And I have actually updated really quickly! Mainly because this chapter was already finished.
This chapter initially pushed the whole fic into M but I bowdlerised it because I hate dealing with the stupid filters. I think I can get away with this version; some goings-on but mostly glossed over in this version.
Big turning point ahead in the plot that'll set the stage for some more important revelations down the track. I'd say we're about 2/3 of the way through this fic now (this has seriously taken me forever!)
22
The turning point for Joey Boswell
Martina's fire was still burning. She really had still been up; there was the paperwork on the side table by her sofa; there was a half-drunk mug of tea resting on it. For a moment, Joey felt guilty for interrupting her, but he still couldn't stop himself from sitting down on her sofa, pulling her with him, against him.
There was no denying it; yesterday, when they had nearly kissed – it was electric. It was a lightning bolt through his body – his feelings were so strong now for Martina, his desire so strong, that he was finally ready to take the plunge with her. And from the signs she'd been giving, she was ready as well.
Then again…
Joey shook his head.
Last time he'd assumed he knew what a woman wanted….well, the disastrous Roxy saga was what he had to show for that. He had to make sure he wasn't leaping to any conclusions.
'Martina, listen…I have to know…'
He turned to her, his hands finding her shoulders, and swallowing hard, asked the question he'd only just realised he desperately wanted an answer to.
'Why did you bring me back from Scotland?'
Martina took a breath, paused for a while. Her eyes moved toward the ceiling, and then slowly lowered to him.
'Perhaps,' she said, a smile playing about her lips, 'It bothered me that I wasn't the one to destroy you. I always said I was out to get yer. It'd be such a shame if all me years of hard work were for nought. One day, Mister Boswell, I want to walk triumphantly out of work with your head on a plate.'
She was teasing him, he knew, trying to deflect the question, and his attention. Joey pressed again.
'Really, though, why did you?'
She sighed, and Joey felt her fingers leave his chest, her body leave his as she turned away from him. 'I don't know. I just…' she inclined her head back towards him, her eyes slits as she tried to focus on him from an awkward angle, '…did.'
'You just did. You know…' he smiled weakly, 'most people don't go to great lengths for somebody like that, unless…'
She was smiling mysteriously at him now, moving back in.
'Go on.'
'Unless…' her face was too close to his for Joey to concentrate properly, to get out what he was trying to say. 'Unless they…'
Martina cocked her head to one side, frowning as he struggled, tried, couldn't get it out. His hand was on hers, and his fingers closed and opened around her wrist, but he was still hesitant. Once she let him touch her, properly touch her, he wouldn't be able to stop. His physical need was overwhelming. It was taking the last of his energy to keep it at bay, although why he was trying to keep it at bay he wasn't sure. She'd already agreed to it; if not explicitly, then with every action she was taking. She was pressed close, her free hand stroking up and down his arm, her knee against his thigh. Joey was tempted to just give in, let his body and his instinct take over, let them beat down the door he was trying to keep up, but he wanted to say this. He wanted to ask her if she felt the same for him, to find a tactful way to weasel a mention of her feelings out of her.
'Unless they…' he tried desperately, one last time, his voice more high-pitched than normal. He sucked in air through his teeth, exhaled sharply.
Martina rolled her eyes. 'Oh, sod it.'
And then she'd leaned forward and closed the gap between them, her lips melting into his, and there went the last vestige of his restraint.
He hadn't kissed anyone since Roxy, the night before the wedding that didn't happen, in the car on the way up to Scotland.
He hadn't slept with anyone since that girl from the Adelphi…God, how long ago? Must have been two years ago at least. He hadn't seen Roxy for over a year when he phoned informing her he intended to marry her. Not for want of trying, but it just hadn't worked for them, and he'd had a brief interlude of fancying Lady Bowford that had temporarily pushed Roxy out of his mind until then. And when they had united, it had been a drive in the car to Scotland, culminating in an argument during their wedding ceremony, that had ruined everything. They hadn't got any further.
He hadn't had relief from his emotional turmoil for…oh, he didn't even know how long. Years and years and years. If it hadn't been Roxy, it had been his brothers, or Aveline, if not them, his Mam, if not her, his Dad, or Grandad, before them, it had been Edgar…every moment of his life for the better part of a decade had been fraught with worry about someone, and it was as if his body was finally saying I can't go on like this; I need something to revitalise me.
All those factors had culminated in a desperation he couldn't hide. He kissed Martina urgently, messily, aware he wasn't at the top of his game, that he could be doing more for her, aware he wasn't really able to. He was running on instinct; his need for this overwhelmed every rational thought, overwhelmed all practicalities. Joey pulled her off the sofa and onto the floor, kissing her as though his life depended on it. Martina, though he was expecting her to protest at his dominance and try to take control of the situation (such was her general way of operating in life) succumbed to his every action. When their eyes met, there was a concern in them he'd never seen before, a softness twinkling there, flickers of unprecedented caring that made his heart skip a beat.
