awkward and tight, her heart beating so fast she could barely breathe. Her stomach twisted with nausea, her chest ached with the memory of what had just transpired.
Tentatively she stepped over the shards of glass and out of her slippers, he feet were wet, as she entered the lounge she dug her toes into the carpet. She climbed the stairs, the only light coming from her bedroom.
The room was empty, the bed sheets still crumpled, their clothes of the past few days lay discarded on the floor. God she'd lost all sense of reality this past week. All sense.
Turning she headed for the en suite, that too was empty, as was the second bathroom, the spare bedrooms, the office.
Angrily she wiped at her face, at the tears welling up in her eyes and threatening to fall. Frustrated she stomped her feet, she shouldn't allow him to do this. He shouldn't have the power to make her feel this way.
Making her way downstairs again she stopped in the lounge, she could hear him now, muffled anguish. In the darkness she crossed through to the far side, his back to her, sitting on the floor, staring out the patio doors to the blackness of the garden.
"Joseph…" She whispered, her voice broke instantly; she closed her eyes tightly and shook the tears away. He was crying, she'd not seen a man cry since her father at her mother's funeral.
Reaching out shakily she touched his shoulder. He showed no sign he'd felt it; she bent, could see the tears streaming down his face as she knelt behind him.
"Did I hurt you?" His voice was deep, raw and cracked.
She shook her head.
"I want you so badly it's killing me, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, to make you happy, to give you anything I can. To marry you, to be able to call you my wife… yet you can't ever bear to hear the words."
She said nothing, her own tears fell now as she listened to his broken voice, his will shattered.
"There's nothing I can do, I cannot force you to love me, can't make you."
Her hand tightened on his shoulder. "But you have no idea how I feel… how much I care…" her voice failed her and she had to breathe deeply to clear the tightness. "I do Joseph, I do. Do you think I would be doing this if I didn't, that I would really just sleep with you for the fun?"
"No." he finally said, monosyllabic and empty.
"I'm almost fifty-six years old, I want more. I want this relationship you speak of, companionship, with you."
He turned around quickly. "But you won't marry me, despite this."
"Because it wouldn't be what you describe, it wouldn't be simply us growing old together and enjoying our time. I'd be savaged by the press, this woman, this nobody marrying a King. His former housekeeper, who knows how the country would respond, what right do I have to take my place in the royal house?"
He clasped her hands in his." Every right."
"But I don't want it. I want my retirement to be peaceful, to do what I want when I want. Not to be following you around, attending dull social gatherings and political get-togethers… as grand and wonderful as all that might be."
"You wouldn't have to, I'd make sure of it, you could have your freedom."
"Living in the palace, not here, not in my home. Joseph you must understand that, you must try, my family I don't want them to have to go through that. All the questions, digging through my personal life, picking me apart, false tabloid stories, I'm sure Stephen would just love to have his fifteen minutes at my expense."
He was silent now, gazing at the floor, still holding her hands firmly in his.
"Joseph…" She touched his head, stroked his face. "Joseph, I don't want to hurt you, I don't want you to think that I used you, I'm not… I don't know what to do."
"Neither do I."
He glanced up at her and her fingers lightly touched his mouth.
"I shouldn't have said what I did, the things I called you, for that I apologise."
She nodded fleetingly touching the red mark on his face. "And I'm sorry for that." She looked to his feet, sticky with blood. "Oh god you're hurt." She let go of him and dragged herself up. "I'll get something for it."
"I'm fine, a few cuts."
"You might have glass in them."
"I can walk." He hobbled to his feet.
"Go to the bathroom, I'll find something to clean the cuts properly."
Sitting on the edge of the bathtub Joseph watched through sore red eyes as Clarisse washed his cuts. He reached and touched her shoulder.
"Does it hurt, am I hurting you?"
"No." he murmured. "Clarisse…" he whispered.
"Yes." She turned the water off, dabbed at his feet with a towel. The bleeding had ceased, his cuts were clean.
"Clarisse…"
"Yes." Absently she looked up to him, realised his hand rested lightly on her shoulder. He looked so broken, so exhausted and drained. His eyes were cloudy, red from the crying, gone was his warm smile, the air of comfort he seemed to carry with him.
Had she done this to him?
Moving she leant against him, stroking his face, kissing his forehead, twisting the tips of her fingers into his beard.
She rested her forehead against his. "Ohh what a day. What a horrible day." She kissed his mouth, finally, after avoiding contact with him the entire day. She felt an instant warmth in the pit of her stomach, the pressure on her heart lifting, and she said the next words without thought or care. "Let's go to bed."
Side by side they lay in the darkness, naked, warm and close together. Their bodies still entwined, the slow sweetness of their love making still streaming through their bodies.
Clarisse's eyes were open but she could hardly see, the moon was covered tonight and the room was black, she was blind. She felt Joseph stroking her skin, one of his hands clasped in hers, the other cradling and cherishing her body next to his.
"I'll leave." His voice cut into the darkness shattering the dreamlike state she'd slipped into.
"I'll abdicate."
"What?" She heard the words, couldn't register them.
"I'll abdicate, to Philippe, leave, after a few months when the fuss has died down I'll come here."
"No." she pulled back from his hold. "No, you can't do that."
"It will be fine, it's been done before."
"No, you'll never forgive yourself, you love your country, if they hate you you'll… slip into depression, end up blaming me."
"I wouldn't."
"You would, and it would never die down, they would want to know where you are, who you're with, the intrusion would be the same."
"Clarisse."
"Tell me that's what you really want, to abandon your country?"
He was silent, she could hear his uncertain breath, could just about see his face.
She reached to touch it. "You won't do that. Not for me. I don't want you too."
"Then what?" He whispered. "What do we do? I can't envisage being without you. You won't marry me, won't come with me to Genovia, you don't want me to abdicate and come here for you… what do we do? What can I do?"
She shook her head, it felt heavy and dizzy, that sick feeling was rising up her throat again.
"Tell me what to do Clarisse." He was holding her close now, grasping at her, pressing her to his chest.
"I don't know… god help me I don't know…" Now she cried openly, couldn't help herself, couldn't stop the flow of tears.
"I need to be with you."
"I don't know…" deep heavy sobs flooded her body, knocking every last ounce of strength from her.
"We can't not be… I can't be apart from you…"
"Then you have to decide." Shelooked up this face, gripped his shoulders, dug her nails into his skin, "You have to decide because I can't, I can't, I can't…"
She was shuddering in his arms as if she were freezing, shaking as she cried. Her face was pressed into his chest and he felt her tears soaking his skin.
He cradled her body to him, moved onto his back and rocked her against him, comforting her, kissing her head, stroking her back. Finally her sobs ceased and in time she slept lying on top of him.
Joseph held onto her, listening to the sound of her breathing, sharing in the sheer completeness of being with her.
He had done this. He had brought her down to this, reduced this strong willed, independent, fun-loving woman to a shaking crumbling wreck. Guilt ridden, uncertain, unsure of what she was to do next. He had no right to do that. It wasn't what he wanted; it wasn't how he wanted their relationship to turn out.
He only ever wanted to love her, to bring her happiness and share in it.
The decision had been made.
Well i certainly hope you - erm - 'enjoyed' that. Please leave me a little message - thanks x R
