For Sierra-Jae, DutchLuv, Dementedx, Valentinas, Greys has become my life, MelissTib and DoRaM. It's very exciting to have so many reviews on one chapter! Also for traceit, for inspiring me to make this chapter better.

I was very moved by everyone's pleas for mercy :) This is your reward, such as it is...

19

If you had asked me to name the one person aside from Will that I'd most want to see at this moment, I would have chosen Emma, and it was as though my subconscious desires had brought her to me. She was standing on my doorstep in a neat little sweater set, tidy as usual, holding a copy of KT with my face on the cover and a small inset picture that I recognized from the website. The banner proclaimed Norah Castle Exposed! and I squeezed my eyes shut to block out the image for a second. When I opened them, it was still there, so I tore my eyes away and focused on my friend. She looked… Shocked, which made perfect sense considering how shocked I felt.

"I have never been so glad to see anyone in my entire life," I murmured, pulling her into a tight hug despite knowing she didn't like to be touched. "Thank you. Thank you for being here. I've been… I don't know what to do."

She held herself stiffly in my arms and didn't return my embrace. I didn't blame her; between her OCD and the fact that I must have looked like twelve kinds of hell (and I felt that way too), I wasn't entirely certain how she could bear to be anywhere in my vicinity. Also, perhaps more to the point, I was only wearing an oversized cardigan, haphazardly buttoned.

"Honor-" she began, and I pulled away.

"I'm sorry," I said, giving her a small but genuine smile, and it was a relief to know that I could still make that expression. "I know you hate it when anyone invades your personal space. But I just… God I'm glad you're here. Come in, please, come in… I haven't vacuumed the couch recently myself but I'm sure the cleaning crew I hired did…"

"Honor, that's not-" she attempted once more, but I held up my hand to stop her.

"Before we discuss anything, may I read the article? My publicist told me the print version was worse; I've only read what was on the website. And it was bad enough, I almost had a heart attack, and my whole team is meeting but no one knows what to do…" I was rambling, my words running together, and she just looked at me with that shocked expression in her wide eyes and handed the magazine to me without a word.

I shut up, skimmed the article, and realized that Odessa's analysis was correct: the print version was worse, and not just because the pictures were practically 8x10 glossies, each on its own page. It wasn't much worse for me, though Elliott Edrington (bastard) had felt the need to shoot his mouth off, and there were some painful mentions of my mother that would have haunted me just a few days ago. They had less impact on me now, all of it did. But for Will… Some of the ugly insinuations the article made could have a huge impact on his life, and it made me so angry and helpless. I closed my eyes, feeling a disturbing desire to cry again, but twice in one 24 hour period was unheard of for me so I fought it off.

"God, Em," I whispered, brokenly, as I handed the magazine back to her. "What am I going to do?"

"Is it true?" she asked quietly.

I looked at her. "What, the article? Barely one word in ten. They spelled my name right, that's about the best I can say about it."

"But the basic details?" she pressed. "The pictures? The… The man you're with, he's… Correctly identified?"

Nodding, I looked at her, panicked. "Yes. And Jesus, Em, he could lose his job over this, I mean, you work in a high school, I'm sure I don't have to tell you how very bad this… Em? Em?" Emma had grown even paler than usual, her eyes growing even wider, and her mouth was forming a silent, trembling "o". "Em? Are you alright?"

"No," she whispered. "No, I'm not. I have to… I have to go, Honor."

She stood, then paused, realizing she still had the magazine in her hand. After a moment's hesitation she handed it to me, and I took it automatically. "You can… You can keep this, I can't… I don't need it."

"Emma, what's wrong?" I asked, and now I was really concerned. It was almost a relief to feel something other than panic, because it took me out of myself. "Sit down, I'll get you something to drink… Please stay. I need your help, you have no idea. He… He doesn't know who I am, and he's upstairs, and I think… Em, christ, I think I love him. Or I could love him, and-"

She was shaking her head vigorously back and forth. "Upstairs? Now?"

I nodded. "Yes, we went bowling last night… It's a long story, but he's still sleeping and-"

"Oh god," she breathed, closing her eyes tightly. "I have to go. I have to now, I'm sorry. I just…" she opened her eyes, touched my shoulder very carefully, stared at her hand on the soft cashmere for a strange second during which I got the impression she was horrified by the feel of it. "I just want you to know that I know this isn't your fault. But I can't look at you right now."

