Haunting past
Summary: Sequel to "Once upon a haunted time". No one is spared from dealing with the consequences of what happened that night.
Chapter 1. Tiff & Stu: Sincere
"Hello," Stuart began, "How are you feeling?"
When he had showed up at the door of Tiffany's apartment, he was frankly nervous, although he made a special effort not to let it show, once she opened the door for him, in slippers and her house clothes.
In the end, Stuart had spent the least time in the hospital. After receiving a few stitches in his arm, he was discharged. Tiffany had had to spend the whole day under observation for the blow to the head, before she could leave as well. At first, he had stayed with Tiff, but soon after the doctor had gotten serious and sent him home to recover.
Jubal and Isobel stayed an extra day, he because of the poison and she because of her broken ribs. Maggie, the only one who had needed minor surgery, was still hospitalized. And OA, although he didn't need treatment, stayed there with her, at her bedside.
Meanwhile, Stuart hadn't really been able to rest. Aside from the nightmares keeping him from sleeping, he couldn't get Tiffany out of his head when he was awake. After insisting several times, she replied to his texts saying tersely she was fine and already home. As soon as he felt a little stronger, Stuart had decided to go see her.
Tiffany gave him a wary glance without inviting him in.
"Fine," she replied, surly. It still stung her how he had told her he 'loved' her in such manner, as a joke.
Stuart knew Tiff was lying. He could see in the weariness on her face she had been unable to sleep last night, due surely as he was, to persistent nightmares. But he chose not to contradict her and stick to his original plan.
"Hmm... You know, I've found tending to the wound on my arm with just one hand is a real pain in the ass. Don't you have the same problem with your shoulder?" He held up the first aid kit he was carrying in one hand. "I'll make you a deal. I'll treat you and you treat me. And then I'll invite you to dinner," he said, lifting the paper bag he carried in the other. "I brought Thai food," he offered with a smarmy smile.
Tiffany recognized on the bag the logo of that expensive Thai restaurant she loved so much. She felt an uncontrollable stir inside her. Not allowing it to be noticed, she crossed her arms.
"And with that you think you have the right to show up at my house unannounced?" she reproached, "Maybe I have company. Perhaps I already have someone to treat my wounds and have dinner with."
"Oh." Stuart dropped his arms. His smile crumbled from his face. "Sure, of course. Sorry. I thought-"
"You thought…?" she challenged him.
Tiffany's face and whole body expression said 'annoyed'. Something inside Stuart's head clicked.
Yes, she had shared his bed once –a wonderful night Stuart could never forget– and she hadn't liked it at all when he had disappeared the next morning, but now Stuart realized he had misread the situation from the very start. Tiffany had been angry because she had considered it disrespectful, not because she wanted anything more from him.
Not that Stuart could blame her for his own mistake. It had just been a stupid, vain, arrogant assumption on his part.
When he'd said what he'd said to Tiffany after she had given him the car keys, Stuart hadn't meant it as a joke. Not entirely. And he hadn't regretted it. It had been liberating and had left him with an effervescent feeling that made him want to act on it ever since.
Now he did regret it. Completely. He should never have said that to Tiffany. He should never have allowed himself to even feel this way.
Suddenly, in addition to being disappointed, Stuart felt very embarrassed.
He averted his eyes.
"Okay... I'll- I'll get out off of your hair then," said Stuart starting to leave. "Excuse me."
Tiffany didn't know what reaction she had expected, but that hadn't been it. She was offended Stuart had taken it for granted she was available to him. Even if it was true. It bothered her even more. But she also didn't think, putting him in his place, Stuart would take it with such dejection. She didn't know –or didn't want to know– how to read it.
Watching him walk away down the hallway, Tiffany was struggling with herself over whether she should stop him or not. With an unpleasant uneasiness in her chest, she decided it was best to let him go and began to close the door.
Then he came back and held out the paper bag without looking her in the face.
"Aaam, do you want to...? Do you want to keep the food?" He had lost his appetite and didn't want to throw it away either.
