Will You Teach Me… ?
Hello, everyone! Fasten your seatbelts, because this chapter is going to be a Hell of a ride! Now that you all facepalmed reading Stephen's cruel trick on Roger (and Bree), it's time for him to face the consequences of his actions…
Thanks Rath101, Godblesslaci, LykkeF and SirenWolf 28 for the reviews, as well as MairiMcKennaO'Brian for hitting the follow/fav button!
Rath101: Ahahahah I knew you would enjoy their sex scene. The whole manipulation game between them makes every sexual intercourse so damn twisted and hot… lololol The Frasers' won't be around before a few chapters, Roger is definitely going to whine about the incident to them though. Anyway, on with the story. Breathe in, breathe out, you'll need it. Ahah
Godblesslaci: The thing with Stephen Bonnet is that he always ignores people's feelings. He does things that benefit him or feel good to him. He truly enjoyed this night with Brianna (purpose 1) AND it also was a great way to hurt Roger (purpose 2). He never imagined that it would also be a massive blow to Bree. But he's gonna find out very soon…
LykkeF: if you felt sorry for her in the last chapter, your heart will definitely break in a million pieces with this one… Even Stephen might feel something strange happening deep inside his rib cage. Is he growing a heart? Maybe…
SirenWolf28: Thank you so much! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter too (but you might need a paper tissue, just sayin') !
oOo
17. Sweet Catatonia
Brianna did not even see Jeremiah's bedroom door open, or her son's curious gaze staring at her for a second before Phaedre dragged him back into the corridor and sent him off to play in the garden with a footman. The maid had no idea how long her mistress had been there, curled up on the floor, with Jem's pillow crushed against her chest and her eyes blank. She had caressed her cheek and tried to bring her back to reality with a few soft-spoken words, but Brianna did not react to any external stimulus. And the maid soon felt tears pool in her eyes.
Bonnet had not even tried to get his wife down for breakfast, despite his request to eat together. He knew she would not come. Worse, he was fine with it. The more devastated she was, the sooner she would surrender, right? That was at least the conclusion Phaedre had reached when the pirate had slammed the door and left River Run an hour later. She had waited until his horse had disappeared in the distance to brace herself and ask Fitzpatrick for help. The cook was not a bad fellow – unlike Hennessy who had never trusted her since she and Brianna had faked the "monster" attacks in Jemmy's room – and he kindly agreed to help her put Brianna to bed.
The pair grabbed Brianna by the armpits and legs and hoisted her onto Jeremiah's bed, where she immediately curled up into a fetal position. Desperately silent. Fitzpatrick looked around, saw a blanket on an armchair, and handed it over to Phaedre. The maid covered Brianna with it, caressing her forehead one more time in the process.
"I could make her some herbal tea? To calm her nerves?", the cook asked as they crept out into the hallway, closing the door behind them. Phaedre nodded and smiled at him, and he went on: "I wonder what's gotten into him...", he grumbled, Phaedre understanding he was talking about Bonnet just by the way he lowered his voice, "Why would he do that when Mrs. Bonnet seemed happier these last few weeks?..."
Phaedre pursed her lips, not daring to tell him that this happiness was only a pipe dream. Even though Fitzpatrick was the only employee she trusted a bit, she was not so stupid as to tell him anything that could be used against her or Brianna.
"Perhaps Mr. Bonnet will apologize and make it right…", she said, lifting her dress to go down the stairs. Behind her, the cook let out a sarcastic grunt.
"Right... and I'm the Queen of England..." Shaking his head, he ran down the stairs alongside Phaedre. "Mr. Bonnet is one of those men who could not apologize even if their life depended on it. If he wasn't my employer, I'd drag him up to that room up there and-"
"And what, Mr. Fitzpatrick?", Hennessy drawled as the cook jumped, his hair instantly standing on the back of his neck. "Please, finish your thought, I'm intrigued."
Phaedre lowered her nose, while her sidekick shifted nervously from one foot to the other.
"Well… I… um… with all due respect, I… I think I… would strongly encourage him… I mean politely encourage him…", he stammered as Hennessy waited patiently for him to finish his sentence, "…to apologize to Mrs. Bonnet."
