Chapter 21—"With Fried Chicken"

-This chapter contains a graphic non-love scene love scene between a married couple.

"Ms. Rebecca! Thank goodness you're finally here!" Martha bobbed up and down at the door, a mass of anxiety.

"Martha? What is it?" Rebecca asked as she took off her leather gloves and suede hat.

"Your mother has a telegram. It's postmarked urgent." Martha gripped the yellow paper with her life.

Rebecca smiled patiently. Sometimes she truly did not understand the servants. "Well you should give it to her, dear."

"Yes… Yes I should." Martha nodded, her brow furrowing in six separate rows. Suddenly, she burst. "Ms. Rebecca?"

Rebecca sighed. "What aren't you telling me, Martha?"

"Mrs. Quinn hasn't come out of her room for nearly two days! Truth be told…. I'm afraid to go up there. She screams at me every time I go near the door." Martha wrung her hands together.

Rebecca looked towards the stairs, her patient smile fading. "Oh goodness me. Why on earth didn't you call for me sooner?"

Martha shook her head. "Cause I thought it would pass… I thought… I thought she'd be fine."

"Oh dear. Why don't you give me the telegram to give to her. Mother's hysterics have gone on long enough." As Rebecca began to mount the stairs, she looked down at the telegram and saw the harsh black letters glaring back at her. She stopped halfway up the stairs. She couldn't look away even though she knew it was private. Somehow she had always known, but now, she could no longer deny it as the facts stared her in the face.

Dear sweet Elizabeth stop I considered your offer and the girl cannot be my problem stop She is your responsibility now and I want nothing to do with her stop It is time you faced the consequences of your actions stop Annabelle Montgomery.

"Ms. Rebecca! Oh my goodness! Ms. Rebecca! Wake up!" Martha called. But Rebecca couldn't hear her. She was out cold.

"I'm scared, Elizabeth." Alex looked towards the closed doors of the drawing room. They could no longer hear Caitlyn crying.

Elizabeth looked down at her house slippers. She couldn't get up off the staircase. They had been sitting there ever since Josef and Caitlyn took Chico inside. "I know. I shouldn't have—"

Alex covered her hand with his and smiled gratefully. "No. Caitlyn's never been happier. We needed him."

Elizabeth clasped his hands and looked at him with utter confidence. "My husband is brilliant. He won't let him die. I've seen such miracles. Such miracles, Alex."

Alex smiled sadly. He almost had hope in his eyes when he looked at her. "If you believe, I'll believe."

Elizabeth nodded fiercely. "I do."

Two fast sobs escaped him, and he collapsed within himself before he recomposed himself with a smile. "From the moment I saw you, I knew you were our angel."

Elizabeth shook her head, feeling like a complete and utter failure to them both. "I'm not an angel."

Suddenly, a wail that could shatter glass broke throughout the house.

And Elizabeth knew.

Chico was dead.

"What are you doing?" Caroline leaned over Lina's shoulder.

"Nothing." Lina flushed the notebook hard against her chest.

Caroline raised her eyebrows. "Then why is your hand moving?"

"Because I'm writing. It doesn't concern you, so go away." Lina turned closer to the hearth and eyed her twin warily as she hovered around her.

Caroline dropped to her knees beside her. "Lina… Come on, you can tell me. Is this your diary?"

Lina's eyes widened in disgust. "I wouldn't dare keep one of those. Besides you'd tell all of my secrets to the world!"

"Then it can't be all that private! Give it to me!" Caroline reached for the notebook and ran across the room, protecting herself with the dining room table.

"Caroline!" Lina jumped up, suddenly feeling sick inside. No one could see her notebook. No one.

Caroline's eyes scanned the pages greedily and immediately began quoting the words in front of her, "Lina frowned, still unsure if he was actually going to stay or leave. 'Not—not anymore. Instead, I feel nothing. The tissue is beyond repair.'"

Caroline looked up, totally confused at the words she just read. "Lina? What on earth—"

"Give it back, Caroline!" Lina's tiny frame shook with rage, her eyes spilling over as she reached for the papers. "Please!"

