Behind Closed Doors

[Helene Hewitt]

[Thread for Wesley deGrey, guest starring Marinette Roquefort]

Breathing was an option, right? Helene took in slow, shallow breaths as much as she could. Her ribs were screaming at her from her father's earlier visit that day. Her heels clicked against the stone floors as she made sure to walk with her head held high. Not a hair was out of place as Mari had helped style her hair up. Her lips had been painted the same shade of her dress, her large eyes had been lightly lined with kohl and there was a rosiness to her cheeks. No one would be able to say she didn’t clean up good for a ball.

Helene supposed Mari’s dress pick had been payback for Helene’s Yule present, as the red velvet fabric hugged her figure and flared out only slightly at the thighs. There was a slit on the right side of the dress that went up to her right knee, allowing for some easier movement. There was a stiffness to the way Helene walked, though, due to her injuries she'd acquired that morning at a Yule present from Daddy dearest. His best present though? Or the best present Helene had given herself, was breaking his nose and making it so he could not attend tonight. Freedom. She'd gifted her and Mari their perfect Yule, and that could not be taken from them. Helene looked every bit the refined noblewoman, whereas Mari? Mari was a goddamn princess, and Helene took great pride in how beautiful she was able to make her sister look tonight. Mari was always beautiful, but Helene liked to remind Mari, and others, that her sister was not some ghost to be forgotten.

The sisters entered the ballroom where there was an announcer for each guest. Helene shuddered a deep breath, yes. Breathing was going to have to be optional, it hurt too much currently to breathe. Her upper lip twitched in discomfort as she let the rest of the breath out, and moved to be announced first before her father and sister. She smiled at the page, who smiled back. “Countess Helene Hewitt.” To say she never grew tired of hearing her actual title would be an understatement. Purely for the fact she took sick pleasure in knowing her father was below her a peg in the title hierarchy. One good thing had come from Stephen at least. She stood off to the side, running her hands over the front of her dress. A bit surprised at how soft the fabric actually was. Her dark eyes scanned the faces already present in the ballroom. Looking for a particular set of bright blue eyes and a wry smile. If he was there, she hadn’t seen him yet.

Once her sister was announced, Helene smiled brightly at Mari. Looping her arm through hers. and looked up at her. “How are you doing love?” She asked her with concern now on her face. Helene herself, placed a tender hand gently where the large bruise was hidden under her dress. Her nose twitching in slight discomfort. “You look absolutely beautiful if I haven’t already said it a hundred times since you put that dress on.” She said as a slow grin appeared on her face. Her eyes flickered to the crowd again, trying to find those eyes. She turned her head, thinking she heard his laugh, but no...It was someone else. She turned her attention back to Mari, and let her hand slide down her hip before she let it hand at her side.

[Marinette Roquefort]

Despite the way she’d argued, Marinette truly did feel like a princess in the emerald, off the shoulder gown that her sister had chosen for her. Even with new bruises forming on her stomach and back, she somehow was managing to feel like she was floating on a cloud. She and Helene were here, at the ball, and their father was nowhere to be seen. They were safe, for now, celebrating Yule without his poisonous influence to pollute it. Her smile was as bright as her new-found hope, and both were uncertain but growing.

Just as she had styled Helene for the event, Helene had styled her--Marinette’s curls tumbled loose down her back with only a small section from each side pulled back to keep it out of her eyes. The two sections formed a small bun in the back, held in place with the hairpin that William had gifted her only the night before. It was tradition to wear flowers or greenery in one’s hair on Yule, after all, and what better way to do so than with a gift? Her makeup, thankfully, was far less ostentatious than her ballgown, but the gentle gloss on her lips and shadow on her eyes highlighted her looks. Sadly she’d had to leave her shawl behind on a coat rack out in the hall. It wasn’t often that Marinette Roquefort felt beautiful, but tonight she did.

She looked around the ballroom in awe, dazzled by the music, the decor, and the guests. Everything was perfect, just the way she'd hoped for the Yule Ball. She almost didn't hear her sister, and looked at her questioningly before her mind caught up to the question. 

"Mm? Oh, I'm alright. A bit sore, but I imagine it's got nothing on you." A cloud passed over her expression for a moment. "I never do get the worst of it, do I?" She sighed and shook her head.

