It's sort of ridiculous, I know, how long it takes me to update. I didn't really realise until I saw that I started this story years ago. Wow.

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Irene watched James as he walked in her house. It was such a strange feeling. He had partially been living in this house for the last year and a half, he was familiar with it and if she was completely honest, the loss of his presence in her house at the beginning had felt unnatural. But at the same time it was like watching a stranger walk through the door. This was not the person she thought she had known, this was a person who thought and acted in a way she would never have thought capable of him.

She took several deep breaths, determined to be as composed as possible during this conversation. Part of her wanted to postpone this forever, but the bigger and surprisingly at present more reasonable part of her knew she needed to hear his reasoning directly from him. Sherlock had already told her what James had said, but it wasn't enough. She needed to understand, and she needed to hear it from him.

James looked uncomfortable and Irene inwardly smiled at his discomfort. A part of her still doubted herself- it took two to damage a relationship after all, but a change had taken place within her. She understood, although maybe only subconsciously, that James was to blame, not her. She didn't know exactly when this integral realisation had taken place, but it was vital now.

She gave James a long hard look and then gestured to one of the chairs. Pain was still visible in her eyes, but her mouth was pressed into a thin line. "Sit" she told him, and James started at the anger he heard in her voice, before pulling out a chair and almost collapsing into it.

He had never seen Irene like this. Something had changed. She seemed furious, and James knew that her feelings were perfectly valid. That she should display them so openly however, surprised him. Irene, he had learned, preferred and was very skilled at hiding her feelings behind a mask, if she felt it was necessary. From Jessie's and Sherlock's accounts, as well as from what Alice had told him at school, he had expected her to be dejected, frail and unhappy. He could see the pain shining in her eyes, could almost feel her betrayal, but although those emotions were certainly prevalent, they weren't defining. Her anger, her fury were on display much more than her unhappiness was, and he marvelled at how much she had somehow changed.

Irene was determined, that was certainly true, but he had never expected this.

She sat down opposite, stared at the tablecloth for a second, before taking a deep breath and looking straight into his eyes. Somehow her direct form of confrontation, though not yet verbal, made James catch his breath. The difference was so small, but somehow so essential. He briefly pondered how detrimental his actions were, he felt butterflies in his stomach.

"I need you to explain, James." She said, and while her gaze remained angry, he heard the hurt in her voice. Part of him relaxed slightly; Irene certainly had every right to feel angry, but hearing the note of uncertainty somehow restored his confidence that this was not a foreign person he was talking to, but still the Irene he had loved.

Irene was the same in essentials, which made her responses predictable, and that would make it easier for both of them

"I've gone through everything" she continued, "and at the beginning I blamed myself."

James said nothing.

"But it can't just have been me." She said, some of the anger returning to cover the uncertainty in her voice. "It takes two. If it was something I had done, I asked, and you never said anything was wrong. So." She stared at him, and the hurt returned to her voice, in a way he hadn't heard it before. "Please. Explain. Why. You. Did. This."

James sighed slightly, and it took a lot of self control for Irene to not scream at him. He had stayed silent, allowing her to talk, and while she could see traces of remorse in his face, small aspects of behaviour showed her that while he felt at fault, he certainly didn't seem to regret it. His sigh made her shake with hurt and anger: maybe she was being dramatic, but it almost felt like he was insinuating that she was being overly emotional and he was the victim.

After a silence James finally spoke. "Firstly, I should say- I am really sorry I hurt you." He said. Irene refused to look at him.

"I guess a part-a big part- of me knew what I was doing was wrong, despicable, even-and that it would hurt you. But it felt like when I was with Maria I was a different person than I was when I was with you. I know it sounds crazy, but it felt like the two actions were somehow separate from each other. "

Irene remained silent. James' admission had pierced her to the bone, but she somehow managed to stay sitting, perfectly composed, in her chair.

James looked at Irene briefly before continuing. "I…I didn't realise just how serious we were, I guess. I mean, I knew we were in a relationship, and I suppose I was utterly foolish to not understand how much it meant to you, but somehow, I didn't give it that much thought. And then, when you came to me in the weeks preceding your birthday…it suddenly changed very quickly. I didn't realise how much it meant to you until that moment, and I felt like an utter idiot. I didn't want to force you into anything, but you were…insistent."

It was at this moment Irene had to fight the hardest not to scream. Insistent, that was the word James had used. Dear God, she had wanted to sleep with him because she loved him, and had wanted to show him how much she had loved him and the fact that she was prepared to commit. And he had ignored that, instead presenting it to her as if she was pestering him.

She felt horrified and disgusted. How was it possible to be on such utterly different wavelengths with a person you loved, a person you thought you knew and understood completely? All that time, James had already been…well, detached from her, from their relationship, already on a completely new level.
She had wanted an explanation from James, and she had been prepared for the pain it would cause her, but somehow some small idealistic, irrational part of her had still hoped there would be some sort of magical explanation that she would be able to comprehend. But all she heard made it worse than it had before. All her hopes were fading, she could almost see them disappear.

James continued. It seemed he was almost relieved to get it out.

"I don't know why I said yes to you, that night. I should have ended it then….I mean," he said hurriedly, seeing the anger and horror on Irene's face, "I should have ended it way before, when I first started to develop an interest in Maria. But if any crucial point came, where my own conscience should have caught up with me, properly, it should have been then.

