Broken
Chapter Nine
By Karisma
Rated: PG-13
Genre: Alt, Romance
[email protected]
Standard Disclaimers Apply
May 2002
He was quiet as he brought her bag into her living room. She turned to him, dreading the good-bye part of their relationship. It would be awkward, ending her love for him with a polite handshake and a tediously lacking 'thank-you'. But he surprised her by not moving to touch her at all as he stood by the door, yards away from her.
He pointed a finger to the picture she had left on the coffee table. It was the sketch of an ornament in the shape of a crystal angel. It had fallen from two hands above, the intricate head separated and lying next to the graceful body, wings and all.
"That's how you see yourself, isn't it? Some broken thing beyond repair?" She didn't answer, but he hadn't been expecting one. "Do you remember what you said to me before we left for India?" He waited for her puzzled nod before continuing. "Well, I don't consider you a project to help, Serena. I don't want to fix you; I want you to stop being such a wet blanket. Try and live life. Others have done it for years and they seem pretty happy." His tone grew caustic, biting, harsh even. Serena involuntarily took a step back at his almost vicious tone.
"When you said you didn't want to fight anymore, I assumed you meant legally. Maybe you meant all together. Well, I happen to think that's rather selfish of you, Serena. There are a quite a number of people who would give their right arms for you to crack one genuinely joyful smile. Because they care about you. They want you to receive the happiness they think you deserve."
"And you don't think I deserve it." It wasn't a question, it was flat statement. There was a spark in her eyes he had not seen since she knew he knew about the rape.
"I don't know. Maybe you're determined to not be happy because in doing so you'd be betraying something. Maybe you want to be miserable for the rest of your life because that way you can atone for your unforgivable grievances." He paused and when he spoke again, his voice was soft and caring. "What grievances, Serena? You haven't done anything that deserves a life of wretched solitude."
"You don't know what you're talking about, Darien," she said quietly, turning away from his burning gaze, her hands clenching at the sides of her white sundress.
"Don't I?" Frustrated beyond belief, he looked away from her figure, as if unable to tolerate the sight of her anymore.
"No," her voice hardened. "You don't. You know nothing."
"Yes, that's right." The sarcasm was back, dripping from every hurtful word. "You're the martyr here, the victim. You're the one who must bear the cross life had burdened you with. Wake up, Serena! You're choosing this life out of a twisted desire to purge yourself. There is no need to! You have done nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing. But you're going to spend the rest of your lonely life extracting pity from those around you. Yes, they'll say 'Poor, Serena. How she's suffered so.' Is that it? Maybe after that you think you'll finally be forgiven for what happened to Raye?
"There's no need to seek forgiveness. No one blames you but you. Raye has managed a beautiful life for herself. But you...all you can do is flog yourself daily in hope that perhaps it'll be enough retribution." He sucked in air, his chest heaving with emotional exertion. His voice was calm when he spoke again. "Well, I'm done, Serena. I love you like hell. Too much to watch you do this to yourself. Too damn much to watch as this thing destroy you."
She didn't see him leave, but felt it. As soon as he was gone, she felt the desolation enter her, causing her to crumple in a heap on the floor where she stood, unable to summon up the energy to move.
"Darien," she called inaudibly, the loss within her so palpably painful she couldn't actually form the name. She could vaguely hear the rain outside, it wasn't a drizzle or even a constant pour. It was raining buckets, sheets coming down continuously, slapping her windows mercilessly. It lulled it somewhat until she felt herself get up and open the balcony door. The small actions had drained her of energy. She fell against the railing in a sobbing mess, her body drenched within seconds. One hand clung loosely to the bars that supported her.
She raised her face to the angry skies above her, hot tears blending in with the cold rainwater to make a beautiful numbness. Oblivion was a blessing she wasn't graced with. She released the railing and fell down on her side on the ground of her balcony. The beating pulse of the rain sent her hair strewn all over her face and she absently felt a sense of déjà vu.