"No matter. Let's find ourselves a place to sit, and some drinks, and then we'll get you dancing with your sailor. I'm sure he'll appreciate your dress even more than I do." She gave her sister a knowing grin as she hooked her arm through hers to pull her off towards the refreshments.

[Helene Hewitt]

Before Helene could so much as deflect the idea that her sailor would like such a dress on her, they were suddenly stopped by an all too familiar voice that sent chills down her spine.

“Lady Hewitt, may I have this dance?” Helene froze. She knew that voice. And unfortunately, she couldn’t avoid him either. There were too many people, and she knew how it would look if she’d denied family a dance. She turned to Face Clarence. Seeing how sharply dressed he was, she could see why women fawned over him, how they talked about Lord Clarence Hewitt, and how unfortunate a man he was in the love department. All three of his wives had met unfortunate ends or left him. Why would they? He was such a gentleman. So sweet, so kind...He was the big bad wolf in sheep's clothing. Helene knew it. She could feel it in her gut. This man was as dangerous as her father and Stephen, if not worse. And she was looking the wolf in the eye.

The corners of his mouth turned upward into a small smile as he held his hand out to her. Helene glanced at Mari, giving her a smile though her eyes screamed at her to do something. Find him. Is what those eyes said. Wesley. Get Wesley or any deGrey for that matter.

“Of course!” Helene said, glancing back at him. Her smile never reached her eyes. “Excuse us Marinette,” Helene said, giving her sister a polite nod of her head. There was panic in her eyes for a brief second before she turned her full attention to Clarence and allowed him to take her onto the dance floor.

If breathing had been bad before, it most certainly was a problem now. She placed her hand gently on his shoulder and felt his hand on her waist while he lifted her other hand and they fell into a simple waltz. Dancing with bruised ribs was a terrible terrible idea. She realized. At least it was a slow dance, not a fast-paced one.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Clarence said softly to her. It sent chills down her spine, which in turn made her skin suddenly feel like it was crawling.

“Thank you.” She said softly. She gave him a small smile, and looked over his shoulder, hoping to see if her rescue was coming yet, but there wasn’t a deGrey yet in sight.

“How goes your search? Truly?” He asked her quietly. Clarence had dipped his head so he could talk near her ear. She gulped, not wanting to answer that question, but they had appearances to keep. She took a deep breath, as much as could at least.

“It goes. I’m just trying to get through the holiday first.” She informed him. He hummed, and she didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He spun her gently then, she twirled and he pulled her back, and his hand went to the small of her back, holding her firmly against him. Helene could feel her skin beginning to crawl even more and her breathing quicken.

“You know this would be far easier if you just agreed to my parents’ offer of marrying me.” He whispered. His lips brushed against her ear, and Helene tensed. Her eyes went wide, and she forced herself to be calm when every nerve in her wanted to shove him away and run for it. But she could see her father a ways away. He’d see. She couldn’t make a scene, not here.

“Dare I say I wish to take my time and find a husband myself?” She asked. She would not be pushed around by these Hewitts. Even if the big bad wolf had her in his claws. He chuckled then.

“But why? I can take care of you just as well as Stephen could.” He said. Oh, I bet you could. She thought, and it wasn’t a good thing. She leaned her head back to look at him. A firm look crossing her face. The fake smile she’d had earlier was gone, and there was a thin line to her mouth.

“Because maybe instead of an arranged marriage, maybe I want to properly court this time. Maybe I want to marry for love.” She said. Arching an eyebrow at him.

Clarence arched an eyebrow at her and then laughed. “Love? Isn’t that a bit...childish? Be practical Helene. You want to keep Stephen’s land no? To keep your dear sister safe?”

His voice dropped to barely a whisper but she heard it, and she froze. She visibly paled, and her dark eyes searched his icy blue ones. They were wrong. They looked wrong. Blue eyes were supposed to be warm, and bright. Holding a raging hurricane in them, that seemed to calm or storm with the change of their mood. Clarence’s did no such thing. They were cold. Wolf-like. Unsettling.

He moved suddenly then as they continued their dance, and she was being dipped. A look of terror appeared on her face for a moment, but it was replaced by the look of pain that abruptly crossed her face. She’d started to yelp, biting her tongue to stop herself from crying out at the sharp pain going up her side. The pain was blinding white, and she gasped before there was an audible whimper. Clarence could see something was wrong, hell, he’d just witnessed he’d caused her some form of pain, and yet he continued to hold her there for a moment, and that same flashback that had happened when Wesley dipped her came speeding right back. Only this time, Wesley wasn’t there to keep her grounded. It was Clarence, and Clarence only made it worse.

