Behind Closed Doors

[Wesley deGrey]

He was just a walking contradiction, wasn’t he? Wesley couldn’t seem to settle on one emotion, because he wanted to feel them all at once. He wanted to be with her, kiss her, but comfort her. He wanted to dive further into that desire, take what she had so dangerously challenged him to do, and yet he just wanted to hold her close and tell her that, no matter what she was afraid of, it would be alright. It didn’t matter to him what it was...he didn’t want her facing it alone. Not now, not ever.

Wesley didn’t know how else to say it, how else to get her to understand. But the unspoken answer to that weighed heavily between them, neither of them admitting to the major problem...which would be his absence. It wasn’t just this need to travel and be out at sea, it was his job. And in this current moment, it was killing him. He wanted to make promises he wasn’t sure he could keep, and even still, they would just be selfish promises. Just because she was standing there in the darkness with him currently, didn’t mean she wanted it for the rest of her life. Maybe he was just a passing dalliance, a comfort.

Why was he even wanting this for the rest of his life? Was he drunk? Did he finally go insane?

He’d notice that soft wince as she was reaching up to finish undoing her hair, and he watched those dark tresses fall loose and down her back. No, it wasn’t fair. None of this was, but the idiot was still standing there, unable to pull himself away, losing himself to the constant fluctuation of emotions. Then she was drawing closer and he knew, right then and there, that he was a goner. He was trying, he really was, but the moment she spoke his name and he felt her thumb against his lip, leaving everything up in the air, he buckled.

Lord have mercy on his soul.

Gently swatting her hand away, fingers curled just a little more into her hair as he pulled her to him and crushed his lips against hers. Everything was suddenly so loud, or perhaps it was just the sound of his heart thundering in his ears as he claimed her mouth in a deep, drugging kiss. His arm was wrapping around her, guiding her backward until she was up against a wall or window, whatever came first, he didn’t care. The voice in his head was yelling at him again and he promptly ignored it, except for one minor little detail that he couldn’t ignore.

Wes broke his mouth from hers, only enough so that he could breathlessly speak; arm uncoiling from around her waist so that fingers could gingerly touch against her side, where she apparently fell. Heavy-lidded blues looked down at her, filled with a conflicting mix of desire and concern, all for her. “How bad is it?” he asked, the insinuation there, but he was also honestly asking in worry. At the back of his mind, he should’ve known there was more to it, he was fighting to regain control, but she was making it basically impossible to think straight.

[Helene Hewitt]

Good, they were done talking. She might have laughed when he swatted her hand away, but she was far too focused on his lips crashing down on hers. Both arms wrapped around his neck then as she melted into him. Picking up right where they’d left off in that corridor. She didn’t want to think about anything else. Just….Wesley. On his scent, his touch, his taste, everything him.

She’d regret it later, she knew this. It was going to hurt. It was going to hurt a lot. The most pain she’d ever experience compared to one of fathers, or Stephen’s blows. But this night? This Yule? It was worth it. He was worth it, for this night. She’d cherish it forever. If she was going insane, at least she was going insane over him. He’d made her drop the mask that was always so secure in place. He’d brought her out of her shell in the best way, and for once, Helene had a reason to live. A will to live. That didn’t include her sister's safety. For once, she was doing something for herself.

She somehow ended up on a wall again, groaned as she felt it press into her back, hissing only slightly as it hit the bruise on her shoulder blades. She didn’t care though. She could handle this pain. Wesley broke the kiss however and was looking down at her with those hooded eyes that mirrored her own, her breath coming in short gasps while one of her hands threaded into his hair. She trembled beneath him as he touched her side, and her other hand gripped his wrist. Not hard, but still firmly. His hand was like fire against the fabric of her dress, and it made her chest rise and fall a little higher. “I’ll live.” She whispered in response as her hand let go of his wrist to lay over his hand, guiding it where the actual bruise was on her ribs. “Bruise is here…and across my upper shoulder blades...” she said softly. It might not have been a good idea to tell him about the other, but she also wasn’t going to lie to him. He asked how bad it was. She’d tell him where the bruises were, just wouldn’t show him…if she was able. “Just don’t be rough….if you can manage.” There was a smirk to her lips as her eyes flickered across his face. Seeing the desire and concern there. She let go of his hand to cup his cheek. “I’m alright.” She told him gently. Leaning in to place a kiss on the side of his jaw, beginning to lay a trail of kisses along it.