She was seventeen again and lying in the wet dirt, despair drenching her more than the rain ever could. The sky cried for her; the clouds loomed over, their dusky wisps sobbing for her plight. The dismal rain misted over her collapsed figure. The blonde enveloped in the vapor looked like a fallen angel in her dirtied white garb.
*****
1 Darien stared out into the night view of London from his office. His eyes failed to register the glittering lights from tall buildings and homes down below. He didn't take in the stars shining brightly against their velvet backdrop. His mind was fully occupied with Serena. Everywhere he went, memories of her assaulted him. Turning away from the large window with self-disgust, his eyes fell on the leather couch where they had played cards into the early morning.
Damn. Yet another memory to add to the pile that suffocated his thoughts, making work impossible.
He sat down on his chair, banging his head on the soft leather of the headrest behind him. After a while, he gave up the fruitless action and closed his eyes, pressing the heels of his hands against them to stop the burning sensation that started from behind them.
He was tired, but he couldn't sleep. The way things were going, it was highly unlikely he'd ever sleep again. Which wouldn't be the worst thing if he had something to occupy his copious amount of free time. But he had already established that he couldn't work.
Which made for Darien McDermott's private hell.
For the umpteenth time, he wondered where she was, what she was doing, if she was thinking of him. He hoped she was. He wanted her to be thinking of him with as much longing and yearning he held for her. He wanted that much of her, at least for the time being. If her future did not include him, then he wanted her happiness.
One of them should have it, he decided wryly.
When he woke up the next morning, Serena's cheerful face was above him, waving a cup of hot coffee below his nose. He groaned and closed his eyes again, he had had this dream before. Thousands of times, sans the coffee though. He would reach out for her and then she would disintegrate, leaving him bereft and painfully lonely.
However, the coffee sure did smell real. He inhaled another breath and cracked one eye open. The other soon followed when the first caught a picture of Serena spreading cream cheese on a bagel.
He propped himself up on the couch, using the armrest to support his back. He stared at her, unable to fathom the mirage that was before him.
She looked up from her task to make eye contact with him. "You didn't even go home last night?" She shot him a disapproving glare.
He did not reply, afraid that if he spoke he would break the spell that had been concocted to bring her here. Even if this was a dream, it didn't matter. For a few short, surreal seconds he had her with him.
But the silence grew to be too painful.
"Why are you here?" He croaked."
She looked surprised. "I work here, Darien." The look on her face was a bit condescending, as if Darien should have realized that because it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"No," he trailed off, unable to complete the thought when she was holding up the steaming cup of coffee to him. He took a gulp and scalding pain ran through him as the liquid burning his tongue and throat. He welcomed it. She was still there. It was no dream. "You don't work here anymore, Serena. You know that."
She put down the knife she was using the spread the cream. Sighing, she turned to him. "Not as your translator, but I was hoping to apply for another position." His silence was an invitation to continue. "Well, the way I see it, you need a wife. And I've grown rather fond of you so I thought, 'why not'?" She tried a smile but it was fleeting when he looked at her with the same stoniness.
"Come on, Darien," she coaxed. "You have some of the worst habits. You need me. First, the sleeping in your office thing has to go. Also, you cannot go around leaving your empty coffee mugs around. It's horribly annoying and I'm not going to chase after you, picking them up and washing—"
"Serena," he interrupted gravely. She bit her lip and looked up at him. The time of joking around was over, he wanted to be serious.
Not wanting to hear what he was surely going to say, she continued somberly, "You were right that night about a lot of things that night, Darien. But wrong about one: I don't want to be alone." One tear ekked out of her crystalline eyes, sliding down her pale cheek. She brushed it away impatiently with the cuff of her long sleeved shirt.
"What do you want?" He asked carefully.
"I want to be with you," she whispered, looking up into his eyes with such honesty that he inhaled sharply. She took the action negative feedback, more tears slipping down her cheeks as she looked down at her blue jeans. "That is, if you still want to be with me. If you'll still have me."