Her hand tightened on his shoulder and she couldn’t breathe. The world was beginning to spin, and she was twelve again. Tears were starting to fill her eyes, both from fear and pain.

“Marry me, Helene,” Clarence whispered to her. His voice drew her out of the darkness, if only for her to fight.

“I told you my plan Clarence, lift me up this instant.” She hissed. Away were the pleasantries as Helene stared down the wolf. She was a cornered injured animal, ready to strike. He didn’t seem amused with her request, and he moved a hand to rest on her injured side, and she could feel him pressing his fingers firmly in as he righted them. She gritted her teeth, as the panic attack she’d been fighting against was taking hold.

“I’m just trying to help.” He told her. A look of hurt crossing his face, as if she’d offended him. Good, she’d wanted to. “If I need your help Clarence, I will tell you. Right now, I need air. If you’ll excuse me.” She said softly yet firmly. Quickly removing herself from him. She didn’t wait to hear his response, as she turned abruptly, moving her way through the crowded dance floor for the exit. She hugged her sides, trying to breathe. Everything felt like it was pressing down on her, and she could feel her body shaking from remembering that long-ago night.

She was afraid. Worse, she was terrified. It seemed Clarence wanted her to marry him as well, and if she wasn’t careful, they might just make her marry him. Even worse, he knew. He knew what she was doing to keep Mari safe. How? She had no clue. But that meant he also knew about the abuse. Any decent man would have done something by now. But Clarence wasn’t decent. He was just like them.

As soon as she reached the exit she was meant with a long empty corridor, and she kicked off her heels. Wanting to be able to move without them slowing her down. She bent very slowly, gasping at the pain in her side. She used the wall to help her bend over and pick them up before as quickly as she could she moved down the corridor. Fighting the tears that wanted to spill. She’d wanted a fun night. A good night, but instead she was reminded of her responsibilities. She turned when she came to a corner, and then turned to face the wall. Pressing her forward against the cool stone. She dropped the shoes and wrapped her arms around herself.

“You’re okay. It’s okay. He’s not here,” She tried to tell herself. Her voice cracking. She covered her face with her hands, forcing slow breaths in. Her skin felt like it was crawling, and there was a loud ringing in her ears. Her body shook, and she winced. Placing a hand on her hurt side. “Damn it all.” Helene whimpered as she slowly turned and leaned a shoulder against the wall. Her back was turned to the main hallway. She made herself focus on her breaths as it wasn’t good probably for her ribs. Slow breaths. Get the pain under control. She told herself. Once she did that, she’d be okay. She was fine. Everything was fine. It had to be.

[Marinette Roquefort]

Of course, her glorious happiness didn’t last long. Not long after they’d been introduced to the room, and began to drift towards a back table for drinks, they were accosted by Clarence Hewitt. Thankfully Helene was better at faking smiles than Marinette--all she managed to do was stare with wide-eyed horror as the man asked her sister to dance. At least she kept her mouth shut. She nodded silently at Helene’s request to excuse them and forced herself to count to three before she allowed herself to immediately seek help.

Funnily enough, she found she knew exactly who she needed to look for. Frantically she scanned through the chattering crowd at the tables near the door and finally spotted Wesley deGrey walking away from one of them. She interrupted his path with a hand on his shoulder, and she was sure the panic was clear on her face because she’d ceased to care whether or not anyone else noticed her distress.

“Wesley, please, you need to find Helene. Clarence asked her to dance, and I’m afraid he…” Afraid he what? She didn’t even know, all she could say was that the look in the man’s eye spoke of murder, the same way her father’s often did. “I don’t know, but something isn’t right.”

Once he’d gone off to find Helene, she no longer knew what to do with herself. She was abruptly alone and isolated in a noisy room full of strangers, a sensation that made her feel as if she were shrinking down to the size of a doll among the larger-than-life crowd. Distantly she managed to find an empty table and sit heavily in a chair, pressing her hand to her forehead as she tried to regain her senses.

[Exit Marinette.]

[Wesley deGrey]

Finally dismissing himself from the table after hearing Helene being introduced, he weaved through the crowd of people to find her. Yet it was her sister that found him instead.