[Wesley deGrey]

Why was he still talking? Oh, right...because he cared about her. As much as he was craving her in all sorts of ways, Wesley had noticed her flinching, he had seen the way she was cringing in pain when that prick held her, and now all of a sudden he was becoming possessive. It was like Clarence had known she was in pain and didn't do anything to ease it. Had he been the cause? Wes couldn't help but believe there was more to Helene's story, and it was killing him not knowing it. She wouldn't tell him. She was afraid for him. Why?

He was beginning to spiral again, and might have lost himself were it not for her presence. Despite whatever she endured, she was drawing his attention and thoughts back to her and only her when she seized his wrist. Had he accidentally hurt her in some way? That worry flickered across his face again as he leaned back a little more in order to study her face. This was a bad idea. This was wrong. What on earth was he doing? 'I'll live,' she said, and that pained him. Maybe she did just clumsily fall?

She moved his hand so that fingers could gently brush across her ribs, where the bruise actually was, before she was mentioning her shoulders. No, he couldn’t do this. It was wrong on so many levels, this was a mistake, they’d both regret it later- ’Just don’t be rough...if you can manage.’

God dammit, woman.

He might have stopped breathing again, and now she was distracting him with those light kisses along his jawline, keeping him from arguing and going with that logical part of his brain. For once. The one time he might have. She said she was alright, and he was warring with himself again, yet how many times was he going to change his mind? He knew what he wanted, and Wes wasn’t ready to let it go.

He wasn’t ready to let her go.

A low, airy growl left his throat as he tilted his face back towards hers to find her lips. There was a new urgency to this kiss, the desperation pouring through in this moment of no return, claiming her mouth as though it were the only source of oxygen left in the world. Still, his touch was gentle along her side as his hand traveled down to her hip, then brazenly traveled further. His heart was pounding, thundering as though it would break free from his chest as his hand stopped on the outside of her thigh, and he broke the kiss.

This time it wasn’t his intention to stop what was happening. Although his lips were still near hers, barely touching, those vivid blues were watching her in the silence of the ballroom, filled with nothing but their gasping breaths. For now. All he wanted to do was kiss her, feel her, taste her skin...but he also wanted to watch her face as that hand curled into the lovely fabric of her skirt and ever so slowly begin to hike it up.

[Helene Hewitt]

That little growl sent a shiver down her spine, and she knew right then that this was the point of no return, and she was okay with that. It was what she had wanted. What she had needed. She needed Wesley, and he apparently needed her as his lips claimed hers in new desperation. Taking her breath away, and she kissed him back with that same passion. That desperation and need making itself known as her fingers tightened in his hair and her other gripped his jacket at his shoulder.

She could feel his hand move at her side from where it rested. Gently going to her hip. The moment he’d kissed her with this new passion she had known there was no going back. They were in. They were all in, and she wouldn’t regret it. This was her Yule present to herself. A one time chance at doing what she wanted, and she wanted him. It was a shame she didn’t have a ribbon on her to tie to his hair and tell him he was her present this year. A ribbon would certainly ruin the mood, or make it far more entertaining. Now was not the time to think about ribbons.

His hand traveled lower to the outer part of her thigh, and when Wesley broke the kiss there was a brief moment he’d changed his mind, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his lips were still within distance if she wished and she could feel his breath upon her face as she looked up into those sea-blue eyes. Even in the dark they were beautiful. He was watching her as their gasping breaths mingled in the space between them, and she felt his hand tighten in the velvet red fabric of her dress. Her breath almost hitched as she stared up at him, and she had one thought on her mind.

Bless Mari for choosing a dress with a slit in it…

She nodded her head at him, as if he needed further confirmation that this was what she wanted. The hand that was on his shoulder went to his where it was on her thigh, placing her hand gently over his as she helped him hike the skirt up.