Both men stared at each other in an awkward silence, well aware that this was not at all what he would have said if Hennessy had not caught him in the act. He let out a long sigh. "I'd appreciate it if you knew your place in the future, Mr. Fitzpatrick, and not assume what Mr. Bonnet – your employer – should or should not do."
"Aye, Mr. Hennessy", the cook muttered before hurrying back to the kitchen to brew some herbal tea. Phaedre remained alone for a moment with Hennessy, who gave her his usual wary look, and she was about to follow Fitzpatrick when the butler spoke again, in a much less sour tone.
"How is Mrs. Bonnet doing?"
Phaedre stiffened and gave him a curious look. It was the first time that Hennessy seemed to have any compassion for his prisoner. But despite the surveillance to which she was subjected, despite her husband's dirty tricks and everything else, Brianna had never been bad or rude to the house staff. And even if it pained him to admit it, Hennessy was no exception. Just like the Frasers' friend, Lord John Grey, had once told Bree: she was really impossible not to like. Even a tiny bit.
"What do you think?", she retorted. That answer would not endanger her but was eloquent enough for him to grasp the extent of the damage. And before Hennessy could ask more questions, she turned on her heels and joined Fitzpatrick in the kitchen.
~o~
Any attempt to get her to eat or even drink had failed. Untouched fruits, cold cups of tea, and slices of cake piled up on the bedside table. Brianna had not moved an inch all day, and Phaedre had several times felt the urge to check that she was even breathing.
In the middle of the afternoon, as torrential rain struck River Run, Bree's blank eyes had closed and Phaedre had left her alone to play with Jeremiah and his dog in the living room. The game was soon cut short, however, when high-pitched screams of pure distress rang out upstairs, startling Jeremiah who also started to whine. Phaedre had rushed up the stairs, only to find a crying and shaking Brianna who had just woken up from a terrible nightmare. Phaedre's arms had wrapped around her and Brianna had let herself be rocked for a few minutes before immediately falling back into her catatonic state.
Later in the afternoon, Jeremiah had thrown a tantrum as he did not understand why he could not enter his own room or see his mother. Phaedre had finally let him upstairs, making him promise not to make any noise and just cuddle his sick mother. Jeremiah had promised and climbed onto his bed to curl up against Brianna. Phaedre had hoped that her son's presence would cause some reaction, but nothing had happened and she had reluctantly left the two Frasers alone.
The atmosphere was extremely gloomy in the house and the heavy rain did not help. Hennessy had taken a seat at the dining room table to sort out some papers, but Phaedre knew that his heart was not in the work. He had not even scolded her when she had plopped down on one of Jocasta's royal blue armchairs. Lloyd – the young footman who had been playing with Jeremiah before the kidnapping attempt – was also brooding in a corner and let out a long sigh before imitating Phaedre and taking a seat in another chair. There was a disapproving grunt coming from Hennessy's throat, but nothing more. With Brianna on a hunger strike, Stephen absent and Jeremiah holed up in his room with his mother, the three of them – as well as Fitzpatrick in his kitchen – were idle and utterly dejected.
So much so that when Bonnet came back to a dark and silent house around eight o'clock in the evening, Phaedre was already dozing in her armchair and no one had moved or prepared anything. Lloyd stood up, as if spring-loaded, and nervously patted the seat of the chair to erase any trace of his presence. Hennessy jerked his head up – one of his papers sticking to his chin – and groaned when he saw the time on the dining room clock.
Bonnet burst into the room – whistling a joyful tune and drenched to the bone – only to be greeted by three dark and almost accusatory faces. He froze – surprised at the sight and especially by the eerie silence in the house – and frowned.
"By Danu, why the long faces? Did someone die or somethin'…?"
Lloyd approached to rid him of his dripping coat and Stephen watched him walk away with a weird look, before turning back to his other two employees standing in the dining room. A dining room that was far from ready, given the late hour.
"Are we no longer havin' dinner in this house? Where are Brianna and Jeremiah?"
Phaedre opened her mouth and looked at Hennessy, who got the message and answered for her.
"They're upstairs, Sir."
"Get them here."
"Quite impossible, I'm afraid, Sir…", Phaedre intervened. The maid saw the Irishman's jaw twitch and she knew he was well aware of why Brianna was missing. He knows he did something unforgivable. He knows it, but he still tries to pretend that everything is normal… If anything could be normal in this house.