Tiffany exhaled a long growl through her nose. "Come in," she said, giving way, not quite knowing why she had changed her mind and feeling she was making a serious mistake.
Raising his eyebrows, Stuart hesitated for a moment, dreading having to put on a good face for Tiff's guest, but went in. A smile began to creep onto his mouth when he saw no one else was there.
"No smirking," she threatened. "Let's have dinner. I'm hungry."
Stuart pursed his lips to stifle it and only succeeded in looking even cockier.
·~·~·
But he was trying. Once Stuart started behaving himself and allowed Tiff to relax, dinner was a very pleasant time.
Stu told her the latest news. Isobel had been allowed to go home, but she had to rest. Jubal had taken her to his place to make sure she did, because Isobel was already trying to work remotely.
Maggie was still in the hospital, but was recovering well. She would be sent home soon as well.
They were just finishing their dessert when Stuart also told her he had already given his statement and had told everything exactly as he remembered it.
"I'm still waiting for the shrinks to come and put me in the loony bin," he joked, making her laugh with bright eyes.
It was funny how he was one of the few who managed to do that...
For the moment, the official version was the six of them had been drugged and assaulted, although this could not explain everything. And they still hadn't been able to find the scene of the incident. The SUV's GPS was mysteriously erased, as if it had been exposed to a magnetic field.
Stuart's expression became more serious and his gaze unfocused. "I wonder when I'll stop having horrible nightmares..."
She nodded. "Yes, so do I." The glint of fear in Stuart's eyes unsettled her. "Stuart," she called to him, and he turned his attention back to her. "What do you remember about what happened back there?"
Between the two of them they reviewed everything that happened. It helped both their sanity a lot to discover, as strange as it was, they both remembered the same things.
They didn't discuss they had hugged after Stuart had nearly shot Jubal, however. Nor they had kissed in the kitchen.
"I have to confess I quite freaked out when the ceiling fell on you," he remarked, still shaken by the vividness of this particular memory. "All I could see was Doug's death over and over again. And you dying in the same way..." He looked at her with tormented eyes, swallowing hard. Before she could offer comfort, he changed the subject. "As we were leaving the house, I heard him calling me, you know? It was Doug. His voice, at least."
"I- I heard my father." They both looked at each other breathlessly. "He called me 'my little jewel'. It was what he used to call me as a child..."
Tears nearly overflowed her eyes. Stuart reached across the table to take Tiff's hand, trying to comfort her.
"I could hear Doug like... he was behind me."
She clung to his hand. "I also heard my father as if he were right there. I still wonder if..."
"If he was really there. So do I. But if each of us heard something different..."
"...it means it was just..."
"...a trick," the two finished at the same time.
Their looks were still sad, but they nodded, sighing in relief.
Stuart tried to offer a half-smile to cheer her up. Tiffany's heart, under too much pressure, raced even faster. She turned her face away and let go of his hand.
"Come on," she stood up, "I'll fix that arm for you."
Feeling overcome with discouragement, Stuart simply bit his lips and followed her.
·~·~·
Sitting on a stool in the bathroom, Tiffany studied Stuart closely as he carefully disinfected her shoulder wound. She was in her tank top so he could change the dressing. She wasn't wearing a bra underneath and Stuart was making great efforts to keep his eyes out of her chest.
He had already treated the wound on her head and several scratches on her arms, and was acting like a gentleman, but those efforts were proving too suggestive to Tiffany. Her gaze lingered on Stuart's torso, inadvertently recalling the times she had seen it naked. The most recent time, only a few minutes ago; he had taken off his shirt for her to change his bandages, and had put it back on afterwards. Before that, stained with blood which fortunately wasn't his. And even earlier... She remembered him amidst of the pleasure, while in each other's arms, they had given each other a few nights ago. An intense heat spread throughout her body. She took a breath through her teeth.
"It hurts?" he asked, misinterpreting her and, in turn, waking pulling her out of her heated and inconvenient memories.
"A bit."
"Take the painkillers," he suggested.
