Chapter Thirty Seven: Betrayal
My sneakers clicked loudly on the stone floor of the hotel hallway. My mind was going a mile a minute, racing from one thought to the other. Could my far-fetched (yes I will admit that my theory is far fetched) theory actually be right? What will Holmes say? Will he laugh, will he listen?
Mac, relax! You survived that head comment, so you should be able to survive anything! Hopefully he forgot about that.
Yeah, tough luck. That man has a memory like flypaper! I'm sure he just stored that comment away in his mind for future reference. Perhaps he'll ask me about my burst of laughter in the graveyard again. What the hell will I say to him? Obviously I can't tell him what I thought he meant. Well I could but I would shake the very roots of his Victorian morality so badly that he'd never be the same. Although it could be interesting to see his reaction…
"What the devil are you doing walking around dressed like that?"
His voice brought me out of my reverie so quickly that it felt like my mind slammed into a brick wall at full speed. My eyes instantly scanned his face for some show of emotion. There was none.
"I will ask you again," he said as though speaking to a petulant child. "What are you doing walking around dressed like that?"
I cleared my throat and noticed for the first time how scandalously I was dressed. I was wearing nothing save a chemise and a pair of sweat pants. My face caught fire. "Um…I was looking for you!"
"Really?" His tone was one of skeptism and disbelief.
"Yes," I replied quickly. What was he trying to imply?
"Wearing nothing save what you have on?"
"Yes damn it! I was in a hurry to tell you something!" Why didn't he believe me?
He folded his arms over his chest and his keen eyes bore into mine. "You do know that I spoke with your friend earlier this evening?"
"Oh cool," I said, trying to act nonchalant. Why is he telling me this? What does he have to say? What the hell did I do now?
"We had a long conversation." His eyebrows were drawn together in a straight line and his eyes glowed steel embers.
"Really? That's cool. I didn't think you guys hit it off." I was suddenly growing hot under the collar. What did Becky say to him to make him this angry with me? I once again looked into his eyes and noticed confusion there too. What happened?
"Yes we 'hit it off' as you so nicely phrased it. We hit it off so well that she told me all about comments you two have made; comments you have made."
Fuck! She didn't betray me; she didn't tell him how I feel about him! She couldn't! She's like my sister! She'd never…but then again she is totally pissed at me. She thinks that everything that has happened to us is my fault! This would be the perfect way for her to get back at me, for some vendetta has against me. What am I going to do?
"Holmes, please let me explain--"
"There are no explanations necessary! I cannot believe you! I can't believe that you would even think…" He couldn't even finish, such was the venom and disgust he was feeling. He shook his head angrily. "I cannot understand…" He angrily pushed past me, knocking me against one of the walls.
"Holmes! Holmes wait!" I hurried after him, but he turned and faced me, his features set in such a look of utter horror and disbelief that I stopped in my tracks.
"Stay away from me!" He roared. "Just stay away from me!"
I stood, too stunned to move or speak and watched him vanish into the darkened hallway. The only sound of him entering the room was the slamming of a door which echoed throughout the hotel like a gun shot.
Then suddenly, everything grew quiet and still. I felt like a deep sea diver, the blackness was like the ocean surrounding me. I was drowning, my lifeline just snapped and I was left free-floating in the ocean of my despair.
My legs felt as though they would give out any minute and I stumbled forward, clawing the darkness, trying to get air into my lungs. My heart felt as though it had stopped beating and I felt cold and numb all over my body. I managed to somehow make it to the couch in the lobby. When I flopped down on it, all grief and anger crashed down on me at once, and it felt as though an anvil was dropped on my chest, crushing my heart under its massive weight.
I'm not sure what hurt more; my best friend's betrayal or Holmes's disgust at my feelings for him. One jabbed the knife into my heart and the other continued to twist it. I must have sobbed myself to sleep, because the next thing I knew, I was being shaken awake.
"What?" I asked, refusing to open my eyes. Memories from the previous night were still fresh in my mind and the only thing I wanted was to drink myself into oblivion.
"Mackenzie, what's the matter?" It was Watson.
"Doc, please go away. I'm not in the mood," I groaned. I rolled over on the small sofa and faced the empty fireplace.
