Friday, December 5th

Butterflies.  About a million of them.  Square in my stomach.  The first of them had started gathering even before the flight had even landed and now that we were approaching the Thorne residence, they seemed to have taken flight.  Collectively.  I was a mess.  Feeling like I might be sick.  Going back and forth between wishing I'd stayed home and being glad I'd come.  Dread and excitement. 

I clung to Lach a little tighter; aware I'd been doing more and more of that since we'd returned from our trip to Manitoba... since I'd spoken to him of knowing Dean in my portal, since Terry had spoken of his past, since Uma had spoken of hers.  I felt like while they were climbing out of the darkness, I was descending into it.  Mostly I just felt unsure.  Unsettled.  And to be honest, more than a little uncomfortable.     

There were so many different dynamics at work.  So many things that seemed to be pulling in opposite directions.  I'd been taking so much comfort in Lachlan's presence lately and knowing that I'd be on my own while he made another trip across the pond for the rest of the family made me more than a little nervous.  I always felt like the odd duck at family gatherings anyway.  While I was proud of Lach for the job he did for this family of ours, the idea of being the only lone Sister made me feel more self-conscious that I did already.

And then there was Dino.  God.  Despite Lach's amusement when he saw us holding hands on the plane, he still hadn't gotten over the fact that I'd known a version of Dino in my portal.  Lach was mature enough not to blame PW's Dino for what I'd had with my Dean, but he still hadn't really gotten over the fact my past seemed more closely linked to one of his Brothers than to him. 

In addition to that was the fact that I couldn't get something Terry had told me recently out of my head.  He'd told me my innocence was one of the reasons he loved me so much.  That he needed pure things in his life.  In light of my recent games with Dino, I couldn't help but wonder how my waning innocence would affect my relationship with Terry.  Would it make him love me less?  And knowing that might be the case, why was I still willing to indulge that sort of fantasy?

And then there was Terry himself and my inability to move beyond some of the events that had preceded his revelations.  What had started as a lark in his office when the Black Knight first surfaced had taken a much darker, more sinister twist some nights later.  The curious behavior he'd exhibited in his office had sent up little red flags for me and the simple truth is I continued to dig where I shouldn't have. 

"I just got a mental image, love.  You know The Scream?  Munch?  That's me when you women start digging." 

"Well, I am not most women and I really don't expect answers from you, you know... at least not many.  There's more in what you don't say and don't do." 

"Maybe I don't need some things.  You ever thought about that?"  

"I suppose I might have....but I felt it in you that day on the couch.  You wanted to but something stopped you."

"I stopped me."

There was warning in his voice but not the hard tones that told me discussion on the topic was closed.  I could just picture him there, scowling while he sat back in his chair and readjusted the phone.  He was becoming more defensive and even a little bit angry... but still he didn't draw back.  Recent events in both our lives had made us more open to sharing our private thoughts with one another than ever before and that is the only thing I can think of to explain what transpired over the telephone that night.

"I suppose you are expecting me to ask you why you stopped."

"And I suppose you are expecting me to evade the question."  I was.

"You didn't have to stop, you know.  Not for my sake."

"What can I say?  There are things I don't do for kicks."

"I wouldn't consider what happened on the couch, or anything I do with you for that matter, merely 'kicks', Charlie."

"I didn't mean it like that.  I'm sorry."  

"I know you didn't."  He was still evading the question. 

"If you want it, next time I'll indulge your fantasy.  Just ask me."  He sighed.  "Shit, this is not what I meant to say....  It- it's pretty complicated."  Of course it's complicated.  It's Terry.  "It just felt like it was going somewhere that I didn't want to take a woman like you.  Can you understand that?"

"Yes and no."   

Little grunt from him.  "Now who's being evasive?"

He had a point but so did I.  I can't really say why I continued to encourage him.  That I did so, and so cavalierly, just kills me... and yet it was almost like I felt something inside me urging me to do so.  Sixth sense, maybe?  But at the same time, knowing what I now know about his past, reliving what I said that night is incredibly painful for me.       

Me evasive?  That's a joke.  "OK, here's now I see it then.  I am aware you have fallen into certain patterns with women in the past; a pattern where you give and they take... and it is about what they want or need not what you want or need."  He didn't deny it.  His silence was answer enough.  "I think we've managed to avoid that thus far."  I smiled into the phone.  "All I want from you is you."

"I know you do....which is why I have to stop myself at times.  It is too dangerous to be so relaxed with a man like me."

A man like him.  Was he trying to break my heart?  I searched my mind, trying to find some way to get him to see what I meant.  Not to make him see it my way.  Just to show him there were people in the world who saw him differently than he saw himself.  We had spoken before of finding safe harbor with each other.  He argued logically and I argued emotionally, but I felt we might find some common ground there, at the heart of what we are to each other.   