"I already have," Tiff replied, tense.
"Okay," Stuart replied defensively.
As he gently applied a clean dressing over the bullet graze, Tiffany's gaze returned to his caring hands, and from there it then moved to his face.
When he finished, Stuart raised his head. Their eyes met, charging the atmosphere around them with an even greater tension, impossible to ignore.
They would have to be made of cork to be able to do that.
He dropped his hand, sliding his fingertips down her arm, giving Tiffany goosebumps. The deep blue of Stuart's eyes darkened as they settled on her lips. He could resist no longer. He leaned towards Tiff...
"I'm not going to be your lover, Stuart," she managed to blurt out at the last second.
That stopped him short. He leant back.
He sighed. It wasn't a lover Stuart was looking for in Tiffany. Not only, anyway. But he wasn't going to make the mistake of letting the capital 'L' word slip out again. Definitely not. It would only succeed in embarrassing him and scaring her away again. And even more so now, as Tiff had made clear her position on the matter.
He swallowed hard and nodded, accepting her decision, as frustrating as it was.
For her part, Tiffany was convinced she was doing the sensible thing, which wouldn't ruin her career or their friendship. She couldn't let herself get carried away by those foolish yearnings of her heart, not least because that only time had been off the charts. She had to keep a level head.
But then, why did she feel as if her happiness was going down a drain? Suddenly, good sense became too heavy a burden... And temptation too strong an impulse.
Stuart was trying to decide whether he should simply wish her goodnight and leave or whether he would be able to bring himself to talk about their night together and apologize properly... when to his surprise, Tiffany's mouth was suddenly on his, claiming it with an irresistible ardor. Before he realized what he was doing, Stuart pulled her to him and let himself be carried away.
They stood up seeking greater contact. Stuart pressed her against the shower screen with his body, teasing her with short, wet kisses. Tiffany reacted by turning them around and deepening the kiss. Stuart made the most of it sensually running his hands over her curves.
She pulled him along and soon they were in the bedroom, kissing each other fervently as they sat on the edge of her bed.
Without separating her mouth from his, Tiff straddled Stuart, and began to unbutton his shirt. He held onto her hips eagerly. It was getting even hotter than the first time. Cradling the nape of her head, Stuart leaned her back a little and devoured her neck, taking in her subtle scent of bergamot and jasmine. When she felt his fingers sliding under her top, over the skin of her waist, Tiffany impatiently got rid of the garment and, opening his shirt, embraced him, pressing her bare chest against his. That caused him to let out a ragged sigh, overwhelmed by the direct contact of her soft, warm flesh.
She went to kiss him again, but Stuart pulled away slightly.
"You know what the word 'lover' means, don't you?" he asked breathlessly, raising a slightly mocking eyebrow. It was his particular way of making sure Tiff really wanted to move forward.
She frowned at him for a second. "Oh, shut up."
Tiffany sought his mouth again with all that need she was unable to repress, and didn't allow Stuart to clown around any more.
·~·~·
Stirring in her sleep, Tiffany woke Stuart by pushing him away from her. Both had fallen exhausted a couple of hours ago, after their long and passionate encounter, still entangled in each other's bodies.
She was still asleep, struggling against something that was harassing her. Stuart's heart shrank at the faint, anguished grunts emitting from her lips, the rapid breathing heaving in her chest.
He caressed her face in the darkness.
"Tiff..." he called her in a whisper, so as not to startle her. He almost couldn't suppress other words of affection. "Tiff..."
Her eyelids fluttered and Tiffany opened her eyes. "The spiders..." she gasped.
"Just a nightmare."
"They have overcome us and... They are... devouring us."
She closed her eyes tightly. Stuart noticed her shaking violently.
"Shhh... Come here." He pulled her into his arms; he stroked her back and the nape of her neck slowly, trying to bring her back to this reality. "It was just a nightmare... You're safe. We are all safe."
He pulled the duvet over them both.
