1000 Oceans rise...
I'm easy on the feedback issue. So here's part II. When I see hits, that means people are coming back for something. Love it or hate it, you're hooked! Mwah ha ha ha ha ha!
1000 Oceans
Part II
Clayton is there, to my surprise. He is looking at photographs in a red velvet album, and he doesn’t hear me come in. I hang my shawl in the cupboard, and he raises his head. I approach, dizziness swirling through breathless lungs as I lower myself beside him. My head is pulsing, black clouds obscuring sight. Trembling, I lean against his shoulder.
“Kelly.” His voice sounds like he is in a fever’s throes, though every word is soft and measured. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s come over me… well, I do but I hate to talk about it. I’m sorry about everything.” He entrusts his hand into mine, but I feel hot and constricted. Fanning myself, I collapse beside him.
“Clayton – I can’t - I feel faint -can’t breathe.” My heart is fluttering against my ribs like a caged bird’s wings and my breath is frozen in my throat.
“What?” He blanches at the sight of my crimson face and trembling hands. “Lie down. On your stomach. Quickly, and don’t panic, darling.” I obey, aided by his swift, forceful hands.
His fingers fumble with the silk and chiffon gown but he is so quick that I am soon unlaced, gasping against the embroidered coverlet like a captured mermaid. “Slow down. You’re all right.” Clayton strokes my now bare back with a gentle hand. His touch is pacifying, and when he leans over me, his voice is a croon.
“Breathe for me honey. Good girl.” He presses a fond kiss against the bare nape of my neck. I tingle. It has been weeks since he has given me such a kiss. He frees my curls and trails his hand through them like a treasure seeker.
“It’s the corsets that make you ill, little Juno. Why did you make me lace you so tightly?”
“I have to fit into my dresses somehow.” Clayton crawls over me and lies down with his head turned toward me.
“They never made you feel faint before. Are you sure you’re all right? Maybe you’re ill.” His scrutiny makes the colour rise in my skin.
“I’m not ill.” Not quite.
He props himself onto an elbow. I move closer and begin unknotting his tie. “I really am sorry, Kelly.” I have to close my eyes to hide the tears.
“I know.” I pull the jade tie away from his neck and let it fall to the floor, where it coiled like a pale snake. “Won’t you tell me what’s wrong? You’ve been a stranger for weeks now. I missed you.” He grabs my hand and clutches it like a life preserver.
“It has nothing to do with you. Really.”
“Then you should have told me.” My words are soft as my touch. “I’m your wife. If you can’t trust me - ”
“I hate to worry you. I don’t want to take away any of your joy.”
“But then you hurt me and yourself by taking out your anger on me. I’d rather you didn’t use me as a whipping boy.” I touch his shoulder. “I don’t know as much about the school as you do but I can try. If I’m going to be a teacher, you should include me.”
“I know.” He presses his warm, rough cheek against mine. “Kelly, can you do something for me?” I nod. “Just let me talk. I need to get this out, and hearing you – it’ll be harder. Please.” I capture his hand again and stroke his graceful fingers. One of them is nicked, the ivory skin scarred by an angry oblique slash. I kiss it, and wordlessly acquiesce.
“Thank you.” I watch the glimmers of light floating in his peridot eyes. “I don’t know where to begin. I guess – it begins with a telegram.” Clayton rolls over, and reaches into the carved bedside drawer. “Father sent it to me a few weeks ago, when we were about to leave London.” He smoothes the scrap of lined paper and reads aloud. “Clayton – Hope you and Kelly are well. Giving principalship to Jacob. Will discuss at home.- R.P.” Clayton stares at me, but true to my promise, I say nothing. His laughter is soft as old velvet when he speaks again.
“Kelly, you have such speaking eyes that you don’t need to say a word.” Obediently, I close them. “I didn’t know what to think. Jacob – I know he’s my brother, but he doesn’t care about teaching the same way I do. He doesn’t want to be principal. He just wants to teach the children how to ride and play football. He won’t know how to help the children who need the most help.”