It was rough and quick, not particularly satisfying, but giving him a relief that left him drained, as though he'd just let go of an enormously heavy burden, pulled a plug and let years of frustration gurgle away.
He felt oddly released. This felt like the final confirmation Roxy was over forever, that she was gone out of his life, never to return. It had been a plunge out of every last remnant of that relationship and into the unknown, into a future that reopened with possibilities, of new women, of Martina, if she'd have him, of new firsts and experiences with her and getting to know someone anew. And yet it was a future that closed a lot of the doors of his old life, filed away memories of all the years with Roxy, stamped them with a big red ink stamp: EXPIRED.
Joey could feel tears coming, born of being completely, utterly overcome. He turned his face away, wincing as Martina lifted a finger and brushed one away from below his eye.
'Sorry,' he rasped, though he wasn't sure what he was apologising for – or whether the word could really make up for it.
'Don't be,' her voice was a whisper. She inclined her head, pressing her lips to his forehead. 'It's all right, you know, love.'
Martina shifted away from him onto her side, propped herself up on her elbow. She looked even more beautiful in the firelight; her skin seemed to glow. Her hair was tousled out of its usual style, tangled around her neck; her eyes were alight with something he couldn't name.
'I'm so sorry, sweetheart,' he said again, stumbling over the words.
'If you keep apologising, Mister Boswell,' she said, sounding more like her normal, cross self now, something which for some reason relieved Joey, 'I'm gonna get very angry with you.'
'But – '
'But nothing,' Martina said sternly. 'Now, do you want to come to bed and get some rest?'
'Not just yet,' Joey replied, his voice weak again. 'If you don't mind, Martina…I 'aven't got the energy to move yet. I'd like to stay here for a bit.'
'All right, Mister Boswell. As you wish.' Martina settled back down, pulling him close to her, and Joey felt his eyelids drooping as they lay on the floor in front of the dying fire. The last thing he was aware of before he slipped away into sleep was Martina's hand against his side, her fingers curling around his.
Martina woke at around three in the morning still on the floor, freezing cold now the fire had died out and a chill had crept into the night air. She sat up, shivering, wrapping her arms around herself rather than casting around for her clothes in the dark.
Beside her, Joey shifted.
'Oh,' he murmured, still half out of it, 'I really did fall asleep, didn't I?'
'Come on, love,' Martina said, getting to her feet, pulling him with her, 'let's go to bed.' There was just enough moonlight through the window for her to make her way through her flat into her bedroom, for Joey to see where she was going and follow her.
Martina climbed into her bed, taking comfort from the sheets, even though they were cold; they still offered some protection from the night air, and they'd warm up in time.
Joey stood in the middle of the room, looking uncertain.
'Come to bed, sweetheart,' she coaxed again, holding up the blankets for him.
'Right,' Joey seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in, her gentle, inviting tone seemingly assuaging something inside him enough for him to slide in beside her. 'Bed. Yes.'
He collapsed face-down against the pillows, almost immediately falling asleep again. Their encounter had evidently done something to calm him, put him at peace, at least on some level.
She couldn't begrudge him the way he'd gone about it: selfishly, clearly driven by his own need and not considering her own. It had been pretty bloody awful, if she were perfectly honest. And he'd cried as well – not exactly the reaction you'd want from your brand new lover immediately after the act of consummation. The constant apologising hadn't exactly done wonders for her romantic mood, either. And yet, she couldn't be upset about it. He'd been hurting for so long, and this had purged him; of what, she wasn't sure, but of something. There would be other times, she hoped, when he would be more considerate – but this was not one of them, and she had accepted that gladly. It was a gift she'd given him, a sacrifice she'd made for his emotional wellbeing.
Martina lay awake, listening to Joey breathe and pondering. She supposed this meant he really was hers now. She couldn't see him using her and discarding her; not now, not after all the trust the two of them had built up over the past few months. They'd entered into a relationship so gradually they hadn't really noticed until they were in the thick of it, Joey clinging to her at first out of a desperate desire for company, that desire for company turning into a desire for friendship, that friendship turning into a desire for something deeper – and although she'd been apprehensive initially, concerned her long-harboured feelings for him may be clouding her judgement, and Joey's traumatic experiences clouding his, she couldn't picture him not being in her life, couldn't picture anyone else there. Not anymore.
Instinctively, she reached over, stroking Joey's back, the seldom-present romantic side of her tempted to wake him, kiss him, the practical side of her warning her not to, reminding her that Joey was quite possibly getting the first good night's sleep he'd had in a long time. And so she didn't, instead nestling closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder for a moment. It was nice, having him here, even if he wasn't fully with-it, even if he'd all but defiled her in his quest for emotional peace.
She knew he wouldn't hear. He was too deeply asleep, almost comatose. She wanted to say it anyway. She'd wanted to for longer than she'd ever let on.
'I love you,' she whispered against the skin of his back, and then she kissed him between his shoulder blades, as though sealing her words inside him.
Well, they had to get together eventually, and they'll have to face up to everything now, and a few realisations for Joey ahead (including some that have already been hinted at). I should have the next chapter up soon.