The look on Marinette's face, the words she had said to him, it made his blood run cold. Wesley couldn't explain the sudden need to obey and was immediately moving through the sea of people in the ballroom, drifting in and out of the dancing figures in search of her. Clarence, Mari had said. The man with the cold eyes, with the fake smile, the one that rubbed him the wrong way from just knowing him a few seconds yesterday. His mind was filled with so many thoughts, so much confusion that he didn't know where to begin deciphering any of it. But right now, none of it mattered. He just needed to find her. He needed to get to her and pull her away.

A couple swayed in front of him on the dance floor, and as they moved from his view, he spotted Helene there, in Clarence's arms, across the way. Wesley did not miss the fright on her features, followed by what he could only guess was...pain? The man was saying something to her, she was arguing, and Wes was trying to force his way through the dancing figures in desperation, managing to rush forward just as Helene broke herself free and was running off.

But he stood there frozen for a long moment, watching her run out of the room...and then his eyes slowly turned to Clarence.

Wesley didn't say anything, he didn't do anything he knew he would cause drama for everyone, even if it would have been so easy. He shouldn't assume, even if he felt it in his bones that there was something not right. Grinding his teeth, he looked the man square in the eye before briskly walked towards him. It might appear as though he was going to barrel right into him, his fist clenching at his side, but he simply passed by him; purposely bumping his shoulder against his on his way towards the exit.

Bursting through one of the large ballroom doors, he skidded to a stop. He was just in time to catch the tail end of her red dress fluttering around the corner in her flight and he felt his heart leap into his chest. The sailor took off down the long, empty corridor, desperate to catch up, to know what was going on, to be at her side despite the confusion. Something was wrong and he couldn't ignore it anymore. He was done staying silent and minding his own business. It was just impossible now.

She was going to have to forgive him.

As he rounded the corner, he was nearly sliding to a stop when he noticed her there curled against the stone, struggling to calm herself. Now that he stood there, Wesley felt like he was intruding, he felt guilty...but it still wasn't enough to make him turn around and walk away. No, he wasn't leaving her like this. Whatever this was. She needed to be okay.

"Helene..." he quietly spoke up, hoping to not frighten her. "What's wrong?" Wesley did not advance closer. He just stood there looking to her with those blue eyes filled with confusion and concern, wishing he could snap his fingers and could make whatever ailed her go away. He wanted to see her smile and hear her laugh. She didn't deserve this- he knew and felt that much.

[Helene Hewitt]

She’d been too busy trying to get her breathing under control to notice his approach. Too occupied to hear him as he came up behind her. She heard him then. Her name spoke softly from his lips. What’s wrong? What wasn’t wrong? Any air that might have returned to her lungs was gone again, and she turned her head to look over her shoulder. “Wesley?” She was a bit breathless, her surprise was evident. She hadn’t expected him to show up, thought him to be busy with one of his brothers or with Livvie. She’d managed to get herself out of Clarence’s clutches, and now Wesley deGrey was seeing her in the midst of a panic attack she was trying to keep away.

She never wanted him to see her like this.

He might have been a bit late, but he had still come. Mari had done her job, he was here. He had come. She quickly looked away, her eyes looking down at her bare toes. “Too many people.” She lied. “I get...anxious with too many people.” She went on to say. On the contrary, Helene took comfort with so many people. It meant her father would behave and she was safe. Crowds meant safety, it was only a few certain people in them that made her anxious. She didn’t want to tell the real reason.

She kept her hand on her injured side but otherwise tried to relax her posture. To not look like she was trying to close herself off. “I’ll...be okay.” She whispered, not knowing if she believed even herself, but she would have to be. She made herself slowly turn to look at him. Her eyes did a quick once over, and her breath caught slightly. The Sailor was out, and the Lord was in. He certainly did clean up nice. Her somewhat still frightened eyes may have changed to one of appreciation for a split second, noting again how handsome Wesley was before she was blanking her face, and her brown eyes settled on him.

[Wesley deGrey]

He had simply been held up. From the moment he heard her name announced, from the moment his eyes had found her, Wesley tried to politely excuse himself. The very immediate thought and need to go to her side should have frightened him, made him question himself and his intentions but he didn’t dwell on any of it. Then when Marinette came over to him…

Regardless, he was there now and he couldn’t walk away.