Her words shocked me; I couldn't believe she'd judge me so harshly for something like this. She'd always been very chaste, of course, but more because she couldn't stand the thought of anyone's hands on her than anything else. I'd never have expected her to be so puritanical about the whole thing. "Is it really so bad, Em?"

She nodded. "Yes. Yes, it is. It's worse. I have to go."

I stood perplexed, hurt, as she made her way quickly to the door. Before she reached it, there was the sound of the door slamming upstairs.

"Honor!" Will called, and he sounded… Pretty much as enraged as I'd expect if he'd found out about this somehow from someone other than me.

I covered my face with my hands. "Oh god."

Emma, strangely, did the same. "Oh god," she whimpered, and I suddenly thought that perhaps her reaction had nothing to do with me at all.

Will came down the stairs two at a time, tousled, shirtless, glorious, anger practically radiating off of him in visible waves. "Honor, what the fuck-" he began, breaking off when he spotted Emma standing frozen with her hand on the doorknob. "Emma?" he asked, confused.

Emma's eyes were even wider than before, her skin even whiter, and surely that pallor, that unnaturally still expression, wasn't healthy. She was so stiff I thought she might break, and seeing the way she looked at Will, seeing the way Will recognized her, I put two and two together and arrived at a devastating four. The realization crashed down on me, and it hurt, physically hurt the way the thought of losing him had earlier when I'd contemplated it on the couch, but far far worse because this time it was happening. It was all my nightmares, every fear I'd ever had about opening myself up to someone, all of them coming true at once.

"Will," she whispered.

"Emma, what are you doing here?" he asked, and there was a gentle tone in his voice, the same one he'd used with me last night, and god damn him straight to hell.

I looked back and forth between the two of them, then turned to Emma, taking her gently by the shoulders. She flinched, of course, not that I blamed her. "Em, I had no idea. Please, you have to believe me, I would never… You've been so… I would never do this to you." Well, except apparently I had, even if only accidentally.

"I know," she said, tried to smile, couldn't. "I'm sorry."

There were tears rolling down my face again, because like everything else I hadn't been strong enough to fight them, and I dashed them away angrily. "Not as sorry as I am."

She nodded once, sent Will a pain-stricken glance, and left.

He looked at me, clearly still confused, then shook his head as though physically forcing the confusion from his mind. "What the fuck is this, Honor?" he demanded, and all his rage was back. It was almost frightening, the way he came at me, the way he ripped the magazine from my hands. "I just got a call from Kurt, rambling about some website and you being Norah Castle and pictures and-" He looked at the cover of the magazine, really saw it, and blanched.

Suddenly, I was completely furious with him. For being some kind of goddamn key, for opening me up and leaving me open, leaving me vulnerable to something as horrible, as painful as this. This was why I'd wanted so badly to keep him out, to keep all of those doors closed. I felt utterly betrayed, and not just because he was involved with someone else the entire time I was fighting so hard not to love him. The fact that he'd used me was bad enough, but the fact that he'd turned me into the Other Woman made me feel sick and dirty. Believe it or not, I do have standards, and I'd never do that to anyone, much less a friend. But mixed in with the genuine anger I felt on Emma's behalf was a dark and shameful wash of jealousy. Yes, she was my friend, but she had something I wanted so badly and I coveted her possession of him, couldn't stop myself from hating her for it. It was this more than anything else that incensed me, the fact that he could hijack my emotions and turn them against someone I cared about.

"You're the man Emma has been in love with forever?" I choked out.

He looked at me like I was insane. "How do you even know her? And not that it's any of your business, but yes, she's had feelings for me for awhile. And that is not the point. Emma has nothing to do with the fact that I'm apparently fucking Norah Castle on the cover of a magazine."

I laughed bitterly. "Yeah, sorry about that. And actually the article is worse. But let's talk about Emma. You gave her reason to believe you returned her feelings?" I remembered something she'd confided in me earlier. "You kissed her?" The very thought of his lips touching hers filled me with envy I knew I had no right to, but I couldn't fight it, had to feel it, had to hate her for it and hate him too and last but not least hate myself. Had to.

He stepped closer to me, intimidating me with his size and power. "Don't you dare try to make this about me. You lied to me, every second we were together you were lying to me-"

"Withholding information is not the same thing as lying," I said.

"Isn't it?" he demanded, brandishing the magazine. "Sometimes it's worse. What you withheld led to this… My life, my job, all ruined. How could you do this?"

