To Love Again

By Elinor Woodhouse

Candy Candy fic based on Kyoko Mizuki's characters

New York

December 1917

Terrence Graham Grandchester woke up in a haze, his sapphire eyes blearily trying to adjust to the bright sunlight that shone through his lids. It must be morning, he had to prepare for new rehearsals today, and Robert Hathaway wasn't a man to put up with tardiness, especially during the first day of rehearsal, he always considered it bad luck.

The famous Broadway actor groaned, running fingers through his dark chestnut mane, his head felt as if an anvil pounded on it, his muscles were sore, he was naked and he couldn't move his arms or legs; his limbs were tangled and wound so tightly around the bed sheet that he almost gave up pulling himself up.

The early sounds of the bustling city twanged in his head, the clip clopping of horses' hooves, followed by the unmistakable roar of automobiles now prevalent in the area. He forgot to close his windows again, he breathed in deeply, and the scent of sweat and musk permeated his nose.

Sweat and musk…what was he doing last night that…he bolted upright as the body beside him stirred. His vision blurred but not enough for him to see the face of the sleeping figure beside him, Susanna Marlowe, yellow hair plastered on the pillow, as naked as the day she was born, prosthetic leg jutting at an odd angle, was twined in his bedclothes, and the implication of the whole situation hit him.

Oh God, what had he done? Had he imbibed so much? He tried to remember…coming home to his apartment from the theater, he remembered the brandy, taking some last night was just a whim; he had wanted to wallow in self-pity. Susanna came to his apartment later on, he remembered she tried to kiss him, and then…

Oh, God, Oh, God, what to do…Did he? Did he?

"Susanna?" he squeaked, a wave of nausea almost engulfed him as he pushed himself to a sitting position. Susanna's eyes fluttered as if she was waiting for her cue on stage.

"Terry, darling?" she whimpered in a soft voice. "It's early yet, please, make love to me again…"

"Again?" he asked in a strange voice gone suddenly hoarse, fully awake now.

"Umm, yes," she smiled at him beatifically, her face aglow, "you were so insatiable last night that I…"

Terry whipped the sheet away from her as she shrieked, and he saw the telltale evidence of blood between her legs and on the mattress. He paled. He had truly done it this time. He ruined her. He made her into a cripple and now he ruined her. He was the biggest bastard on earth, and for the life of him he couldn't even remember the deed.

"No…" he cried, "impossible…"

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Susanna huffed. "Last night you couldn't wait to get me to your bed, and now, and now…" she cupped both hands to her face as she started sobbing.

"Susanna, please…don't cry…" he murmured, balancing himself on one foot as he stood shakily, grabbing a towel from a nearby chair and wrapping it around his waist.

"Susanna, tell me what happened…I can't seem to remember…"

Susanna wailed and cried even more. "Oh, Terry, please, don't do this to me, don't tell me it was all meaningless to you…."

He crouched down by the bed, feeling guiltier by the minute. "No, no of course not…you…it's just that I don't remember and…where is your mother? Why wasn't she with you last night?"

"Oh, God, Mother! She'll be worried sick about me! She knows I was here last night and she…" her voice was cut off as the door to his bedroom swung open.

"Terry! Susanna!" Mrs. Marlowe gaped at the couple; his mother, Eleanor Baker following closely behind, looked at him in shock.

Terry was rooted at the spot as if a lightning hit him. It was only in that instant that he felt well and truly trapped and realized how very well it was all set out for him.