“No, you don’t,” he said, so matter of fact. As if he had known her for years. He had seen her that night they met, he remembered it vividly. There was no anxiety, just the smiling and laughing Helene he wished would come back now. Wesley realized that he had suddenly made a silent vow to himself in that very moment to see that side of her return this evening. This was supposed to be a holiday, a time for celebration. Something was wrong, and he wanted to force it away.

There was no denying that she was hiding back the truth, a truth that perhaps he had no right to...but her own sister wrangled him into this, he’ll be damned if he ignored this. All he wanted to do was look at her, admire her in that lovely gown, maybe even tell her (if he were brazen enough) just how truly beautiful she was, talk with her, dance with her...but those blue eyes stayed on her emotion-filled face as he took only a single step closer like he feared she would flee if he got too close.

“What’s wrong, Helene?” he asked again softly. “You can tell me…” That was when his gaze dropped to her hand, the way she held it against her side and he recalled that flicker of pain when she had been with Clarence. Wesley felt this sudden dread that he could barely explain and that fierce anger slowly rising within his chest. “Did he...hurt you?” The words were spoken quietly between gritted teeth, and he was of course speaking of the ginger-haired bastard.

[Helene Hewitt]

Don’t go there Wesley, please don’t…. She thought as he responded. He knew she was lying and her mind scrambled to come up with more excuses. She couldn’t tell him. She couldn’t tell him she had to find someone to marry before summer or else she and Mari would go back to their abusive father because she lost the house.

He took a small step closer and she looked Into those eyes of his. For a brief second, she nearly told him everything. Almost everything. Those soft words, that gentle voice…she knew he was the moment she danced with him. Those chaos-filled eyes were what calmed her own storm, and she felt her eyes watering again. As she struggled to take in a breath. His eyes dropped to where her hand rested, and she looked down to see it resting on her side, over the bruise the stairs had given her. Only Wesley couldn’t see the bruise…

Her head shot up at his question, and for a moment there was a look of panic. “No!” She said quickly, not realizing she’d reached out to him, moving close enough to put her hands on his chest, and she shook her head quickly, “N-no, he didn’t, I’m just-“ she searched for a good enough excuse that she willed him to believe. “I fell. This morning, I’m a bit sore. It's fine,” she said quickly, which was the truth, albeit a partial truth. She’d been shoved onto the stairs and hadn’t been able to catch herself. Remembering that morning nearly sent her into another panic. She’d hit him. She’d broken her father’s nose. Over the man before her. She looked at her hands and where they rested on his chest before quickly pulling them away. She’d lost her temper because of what her father had said about Wesley; it was going to cost her and Mari. She knew it.

She forced herself to take a deep breath even though it was painful, and then her dark eyes flickered up to Wesleys. “Family drama with Clarence, it was nothing. Don’t worry about it.” She said softly. Forcing as a small smile, and she tried desperately not to let herself drown in the whirlwind of emotions.

[Wesley deGrey]

He was going there, and he knew he shouldn't, knew it wasn't his place...but when did he ever listen or care about the rules? There was something with the way she stammered, the way she held herself, how she was lying or mostly lying to him. Why did Marinette come to him? Why did she request his help? None of it made sense and none of this confusion made sense but he was still standing there. And perhaps he was a fool for doing so.

Her panicked exclamation brought him further pause, yet not as much as those small hands on his chest did. It was like she was holding him back from something, and he didn't know how to handle it. Wesley glanced down, one of his hands lifting, nearly taking one of her own before she was drawing away from him. Helene told him she fell, and he wasn't sure what to believe. And he shouldn't care. He shouldn't be standing there in a dimly lit corridor with this woman. He shouldn't even be in the damn castle. Wesley should be back on the ship, getting it ready to set sail as soon as he could summon the crew away from their families...because that's what he did. He was selfish in wanting to run away from any other responsibilities or problems.

But he was here- willingly, albeit confusingly, here.

The small smile that curled her mouth did not lure out one of his own. Wesley was still just standing there with a conflicted look on his face. "Forgive me, but...I'm not sure why your sister would have pulled me away for...'family drama'," he said after a moment, his tone just a little one edge. Don't get angry, mate. This isn't your problem, don't get involved. But that was precisely the problem. He knew he shouldn't involve himself, but he wanted to for whatever damn reason that was, and it was confusing him more than anything ever had before. "But, alright, then." Maybe he just had to let it go. He wasn't going to force her to tell him whatever it truly was.