“Lord, I know it sounds so petty to complain about it. But it’s just – I dreamed of making a change there since I started to teach. Now that won’t happen.” I open my eyes, and Clay is tracing circles on the counterpane. “He sent me another telegram saying that I would be the English teacher now.” He presses forked fingers against his forehead. “I don’t know if I want to. Maybe I should – we should move and I could find work somewhere else. There are schools all over the country that need teachers.” He chews on the corner of his lip, and tiny cherries emerge in protest. “But Father would never forgive me. Should I care? He doesn’t care about hurting me. He would have let me be principal if I was his real son.” Rebellion surges through his voice, but fades as new thoughts assail him.
“But he’s sick. I don’t want to hurt him now. I can’t be childish over my little dream. And Mama would be so disappointed.” A solitary tear slips down my cheek. I press my hand against his heart and pull ever closer. “I don’t have a choice, Kelly. Maybe Jacob – maybe he’ll let me help him. He doesn’t really want the job. And it’s just a title, right?” He smears the teardrop on my cheek with an absent finger. “Don’t cry, little Juno. Talk to me now.”
I seek words of comfort, and find none. I murmur unspoken thoughts. “It’s unfair, Clayton. I don’t see how anyone – let alone your father – could do this to you. I know how much you wanted this. You deserved it, you’re too humble to say it, but you do deserve it more.” Flames dance through me now, flickering against my lips. “But you have dignity. I know that whatever you do, it will be the right thing. You’re too kind to hurt him even if he did hurt you.”
“Your cheeks are like poppies. I didn’t know you felt so strongly…” There is awe in his voice. Clayton passes his hand over his eyes, as though shielding them from a surfeit of light.
“I don’t want anyone to hurt you.” Silence bathes us for a moment. “This is why you were so ill-tempered these past weeks.”
“Forgive me.” The lilt in his voice was almost frightened.
“Don’t ask me that like a question. I’d forgive you for murder.” He smiles drowsily, but he is so close that I know he is anything but. “Not that you should get any ideas, Clayton.” He grins, like a tentative boy.
“Can you believe that only six months ago, we didn’t know each other?”
“No. Not anymore.” I search his limpid eyes, seeing the emerald sparks growing hotter. My breath is stolen again, but this time, I welcome the faintness. I undo the first of a row of buttons, twisting it through the buttonhole and gazing at the revealed translucent skin. Clayton’s breath hitches in his throat; he is still unaccustomed to my touch. I want to make him forget.
And I do. Later I curl in his arms and silently vow to tell him my sweet secret the next morning.
“Do you know that you’re beautiful, little Juno?”
“I know that my Jupiter isn’t wearing his glasses.” I can taste the laughter in my voice like lemon drops.
“I can still see that your skin is pink as sunrise and that you’re smiling.” His rapt eyes rested on mine. “That’s all I need to see.” He places a hand on my cheek and drowns me in a cherry kiss. He plunders my mouth like a ravishing pirate. “You’re never enough for me, Kelly. Never… never.” He drops cool kisses against my neck like coins into a fountain.
“I’ll never leave you. So you’ll never need me and not have me.”
“I know.” His voice chokes, as it sometimes does in the thrall of a song. I guide his hand to my belly, wondering how long it would be until he could feel the secret.
“Why are you doing that?”
“It feels right.” So he trails his long fingers across the taut skin like a ship across a still sea. “Don’t you like it?” His soft eyes meet mine like celadon stars, and he cups the tiny swell with a dreamy smile.
“I do.” We kiss again and collapse against each other like a house of cards, smiling as we await the morning.
Hours later, I am awakened by a clattering knock. I pull my navy kimono tight and venture to the door, still aglow from sleep and his hands. A steward greets me.