Tiffany couldn't help herself; she snuggled against him, burying her face in his neck. Stuart's steady breathing, his gentle caresses, calmed hers little by little. The tension left her body, and Tiff fell asleep in his arms.
·~·~·
The clear morning light filtered through the curtains. As Tiffany slowly awoke, she noticed she felt better than could probably be legal. Rested, satisfied... pleased. Last night had somehow turned out to be much more intimate than the other one...
She stretched her slender body like a cat.
And then she could tell Stuart was no longer in bed. She knew it even before opening her eyelids to check. A deep disappointment overwhelmed her. Tiffany didn't know what she was surprised about. She knew perfectly well how Stuart was with women.
She blinked, trying to control the tears coming to her eyes.
It was better this way, she thought sternly. Stuart was gone and from now on she could pretend nothing had happened between them.
Then Stuart walked through the door. He was wrapped in Tiff's fluffy winter robe, with a smile on his face and a tray in his hands. His hair, tousled but not in the usual careful way, was just cute.
"Oh, you're awake already. Bummer." He made a slightly frustrated pout. "I was hoping I could wake you up with the smell of coffee and freshly made crêpes," he said with a correct French accent, carefully placing the tray next to her.
Tiffany would never confess to liking something as posh as crêpes, but Stuart knew she loved them. He'd made them flambéed, because he hadn't found she had syrups at home, hoping he'd gotten her tastes right. And hopping it would make amends for his running away the other time.
He sat down next to Tiffany and looked at her expectantly.
She was gaping, sternly thinking she shouldn't feel what she was feeling at the moment...
"You- you didn't have to," she murmured.
"Oh, because it's not in my contract, you mean?" he asked, with a teasing smile.
Tiff let out a chuckle. Damn you, Stu. "Give me back my robe," she ordered and brought the tray closer.
Gallantly, Stuart took off the garment, leaving himself in just his underwear, and handed it to her so she could cover her own nakedness. He watched delightedly as she enjoyed her crêpes and coffee, while he drank his own and stole a couple of bites from her.
"It was delicious," she said when she finished. "Thanks..."
"My pleasure," Stuart replied, happy.
His smile was infectious. He really was charming when he wanted to, but Tiff knew she had to get back to reality. This one gesture, however undoubtedly thoughtful, didn't change anything. She had to stand her ground this time.
Tiffany took a deep breath to gather resolve as he set the tray on the nightstand.
"I'm glad you stayed..." she began.
This nearly naked Stuart stretched out on his side next to her, leaning on one elbow to support his head with his fist with a casual air; his smile had become dazzling. Tiffany had to force herself to ignore the strong attraction he was exerting on her.
"...because we need to talk," she added, sitting up straighter.
Frowning, his smile faltered slightly. "That doesn't sound so good."
"We work together, Stuart. I'm not going to be your lover," Tiff repeated.
He looked at her bewildered, then annoyed. "Is this what you wanted me to stay for that first time?" Stuart complained. He had to bite his tongue to keep from blurting out he wanted to know how she would call what they had done last night, several times... and in several different positions.
But Tiff must have read his mind because she huffed and started to get out of bed.
She was ashamed of herself. Stuart was right. It was stupid how she had let herself get so carried away with him again. She couldn't expect him to respect her and not turn her into his plaything if she pounced on him like that every chance she got.
"Tiff," Stuart called after her, regretting terribly he hadn't gotten around to talking about it the night before. "Okay, okay," he grabbed her waist and sat her next to him on the edge of the bed. He was very glad she allowed him to do so. "'Lover'... Let's not call it that."
With a trembling heart, Stuart wondered what he should call the tenderness with which she had comforted him about Brian, with which he tried to comfort her from the spiders -and death- ridden nightmares she had last night. Stuart forced himself to mentally push all that aside because he was convinced it wasn't something she was willing to give him anymore. But he couldn't help but caress her cheek.
The tenderness in his gesture made Tiffany hesitate. Maybe Stuart had hit the nail on the head. Maybe this was their problem: the words driving them apart instead of bringing them closer. She leaned her face against his hand, accepting the caress.