But Caroline turned away, and ran up the stairs, her eyes glued to the paper. "'Nothin'?' Stephen placed his hands over her tight fists and gently pried her arms apart, revealing the scar tissue again. 'Everybody's gotta feel somethin'.'"

She looked up at her sister, her eyes mystified as Lina pulled her hair down in pain. "Who… Who is Stephen?"

Lina shook her head fiercely, angry, embarrassed tears spilling down her face as she paced back and forth. "He's… He's… just a character. Just someone I made up."

Caroline bit her lip. She had never seen her sister like this. She was quiet and good… and no one really paid any attention to her. "But Lina… He's talking to you. And your skin…"

"It's just a story!" Lina yelled.

"Can I see the rest of it?" Caroline tried to ask sweetly.

"No!" Lina ran to Caroline and ripped the notebook out of her hands.

"What? Am I in it? Is that why you won't let me see it?" Caroline joked.

Lina looked down guiltily. "It's… it's not finished. Please, Caroline! I'm… I'm not like you. I can't shout everything I feel to the world. Something's I have to keep private. And this story is one of them."

Caroline sighed. She obviously wasn't winning this one. "Alright. Will you forgive me?"

"I forgive you." Lina nodded, holding her notebook protectively close.

"I'm going upstairs to wait on Lizzie. Goodnight." Caroline turned away, everything already forgotten.

But not for Lina. She was about to rewrite Chapter 11.

"I need to see you."

"I thought I had been excommunicated from the holy chambers of Beacon Hill. What do you want, Rebecca?"

"It's about Lizzie, Catherine."

"Adoption isn't stealing, Lizzie. Who told you it was?" Michaela smoothed Lizzie's golden fly-a-ways out of her face as darkness overtook them.

"I—" Lizzie covered her face with hands and blew air out of her lips as her mother ran her fingers through her hair. She liked it, and she didn't want to think about bad things any more.

Suddenly the barn door opened and a familiar voice called out to them, "Did my ladies solve all of the problems of the world?"

"No," Lizzie moaned, falling back tiredly against Michaela.

"We're at a stand still." Michaela rocked her gently and continued to play with her hair as Sully attempted to make his way through the darkness.

When he found them, he lowered his lantern and delivered a plate full of fried chicken. "Well, you might as well eat something while you're doin' all that standin'."

"What did you bring us?" Michaela attempted to sit up, but she had a fifteen year old splayed across her body.

Sully smiled at them tiredly. "Cold fried chicken."

Michaela's eyes sparkled in the darkness. Sully winked at her as he delivered her a wing. "Mmm… My favorite."

Lizzie looked up and sniffed. "Give me a wing," she asked hungrily.

Sully looked down at the plate of fried chicken, not letting on how pleased he was. "Now I thought you weren't eatin'."

Lizzie lifted her head prissily. "I'm allowed to change my mind, aren't I?"

"Course." He handed her a greasy wing too. Then he tugged a little on her loose, messy hair. "It's gonna be alright, Lizzie. No matter what, your ma and I love you."

Lizzie watched him push up off the ground and head back towards the door. It was one of those moments where she couldn't speak and the moment was just going on without her, but before he got to the door, she called out, "Pa!"

Sully stopped and turned around. "Yeah?"

"I…" Lizzie felt Michaela's hands tighten around her in sudden hope, and the moment just kept getting longer, and she just couldn't say it. "Never mind."

Sully nodded quickly and left. Michaela sighed, her hand loosening around Lizzie. Lizzie knew what she was going to say before she said it. "You love him. Is it that hard to say?"

She felt caged again pushed away from Michaela. "I don't know what to think. How can I know what to feel? You say one thing, and she—"

"She?" Michaela stopped her. She felt cold all over. She had felt this before. Once. When the baby was born. When the baby—

"My real mother. She found me. She's been… coming to see me at school for a year now." Lizzie stood up, circling her arms around her body as if she were holding herself.

Michaela suddenly felt sick. Her real mother? That didn't make any sense. Adoption was confidential. Adoption was…"What? Why didn't you… Why didn't you say something?"