“Mrs. Aiken, I am terribly sorry to disturb you but you must get your lifebelts on and get up to the Boat Deck. You’ll find them on top of the dresser.” My mouth opens. “Nothing to worry about, Ma’am, it’s just a precaution. But you should dress warmly, it’s cold tonight.”
“Yes. Yes, of course. Thank you.” He nods smartly and stunned, I close the door.
I kneel by the bed, beside my sleeping prince. “Clayton. You have to wake up.”
“Kel, it’s still dark. I want to sleep.” And he pulls the covers over his head with childish resolve.
“I know, honey. They want us to put on our lifebelts and go up on deck.” I uncover him and he grunts.
“Lifebelts?”
“He didn’t say why. But he did tell us to put them on and get to the deck.” Clayton stretches, scratches his gold furred stomach, and tumbles from the bed.
“Okay.” He stumbles toward the wardrobe. “I guess it’s cold outside.”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll have to help you dress again. You find something warm while I get dressed.” This time, his hands are tender and he doesn’t lace me as tightly as before. Soon we are bundled like obedient children. He approaches the door.
“Wait, Clayton. I don’t have my comb.” He waits while I pull it from what Clayton calls my treasure chest.
“Kelly, you said it was just a precaution.” His voice is like a lullaby.
“So is this.” I try to laugh but I remember my dark dream, and I need to clutch at Clayton’s hand to regain my breath.
“Don’t worry, little Juno. I won’t let anything happen to you.” His lips alight on my cheek like a rose butterfly. “Soon we’ll be back in bed again.” I lower my eyes, blush, and smile for him, but I cannot let go of his hand.
As we venture through the corridors, I trip on a slanting step. Clayton hears my gasp, and steadies me. “You’re all right.” But his brow furrows, and he urges me through the opulent corridors as though we are thieves of time.
Technorati tags: clay aiken kelly clarkson clelly fanfiction writing titanic
1000 Oceans
Part II
Clayton is there, to my surprise. He is looking at photographs in a red velvet album, and he doesn’t hear me come in. I hang my shawl in the cupboard, and he raises his head. I approach, dizziness swirling through breathless lungs as I lower myself beside him. My head is pulsing, black clouds obscuring sight. Trembling, I lean against his shoulder.
“Kelly.” His voice sounds like he is in a fever’s throes, though every word is soft and measured. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s come over me… well, I do but I hate to talk about it. I’m sorry about everything.” He entrusts his hand into mine, but I feel hot and constricted. Fanning myself, I collapse beside him.
“Clayton – I can’t - I feel faint -can’t breathe.” My heart is fluttering against my ribs like a caged bird’s wings and my breath is frozen in my throat.
“What?” He blanches at the sight of my crimson face and trembling hands. “Lie down. On your stomach. Quickly, and don’t panic, darling.” I obey, aided by his swift, forceful hands.
His fingers fumble with the silk and chiffon gown but he is so quick that I am soon unlaced, gasping against the embroidered coverlet like a captured mermaid. “Slow down. You’re all right.” Clayton strokes my now bare back with a gentle hand. His touch is pacifying, and when he leans over me, his voice is a croon.
“Breathe for me honey. Good girl.” He presses a fond kiss against the bare nape of my neck. I tingle. It has been weeks since he has given me such a kiss. He frees my curls and trails his hand through them like a treasure seeker.
“It’s the corsets that make you ill, little Juno. Why did you make me lace you so tightly?”
“I have to fit into my dresses somehow.” Clayton crawls over me and lies down with his head turned toward me.
“They never made you feel faint before. Are you sure you’re all right? Maybe you’re ill.” His scrutiny makes the colour rise in my skin.
“I’m not ill.” Not quite.
He props himself onto an elbow. I move closer and begin unknotting his tie. “I really am sorry, Kelly.” I have to close my eyes to hide the tears.
