Disclaimer: Don't own, having fun, don't send me to prison!

Author's Note: The last chapter in Section 2 but NOT the last chapter of the story... more to come!

Fallen - part 25

When Clarisse woke the following day the sun was already high in the sky, she turned onto her back, stretched across the bed, the sheets twisting around her body.

Glancing at the clock she realised it was already past 11… and she was alone in the bed.

Sitting up she looked over the room, Joseph's clothes were gone from the floor, his bag no longer standing on the chair at the side of the room. Slowly stepping out of bed she wrapped a sheet around her and went to the window, the gates at the bottom of the drive were closed; her car had been moved to, in front of the garage, two sets of tyre tracks on the gravel.

He was gone.

Frantically she turned and searched the room, looking for signs of a letter, a brief note of explanation. Nothing.

She went downstairs, nothing in the kitchen, nothing…

Forcing herself to breathe she sat down, the sheet still wrapped around her.

He was gone.

He had made the decision for her.


Still trembling she stood and automatically went to fill the kettle, it was morning, she would make tea and breakfast. Without thought she took out two mugs, then threw one across the room, it splintered against the tiled wall.

"Damn you Joseph!" she screamed.

The empty silence of the room seemed to close in around her, her absurd actions vibrating in the stillness, echoing throughout the house.

She gasped, the pain caught in her chest and she heard herself sob, it tore from her throat and shattered her exterior. He was gone, she'd pushed him away, it was as it should be… then why did it hurt so much?

Yesterday there were times she'd hated him, times he'd gone too far, said such things, hurt her intentionally. Yet she'd done the same, she'd closed herself down to him; it was easier that way, being there with her wasn't good for him, that had become achingly plain to see.

Perhaps once he was back in Genovia, once he'd buried himself in all that work again he'd forget, it would be better for him. He would remember just who he was and what a role he had in life… what a role! She had no right to take him from that, to keep him from all those people.

Pulling herself together Clarisse made a decision, today was for drowning her sorrows; tomorrow she would be back to normal.

She went upstairs, two at a time, into the bedroom, pulled off the bed sheets and threw them downstairs. Within minutes she had replaced the sheets with fresh ones. She cleared the clothes from the floor; they followed the bed sheets over the banister and down the stairs to be washed.

Off went all her creams, make-up, perfume from the dressing table and she climbed her way through the cardboard boxes in the spare room until she located the small portable television. It took pride of place on her dressing table, all curtains in her bedroom were closed and the television turned on.

Now in her dressing gown she returned downstairs, put all the laundry on to wash, made herself cheese-on-toast and a pot of tea, took a pack of chocolate biscuits from the cupboard and returned to bed.

Comfort eating and old films were the order of the day.


After sitting through five hours of television, including two black and white movies and some odd house-decorating show, Clarisse finally switched it off. Her back ached from lying in the same position for too long, her skin felt dry and sore from where she had occasionally allowed her tears to fall and she had to admit it to herself… she needed to shower.

Not today though. Who would know?

Flicking through the local newspaper she read through every small article, every matter of insignificance. The only one to catch her attention was on the village swimming pool's attempt to start a club for youngsters. They needed volunteers, and money from the looks of things; otherwise it might never get off the ground. She couldn't think of anything worse, for her the pool was already too over full with little children, the last thing they needed was even more.

Stretching she turned onto her side, reached across the bed and wrapped the sheets tightly around her body. In her mind she couldn't help but think she was now on Joseph's side of the bed. She closed her eyes and imagined where he might be now, home perhaps?

If she tried she could just about recall what his suite looked like, how the palace shone like a jewel, the warmth and glorious fragrance of the kitchen, the jolly chatter as the staff had dinner. The sight of the grounds in Winter, iced and white, the children of Joseph's friends, the children of Parliament members, racing down the hill, arguing over who had the better sledge.

Summer, when the trees were ripe, when the night sky was clear and they'd sat side-by-side with their feet in the fountain. The time he'd danced with her, October, she'd worn a black dress, she'd never worn it since. Those days she still called him Sir, those days she hardly knew him at all, knew what lie beneath that cool calm exterior, that façade of respectability.

He was such a lonely man.

She was such a lonely woman. Only she liked to overlook that part.

Opening her eyes again the sight of the small bottle of oil caught her eye, the oil he'd used on her feet the night before. Was it only the night before? Next to it something gold, something solidly gold… she reached for it. His signet ring, the one he'd taken off so many nights ago, she hated the feel of it upon her skin, cool and hard, his hands were much better. She turned it over, carefully examined the shape and size, the intricate carvings and symbols on the surface. For Genovia. For the King.

She replaced it on the side, it stood as some barrier, some object of hatred. And she had no idea what to do with it.

She closed her eyes again longing for it to all disappear, in a moment she would get herself up and have something to eat, get herself a strong drink, perhaps then sleep might come.


It was the telephone that woke her, she sat bolt upright in bed, dreaming… still dreaming. Shaking her head she brushed the hair back from her face and forced herself to wake. It was dark in the room; her hands fumbled with the switch on the lamp, then grabbed the receiver.

"Hello… hello…" she mumbled, her mind still dreamlike, her eyes unfocused.

"Hello."

His voice. She swallowed, leant back against the wall.

"Clarisse, hello, are you there?"

"Yes." She managed to whisper. "Yes, I'm here."

"Good. I wanted to call…"

"Where are you?" she blurted out.

"Genovia, my suite, I've been back a couple of hours now."

By reflex she looked to the clock, a couple of hours, what time was it there now? Her mind wouldn't function, she could barely breathe.

"I wanted to call to apologise. Yesterday my behaviour was unacceptable, I shouldn't have put you under such strain, shouldn't have burdened you with such things, I have no right."

She was shaking her head yet no words were forthcoming.

"I thought it easier if I left without us having to go through it all again, without any more arguments, you were right, you were right." He said the last line softly and she almost screamed in frustration.

They were both silent for a moment, she could hear the sound of his breathing, the tremble in his breath, everything wasn't right; everything was wrong and fucked up and painful.

"Joseph…" She whispered.

"Yes?" he sounded hopeful.

"I'm, well I'm just glad you're home safely, that you… feel better."

"Well, I feel… I'm not sure better is the word, more myself, being here, bombarded with the thousands of messages and correspondents, you know how it is."

"Yes, life goes on around us, has gone around us."

"Yes."

Silence again, she could think of nothing to fill it this time, she longed to lie her head back on the pillow and sleep with the sound of his breathing next to her.

"Clarisse…" he said her name with such affection. "I don't really want to do this over the telephone but I just… I can't not say it, if I don't say it, if I ignore it then I know I'll loathe myself." He smirked. "I already loathe myself, the things I said yesterday."

"Don't… it's over now."

"I ruined it all, such perfection with you, and I tarnished it."

"Just brought it into reality." She said gently.

"Yes… reality, such a cruel thing. Clarisse, Clarisse my darling…"

She allowed the term, for once it didn't bother her, he meant it with real affection, deep affection.

"I just need to say, as much as you probably don't wish to hear it, that I will always love you, deeply, unconditionally. And if there is anything you ever need, anytime you feel you need to talk or just … I would do anything for you. Anything at all."

She didn't speak, she held her breath, closed her eyes as the tears slipped down her cheeks.

"I just wanted you to know. The truth."

"Thank you." She finally said.

"Well, I suppose… I suppose… goodbye."

"Yes," her voice cracked a little. "Yes, goodbye… Joseph."

"Goodbye, good night, take care."

She put the phone down quickly, slammed it down. And pounded her fists into the bed.

"I love you…" she sobbed into the silent air, the emptiness offered no reply, no comfort.


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