Lizzie bent over, shaking her head. All of a sudden, she vomited the contents of her stomach and dropped to her knees. Michaela ran to her and wiped her mouth with her own skirt. Michaela pulled Lizzie against her, and Lizzie began to cry uncontrollably, "I was going to, but then she started saying things… strange things… About you and pa… She knows things. And then she told me somethin'… I just…"

"Baby…what is it?" Michaela kissed Lizzie over and over again, not knowing how she could make this better. Michaela had never garnered murderous thoughts before, but she was quickly beginning to understand how a person could kill someone over hurting a child.

Lizzie shook her head, all confusion. "I couldn't believe it."

"What?" Michaela asked, desperate for answers now, desperate to find this woman who claiming to be Lizzie's mother.

Lizzie whispered, gripping the locket around her neck. "She said you were sisters."

"We… We have to stop…" Michaela pushed up on his chest suddenly, painfully aware of how close they were getting. Too close. But when closer didn't stop, well…

"Ok…" Sully breathed heavily, nodding only half aware as he was still caught up in getting to know his new wife. They were doing quite well, in fact. Not once scrap of clothing was left on their bodies.

"We—" Michaela searched for something anything in the room to hold on to. Anything but him.

Sully popped up quickly, an idea sparking. "We'll… We'll eat fried chicken. That's what we'll do."

Michaela's face broke wide with laughter. "Fried chicken!"

Sully nodded, totally serious. "It's the best way to distract ourselves."

Michaela bit her lip and reached out and ran the tips of her fingers down his arms. "I'll have a wing please."

"God, I love you." Sully's eyes glistened and he leaned in for a kiss.

Michaela laughed as he smothered her again. "You're going to bust my stitches!"

Sully quickly pushed off of her and flipped to the other side of the bed and reached for her hand. He kissed it apologetically. "I'm sorry. Ya ok?"

She nodded regretfully. "Yes. This situation…"

"Is unacceptable," he finished.

She tried to turn a bit, catching his eyes. "We've had shaky beginnings before."

"But we've never been like this before." He leaned on his side and looked at her thoughtfully. His fingers began trailing his thoughts. "Your green eye is mine now. This eyebrow…the one that arches…is mine… This shoulder…how you tense it when I come close because you ain't use to my bein' close…it's mine… This flesh under your left breast that ain't never seen the sun…"

As his hand skimmed under the delicate flesh, Michaela closed her eyes and arched into his hands. She didn't know if she was warning him or asking for more. "Sully…Sully—"

"It's mine," he whispered, taking her full breast in his hand.

Michaela exhaled and opened her eyes. "I want to watch you."

"Watch me?" His face wavered a bit, and she felt his hand quiver against her heart.

"Be mine."

Michaela met his eyes, her face deep crimson as words flew out of her mouth that she didn't quite know the exact meaning of, only that she had never seen Sully look at her so openly before. She swallowed and felt the shaky new words coming to the tip of her tongue. She lifted his hand off of her skin and placed it back on the curve of his stomach. "These fingers are mine…"

Sully died, and for a moment, he felt Michaela's hands inside his own as his fingers descended upon his skin. "Michaela… I don't think I can take…"

"Shh…" She covered his lips with her fingers. "These lips are mine, and they aren't speaking."

He kissed the tips of her fingers, secretly claiming them for himself as well. "Mmm…"

Her eyes traveled down his body, down the white sheets, and she saw his hip bones pressing against his taunt skin. "Your hips…"

"All yours," Sully mumbled, finally relaxing into her voice as he allow his hands to travel where she dictated. Michaela watched his fingers move greedily. If only she could feel what those hands felt.

Before another word was spoken between them, Sully's hand disappeared beneath where the white sheet stretched across their waists. Michaela couldn't deny her sudden urge to rush from the bed, as she was no simpleton. After all, she had begun this haphazard exploration and knew what she wanted. Where she wanted to be.

But she couldn't move. To see him. She was jealous of every part of him. Too much had been denied. Repressed. His face was passion. His face was heat. His face was hers.