"I know you don't let many people close, Terry, and I know you want to protect those relationships that are close to your heart, but how does that work, exactly, if you don't treat the harbor as if it's a safe place to be yourself?" 

Silence stretched out for long minutes.  "Imagine sailing into a safe harbor....and then destroying it."

"You can't.  I suppose you think that's glib or trite, but truly, you cannot.  You might be able to take a chunk out, mess up the dock maybe, take out a building or two... but the harbor, a circle of water ringed by land that makes it safe - that doesn't change, Terry."

"I wish I had your confidence....but, you know, modern warfare has some powerful weapons.  Mass destruction...."

"Yes, and when the dust settles, the earth and water remain."

"You are the most insistent woman I have ever known."

Not insistent, just sure of the goodness inside him, despite whatever ghosts haunted him.  He seemed so....not despondent, really, just resigned.  So certain that under the White Knight face he showed to so many lurked his true nature, the Black Knight.  A persona he feared so much that he'd buried it deep to keep it from ever touching those he loved.  That he feared it should have tipped me off, but I wanted to show him how I really felt.  That I accepted all the parts of him, even those parts he felt were unlovable.    

"Just understand, love, that you give me what I need already... I don't need the rest.  Some men do, but that's because they've never been there.  I have.  I don't wish to go there again." Decisive words, but still not a definitive ending to this subject.  Not really like a dare, either.  More like an opening.  Interesting. 

"Hmmm...."  I would have said 'go where' but I know that's the surest way to get him to clam up, so instead, I merely thought it and remained silent.

"Heather, let me ask you a question."

"Anything, ask."

"Do you want to go there?  Or do you merely want to give me some kind of free rein?"

"I do want to go there with you.  Does that surprise you?"

"Yeah."  Long pause from him.  "Why?"

"It's a powerful fantasy and it's a potent to thing to experience with someone you care deeply for."

"Then maybe there is someone else you should share it with."  Defensive again.

"I trust you... and it's not something I would do with just anyone, Charlie."

"You don't know me as you think.  I am not what I appear to be."

"I know you better than you think.  That's what scares you.  Whatever secrets you have, it's not necessary for you to tell them to me for me to know that they are there."

God, what arrogant words.  Did I want him to give up his secrets to me?  Not really, no.  I think that's partly why he is willing to talk so openly with me about such private matters.  I have no wish to expose something too raw or painful for him to deal with.  When we talk of such things, most often I just want to get him thinking.  Actually, I was surprised he hadn't ended the conversation some time ago.  And I certainly wasn't expecting it to take the turn that it did.   

"I will not willingly explore my darker side...."  His words hung there.  "But I will let you explore it."

I was stunned.  "It's a beginning....and a difficult one, I realize.  I hope you know I wouldn't ever push you into something you didn't want and if you told me to drop this now, I would."

"I know."

"It's just I felt such want in you on the couch that day...."  He didn't deny it. 

"Tell me... this Black Knight, this alter ego, how does he act in your dreams, lassie?"

"He doesn't listen to the man when the man tells him to stop.  He is the part of you that isn't ashamed to take instead of give.  And in fact, he glories in it while at the same time acknowledging it is a gift to receive such a thing from a woman."

"The Black Knight in his castle... in his own domain... by his own rules... what woman would chance herself on that?"

"One who wants to know and experience all parts of the knight, Terry.  The white and the black."  One who wanted to show him there was no part of him that didn't deserve love.

I can't really explain what happened next.  Or why it happened.  Something turned in him then.  I don't know what.  Maybe it was always there and I just never saw it.  Having such a deep relationship with someone is rewarding... but it can also be dangerous.

"Be careful of what you wish for, lassie.  You may just get it."

"You're changing tactics now.  On the offensive rather than being evasive."

"Just wearing my colors."  This time it was a warning and I ignored it.  

"Good evening to you then, Black Knight.  I had wondered if we'd meet again."

He grunted a greeting at me.  "In my castle....from where there is no escape unless I wish it."  He turned on a dime and when he spoke again, it was Terry's voice, soft and wary.  "Have you ever truly thought what that would be like?  A deep dark place in which you were at the mercy of others?" 

"I am not foolish, Charlie.  For all my naiveté in certain matters, you know I wouldn't have pursued this unless I'd given it considerable thought.  You know I don't leap before I look.  And yes, I have thought about it.  The idea is both frightening and exhilarating....but freeing, too."

I felt an odd vibe from him in that moment, something I couldn't quite put my finger on, but I chalked it up to my unfamiliarity with this sort of fantasy experience and just figured there were bound to be some uncomfortable moments, given the subject matter.  It was all just words anyway, right?  At least that's what I thought then.  Stupid foolish girl.

"What if the man never stops.  What then, love?"

"Depends on which level you're asking that question.  At the most basic level, he'd have to stop sometime, if only to sleep."  I shrugged.  "Looking at it differently, I suppose you might fear in opening Pandora's box, you might never get it shut again."