"How could you?" I retorted, unable to fathom the fact that he was trying to bring the focus back to what now seemed like a relatively minor matter. The fact that I had lied to him (by omission, which hardly counts), the fact that I had unwittingly involved him in a major scandal, all lacked the impact of what he'd done to me. Some sick part of me was pleased that I'd destroyed his life because he had destroyed mine. And again I hated that he could make me feel so many disgusting, inhuman emotions when I was barely used to feeling the normal ones.

"I can understand fucking me once, take your mind off things, Emma never finds out, it's fine," I said, voice sarcastic. "Maybe even twice. I sincerely doubt she'd have let you do any of the things I let you do to me to her. So fine. But why the whole charade? Seeing me, being with me… Why bother, when you had Emma?"

Gripping my shoulders, he looked me directly in the eye. "Forget. About. Emma. Tell me the truth, Honor. Norah. Tell me all of it."

I broke away from him. "You know it," I answered dully, my voice almost mechanical. "I'm Norah Castle. I came here to bury my mother. I saw you in the bar the night of the funeral… You were singing my song like you understood it. I brought you home and now we're here."

"And you were going to tell me this when?" he demanded, but I could see that his rage was ebbing, to be replaced by something… Confused. Desperate. All the emotions he'd engendered in me for the past week.

Looking as deeply into his eyes as he was looking into mine, I felt the need to lash out like a wounded animal. I wanted, needed to hurt him at least as much as he'd hurt me, if such a thing was even possible. "Never," I spat, lying through my teeth, shrugging his hands off my shoulders, watching the pain develop in his expression as that single word hit home. And for that second, it felt good. It was satisfying, and the sense of triumph submerged all the self-loathing my behavior clearly called for. "I'm going back to Los Angeles tomorrow."

"And last night was…?" he asked, and his voice was still hard but his eyes were vulnerable, which was his mistake. I went in for the kill.

"Fun, mostly. I've been trying to break into the acting business, needed some practice." I shrugged again. "I think I gave a fairly realistic performance, personally."

"I don't believe you," he said, shaking his head, but I could see in his eyes it was very difficult not to.

"I guess I'm better than I thought." My gaze narrowed on his, and I smiled. "Did you believe I could want you, care for you? Just give me the Academy Award right now. Why would I? There's nothing, Will, nothing that makes you so special." Obviously, this speech was just the exact opposite of everything that was true, but I knew that with his history every word would find its mark, and I used that.

He physically recoiled as though I'd slapped him, and his expression went through a series of changes so rapid I'm not certain I was ever able to identify all of them: shock, rage, disbelief, longing, anger, confusion, pain. But in the end he wasn't violent, just very pale and very serious.

"I could forgive you for this, you know," he said quietly. "For all of this, if you wanted me to."

For a brief second, all my dark emotions receded, and I felt a nearly undeniable urge to go to him, tell him I wanted that more than anything, ask him to hold me, apologize and beg and I don't know what else. It reminded me of the night before, him freely offering me something invaluable, something I wanted desperately, but this time… This time I knew the catch. Knowing what it felt like to trust him, open myself to him, and have that trust obliterated, made it impossible for me to accept what he wanted to give me because I'm not strong, okay? Not strong enough for that. I just couldn't… Even if he could forgive me for what I'd done, I didn't have it in me to do the same for him. And that was the difference between us.

"I don't," I responded shortly, rolling my eyes. "All of this was becoming very boring. Go crawling back to Emma, hope that she'll forgive you. I sure as hell wouldn't."

"Honor," he murmured softly. "Don't do this."

I looked at him and laughed, took the magazine from his hands and held the cover up next to my face. "That's not my name. I'm Norah Castle, maybe you've heard of me?" Then I threw the filthy tabloid rag at his feet. "I'm going to take a shower… I'd like you off the premises by the time I get out, if you please."

"And what about this?" he asked, nudging the magazine with his foot, but the deep sadness in his voice seemed to be for something else, though I couldn't imagine what. "What am I supposed to do about this?"

I turned away, made my voice casual, almost bored. "Honestly, Will? I have no idea. Nor do I care,"

Then I sauntered up the stairs, removing his cardigan on the way, leaving it for him on the landing. I didn't hear him leave. I was too busy standing in the shower, letting the water course down my upturned face so that I could pretend I wasn't crying.

TBC

Sorry it didn't go down quite the way you wanted, Greys, but hopefully you enjoyed it anyway :)