Hennessy crossed his hands behind his back and cleared his throat. "If I may, Sir, you-"
"I would like to have dinner."
The butler paused – realizing that what he had to say was of no interest to his employer – and nodded silently before motioning for Lloyd to help him set the table. Bonnet then turned to Phaedre and frowned.
"Don't you have better things to do? Help my wife change before dinner, for example?"
Phaedra lowered her eyes again. "Mrs. Bonnet will not come down." As Bonnet was getting angry at her for questioning a direct order, she added hastily: "She has remained... prostrate since this morning."
"Since this mornin'?", the pirate repeated in amazement. "Come on, she must have come downstairs to eat somethin'…"
"She has neither eaten nor drunk, Sir. I'm not even sure she moved a finger." The advantage of simply stating the facts – whether or not they were hard to hear – was that she could not be accused of being insolent or overstepping authority. And Bonnet probably knew it, because he just glared at the stairs. That's why she added one last detail, something that she thought might trigger something in him. "I think she is in a lot of pain." And it's entirely your fault, she added inwardly.
Bonnet's eyes became so hard and piercing that she wondered for a moment if she had said the last part aloud, but he did not answer and left the dining room to run up the stairs. Brianna was not in their room, so he walked over to Jeremiah's and gently pushed the door open. Nestled against his mother, the boy was sleeping soundly and Stephen carefully picked him up, placing him on their bed before returning to Bree.
As he walked round the bed to take a look at her, he could not help but shiver at the sight of her impassive, expressionless face. Her dead eyes staring into nothingness. The only thing indicating she was alive and well was the lock of red hair that moved along with her slow and steady breathing. It was as if she was fast asleep… with her eyes wide open.
Come on, darlin'. Get up, let's have dinner...
His voice sounded extremely distant to Brianna and even though her brain picked up the words, she had no reaction. If she had been able to see him, she would have noticed how Stephen seemed increasingly uncomfortable. But where she was – lost in a dark, hopeless fog – no image could reach her. Apart from Roger's, and his disgusted face.
She was aware that Stephen kept talking to her, though, just as she had been aware of Phaedre's kind words during the day. But she was too tired, too broken to actually hear them.
…thought I was goin' crazy… seein' you in his arms… I wanted to hurt you. Hurt both of you.
Brianna was exhausted. And Bonnet's words made her want to sink deeper into darkness. Sleep for a year or two. And wake up in Fraser's Ridge. Eat peanut butter and jam sandwich made by Claire. Drink a glass of whiskey with Marsali while getting an update on the latest gossip. Hunt in the woods with Ian. Hug Jamie and let him rock her like a little girl.
Frank's reassuring face appeared as Stephen leaned over her, probably to make sure she was not faking it. Go back inside, Bree, it's late..., her father called from the front porch of their Boston home. Bree could almost feel the handlebars in her hands as she hoisted her child's bike up the stairs leading to the entrance. In the living room, a Louis Armstrong LP was playing and the comforting smell of Frank's cigarettes filled the air. In a few minutes, they would have dinner, then Frank would tuck her into bed as he did every single night.
On the other side of the invisible wall that separated Stephen from Brianna's alternate reality, the Irishman started to feel unusually anxious. This lifeless doll was not the woman he coveted and admired. His Brianna should be yelling at him, hitting him, insulting him, and then he would hug her tight and bury the hatchet in a sweet embrace. The idea that he might have gone too far and had broken her was slowly creeping into his mind and he had to resist the urge to shake her out of her sinister trance. Finding her in MacKenzie's arms had awakened his old demons, and he had let his temper get the better of him. It was just a bad joke; one day away from River Run to release some tension was all they needed, and the case would have been closed. How could the situation escalate so quickly in his absence? Did he regret his actions, though? He was not sure yet: the Scotsman's face in the morning had been a sight for sore eyes. But Brianna's face right now made his blood run cold. He was not even sure he could stand it… Out of anger, he knocked over the bedside table, scattering the tea and various snacks on the bedroom floor. His eyes immediately went back to Bree, searching for any surprised gasp or any change in her demeanor. But there was nothing.
"I'm sorry", he breathed abruptly, before striding out of the room.
The door closed and silence fell again on Brianna and her limp body. Frank's smile widened as she set her bike down at the top of the steps, and his warm hand ruffled her hair. Come on, kiddo.