Even her doubt increased his love for her by tenfold. "Don't ever think that I don't want you," he said fiercely, bringing her in the circle of his arms with one swift motion.
She raised her head up to press her lips against his. He was surprised at first; it was the first time that she had ever initiated a kiss. But mild shock melted away when he felt her tongue graze the seam of his lips. Emitting a low growl, he formed a cradle for her face with his hands, kissing her ardently.
When they finally pulled away, she smiled softly. "So do I get the job?"
He chuckled tenderly. "You start immediately."
"Yay!" She cheered, before laughing. "And I didn't even have to sleep with the boss."
He tweaked her nose affectionately. "Not yet, anyway."
She rested her head against the wall of his chest, leaning against him as she brought her legs up to the couch to tangle with his. An effervescent emotion ran through her and it took a while for her to label it. Her smile widened when she realized with a jolt that it was blissful contentment. Her arms tightened around his waist, thinking about how close she had come to losing him. But she hadn't, she reminded herself, she had his love. She deserved it, despite the—
He sense her shift in mood and quickly knew its source. Looking down at her, he stroked the blonde hair away from her face. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked gently.
She laughed sadly. "No." She paused. "But at the same time, yes. Either way, I know I need to." She raised her hand to brush the back of it against his stubbled cheek.
By the time she had told him what the nurse told her about Raye being unable to have children, they were both crying. But she wasn't the sobbing mess she had envisioned herself to be when she retold this story. She had imagined that she would become hysterical, inconsolable even. But, no, she was not. She was cleansed. As Darien grasped her hand, she squeezed it tightly, bringing herself closer to him so that she could hug him.
She was all right. No, she was more than all right. She had Darien, she had her family, she had a life, she had happiness. She was fantastic, marvelous, wonderful.
But most importantly, she was complete.
Or she would be, once she finally said what needed to be said.
"I love you, Darien."
Chapter Nine
By Karisma
Rated: PG-13
Genre: Alt, Romance
[email protected]
Standard Disclaimers Apply
May 2002
He was quiet as he brought her bag into her living room. She turned to him, dreading the good-bye part of their relationship. It would be awkward, ending her love for him with a polite handshake and a tediously lacking 'thank-you'. But he surprised her by not moving to touch her at all as he stood by the door, yards away from her.
He pointed a finger to the picture she had left on the coffee table. It was the sketch of an ornament in the shape of a crystal angel. It had fallen from two hands above, the intricate head separated and lying next to the graceful body, wings and all.
"That's how you see yourself, isn't it? Some broken thing beyond repair?" She didn't answer, but he hadn't been expecting one. "Do you remember what you said to me before we left for India?" He waited for her puzzled nod before continuing. "Well, I don't consider you a project to help, Serena. I don't want to fix you; I want you to stop being such a wet blanket. Try and live life. Others have done it for years and they seem pretty happy." His tone grew caustic, biting, harsh even. Serena involuntarily took a step back at his almost vicious tone.
"When you said you didn't want to fight anymore, I assumed you meant legally. Maybe you meant all together. Well, I happen to think that's rather selfish of you, Serena. There are a quite a number of people who would give their right arms for you to crack one genuinely joyful smile. Because they care about you. They want you to receive the happiness they think you deserve."
"And you don't think I deserve it." It wasn't a question, it was flat statement. There was a spark in her eyes he had not seen since she knew he knew about the rape.
"I don't know. Maybe you're determined to not be happy because in doing so you'd be betraying something. Maybe you want to be miserable for the rest of your life because that way you can atone for your unforgivable grievances." He paused and when he spoke again, his voice was soft and caring. "What grievances, Serena? You haven't done anything that deserves a life of wretched solitude."
"You don't know what you're talking about, Darien," she said quietly, turning away from his burning gaze, her hands clenching at the sides of her white sundress.