Stuart, pulled her to him by the waist, moving closer and was about to kiss her. At this point, Tiff could not resist.
"D'you know what? We don't have to put a label on it," he murmured against her lips. "I hate labels too. Let's not call it anything," he proposed in a quiet voice. "We don't need to..."
He tried to kiss her, but Tiffany had gone very stiff. She pushed him away, her black eyes turned to hard obsidian.
"Of course. To get me to bed, you don't need to call it any particular name, do you?" Tiffany said dryly. She closed her eyes. I can't believe I almost fell again. She felt her heart shatter once more. "No, it's just my fault..." she thought aloud with a lump in her throat.
"Wait... Would you..." Stuart then asked, confused, "...actually want it to be... something else?"
She stood up suddenly and looked at him indignantly, furiously.
"No, Stuart. I've slept with you because I don't care about you, but I like men to use me for sex and then leave me hanging whenever they want," she snapped acidly.
Stuart looked at her stunned, but not because of her sarcasm, but because of what might be behind it. Because Tiffany did expect something more from him. Maybe.
He felt an unexpected spark of hope. Just before it turned into a panic attack. His reflexes almost made him run off.
Fortunately, before doing so, Stuart realized now he really had to do something, or he would lose her forever.
It seemed his fears had screwed things up pretty good, but maybe he still had a chance to get things back on track between them the way he really wanted them. If there was one thing he had learned in that damned mansion on Halloween night, it was being ruled by fear was a sure path to doom.
He didn't grab her again, but took her hands gently, steeling himself. She watched him distantly from above.
"Listen," said Stuart. "Listen, please. I actually don't want to call it that. I don't want to because... Because for me..." He swallowed, "You're so much more," he finally dared.
To his disappointment, the reaction he got from her was not proportional to how much it had cost him to say it. Tiffany's eyes remained cold.
Then Stuart understood.
"You don't believe me," he said breathlessly, slowly releasing her hands.
It hadn't been a question.
Tiffany didn't answer. She wanted to believe it, but she couldn't. And not just because of Stuart's notorious background. Her own past screamed at Tiffany she shouldn't trust him.
Stuart lowered his head, downcast.
"Of course... How possibly you could?"
There they were. More than two decades of accumulated bad karma taking shape in Tiffany's distrust, destroying his hopes in a single brutal blow.
But he wasn't going to give up now. Not even though she could now tear him apart with just one word. Stuart raised his head and looked into her eyes, barely holding back tears.
"I'll prove it to you," he assured her. Tiff began to shake her head., "I know. I don't expect anything in return. I don't... I don't deserve it, really. I'm just saying, if you give me the chance, I'll prove it to you. And at the very least, you will be able to know what I've told you... is real," he finished, with a slight tremor in his voice.
Damn his own rhetoric. He simply wasn't capable of saying it more directly. Still, Stuart had never felt so vulnerable in front of anyone.
Instead of kicking him out of her room, as her fears dictated, Tiffany forced herself to reflect. And she found herself fighting the facts.
Breakfast in bed, staying this morning, the tenderness he had shown last night with her nightmares; the gentleness with which he had healed her, how he had offered comfort with her troubled memories and yesterday's Thai food. The torn anguish she had seen in his eyes when he had pulled her out from under the rubble of the collapsed ceiling...
Tiffany began to think Stuart might be telling the truth.
"And how do you plan to prove this to me? Tell me," she said, still suspicious, but sitting back down next to him.
Stuart's face lit up, as he took a deep breath. Tiffany's pulse quickened as she watched him roam her face with open, deep admiration in his gaze.
"Being sincere," he replied.
Rarely in his life had he ever said anything more seriously. He prayed Tiffany could see it in his eyes. He approached, slowly, still fearing her rejection. He didn't put his arms around her or use seductive caresses. He just kissed her.
Tiff's heart was unable to ignore the complete, surrendered sweetness with which he did so. Overwhelmed, and to her own surprise, when Tiffany reciprocated, she did so no less sweetly.
~.~.~.~