Tiny Bree smiled back and nodded. Adult Bree, on the other hand, did not smile. But from her frozen eyes escaped a single tear.
~o~
When Brianna opened her eyes, it took her about ten minutes to remember who and where she was. Her last memories were of Frank sitting on her bed and reading her a story. He then had turned off the light, leaving the corridor lamp on, and had wished her good night shortly before she fell asleep, a wide smile on her lips. But the room she was in was not in Boston, her body was not eight years old anymore and her dry, cotton mouth reminded her that she had not eaten or drunk since… she did not even know how long.
Turning over on the mattress, she identified Jeremiah's room despite the darkness of the night and her eyes searched for the child. She had the feeling that her son had been snuggled up against her for a few hours before someone took him away. Probably St…
She rubbed her eyes. The mere thought of his name was torture and she did not feel strong enough to bear any pain, either physical or psychological. Now that she was slowly coming to her senses, her body also seemed to be slowly rebooting and she heard her stomach growl while her bladder threatened to explode. She got up on unsteady feet and went out to relieve herself and then eat something.
Downstairs, her gaze fell on the clock; it was four in the morning. Almost a day? Maybe I even slept several days in a row? Was it even biologically possible? She was not sure. Her stomach rumbled loudly again and she walked toward the kitchens.
Cup. Hot water. Spoon. Milk. Tea leaves. Brianna gathered objects as slowly as a snail. She felt like an empty shell. In other circumstances, she would have been worried about "disappearing" for an indefinite period of time. She would have wondered what would happen to her if her behavior had not pleased St-her husband, or she would have looked for Jeremiah. But not today. Eat and drink were her only goals at first. As for the rest… she would think about it later. One problem at a time.
Little did she know that her shuffling gait in the upstairs corridor had awakened Bonnet, who had followed her as soon as she had reached the kitchen so that she would not hear the bed creak. He had let her prepare her tea in peace, watching her slow movements and tired face through the half-opened door – as he remembered their first night in River Run when they had shared a slice of cake in that same room.
Brianna had just poured into the teapot some of the water from the kettle they kept by the fireplace and was staring vacantly at the swirling tea leaves when the door creaked. The young woman did not jump and barely turned her head to the side as if she was not even surprised that she was being watched.
"I see you decided not to let yourself starve and die, after all?", Stephen said awkwardly as he crossed the threshold. A deathly silence fell over the room as Brianna closed the teapot, acting as if she had not heard his question or even noticed his presence.
"Jeremiah was very worried about you. Phaedre had to tell him that you were sick…"
Still moving like a robot, Brianna grabbed a plate and cut off a slice of pie – frowning slightly when a hard piece of dough resisted her. Guilt tripping her obviously did not work better than sarcasm, and Stephen grew impatient.
"All right, I'm sorry… Is that what you want to hear?", he blurted out, raising his voice. "I've said it before and I'll say it again: I…am…sorry. I stupidly thought this bad joke would be entertainin', and it was… for a while. But it seems I'm the only one in this house with a sense of humor..."
Brianna straightened up and blinked a few times in disbelief. Stephen felt glad he had finally found the words to get her to react. That is, until she opened her mouth.
"Get out."
She had spoken calmly, without any aggressiveness. So much so that Stephen almost felt tempted to obey and spun towards the exit, before he changed his mind.
"I did this for us, Brianna."
A scornful chuckle came from the other side of the kitchen and he saw her shake her head with a mocking grin. "Just shut up, you're embarrassing yourself…"
"I did it so that he would stop hoverin' 'round us… Followin' us in Wilmington wasn't enough. He had the nerve to break into our house…"
This came as a blow to Brianna and she slowly turned her head to look at him, her apparent calmness slowly giving way to surprise, then to anger.
"You… you saw Roger in Wilmington…?"
"Discretion is not exactly his forte." Stephen took a step toward her but she immediately took a step back, as she still tried to process this new information. "Trust me, darlin'… He will be much happier now that he is free of you. He can move on…"
"Shut up", she breathed, as rage suddenly reinvigorated her limbs and she clenched her fists, digging her fingernails into her palms instead of Stephen's face. "Shut up before it's too late."