"Don't I?" Frustrated beyond belief, he looked away from her figure, as if unable to tolerate the sight of her anymore.
"No," her voice hardened. "You don't. You know nothing."
"Yes, that's right." The sarcasm was back, dripping from every hurtful word. "You're the martyr here, the victim. You're the one who must bear the cross life had burdened you with. Wake up, Serena! You're choosing this life out of a twisted desire to purge yourself. There is no need to! You have done nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing. But you're going to spend the rest of your lonely life extracting pity from those around you. Yes, they'll say 'Poor, Serena. How she's suffered so.' Is that it? Maybe after that you think you'll finally be forgiven for what happened to Raye?
"There's no need to seek forgiveness. No one blames you but you. Raye has managed a beautiful life for herself. But you...all you can do is flog yourself daily in hope that perhaps it'll be enough retribution." He sucked in air, his chest heaving with emotional exertion. His voice was calm when he spoke again. "Well, I'm done, Serena. I love you like hell. Too much to watch you do this to yourself. Too damn much to watch as this thing destroy you."
She didn't see him leave, but felt it. As soon as he was gone, she felt the desolation enter her, causing her to crumple in a heap on the floor where she stood, unable to summon up the energy to move.
"Darien," she called inaudibly, the loss within her so palpably painful she couldn't actually form the name. She could vaguely hear the rain outside, it wasn't a drizzle or even a constant pour. It was raining buckets, sheets coming down continuously, slapping her windows mercilessly. It lulled it somewhat until she felt herself get up and open the balcony door. The small actions had drained her of energy. She fell against the railing in a sobbing mess, her body drenched within seconds. One hand clung loosely to the bars that supported her.
She raised her face to the angry skies above her, hot tears blending in with the cold rainwater to make a beautiful numbness. Oblivion was a blessing she wasn't graced with. She released the railing and fell down on her side on the ground of her balcony. The beating pulse of the rain sent her hair strewn all over her face and she absently felt a sense of déjà vu.
She was seventeen again and lying in the wet dirt, despair drenching her more than the rain ever could. The sky cried for her; the clouds loomed over, their dusky wisps sobbing for her plight. The dismal rain misted over her collapsed figure. The blonde enveloped in the vapor looked like a fallen angel in her dirtied white garb.
*****
1 Darien stared out into the night view of London from his office. His eyes failed to register the glittering lights from tall buildings and homes down below. He didn't take in the stars shining brightly against their velvet backdrop. His mind was fully occupied with Serena. Everywhere he went, memories of her assaulted him. Turning away from the large window with self-disgust, his eyes fell on the leather couch where they had played cards into the early morning.
Damn. Yet another memory to add to the pile that suffocated his thoughts, making work impossible.
He sat down on his chair, banging his head on the soft leather of the headrest behind him. After a while, he gave up the fruitless action and closed his eyes, pressing the heels of his hands against them to stop the burning sensation that started from behind them.
He was tired, but he couldn't sleep. The way things were going, it was highly unlikely he'd ever sleep again. Which wouldn't be the worst thing if he had something to occupy his copious amount of free time. But he had already established that he couldn't work.
Which made for Darien McDermott's private hell.
For the umpteenth time, he wondered where she was, what she was doing, if she was thinking of him. He hoped she was. He wanted her to be thinking of him with as much longing and yearning he held for her. He wanted that much of her, at least for the time being. If her future did not include him, then he wanted her happiness.
One of them should have it, he decided wryly.
When he woke up the next morning, Serena's cheerful face was above him, waving a cup of hot coffee below his nose. He groaned and closed his eyes again, he had had this dream before. Thousands of times, sans the coffee though. He would reach out for her and then she would disintegrate, leaving him bereft and painfully lonely.
However, the coffee sure did smell real. He inhaled another breath and cracked one eye open. The other soon followed when the first caught a picture of Serena spreading cream cheese on a bagel.