Wesley turned away, looking as though he was going to head back into the ballroom, but instead merely stopped to lean his shoulder against the stone; attention set upon the nightly landscape outside the closest window. “I’m sorry,” he finally murmured. “It’s just-” Wesley stopped and sighed. Just what? Shaking his head, a hand ran through his hair that had once been neat and slicked back for this evening’s event. That didn’t last long. “It’s none of my business,” he finally said, changing his mind on whatever-the-hell he was about to say to her. “Unless you want it to be.” What? No, Wesley. Stop.

[Helene Hewitt]

Smile back. Make a joke, call the party silly, challenge me...hold me… She thought as she stood there, seeing that conflicting look on his face. After a moment there was that edge in his tone and it caused the smile to drop, and an almost pained expression crossed her face before her own conflict showed itself. Mari had been trying to help. Hell, Helene had practically begged her sister with just a look to find him.

It was a mess. This whole thing was a mess, and she wanted to try and fix it. To do something, but she couldn’t. She had to protect him. After that morning, she had to protect Wesley from not only her father, but herself as well. He was going. “But, alright, then.” Yes, just walk away. Please, please just walk away. Don’t make me lie to you anymore. She thought hurriedly. She needed not to get involved with this man. It was going to get dangerous, it was going to get painful. He was a sailor who would leave, and she’d have to find a husband. That husband was not him.

She bowed her head when he went to go, but she heard his voice. He’d stopped and was now leaning against the wall himself, his back to her, as he looked out the window. What are you doing… She wanted to ask. Go, go Wesley, please. She all but begged him silently, knowing if he stayed, she was going to crack. Her walls were already cracking after only knowing him for such a short time. He was apologizing then, running a hand through his hair, and she felt her heart seizing. Her legs were moving on their own, the stone floor cold against her bare feet as she silently moved up behind him, before she was resting her forehead between his shoulder blades and breathed in his scent. She bit her bottom lip, trying to fight the tears, and also trying to figure out what she could and couldn’t tell him.

“Wesley, I-” She whispered. She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I don’t want to drag you into my responsibilities.” She said quietly. She appreciated his concern. She really did. It was the first time anyone had shown concern for her outside of Mari and Elliot. “I-I can’t do that to you.” There was a crack in her voice, and she let out a shuddering breath. Wincing again at her side as it throbbed. “I can’t let them taint you.” She said barely above a whisper, she wasn’t even sure he’d be able to hear her. But she refused to let him get tainted by the evil that was the Hewitts and her father. She refused to let their corruption touch him in the same way it had touched her. She would keep him safe. She had too. Even if it hurt her.

[Wesley deGrey]

Perhaps he should have gone back to the party, but he had only come to this damn thing for one reason, he realized. While it was good to see his family, this wasn't the first night he'd been home and they were all currently and happily preoccupied. No, he had come here to see her, he realized. Knowing she was going to show, hoping that maybe he'd get one last day before the sea inevitably dragged him away again. They already stayed longer than expected, all because he requested it. And Wesley never wanted to stay more than a couple of days. It was going on a couple of weeks now, and he'd only known her a fraction of that time.

This must be what going mad felt like. It was the only logical explanation.

The moment his last words left his lips, he wanted to take them back. He was forcing himself to try and just walk away, to leave her there even if something was telling him to stay. Mere seconds before he finally did, he felt her at his back and all logic was immediately thrown out that window. She had been lying to him. There was something wrong that she couldn't say or was too afraid to say, and he wished he could just beg for her to tell him. It was this strange and dangerous need to know so that, maybe, he could fix it. Somehow. It may not have made much sense to him, but he couldn't ignore it. He couldn't ignore her.

His back tensed just slightly, but he remained where he was as he listened to her quiet, cracking voice speak of responsibilities, of letting them affect him in some way. None of it made sense and it was clear she was holding something back. It was wrong of him to ask, but how could he not? She was right there, opening up just a little bit more when she could have drawn back into herself and walked away.

Goddammit, why did this matter?!

Because it just did. Maybe he didn't need to understand the why of it.

Unable to stop himself, Wesley was turning around and taking one of her hands into his, drawing it to his chest in hopes she wouldn't flee from him. "Who can't you allow? Helene, what is goin' on?" Although he felt himself desperate to know, he was remarkably calm, considering her own concern and confliction. "You're not...dragging me into anything. I'm-" There came a pause as he studied her face, those dark eyes as if they held the answers to everything he did not understand in that very moment. From whatever she was so concerned with and why he couldn't seem to walk away. What was he even doing? He was still wearing that gift around his neck, beneath both shirt and jacket, and it felt like a sudden, heavy weight that was trying to tell him the reasons for everything.