"Michaela," he moaned, his breath ragged. Michaela cried a little at the sound of her name as she felt her torn insides begin to ache for him. "Michaela…"

"Sully," she mouthed as she felt her body mimicking his in her mind, as his chest rose and fell to ragged breaths, as his lungs palpitated like flapping streamers, and her hand tightened and retracted on the white sheets, daring itself to reach out and join its mate.

Sully caught her eyes, and suddenly stopped his motion. She knew he saw straight through her. In the past few minutes, she had lost her mask. From the day she had met him, she had been afraid of falling, afraid of showing her heart, and now, it couldn't be hidden.

She released the white sheets and lifted her hand. First, she claimed the arch of his chest. Then, she claimed the curve of his stomach. Then she took his hips softly. And he sighed as her hand disappeared beneath the white sheet, gently, clumsily, anxiously finding his fingers, her mate. She found the soft, vulnerable skin, and touched a part of him that would one day be a part of her too.

Sully groaned and moved to his side as to access her mouth. He had never imagined they would be together like this, but as their hands worked over him sensually, his imagination nearly exploded as his body began to convulse against her in shattering tremors.

They kissed with their eyes open. Sully didn't know if her tears had fallen on his face, but his cheeks were drenched with moisture.

"It's ok," Michaela whispered against his tear-stained cheek. "You can let go. I've got you."

As her thumb brushed across his tip, he cried out into her mouth, and Michaela held his body firmly as he stiffened against her.

His heart pounded throughout the room as he stared at her, the center of his world, and he pulled back a moment as he saw the wonderment and the… what was it? Love, yes… and was it jealousy, in her eyes?

Slowly, he gathered himself on all fours and hovered over her. She looked in his feral eyes questioningly, and he simply shook his head. "Trust me."

"Alright," she whispered. His mouth shot down to her left breast, the one he had claimed, and he nibbled her aroused nipple in his mouth with his lips and tongue. He wanted to brand her. Gently, he circled his teeth around the darkened skin, and slowly, slowly, bit her. Michaela flew off the bed as she felt the sensation travel deep, deep inside her body. It was almost as if the pain had been squelched by boiling hot desire.

There was something different about his eyes… Something inherently masculine. She had done it to him. His lips moved tenderly down her body, and when they reached her gapping gauzed wounds, he stopped. He didn't touch the sensitive area above her hip bone, but he lifted his eyes to hers, as though he were asking permission. Then, as if he were as light as the air, he descended below her hips and pressed a gentle kiss to the soft skin.

Then the soft kisses turned to cold water as Michaela felt the safe white sheet slip slowly below her hips and off the bed. Michaela's mouth went hot and dry as she felt his mouth run across her thighs and her curls. "What… what are you doing?" She asked, now feeling extremely exposed, shy and innocent.

"Rectifying the situation," Sully lifted his head. "I'll be gentle. Don't worry."

"But I'm not…" Last night and this morning flashed in front of Michaela's mind, and all she could see were the stained sheets she had created. It wasn't… She wasn't…

Sully reached up and found her hand, knotting their hands together. "What's yours is mine, Michaela. If you don't like it, I'll stop. I just… I want ya to feel something too."

"Just…Just do it before I change my mind!" Sully grinned at her slowly. Michaela leaned back and instinctively put her arms over her face. One thing he was learning about his new bride: she craved pleasure but didn't know how to have it. With great care, he lifted left her leg and placed gentle, swirling kisses down the side of her thigh until he reached her tiny, untouched hairs. Slowly, he let his tongue part her. He could feel her trepidation immediately in this tender spot, this sacred area, which had seemed to only be a source of pain for her. But he wouldn't let that be. He found her essence and engulfed her like the mouth of the ocean.

Michaela gasped at what she thought would be pain, but suddenly turned into soft, electric sensations of throbbing pleasure. She released her hands from her face and immediately reached for his hair as he took her sweetly. She couldn't hold on to it, yet she couldn't stop it either. It was continuous, and it was mounting, and it was filling her beyond belief, and suddenly, she knew, she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was his as she washed away like the tide into his mouth.

"Do you like it?"

"I like it… I like it… I like it," she said, letting the tears run down her face freely.

They were surely pushing the limits. But as he crawled back beside her on the bed, she had a strange feeling that limits didn't apply to them.