[Fade to Black]

[Wesley deGrey]

[fade back in]

It would seem that neither wished to break the sudden quiet, or perhaps both simply didn't know what to say. For him, it felt like their actions had spoken far louder than any words ever could, and it was all out in the open now, shrouded in questions and feelings of being unsure. Wesley stood there with her still wrapped all around him, breathing in her scent, knowing he had to move and let her go, but fuck was it difficult to do and he was just delaying.

He was afraid this would be it, that they had gone too far, that it would ruin whatever it was between them. There was a friendship there, he knew that much...but he felt much more of it. There was more to it that hadn't yet completely blossomed. Wesley wanted this, all of it, and the moments before this. He wanted them a hundred times over, and he'd never desired something of this nature before. The sailor was losing himself to a woman, a circumstance he said would never happen to him. That it wasn't allowed to happen to him if he wanted that freedom out on the seas. Now, his heart was torn straight down the middle, and the one half wept heavily for her.

Helene's fingers in his hair could have lulled him to sleep, and he drew in a deep, staggered breath while his heart still fought to slow down to some sort of normal pace. But it was impossible as she finally moved, resting her head against his and he dared to look up at her. Even though her eyes were closed, he watched her in that looming silence, searching his mind for something to say. Anything, but anything he thought of felt absurd. He ignored the need for words again when she kissed him, and it was then that he finally moved.

Although he felt slightly unstable, he carefully pushed them away from the wall to navigate towards that lone piano, gently setting her on top of it so that she could rest; the skirt of that gown and her bare feet, any part of them close enough softly tapped those keys to fill the silence of the large room with quiet notes. It had been almost agonizing to draw even an inch away from her, but his hands rested upon her own as those blue eyes flickered up to her face. Say something, God dammit.

Wes leaned forward, holding back another sigh as he rested his head against her chest, arms wrapping around her waist. He remained there for a good, long moment before his whispered words broke the quiet, softer than the piano keys had but somehow more alarming, “Run away with me.” Fuckin’ hell, Wesley, no. He stupidly dared to lift his head to look at her again, the confusion written all over his face once more. “Just...leave whatever it is behind. Come with me.” Although he meant it, he wasn’t thinking straight. He didn’t know the whole story and it was perhaps why he was as brazen with his words as he was. That didn’t mean he meant them any less.

[Helene Hewitt]

He was finally moving, although he was taking her with him. Moving to the piano, Helene held on tight for the short ride over before she was being set on top of it. Her feet and gown bumping the keys lightly, and the quiet sound of the keys almost startled her. Sounding like a bomb had gone off despite their quiet tune. It was as if they were the signal that this was all about to be over.

He was pulling away then, and leaving an emptiness behind that she knew he would only be the only one able to fill. She was beginning the numbing process, forcing herself to feel nothing so when the time came he left she would be alright. She’d be able to handle it, but it was near impossible. The pain she felt in her chest was nearly unbearable, as she watched him take her hands, and she stared into his eyes.

Still they said nothing.

Wesley was wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his head on her chest, and her arms instinctively wrapped around him. One hand cradling the back of his head to her chest, while the other hugged him close. She pressed her lips into his messed up hair, breathing in his scent, and hoping they could stay like this. And then he said it. Those words. Her eyes widened with surprise and her breathing stopped. Her body tensed. He was pulling back to look at her. ...leave whatever it is behind. Come with me. There was confusion on his face, and terror on hers as she stared in disbelief at him.

She took in a shuddered breath, and nearly whimpered. The words she wanted to say she couldn’t. Yes, lets leave right now. She wanted to say. To just go. How many times had she wanted to do that very thing? To run away. To run away from her problems and never have to look back. To run away with Wesley? Surely she was dreaming, and he hadn’t asked that. It was soul-shattering; it was more painful than any blow her father had given her because “Yes”, was not something she could tell him. She couldn’t. Not while he still lived. Not while he was still a threat to Marinette.

Mari.