Wesley let out a soft, tired sigh while shoulders lifted just slightly like he was about to give up and call himself crazy. "I'm asking," he finally said.

[Helene Hewitt]

He turned, and she found she couldn’t move. Her body wouldn’t let her run as he took one of her hands and held it to his chest, and stared up at him with sad eyes. “You know who,” She whispered as if it would say it all. He’d met them both the day of the chase. He had witnessed the change in her with both of them. “I can’t tell you.” She said, shaking her head slightly. Beginning to grow more panicked as she stood there, afraid she’d spill her guts to him, and there were some secrets she couldn’t tell him.

Her breathing was growing more difficult as she stared at him, and she fought the tears away. She would not cry. She hadn’t cried since her mother died, and she would not now. Tears were a weakness, and she had to be strong. She had to remain strong. She watched him, staring into his eyes while he seemed to be searching hers for answers she couldn’t give him, and it was killing her inside. She wanted to go back to when they were laughing in her kitchen, on the floor with the cookie dough. When they’d exchanged gifts and they had thought so alike. They both knew what the other needed even if they didn’t want to accept it. To look for it. This was supposed to be a fun evening.She’d wanted to laugh, and dance, and have a good time with her friends and sister. With him.

Clarence Hewitt ruined it. Her father that morning ruined it. She watched Wesley begin to shrug his shoulders, and she found her free hand coming up to cup the side of his face while she searched his eyes. A pained look crossing her face. “I’m asking.” he said. She leaned up to her tiptoes, resting her forehead against his as she sighed. “And I can’t ask that of you. It’s...It’s a lot Wesley, it’s…” She tightened her hand in his. “I am in a cage where the door is open. I can taste the freedom, and yet someone’s come in and is closing that door. Inch by inch, as the days go by, and someday, very soon...That door is getting shut. And locked, and the key is getting thrown away...unless I repeat something I don’t want to do.” She whispered. Her eyes were closed as she spoke. She knew she probably didn’t make any sense, but this was the closest she could tell him to the truth. I’m trapped with no chance of escape. And the only way to free myself from this cage is to find another to lock myself into that might be worse than the last.

“And I don’t want you to get harmed by that door when it gets closed.” She opened her eyes to look into his. They were very close and she had a sudden thought that she wished no one was coming in either direction to possibly see them.

[Wesley deGrey]

'You know who.' Did he? Lord Roquefort had certainly given him bad vibes just yesterday, and then there was Clarence Hewitt. Wesley's mind could go to many different scenarios that he'd be too worried about voicing, but she wasn't really giving him a choice but to assume and make guesses. She "couldn't tell him." He wasn't budging, though. Maybe he was hoping she would cave in, let him help her because that seemed to be the only thing he wanted to do right now. Even if he couldn't fathom why. He just didn't like the pain he saw. He didn't care for the fear and panic in her eyes. He wanted to take it all away like he somehow had a right to interfere in any part of this woman's life.

He couldn't be a part of her life, not with the one he led. Wes was a sailor and gone more frequently than was necessary, but the point was that he was often gone. What could he even offer? This thought shouldn't have even occurred to him right now but it felt so blatantly obvious to him as he looked at her in the quiet corridor, sensing the panic and tension radiating off of her. There was this sudden dread, this urgency, as if they no longer had time. It loomed over him, deepening that conflict while the small, logical part of him held him back from making everything worse.

But she was cupping the side of his face and he swore he could hear his own heart thundering in his ears. Those blue eyes remained upon her face, even as she leaned up to rest her forehead against his, stealing the breath from his lungs without even realizing it. That pained look was back on her features again, she was struggling to speak, maybe to explain whatever it was, and his fingers tightened around hers a little more. She spoke of a metaphorical cage, and he was desperately trying to wrap his mind around it. 'Unless I have to repeat something I don't want to do.' And what was that? Helene was telling him, she was explaining it...but not clearly or obviously, because whatever it was was still too painful. She was still too fearful of it. And he couldn't protect her from it.

Because she was protecting him from whatever it was.