"Mackenzie, what happened? Holmes came upstairs last night, slamming doors, his face set in a scowl like I've never seen. You left in a hurry and I didn't see you all night. I began--"
"Do you really wanna know what happened?" I asked, sitting up. I couldn't swallow the belligerent pitch my voice took on.
The doctor nodded. "Certainly, I want to help you."
"Fine, all right Doc, here help me with this. Last night when I was talkin' to you, Becky was talking to Holmes. She sold me out, backstabbed me, betrayed me! She told Holmes my feelings for him, the fact that I-I desired him. Then, when I came down here to tell him about my theory, h-he…" I choked on my sobs and could not continue. I tried to hold back my tears but I couldn't. I lost control and began sobbing.
Watson took me into his arms and held me tightly. He gently rubbed my back in attempt to calm me. "Everything is all right," Watson whispered. His tone made me realize he knew what I was going to say, before I stopped speaking. He held me tighter, and his embrace told me he understood what I was feeling.
"Watson, why? Is it so bad that I love him? Did I do something wrong by falling for him?"
"I can't answer that Mackenzie, no matter how much I would like to," he whispered. I hugged him tighter, needing some sort of comfort.
"What is worse than Holmes hating me, worse than his disgust at my feelings, is the fact that my 'sister' betrayed me like that. How could she?"
"What
the hell are you accusing me of?" Becky's voice broke into the
conversation.
Suddenly a rage that I could not understand filled
my body, my vision turned to red and I wanted nothing more than to
have my hands wrapped around her throat, choking her to death. Watson
must've felt my body tense because he held me even tighter.
"Mademoiselle," his tone was cordial, but laced with ice. "I think it would be best if you left."
"Roar Mac! You're going after Dr. Watson now too?" She jested, completely ignoring Watson's request. I'm gonna kill her! Slow and painful…she'll understand all my pain.
"Please leave!" Watson growled, his chivalry gone. "Now is not the time for your lurid jokes."
"Yeah whatever," Becky said with a laugh. "I don't know what she's wailing about, but I'm sure it aint a big deal."
I raised my face from where it was buried in Watson's shoulder and glared hard at my best friend. The anger I was feeling must've radiated from me, for she took a step backward.
"Goddamnit! This is all your fault," I growled, keeping my voice deliberately low. "We have been friends for years and although we've had our occasional spats and disagreements…" I swallowed trying to keep my temper somewhat at bay, "I have never once betrayed your confidence and trust."
"No shit Sherlock," she said sarcastically.
That did it! I pushed Watson away from me with such force that he gasped. I leapt to my feet and in less than the time it takes to write, I had Becky pinned against one of the walls of the hotel, my hand tightly clutching her throat. "I can't believe what you have done! I've witness backstabbers in my life, you know that as well as I, but to think that you of all people--"
"What are you talking about?" She asked the nervousness she felt at having my hand around her throat was evident in her tone.
"You know full well what I am talking about," I spat. "Last night you told Holmes everything! You told him that I desired him! That I am in love with him! How could you?"
Suddenly laughter filled my best friend's blue eyes. "Last night I just told him what you were laughing at when he asked you if you wanted the viscount's head. He was really shocked and a little disgusted, but I think he'll get over it. As for the fact that you're in love with him, I think you just made that very clear, to everyone in this room and especially to the man in question."
I felt my face catch fire when I understood the meaning of her words. My heart suddenly pounded against my ribs, my legs once again grew weak. I swallowed several times, and when I finally found my voice, it was nothing more than a harsh whisper. "Y-you don't mean what you just said right?" I asked looking into my best friend's eyes for some sign that she was joking. I saw none.
"You might wanna take your hand from my throat and put it else where," she said, smiling wickedly. I caught her meaning and allowed my hand to drop.
Very slowly, I turned around only to find the room which had been empty before, was now crawling with people, all eyes on me. Standing near the sofa was a very pale-faced and terrified Sherlock Holmes. His mouth hung open in disbelief, his eyes filled with trepidation, anger and confusion. The tension could have been cut with a knife. There was nothing I could say or do; the balance of the friendship we had established was thrown off completely; the damage irrevocable. All that was left was for him to publicly throw me out of his life. If he did that, I knew my own life would not be worth living.