“I know.” I pull the jade tie away from his neck and let it fall to the floor, where it coiled like a pale snake. “Won’t you tell me what’s wrong? You’ve been a stranger for weeks now. I missed you.” He grabs my hand and clutches it like a life preserver.
“It has nothing to do with you. Really.”
“Then you should have told me.” My words are soft as my touch. “I’m your wife. If you can’t trust me - ”
“I hate to worry you. I don’t want to take away any of your joy.”
“But then you hurt me and yourself by taking out your anger on me. I’d rather you didn’t use me as a whipping boy.” I touch his shoulder. “I don’t know as much about the school as you do but I can try. If I’m going to be a teacher, you should include me.”
“I know.” He presses his warm, rough cheek against mine. “Kelly, can you do something for me?” I nod. “Just let me talk. I need to get this out, and hearing you – it’ll be harder. Please.” I capture his hand again and stroke his graceful fingers. One of them is nicked, the ivory skin scarred by an angry oblique slash. I kiss it, and wordlessly acquiesce.
“Thank you.” I watch the glimmers of light floating in his peridot eyes. “I don’t know where to begin. I guess – it begins with a telegram.” Clayton rolls over, and reaches into the carved bedside drawer. “Father sent it to me a few weeks ago, when we were about to leave London.” He smoothes the scrap of lined paper and reads aloud. “Clayton – Hope you and Kelly are well. Giving principalship to Jacob. Will discuss at home.- R.P.” Clayton stares at me, but true to my promise, I say nothing. His laughter is soft as old velvet when he speaks again.
“Kelly, you have such speaking eyes that you don’t need to say a word.” Obediently, I close them. “I didn’t know what to think. Jacob – I know he’s my brother, but he doesn’t care about teaching the same way I do. He doesn’t want to be principal. He just wants to teach the children how to ride and play football. He won’t know how to help the children who need the most help.”
“Lord, I know it sounds so petty to complain about it. But it’s just – I dreamed of making a change there since I started to teach. Now that won’t happen.” I open my eyes, and Clay is tracing circles on the counterpane. “He sent me another telegram saying that I would be the English teacher now.” He presses forked fingers against his forehead. “I don’t know if I want to. Maybe I should – we should move and I could find work somewhere else. There are schools all over the country that need teachers.” He chews on the corner of his lip, and tiny cherries emerge in protest. “But Father would never forgive me. Should I care? He doesn’t care about hurting me. He would have let me be principal if I was his real son.” Rebellion surges through his voice, but fades as new thoughts assail him.
“But he’s sick. I don’t want to hurt him now. I can’t be childish over my little dream. And Mama would be so disappointed.” A solitary tear slips down my cheek. I press my hand against his heart and pull ever closer. “I don’t have a choice, Kelly. Maybe Jacob – maybe he’ll let me help him. He doesn’t really want the job. And it’s just a title, right?” He smears the teardrop on my cheek with an absent finger. “Don’t cry, little Juno. Talk to me now.”
I seek words of comfort, and find none. I murmur unspoken thoughts. “It’s unfair, Clayton. I don’t see how anyone – let alone your father – could do this to you. I know how much you wanted this. You deserved it, you’re too humble to say it, but you do deserve it more.” Flames dance through me now, flickering against my lips. “But you have dignity. I know that whatever you do, it will be the right thing. You’re too kind to hurt him even if he did hurt you.”
“Your cheeks are like poppies. I didn’t know you felt so strongly…” There is awe in his voice. Clayton passes his hand over his eyes, as though shielding them from a surfeit of light.
“I don’t want anyone to hurt you.” Silence bathes us for a moment. “This is why you were so ill-tempered these past weeks.”
“Forgive me.” The lilt in his voice was almost frightened.
“Don’t ask me that like a question. I’d forgive you for murder.” He smiles drowsily, but he is so close that I know he is anything but. “Not that you should get any ideas, Clayton.” He grins, like a tentative boy.