"How do you know it will harm me?" The words left his tongue before his mind could stop them. By the look in his eyes, it was clear he was surprised at himself for it before those blues dropped for a moment to her mouth. "What if-" His free hand mirrored her own, lifting up to press his palm against her cheek. Wesley, don't. He found her eyes again. "What if I don't mind closed doors?" Were this an entirely different situation with a different emotion, those words could have been jokingly insinuated. But they weren't. Not this time. There was no trace of the joking sailor right now.

[Helene Hewitt]

Helene looked into those blue eyes as the words escaped his lips. From the look on his face he was nearly as surprised as her he said them. But he had. Without thinking, and sometimes spoken without much thought were either detrimental or so much more. How did she know? But she knew. She knew it would. Eventually. Chaos Followed her wherever she went, not allowing her any form of happiness. Just when it seemed possible she’d finally reach it, it would be gone, snatched away from her by either her father or the Hewitts. The thought of Wesley getting snatched or harmed because of her….because those men decided to target him because of her- she couldn’t bear the thought.

His eyes flickered down to her mouth and her breath felt like it had been sucked from her lungs. His touch on her cheek set her skin ablaze and her own eyes flickered to his lips again before they quickly shot back up to his eyes. Any other time she would have told him he was being rather brazen to believe that he would be allowed behind closed doors, but he was being serious. This wasn’t a joke. This was all seriousness as they stood there, so close in the corridor. Far closer than they had been in the second ballroom or the kitchen. Helenes hesitation and fear at being this close to him had all but faded away. As if she finally understood he wasn’t Stephen. He was Wesley. He was safe. And a part of her knew if she asked him to stop he would stop. Even if it killed them both.

“Everything that I want. That I desire,” her voice was so quiet as she looked into those ocean depths. The dimly lit corridor made them a darker blue than his usual brighter one’s but they were still as captivating in the darkness as they were in the light. “Is destroyed, or-“ She felt her breath hitch. “Taken,” her voice cracked, and she gasped slightly as if she’d just been dealt a great blow. The grief showed in her eyes this time, and she fought those tears again. “By them.” She all but bit out, as her hand moved from his cheek to the back of his neck, gripping him firmly.

“I can’t risk you.” She whispered. “I won’t.”

[Wesley deGrey]

What was happening?

Why couldn't he just let this go, chalk it up to family drama as she originally claimed, and move on? Why did he insist on standing there, asking for her to trust him enough to help her? Standing there so close, far closer and far more intimately than they'd ever been before. He was keenly aware of it all of a sudden, and it was a struggle to maintain that chivalric desire to fix whatever mess she was in between this instantaneous emotion he couldn't fully understand.

What was he doing?

What he wasn't doing was moving away. What he wasn't doing was obeying her wishes and negating all sense of propriety. Let's face it, he rarely had any sense to begin with, but he had enough now to know that, no matter what she said or how fearful she was over whatever this drama was, there was something else here. There was something else happening that was quickly beginning to spiral out of control. He didn't think he could contain it...even if he wanted to.

Why didn't he want to?

He needed to help her. She had quickly become one of the most interesting things in his life since returning home, since...he couldn't recall in how long. She was the first thing in a long time to make him stop and slow down, to remain stationary when he would be itching to get back out to sea just two days after being on land. Now here he was, a couple weeks later, and he felt rooted to this spot. He wanted to be there. Wesley hadn't realized it until this very moment, but every time he walked into a room, he was looking for her. Every time a shanty popped into his head, he was recalling her voice and wondering where she had learned all the words. Little things here and there that suddenly fell into this large pile, drowning him in something he should have known from the very start.

But he couldn't. It wasn't fair.

Well, fuck being fair right now.

'Everything that I want. That I desire is destroyed or taken...' Helene was gripping him by the neck, desperate to make him understand but all this did was solidify his need to remain. Wesley drew in a slow and deep breath, his gaze having not wavered this entire time. His thumb brushed across her cheekbone before subtly running across her chin, just below her lip in silent contemplation. "What is it...that you want?" he asked, his voice so quiet because he feared it would betray him, just as her own was betraying her. His expression was a mix of sadness and amusement, of a realization that was soon going to completely trip him off his feet. "Because...dammit, Helene, all I take are risks. I do it all the time...but I find myself standing here almost more vulnerable than I've ever been." Now that he was talking he couldn't stop. "And I don't know why. What I do know is that you're bloody daft if you think I will just...leave you like this."

Leave, as in simply walk away from here or leave on a ship? In all honesty, he didn't even know the answer to that.