She would not leave Mari. She drew him back in, resting his head on her chest while she rested her cheek on top of his head. She held him close, afraid he’d disappear. “I want to say yes,” she whispered so quietly, she wasn’t sure she said the words at all. She pressed her lips into his hair again, running her fingers through it gently. “But I can’t.” Her voice nearly broke, as she fought the tears that wanted to spill. “I can’t Wesley.” She whispered. She pulled back and took his face in her hands, needing him to understand. Her dark eyes looked into those ocean blues, her thumbs rubbing against his cheeks. “I can’t leave it behind. I can’t run from these responsibilities.” She felt her bottom lip begin to quiver, and she made herself take a deep breath. Wincing as the action hurt her side. “It’s not fair.” She leaned forward to press her forehead against his. “It’s not fair how much I want you, and yet I know I cannot have you. I have to…” She could feel her throat closing up, and the burning behind her eyes as she fought to keep the dam back. “...Let you go.” Her voice cracked.

This would be so much easier if she could just tell him. Just tell him everything, but she couldn’t. She mustn’t. He had to stay safe, and ignorance was bliss when it came to her problems. To keep him safe from her father and the Hewitts, from Clarence...She had to let him go, and it killed her inside.

[Wesley deGrey]

He knew the moment he saw that terror on her face that he should have kept his mouth shut. There were things Wesley didn't know, things she still wouldn't tell him, but he should have known better. And now he was making everything worse. He was just struggling to believe that this was where it ended. This couldn't end, not when he finally felt like he had something...that maybe he found that missing something he mentioned. The big question mark he was searching for and why she had given him that small compass. Now, it felt heavy around his neck, digging into his skin like a burning brand.

How was he to know that this tiny spark would spread like wildfire? And he couldn't contain it.

Although she was drawing him back to her, he shut his eyes in anticipation of what was coming next, of what he knew she was going to say. His heart already seized, his gut twisting into knots while he simply waited. Even with expecting it, it still hurt to hear her say those words. She wanted to, but she couldn’t. It was like a knife went straight through his chest. ’I have to...let you go…’ And she was twisting the blade around and around.

None of it made sense. Wesley couldn’t understand what she was holding back from, and he didn’t know whether to be more concerned about it or angry. Maybe both? Helene was holding his face, he could feel the tension between them, feel how much she was struggling, but he couldn’t seem to look at her for very long. He had just given himself completely to this woman, and she was forcing him away. She wasn’t giving him a chance to help fix whatever it was that held her back.

“No,” he finally said, his voice barely audible. Blue eyes opened to look back up her as his fingers gently curled around the back of her neck to keep her face close to his. “No, you don’t.” His heart was thundering again, his chest heaving as if he had just been running but he was trying to keep his emotions in check. “But you’re doing it anyway, Helene...and I don’t understand why.” His voice cracked a little but he was standing firmly on his two feet. He tilted his head back, claiming her mouth in a fierce and loving kiss before he finally drew away. Then he was trying to pull himself completely from her with a couple of steps backward. “That doesn’t mean I’m giving up.” That was a damn promise. Even if he was trying to draw away from her physically now, it was only so that he didn’t cave again. Yet, it was all he wanted to do.

He stood there now, the look of hurt and confusion written all over his face. Maybe he needed to let her think she was letting him go, but he was determined to prove that this between them was meant to remain. She was holding his heart in the palm of her hand, and Wesley deGrey didn’t ever give that freely.

[Helene Hewitt]

Insert knife here- She felt the stab to her heart as she heard the barely audible no. No, Wesley please...she thought, almost begging him. He opened his eyes and she felt his fingers curl around the back of her neck, and she found her breathing slowly becoming quicker, especially as he continued to talk. Yes, I do. She wanted to suddenly scream at him. It was killing her enough as is, and he was not going to make this easy. She should have known. He was Wesley deGrey; he did not listen.

The crack in his voice was her undoing and her face nearly crumbled. He was making this hard. So very hard, and she wished he could just listen. She wished he would just listen and cooperate with her so she didn’t have to worry about what might happen to him. Before she could beg him just to go, he was suddenly kissing her again, and she kissed him right back. At this point, it was just her body’s instinct to do so. She was addicted to him, and any chance to kiss him she would do so.