He propped himself up on the couch, using the armrest to support his back. He stared at her, unable to fathom the mirage that was before him.
She looked up from her task to make eye contact with him. "You didn't even go home last night?" She shot him a disapproving glare.
He did not reply, afraid that if he spoke he would break the spell that had been concocted to bring her here. Even if this was a dream, it didn't matter. For a few short, surreal seconds he had her with him.
But the silence grew to be too painful.
"Why are you here?" He croaked."
She looked surprised. "I work here, Darien." The look on her face was a bit condescending, as if Darien should have realized that because it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"No," he trailed off, unable to complete the thought when she was holding up the steaming cup of coffee to him. He took a gulp and scalding pain ran through him as the liquid burning his tongue and throat. He welcomed it. She was still there. It was no dream. "You don't work here anymore, Serena. You know that."
She put down the knife she was using the spread the cream. Sighing, she turned to him. "Not as your translator, but I was hoping to apply for another position." His silence was an invitation to continue. "Well, the way I see it, you need a wife. And I've grown rather fond of you so I thought, 'why not'?" She tried a smile but it was fleeting when he looked at her with the same stoniness.
"Come on, Darien," she coaxed. "You have some of the worst habits. You need me. First, the sleeping in your office thing has to go. Also, you cannot go around leaving your empty coffee mugs around. It's horribly annoying and I'm not going to chase after you, picking them up and washing—"
"Serena," he interrupted gravely. She bit her lip and looked up at him. The time of joking around was over, he wanted to be serious.
Not wanting to hear what he was surely going to say, she continued somberly, "You were right that night about a lot of things that night, Darien. But wrong about one: I don't want to be alone." One tear ekked out of her crystalline eyes, sliding down her pale cheek. She brushed it away impatiently with the cuff of her long sleeved shirt.
"What do you want?" He asked carefully.
"I want to be with you," she whispered, looking up into his eyes with such honesty that he inhaled sharply. She took the action negative feedback, more tears slipping down her cheeks as she looked down at her blue jeans. "That is, if you still want to be with me. If you'll still have me."
Even her doubt increased his love for her by tenfold. "Don't ever think that I don't want you," he said fiercely, bringing her in the circle of his arms with one swift motion.
She raised her head up to press her lips against his. He was surprised at first; it was the first time that she had ever initiated a kiss. But mild shock melted away when he felt her tongue graze the seam of his lips. Emitting a low growl, he formed a cradle for her face with his hands, kissing her ardently.
When they finally pulled away, she smiled softly. "So do I get the job?"
He chuckled tenderly. "You start immediately."
"Yay!" She cheered, before laughing. "And I didn't even have to sleep with the boss."
He tweaked her nose affectionately. "Not yet, anyway."
She rested her head against the wall of his chest, leaning against him as she brought her legs up to the couch to tangle with his. An effervescent emotion ran through her and it took a while for her to label it. Her smile widened when she realized with a jolt that it was blissful contentment. Her arms tightened around his waist, thinking about how close she had come to losing him. But she hadn't, she reminded herself, she had his love. She deserved it, despite the—
He sense her shift in mood and quickly knew its source. Looking down at her, he stroked the blonde hair away from her face. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked gently.
She laughed sadly. "No." She paused. "But at the same time, yes. Either way, I know I need to." She raised her hand to brush the back of it against his stubbled cheek.
By the time she had told him what the nurse told her about Raye being unable to have children, they were both crying. But she wasn't the sobbing mess she had envisioned herself to be when she retold this story. She had imagined that she would become hysterical, inconsolable even. But, no, she was not. She was cleansed. As Darien grasped her hand, she squeezed it tightly, bringing herself closer to him so that she could hug him.
She was all right. No, she was more than all right. She had Darien, she had her family, she had a life, she had happiness. She was fantastic, marvelous, wonderful.
But most importantly, she was complete.
Or she would be, once she finally said what needed to be said.
"I love you, Darien."