I swallowed several times. "Holmes…Holmes…I know I've startled you, possibly destroyed the friendship that we had. I know you're probably shocked by my revelation, especially in the way you heard it, and I'm sure you wish nothing more than for it to disappear into blessed oblivion. However I cannot change what has been said. But please, for mercy's sake, hate me, strike me, or simply walk away, but please don't just stand there. I cannot bare your silence!" I could not hide the pleading tone in my voice, could not hide the anguish I was feeling. His continued silence was like a dagger in my heart, the mixed emotions in those grey eyes simply added to my agony.
He remained silent; his handsome face looked as though it was carved from stone. His eyes continued to bore into mine and they seemed to ask one question: why.
I averted my eyes, unable to answer his unspoken question.
Holmes
I had come to apologize. My behavior toward her was deplorable last night. I over reacted, in fact in retrospect her misunderstanding was rather humorous. I had come downstairs to search for her, and I found…
God help me! I found her pinning her friend against the wall, confessing her love for me. How is this possible? She cannot love me, it is not logical! Love is not a logical emotion, it reduces intelligent men to imbeciles and blackguards. How is it possible that someone feels this emotion toward me?
I am unlovable. Father made that perfectly clear to me that night so many years ago. That night when he entered my bedchamber, drunk and bleary eyed. He pulled the covers from my body. He screamed at me, cursed me as an unlovable thing. I was the root of all his problems, the reason for Mother's distance; I was not worthy of the clothes on my back; he pulled my night shirt from me, tarring it from my small body. He said a special type of punishment was reserved for unlovable children and climbed onto my bed, his face wild and contorted. He told me no one would love me when he was through, when he pinned me against the mattress, when he…
Father, that wicked man…it is his fault I am so utterly lost! I am unlovable, and yet here this young woman is, saying how she loves me. It is not rational! Where is my logic when I need it? Where is the intelligence I pride myself on having? The intelligence that Watson chronicles and publicizes. What the deuce do I do?
She wants me to speak, but what can I say? Can I tell her she must be mistaken? Can I tell her it is not possible for her, for anyone to love me? Do I explain the reason why? No, I cannot do that! I cannot say how it is impossible to love me. She would turn from me forever, she would confide in Watson and he too would leave me. No I cannot bear that! Cannot bear having Watson walk away from me.
Damn it! I cannot stand the thought of having Mackenzie despise me! I cannot bear to see the look of disgust and utter loathing that will enter her eyes, the same look that was in Father's eyes. What do I do?
Rationalize! Yes, I must rationalize the situation; I must logically examine her words and actions; her actions prior to her confession. Yes, perhaps she really does not love me; perhaps she is speaking of another. She said my name, which doesn't mean anything. I am after all the one who is confused; perhaps she pitied me and tried to apologize for making me hear such a confession. Yes, that is a comforting thought, the thought that those words were not meant for me.
If that thought is so comforting, why am I suddenly feeling a deep hurt? Why? I must leave; I must compose myself and examine the situation. I must leave and I must leave now…
Mac
My heart broke when I saw him turn from me and shakily make his way down the corridor from which he came. It was true, I had just ruined everything. He despised me, perhaps loathed the very sight of me. If that were not true why else would he leave?
Maybe you startled him.
I did more than startle him. Everything he thought he knew about me, his trust in me, was suddenly gone. I had betrayed his trust, and there was nothing I could do to regain it.
"Mac?" It was my best friend. She put a hand on my shoulder and repeated my name.
"Becky, leave me alone," I said brushing her hand off me. I began to walk toward the door.
"Mac, where are you going? Mac wait up!"
"I'm going to collect myself and try to figure out a way to fix the huge blunder I just made," I said without turning around.
"Then lemme come with you!"
"No! Becky, I need to be by myself!" I hurried out of the hotel and stepped into the frigid winter air. I had no idea where I would go, but I knew I had to go somewhere far enough away so I could think. I stopped walking for a moment and thought of where I could be alone. The graveyard!
Like a damned soul, I began walking toward the graveyard, hoping to find some solace and answers to my questions.