"After that…I don't know. I came up with all these lies and every day I told myself that if I told you then, it would hurt you even more than if I told you earlier. And so I held back, I made up excuses, lied…but I couldn't tell you. I'd realised, by then, how…invested you were, how much the relationship meant to you. I couldn't bear to see how upset you would be if I ended it."

Irene stayed quiet, though a new explosion was building up inside her. "What you mean to say," she finally said in a quiet, controlled voice, though James could hear the barely suppressed emotion and tension behind it, "was that you were a selfish, disgusting, cheating coward."

James opened his mouth and closed it again. He was trying to explain his behaviour to Irene, but even he had to admit, she did have a point. He didn't dare argue.

A tense silence followed.

"Where did you meet Maria?" Irene asked.

"She was the daughter of one of the people who works for my father. She doesn't move in our social circles, I knew my parents would never approve. I kept it hidden from them as well."

"Am I supposed to be calmed by that?" Irene snarled. "You didn't just lie to me, you decided to include your parents. Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

James blanched, realising his error. Before he had a chance to protest, Irene interrupted him.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" she said, her voice no longer angry, but small and defeated.

James didn't know what to say. "I don't know" he admitted, and Irene realised that this was probably the most honest he had been with her for almost a year. Her worst suspicion was conformed. He had been prepared to wait, wait until he either got so bored of her that he couldn't bear another minute with her, or even worse, he had waited for her to finish with him, so that he would have gotten away with it.

She shook her head, and a tear escaped, trailing down her cheek. At the sight of it, James made to get up, but reconsidered at Irene's expression.

"I thought what we had meant something" Irene said. "I genuinely thought I had found someone who cared, who saw me as a real person with feelings, someone who loved me, not because it was his obligation, but because he wanted to. And all you ever did was lie and bullshit your way through all of it."

At this James stood up angrily. "Not all of it!" he retorted. "I cared about you, I loved you at the beginning, but Irene- I was different back then."

Irene didn't bother to hide her snort. This was the sort of excuse she had heard repeated dozens of times in different films, it sounded even more melodramatic in real life.

"I did love you" James repeated. But damn it, Irene, I was still fourteen. I didn't understand what commitment meant, I didn't realise how fast we were moving. My behaviour was wrong, I know that-" he added hurriedly, realising how his words would be interpreted, "but the whole time, you had something completely different in mind with our relationship. I was considering it being short term, you weren't."

He shook his head. "I really never meant to hurt you. I know I was an idiot, a complete idiot, Sherlock already made that clear to me, trust me. I just hoped that there would be a way to keep you from getting hurt."

Irene laughed a hollow laughed. "Don't pretend" she snapped. "You didn't care. If you truly loved me, if you had cared, you would have ended it, you would have explained, you would have made sure to clear up any misunderstandings regarding our relationship the second you realised that something had changed. And instead you decided to cheat on me, with the pretence of trying not to hurt me.

"How stupid, how thick do you have to be James?" she cried. "Don't you dare try to pretend that my feelings played a part. It was your selfishness and cowardice that determined your actions, not my feelings."

James said nothing.

"I…"Irene cleared her throat. 'you have to do this', she reminded herself, and it sickened her how much the thought pained her.

Deep breath, she told herself. Everything was broken already, practically damaged beyond repair. She couldn't hope to salvage the broken pieces of her heart, her life anymore and it was time to give up trying.

"I want you to go." She told him. "I can't stand the sight of you. You are a lying, cheating, cowardly, selfish person. I never want to see you again."

James stared back at her, the sudden anger in his eyes turning into acceptance.

"I promise you" he told her. "You won't have to worry about seeing me for much longer." He took a deep breath. "We're moving."

Irene stared back at him, quelling the instinctive questions welling up inside her.

"Father wants to start a new company, right in the centre of London. I'll be changing schools in three weeks. After that I promise, you will never have to see me or hear from me again."

Irene nodded stoically, fighting the upheaval of emotion in her mind. She wanted to scream, laugh, cry and shout at the same time, and it took all her self control to keep her face passive.

"Good" she said, and didn't know what else to say. She would miss him, that was true, but she didn't want to miss him. She had to move on.

James nodded. "I'm really sorry." He said again, and turned to leave.

Irene watched him pull on his coat. Right before he stepped out the door, something in his face changed, as if he was only now realising the consequences and the finality of his actions.

"Irene -" he said, and his voice suddenly sounded uncertain, almost choked up. Irene could see the expression that had graced his face so many times before, it was the same expression he wore when he had told her that nothing had changed between them, that he loved her and that he cared about her.

All of it had been one huge, horrid lie.

"Don't" she told him coldly. He stared at her briefly and then nodded, deciding she was right. There was nothing he could do anymore to salvage this situation except bow out somewhat gracefully.

"Goodbye then."

Irene said nothing as she watched him leave. The second the door slammed behind him, Irene couldn't take it anymore. She fell to the floor and broke down.

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Yes, Yes, I know, and I promise that hopefully after this chapter the whole "falling on the floor and breaking down" stuff will stop. In the next few chapters, Irene needs to move on with her life and then….well….maybe a new romance can start blossoming