"You're pretty incredible."

Eliot murmured, taking a moment to kiss her again, stroking her cheek with his thumb, his fingers pushing into her hair making her shiver.

"I know."

She laughed as she spoke and he smiled against her lips before pulling away and collapsing down beside her. He was exhausted, but God it was worth it – just this moment, lying next to the most beautiful woman in the world.

"Are you always this self-assured?"

He asked, tossing her a sideways glance, his mouth twitching, his blue eyes glittering.

"Ha! No...no..."

She struggled against a breath, she was starting to feel, she realised. The headiness of the alcohol was wearing off, her rage had dissipated and now pin pricks of reality were beginning to break through the fog inside her head. She glanced down between them, across the solid warmth of Eliot's body and closed her eyes. How could Rita ever forgive her for...this?

"Are you alright?"

He asked, sensing the sudden change in her.

She turned her face into the pillow, it smelled of him, and suddenly she missed the warmth of her own pillows, and the warm sweet smell of Rita... She wouldn't cry, she wouldn't cry...she had failed to keep herself in check, everything that was inside had begun to leak out, but she could handle it, she could...she sucked in a breath and felt Eliot's fingers stroking her hair.

"Connie?"

He rolled back onto his side, shifting closer to her.

"I'm alright, I'm OK."

He ran his thumb beneath her eye where one single tear had wet her cheek.

"I shouldn't have done...this."

She whispered, and the movement of his hand paused and fell away.

"It's not you, it's not you..."

"It's not me it's you?"

He attempted humour but his words fell flat and he sighed and reached up a hand to rub the back of his neck.

"No, it's Rita."

Her voice broke on her name and she bit against her bottom lip, fighting against the burning ache in the back of her throat.

"Who's Rita?"

He asked slowly.

Connie drew in a couple of breaths until she could speak. She wanted to reach out for him, to have him hold her and keep her safe from this hideous thing that she had done.

"My partner."

She answered finally.

Eliot's eyebrows rose, and then he remembered what she had said in the bar all those hours ago. He remembered now, how she had mentioned someone.

"I'm so sorry..."

"Don't..."

She reached out for him. He was withdrawing from her already and she felt the overwhelming urge to take hold of him and never let him go.

"Please don't."

She whispered, her voice disappearing into nothing at all.

"Please just-"

She reached out for him, pleadingly, desperately, until he wrapped his arms about her, her head tucked just below his jaw, listening to the reassuring sound of his heart beat. There was a heaviness in her chest as though she were slowly being suffocated. What she had done she could not un-do. She felt as though she were dying slowly with this spiderweb of toxicity that was slowly bleeding out, strand after strand, taking over her until she was set ablaze with it. The fire burning her up all at once so that there was nothing left but the outline of herself, the shell of a person who longed to be complete.

"What are you going to do?"

He asked after a pause, absently stroking the soft skin at the base of her spine as he held her. He knew that she was hurting, and that he was the one that had caused it.

She closed her eyes against his chest and pursed her lips.

"I don't know."

She whispered.

He remained silent for a while, just the steady rise and fall of his chest against hers and his pulse against her cheek.

"Can I tell you what I think?"

He asked, and she stiffened slightly, suddenly very aware of what he must think of her...

"What?"

"I think you shouldn't tell her."

He said slowly. She frowned against him, but he continued before she could question him.

"I was with a woman, Abby, her name was. We were together for nine years, and then one night she went out on a hen night, got drunk, and ended up in bed with some man called Ryan...similar to this, in a way, I suppose."

He paused as he drew in a long, deep breath.

"Anyway, to cut a long story short, the guilt got to her and she ended up admitting it all to me. I couldn't get over it, I couldn't trust her...so I couldn't be with her. She broke my heart, but I think for a while she ruined me for anyone else. I think I'll always have that suspiciousness, and that jealously. If I was ever to form a relationship with anybody else, I think I'd always have that, gnawing away at me...what I'm trying to say, is that if you're in love with her, and you want to be with her, don't put that on her...don't hurt her just because you can't handle the guilt."

She listened in silence, feeling the gentle, subconscious squeeze of his arms about her, and the circles he drew with his thumbs against her back.

"Do you think I'm awful?"

She whispered so quietly that for a moment she thought he hadn't heard. Then gently he shook his head, his chin just brushing the hair on the top of her head.

"No...I think you're sad. I don't know why, and I'm not asking you to tell me why. But I'm certainly not going to judge you."

He bent his head so that his lips brushed her forehead.

"Don't be sad."

He murmured, his breath against her skin.

"I-"

But before she could finish her sentence there was the sound of something heavy dropping to the floor from the other end of the boat.

"What was that?"

Connie asked, feeling her skin prickle as she jumped in his arms and his body stiffened against her as though poised to protect.

"Probably Colin."

His eyes were on the door.

"Who?"

She asked, following his gaze.

"Colin is my cat."

"Colin!?"

She repeated, finding it difficult not to laugh. He drew up his shoulders in a shrug.

"He looks like a Colin."

He said with a sigh and he smiled down at her as she looked up, glancing to her mouth.

Beyond the door came the rolling sound of something heavy across the floor, and then the sudden hush of it, as though it had been deliberately stopped.

Eliot's eyes glanced to the bedroom door again, his breathing had slowed and slowly he disentangled himself from her.

"I'll just go and check."

He murmured, reaching into the bedside drawer for a pair of pyjama bottoms as he climbed off the bed. He pulled them on and glanced back at her, smiling briefly before opening the door.

-.-

More later xxx