He was pulling away completely then, and her heart began to break into a million pieces as she watched him. Seeing the hurt and confusion on his face. It pained her to see him like this. The voice was fighting for her to just tell him. To tell him everything, so she wouldn’t have to do this alone anymore. So she wouldn’t have to carry the burdens by herself anymore but was digging her heels in. She would not bring him in on this. She was sacrificing her own happiness to ensure his and her sister’s safety. He had to understand. She would have to get him to understand.

“You impossible man.” She whispered quietly, as she stared at him. Shaking her head slowly. She should have known this was going to be a challenge to try and get him to understand. “You need to give up. You need to let me go.” She whispered frantically, her face was full of painful emotion while she still struggled with those tears. She slowly got down from the Piano. Nearly collapsing, as she landed the flare of pain that went up her side, near blinding from the jarring movement. She gasped slightly, holding her side before she adjusted her skirt and stood fully on her shaking legs.

She took a few hesitant steps towards him, wrapping her arms around herself. “I don’t deserve you. I can’t have you. I’m tainted, Wesley; you don’t need that.” She tried to reason with him, trying to think of anything that would let him let go of her, but she was starting to panic again. “I can’t do it. Despite how desperately I want to, I can’t.” Her voice breaking as she stared at him. He was becoming blurry from her tears that she still hadn’t allowed to fall. “It’s not just me I have to think about.” She whispered. “My actions mean something. They have consequences, If I leave, I-” She stopped herself. Biting her lip. Her eyes silently pleading with him. Her actions most certainly had consequences and would still have to face the consequences of her actions from that morning. Whatever Davide had planned was going to be big, and it was going to hurt. Not only her, but others as well.

She covered her face with her hands, forcing herself to take slow breaths before she lowered her hands to look at him. “You’re leaving me.” She whispered. She just dug the knife in deeper, giving it a sharp twist. Her chest hurt even more now, and it was taking everything to not just tell him anything and to run to him. She knew it was going to be a low blow, but she had to point out the facts. “You’re a sailor Wesley, You’re going to leave me anyway. Even if we are together…” She said softly. Her heart was breaking even more, and she found herself walking a bit closer to him even though she knew she shouldn’t. They needed the distance between each other. “I wanted….I wanted this to be the best Yule ever.” She whispered. “My one good Yule.” A slow sad smile appeared on her face as she took a shaky breath in. “And you made it happen.” Her voice was cracking again and it was near impossible now to see him from the blur of tears, as they threatened to fall over the rim of her lower lids. “And I’m never going to forget it...or you.” And that was a promise.

[Wesley deGrey]

From the moment she set foot into the ballroom, everything had been a fluctuating whirlwind of emotions. He went from one to the other in a matter of seconds, sometimes feeling several all at once. Like he did now. Wesley stood there, watching her as she verbally tried to push him away without any true explanation, even when it was clear she didn't want to. He was angry in that moment, all the while frantically wondering how he could change this- an outcome he apparently had no control over. He was daring to sink into this, hand over his heart...and she was leaving it there at her feet.

Still, when she slid from the piano and winced in pain, he was just about to go to her and make sure she was alright. But he couldn't. He already managed to pull himself away, he may not be able to do it again, despite her words. Helene spoke of being undeserving, that there would be consequences to her actions...and it seemed like she was going to tell him more, maybe finally explain, when she stopped herself. And he realized he had been holding his breath.

Then the knife was shoved in deeper.

'You're leaving me.' To hear it made his jaws clench tight. He knew it wasn't ideal but was it really impossible? Couldn't they make something work, because wasn't that what you did when you cared about someone? You compromised. But it felt as though she were wielding it like a weapon against him, even if he had already known it was a problem. Uttered from her lips was like a blade straight through the heart, making him wonder if he'd made a horrible mistake. He let himself fall too far, and for what? This painful rejection. She could say how much she wished for this all she wanted, but the fact of the matter was- it would still be an issue even if there was nothing else in the way, nothing else haunting her.

'You're going to leave me anyway.'

When she took a couple of steps closer, he was taking a couple back, as if her words had physically wounded him. Helene was still talking, perhaps trying to soften the blow, but he was already too hurt to care. How did this happen? No, this wasn't supposed to happen. This was why he always said he couldn't have affection for anyone because there was no point. Not with the life he lived, apparently.