“Can you believe that only six months ago, we didn’t know each other?”
“No. Not anymore.” I search his limpid eyes, seeing the emerald sparks growing hotter. My breath is stolen again, but this time, I welcome the faintness. I undo the first of a row of buttons, twisting it through the buttonhole and gazing at the revealed translucent skin. Clayton’s breath hitches in his throat; he is still unaccustomed to my touch. I want to make him forget.
And I do. Later I curl in his arms and silently vow to tell him my sweet secret the next morning.
“Do you know that you’re beautiful, little Juno?”
“I know that my Jupiter isn’t wearing his glasses.” I can taste the laughter in my voice like lemon drops.
“I can still see that your skin is pink as sunrise and that you’re smiling.” His rapt eyes rested on mine. “That’s all I need to see.” He places a hand on my cheek and drowns me in a cherry kiss. He plunders my mouth like a ravishing pirate. “You’re never enough for me, Kelly. Never… never.” He drops cool kisses against my neck like coins into a fountain.
“I’ll never leave you. So you’ll never need me and not have me.”
“I know.” His voice chokes, as it sometimes does in the thrall of a song. I guide his hand to my belly, wondering how long it would be until he could feel the secret.
“Why are you doing that?”
“It feels right.” So he trails his long fingers across the taut skin like a ship across a still sea. “Don’t you like it?” His soft eyes meet mine like celadon stars, and he cups the tiny swell with a dreamy smile.
“I do.” We kiss again and collapse against each other like a house of cards, smiling as we await the morning.
Hours later, I am awakened by a clattering knock. I pull my navy kimono tight and venture to the door, still aglow from sleep and his hands. A steward greets me.
“Mrs. Aiken, I am terribly sorry to disturb you but you must get your lifebelts on and get up to the Boat Deck. You’ll find them on top of the dresser.” My mouth opens. “Nothing to worry about, Ma’am, it’s just a precaution. But you should dress warmly, it’s cold tonight.”
“Yes. Yes, of course. Thank you.” He nods smartly and stunned, I close the door.
I kneel by the bed, beside my sleeping prince. “Clayton. You have to wake up.”
“Kel, it’s still dark. I want to sleep.” And he pulls the covers over his head with childish resolve.
“I know, honey. They want us to put on our lifebelts and go up on deck.” I uncover him and he grunts.
“Lifebelts?”
“He didn’t say why. But he did tell us to put them on and get to the deck.” Clayton stretches, scratches his gold furred stomach, and tumbles from the bed.
“Okay.” He stumbles toward the wardrobe. “I guess it’s cold outside.”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll have to help you dress again. You find something warm while I get dressed.” This time, his hands are tender and he doesn’t lace me as tightly as before. Soon we are bundled like obedient children. He approaches the door.
“Wait, Clayton. I don’t have my comb.” He waits while I pull it from what Clayton calls my treasure chest.
“Kelly, you said it was just a precaution.” His voice is like a lullaby.
“So is this.” I try to laugh but I remember my dark dream, and I need to clutch at Clayton’s hand to regain my breath.
“Don’t worry, little Juno. I won’t let anything happen to you.” His lips alight on my cheek like a rose butterfly. “Soon we’ll be back in bed again.” I lower my eyes, blush, and smile for him, but I cannot let go of his hand.
As we venture through the corridors, I trip on a slanting step. Clayton hears my gasp, and steadies me. “You’re all right.” But his brow furrows, and he urges me through the opulent corridors as though we are thieves of time.
Technorati tags: clay aiken kelly clarkson clelly fanfiction writing titanic
Sheesh Pixie, First you don't blog for two months then you blog two days in a row. :) Glad you gave noticed at CV for Part 3 or else I would have been really far behind.
Good story. I'm mad at Clay's father all over again. I'm particularly fond of the "emerald sparks" part. Heh.
Posted by
Allegra |
11/07/2006 8:01 a.m.