"And you too will be happier… Right now, you're just mad at yourself because you enjoyed that night as much as I-"
There was a whistling sound in the air near his left ear when the teapot crossed the room and smashed against the wall behind him. Stephen jumped, not expecting such a turn of events. The slowness of Bree's reactions so far had given him a false sense of security. He had barely realized the loss of the teapot when an empty cup hit him in the chest, before shattering loudly on the floor. He turned his attention back to Brianna – whose face was contorted with hatred – and only had time to step back in order to escape the poker that she was swinging at him like a baseball bat. The air whistled again when the poker passed a few inches away from his nose and Stephen cursed loudly.
"What do you know about my fucking happiness, huh?", she yelled, this time slamming the poker down on the table, causing a plate to explode. "Who are you to assume that I'll be happier like this or like that?" Another swing and the poker sent a candlestick flying across the room. "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, FOR FUCK'S SAKE?"
Brianna's voice broke as she yelled the last word, and Stephen stared at her blankly from across the table. He had no doubt that the entire house staff was awake at this moment, but strangely enough, no one came to help him. Not even Hennessy. Maybe he deserved it after all. Determined not to end the night skewered on the poker like a spit-roasted chicken, he started circling the table – avoiding blows, until he could seize the poker as it flew past. The impact of the iron bar against his forearms caused him to groan in pain, but he held on and snatched the tool from Bree's hands.
Deprived of her weapon, the young woman did not back down and started to throw every object within reach at his face. Glasses, loaves of bread, fruits, and plates flew across the room, hitting their target (or not) depending on how quickly the Irishman dodged them. Taking advantage of a few seconds when Brianna was out of ammunition, he jumped on her – seizing her wrists and pinning her between him and the hutch. But she was still thrashing about and Stephen got slightly annoyed when one of his wife's knees hit dangerously close to his crotch. In order to avoid any further attack against his precious manhood, he pressed himself against her but she retaliated by biting his left shoulder.
"By Danu…", he cursed, releasing Brianna's wrists. Immediately, she opened one of the drawers behind her and pulled out a long meat knife, pressing it across Stephen's throat.
Time seemed to stop. Neither of them moved. Brianna was shaking with rage – her hand clutching her weapon – and Stephen had become as still as a piece of wood the moment he had felt the blade on his skin. Despite this most precarious position, his green eyes showed no fear. Worse, they seemed to challenge her. If grabbing the knife had first felt extremely satisfying to Bree, the more time passed, the more it felt like a mistake, and the knife started to tremble in her hand. Her lips were trembling as well, and Stephen chose that moment to lean forward – pressing his throat a little harder against the blade. Brianna jumped as if she was worried he would hurt himself, which was completely silly considering she was the one threatening his life.
"Do it."
Brianna stared at him in amazement and he took the opportunity to press his forehead against hers, while sliding one hand around her waist and then the other in her red hair, cupping her upper cheek.
"But don't forget that we are married, darlin'… And once you've been hanged for my murder, we will be reunited. In the grave."
Brianna pursed her lips and closed her eyes in pain. There was no way out. No solution to her problem. No light at the end of the tunnel. Whatever she did now, they would remain together forever. Stephen had made sure of that. And by giving Roger a glimpse of their intimate life, he had also made sure that she would never pick up her life where she left off if she ever ran away from him. The hand on her cheek slid to the back of her skull while the other went around her back, hugging her so sweetly it was almost sickening.
Brianna's strengths were fading again, leaving her even more exhausted than she was when she left her room. Slowly, the blade moved away from Stephen's neck and Bree's arm fell limply to her side. The hand in her hair moved to disarm her gently, and she heard the knife land a few feet away on the stone floor with a metallic clang. One second later, he was hugging her again with both arms and Brianna's nose was soon stinging. She would have given anything to let herself be rocked like a baby, but the only available arms being Stephen's, that was not an option.
"How could you do this to me?", she sobbed, her voice barely audible. "I took a step… one tiny step towards you… and you used it to hurt me…"
"I did not want to hurt anyone but MacKenzie…"
"You let me enjoy that night…", Brianna went on, not even noticing that he had cut her off. She was not really speaking to him anyway, or anyone in particular. She was crying, sobbing and between two sniffles, words just happened to come out of her mouth. "You let me enjoy it so that you could hurt me in the morning... I'm stupid... I'm so stupid..."
