Broken
Chapter Nine
By Karisma
Rated: PG-13
Genre: Alt, Romance
Karisma456@hotmail.com
Standard Disclaimers Apply
May 2002

      He was quiet as he brought her bag into her living room. She turned to 
him, dreading the good-bye part of their relationship. It would be awkward, 
ending her love for him with a polite handshake and a tediously lacking 
'thank-you'. But he surprised her by not moving to touch her at all as he 
stood by the door, yards away from her.
     He pointed a finger to the picture she had left on the coffee table. It 
was the sketch of an ornament in the shape of a crystal angel. It had fallen 
from two hands above, the intricate head separated and lying next to the 
graceful body, wings and all.
     "That's how you see yourself, isn't it? Some broken thing beyond 
repair?" She didn't answer, but he hadn't been expecting one. "Do you 
remember what you said to me before we left for India?" He waited for her 
puzzled nod before continuing. "Well, I don't consider you a project to 
help, Serena. I don't want to fix you; I want you to stop being such a wet 
blanket. Try and live life. Others have done it for years and they seem 
pretty happy." His tone grew caustic, biting, harsh even. Serena 
involuntarily took a step back at his almost vicious tone.
     "When you said you didn't want to fight anymore, I assumed you meant 
legally. Maybe you meant all together. Well, I happen to think that's rather 
selfish of you, Serena. There are a quite a number of people who would give 
their right arms for you to crack one genuinely joyful smile. Because they 
care about you. They want you to receive the happiness they think you 
deserve."
     "And you don't think I deserve it." It wasn't a question, it was flat 
statement. There was a spark in her eyes he had not seen since she knew he 
knew about the rape.
     "I don't know. Maybe you're determined to not be happy because in doing 
so you'd be betraying something. Maybe you want to be miserable for the rest 
of your life because that way you can atone for your unforgivable 
grievances." He paused and when he spoke again, his voice was soft and 
caring. "What grievances, Serena? You haven't done anything that deserves a 
life of wretched solitude."
     "You don't know what you're talking about, Darien," she said quietly, 
turning away from his burning gaze, her hands clenching at the sides of her 
white sundress.
     "Don't I?" Frustrated beyond belief, he looked away from her figure, as 
if unable to tolerate the sight of her anymore.
      "No," her voice hardened. "You don't. You know nothing."
     "Yes, that's right." The sarcasm was back, dripping from every hurtful 
word. "You're the martyr here, the victim. You're the one who must bear the 
cross life had burdened you with. Wake up, Serena! You're choosing this life 
out of a twisted desire to purge yourself. There is no need to! You have 
done nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing. But you're going to spend the rest 
of your lonely life extracting pity from those around you. Yes, they'll say 
'Poor, Serena. How she's suffered so.' Is that it? Maybe after that you 
think you'll finally be forgiven for what happened to Raye?
     "There's no need to seek forgiveness. No one blames you but you. Raye 
has managed a beautiful life for herself. But you...all you can do is flog 
yourself daily in hope that perhaps it'll be enough retribution." He sucked 
in air, his chest heaving with emotional exertion. His voice was calm when 
he spoke again. "Well, I'm done, Serena. I love you like hell. Too much to 
watch you do this to yourself. Too damn much to watch as this thing destroy 
you."
      She didn't see him leave, but felt it. As soon as he was gone, she 
felt the desolation enter her, causing her to crumple in a heap on the floor 
where she stood, unable to summon up the energy to move.
      "Darien," she called inaudibly, the loss within her so palpably 
painful she couldn't actually form the name. She could vaguely hear the rain 
outside, it wasn't a drizzle or even a constant pour. It was raining 
buckets, sheets coming down continuously, slapping her windows mercilessly. 
It lulled it somewhat until she felt herself get up and open the balcony 
door. The small actions had drained her of energy. She fell against the 
railing in a sobbing mess, her body drenched within seconds. One hand clung 
loosely to the bars that supported her.
     She raised her face to the angry skies above her, hot tears blending in 
with the cold rainwater to make a beautiful numbness. Oblivion was a 
blessing she wasn't graced with. She released the railing and fell down on 
her side on the ground of her balcony. The beating pulse of the rain sent 
her hair strewn all over her face and she absently felt a sense of déjà vu.
      She was seventeen again and lying in the wet dirt, despair drenching 
her more than the rain ever could. The sky cried for her; the clouds loomed 
over, their dusky wisps sobbing for her plight. The dismal rain misted over 
her collapsed figure. The blonde enveloped in the vapor looked like a fallen 
angel in her dirtied white garb.
*****
     Darien stared out into the night view of London from his office. His 
eyes failed to register the glittering lights from tall buildings and homes 
down below. He didn't take in the stars shining brightly against their 
velvet backdrop. His mind was fully occupied with Serena. Everywhere he 
went, memories of her assaulted him. Turning away from the large window with 
self-disgust, his eyes fell on the leather couch where they had played cards 
into the early morning.
     Damn. Yet another memory to add to the pile that suffocated his 
thoughts, making work impossible.
     He sat down on his chair, banging his head on the soft leather of the 
headrest behind him. After a while, he gave up the fruitless action and 
closed his eyes, pressing the heels of his hands against them to stop the 
burning sensation that started from behind them.
     He was tired, but he couldn't sleep. The way things were going, it was 
highly unlikely he'd ever sleep again. Which wouldn't be the worst thing if 
he had something to occupy his copious amount of free time. But he had 
already established that he couldn't work.
     Which made for Darien McDermott's private hell.
     For the umpteenth time, he wondered where she was, what she was doing, 
if she was thinking of him. He hoped she was. He wanted her to be thinking 
of him with as much longing and yearning he held for her. He wanted that 
much of her, at least for the time being. If her future did not include him, 
then he wanted her happiness.
     One of them should have it, he decided wryly.

     When he woke up the next morning, Serena's cheerful face was above him, 
waving a cup of hot coffee below his nose. He groaned and closed his eyes 
again, he had had this dream before. Thousands of times, sans the coffee 
though. He would reach out for her and then she would disintegrate, leaving 
him bereft and painfully lonely.
     However, the coffee sure did smell real. He inhaled another breath and 
cracked one eye open. The other soon followed when the first caught a 
picture of Serena spreading cream cheese on a bagel.
     He propped himself up on the couch, using the armrest to support his 
back. He stared at her, unable to fathom the mirage that was before him.
     She looked up from her task to make eye contact with him. "You didn't 
even go home last night?" She shot him a disapproving glare.
     He did not reply, afraid that if he spoke he would break the spell that 
had been concocted to bring her here. Even if this was a dream, it didn't 
matter. For a few short, surreal seconds he had her with him.
     But the silence grew to be too painful.
     "Why are you hereÐ