"Well...glad I could be of service to you, my lady," he spoke quietly. The words were bitter, they were hurt, and he was trying to maintain control before his voice cracked again. His jaws were sore from clenching them so tightly, but he finally moved. Wesley closed the gap between them only to press a hard, quick kiss to her forehead. He said and did nothing else before he agonizingly drew himself away, storming his way over to his fallen jacket to pick it up before making his way from the room.

[Helene Hewitt]

The magic was gone. The magical moment of intimacy shared between the two of them minutes before was gone. Her happy Yule was coming to an end. He was moving away from her then. Her heart was breaking with each step he took. The final blow that brought an end to Yule was the words he spoke and she nearly collapsed in anguish as her chest tightened painfully. It was like someone had their fist around her heart, and they were slowly pulling it out of her chest.

She couldn’t find words to say, his bitter words like a serrated blade that dragged itself back and forth over an already open wound—tearing her heart to shreds. If she tried to speak she knew she’d tell him everything right then and there. The tears would fall and she’d break. She’d finally crumble over the edge and there would be no going back. She couldn’t talk. She mustn’t.

Yet as he was suddenly filling the gap, her heart leaped, the briefest flicker of hope appearing. She didn’t realize how much she wanted him to challenge her, to keep pushing her, she was so close to telling him, he just had to say the words and she’d spill. He was before her, pressing a kiss into her forehead, and her eyes closed, and her fingers quickly reached out to grip his shirt, to keep him there, but he was gone. He was leaving. He was letting her go.

Just like she’d told him to.

She couldn’t watch him leave, it was too painful. She wrapped her arms around herself and turned her back to him. She waited for the door to close. When it finally did, she sank to the floor. Holding herself tight, crying out in both pain from her side but her heart as well, as she sucked in air. She began to rock herself. This was good, this was supposed to happen. He was supposed to leave. He needed to leave. “I’m sorry Wesley, I’m so so sorry.” She whimpered, her voice cracking as the single tear rolled down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away. This had to happen. He didn’t need her.

How easy the words would have been if she had said marry me, in response to running away with him. Mari would be able to stay safe, and she’d keep the house. Her problems were solved. For a brief second, she thought it, but again: she did not deserve him. He did not deserve the lies and deceit she kept to herself. She didn’t want him involved in fear of what her father would do to him. Davide Roquefort was a terrifying man, one she’d angered, one that would be coming for her and hurting her the best way he knew how--by going after the people she loved.

There was still the fact Wesley was a sailor as well, and she didn’t want to tie him down. His chaos could not be contained. It had to be let go. To be free. He had to be free...of her. Even if it pained her to do so. She didn’t know much time passed, but eventually she went and collected the pins she’d taken out of her hair, and began the slow, painful process of putting it back up. She almost didn’t care and left it down, but she didn’t want to give anyone any ideas. She had an image to keep if she was to find a husband. She found a mirror in the room and stood in front of it. Her hair looked particularly disheveled from someone’s fingers, but she managed to get it almost back to the original style. Her lips were another story, and she reached up and pulled the handkerchief she’d stowed away up under the neck of the dress out, dabbing it with her tongue before she scrubbed away the smeared lipstick. The stain still on her lips, but not as vibrant as before.

Other than her red-rimmed eyes from fighting back the tears, she looked alright. But her eyes held no light in them. They’d been snuffed out the moment he’d walked through that door, and Helene could feel herself going numb. She made herself go numb so she’d be able to handle walking back into the ballroom and telling Mari she was going home. That her side was bothering her far more than she thought it would, but she wanted her to stay and to enjoy her time. Helene really just wanted to be alone. Alone with her sorrows, she could grieve over the man whose heart she’d just slaughtered and over her own.

Collecting her heels, she put them back on and took a deep breath. She slid that perfect mask on and held her head high. She shoved the emotions that wanted to escape into a box and walked out of the ballroom, leaving her dead and broken heart behind.

Her perfect Yule was over. Shattered and broken on the ballroom floor.

[END THREAD]