This time, he could not let her go astray like that without being listened to, and Stephen pulled back slightly.
"I, too, enjoyed it...", he breathed before adding with a stern look: "What I did the next mornin' and what we did durin' the night are two different things to me, and served two very different purposes."
Brianna shook her head, her lower lip quivering. "Not from my point of view."
"I can see that now…" Frowning worriedly, he stroked her cheek and Bree fought the urge to pull herself out of his reach. "I did not expect it to hurt you so much. I won't do it again."
Brianna sneered, wiping her tears away. "You'll do something else. You always do…"
"Not this time, darlin'… I promise you…"
His sweet tone, his caresses, his empty words, everything told her that he was doing his best to calm her down – even if it meant lying through his teeth. Brianna saw the Irishman's mouth split open – his eyes looking for hers – and she knew he was planning to end their argument with a long kiss, maybe even more than a kiss. But he would not get what he wanted. Not after what he had done to her. Or maybe he just deserved to be given a taste of his own medicine… Their lips made contact a few seconds later and Bree kissed him shyly at first, then passionately, long enough for him to think he had won. She could feel it in the way his fingers roamed over her body above her dress, in the sighs he let out against her mouth, in his tongue just waiting eagerly to caress hers.
The pain startled him when Brianna closed her jaw on his lower lip and he jumped before pushing her away. As he raised a hand to his mouth, a few drops of sticky, red liquid mixed with saliva covered his fingertips, and he stared at Brianna in amazement.
"It doesn't feel great, does it?", she spat icily. "When you're having a good time and someone deliberately hurts you..."
Stephen blinked stupidly several times, and Brianna wondered if he was a bit slow or if he was doing it on purpose. Little did she know that her husband had learned his lesson but the sight of her messy red hair, her red and watery eyes – not to mention the tiny drops of his blood on her mouth – had made him forget his anger. He felt the irrepressible urge to undress her and have his way with her in the devastated kitchen but it was absolutely not the right time. She could bite more important things than his lip in retaliation, and he was not crazy enough to risk it...
Now that he knew sex was no longer an option, the harsh reality of their feud hit him hard and he decided to play a card he had been keeping in his sleeve for months in case things got bad. Wiping his lip with one hand, he stared at Bree coldly.
"You are angry. I can see it. And nothin' I can say or do will change that…"
"You catch up fast…", she mocked with a sarcastic grin. Grin that disappeared immediately when he spoke again.
"That is why it would be better for us to start behavin' like we used to. Pretending to be a happy and well-matched couple… Until you pull yourself together."
Stephen saw her open her mouth, first in amazement and then in panic. "No… No, please, I'll do anything… anything but that…"
"It's for your own good."
"Stephen, I… I don't want to put on an act anymore…", she begged, taking a step towards him, but he backed away from her with an inscrutable expression. She had to hit a nerve: his desire to be loved. "How do you expect me to fall in love with you if we never are ourselves?"
"It's temporary until you get past the incident. I don't want to upset Jeremiah."
He sounded so harsh that it cut Brianna short in her pleas. She would not get anything out of him when he clammed up like that. Stephen gave her one last look and turned on his heels towards the exit.
"Upset Jeremiah?", she repeated contemptuously, "…or upset you?" He stopped on the threshold, without looking back. "You live in an illusion... it can't last forever and you know it..."
Bonnet's shoulders sagged imperceptibly, but that was the only sign that Brianna's words had hit the mark. A moment later, he had disappeared down the corridor, leaving her alone and desperate.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Well, here we are: Brianna has officially hit rock bottom. And Stephen realized he has gone too far. He's going to change. Now that Brianna is broken, more vulnerable than ever, he will (finally!) change. But will Brianna have the strength to rebuild her mental barriers? To protect herself? Or will she just let him invade her helpless heart and mind? This is what you will find out in the second part of this fiction.
I hope you enjoyed Frank's appearance, but more importantly how life itself seemed to have come to a halt at River Run without Brianna (interesting, isn't it?). And finally the argument in the kitchen (also interesting that no one came to help our dear Stephen, hahaha). I look forward to reading your reactions and theories on what will happen next!
The next chapter will be updated on October 15th! Until then, I wish you a happy 3 weeks!
Xérès