"True."

"And more differently still, I think there are some men who do live that way, who do get their kicks from hurting people.  There is a spectrum of places it could go... I wouldn't have asked if I thought you were one of the latter, and as you are simply a man, you must sleep eventually, so I already know that it would stop at some point....to say nothing of the ability each of us have to hang up this phone at any moment."

"It isn't what I would do that frightens me, Heather.  It's what I would feel when I was doing it.  Can you understand that?"

"Yes, I can.  You haven't given yourself permission to enjoy taking and not giving, but I think what you might not understand is that there is giving in the taking....giving someone else a look at an incredibly private part of your nature.  But the other side of the coin to that is that you would be showing it to someone who wouldn't shame you for it."

Stupid naïve girl.  We were talking about two entirely different things.  Something he was aware of, but that I was not.  I am not ashamed of the things we shared with each other after that....but I ashamed that I didn't realize the seriousness of what I had done or recognize the enormity of his offer to explore his darker side.  For someone who thought she knew him pretty well, I sure walked blindly into that minefield. 

"Give me a taste of what you see, love.  Help me to see what is in your mind."

"I see us without the romance.  You are rough with me, hands tight on my wrists, holding me where you desire not where you think I might enjoy.  Your mouth on me, biting and sucking... tearing at my clothes... flipping me over.  Your body is hard over mine.  I struggle and fight harder and wilder under you-"

"You wouldn't have a chance."  Arrogant now.

"That wouldn't stop me from trying."

"Heather- you can't want that!"

"Why can't I?"

"I would hurt you....really hurt you."

"Yes, you would... and I would like it."  I wasn't talking broken bones or anything, but he knew what I meant.  "It's a rush to feel that raw power in you not held in check as you always do, so tightly leashed...."

"I can't do that unless I..."

"Unless you what?"

"Unless I use a different kind of woman.  One who knows the score."

"So it's the number of men she's known that makes it OK?  And if you think you're shocking me, you're not.  I wondered after that time on the couch, so I read back through the diaries....you know me, details....  You're not that way with any of us, so it has to come out somewhere."

"I have an occasional need for something else.  And I keep it quiet.  The Sisters will not understand."

"This one does."

I believe we all need someone to understand us, to accept us so totally, so unconditionally.  I think everyone needs someone who will understand and accept even the things about us that make no sense; the ugly things, the things we are ashamed of, the things even we don't understand, even things that are hypocritical.  I think where people get confused is with the notion that acceptance means you condone the behavior.  In this case, I certainly didn't, but how safe a harbor would I have been for him if I'd started hurling judgments at him based on my own morals?  I'd never walked in his shoes.  Of course, I'm not a doormat either.  I do give him my honest opinion... but it is secondary to making sure he feels he has a safe place to unburden himself.     

"So, Terry, this occasional need for something else?  How is it different from what I just described?  Or is it?"

"Not much... just dirtier, rawer.  Not what a man like me wants to admit to."

"Dirtier because of the girl?  And more raw how?"

"Circumstances....to walk up to a complete stranger and ask her for that."

"And yet it is easier to ask a stranger for that than someone you know....no face to wake up to the morning after?"

"Morning after?"  He snorted.  "You think I want that much intimacy?"

"Of course not... I just meant someone you didn't have to see ever again."  Unlike a Sister who he'd have to face again sometime.

"Heather - it is face against a wall and 85 seconds would be a long time."

"Would it surprise you if I said that just gave me the shivers?"

"I don't understand women then.  It makes me feel like throwing up."

"But would it if it was given freely and you didn't have to coerce anyone or pay them?"

"Then it might feel like love and that would never do, would it?"

"Would that really be such a bad thing?"  

"Heather, it's about self loathing... you have to hate yourself to get any pleasure out of that."

"I think that's the case for some people, perhaps.  I think for others it's about being free."  I paused and took a deep breath.  "The truth is you are stronger than me, bigger, more powerful.  I can know those things, but feeling them is a different matter.  And there is the sense of pride as well, that you've chosen to share yourself with a man who is capable of besting you but doesn't.  There doesn't have to be shame in submission."

"If you want a strong man to dominate you, then go nearer to home.  You have one who isn't going to implode on you."

"I know he wouldn't implode on me... but I believe if I ever brought this up to him he'd be reluctant, probably the same reaction you'd give if Uma had asked this of you.  I guess what I'm trying to say is that this is something I'm open to if you ever want to share it with me.  That's all."

The simple truth is this was an intimacy I wanted to share with him... just as much for my own selfish desires as it was to show him there were no parts of him too ugly to receive love.  The thought of Terry Thorne unleashed was a powerful sexual image but it was the gift of exchanging such naked intimacy that drew me.  I wasn't trying to push him where he didn't want to go.  I wasn't trying to get something from him he hadn't given to any other Sister.  I wasn't after his secrets.  I simply wished to give him what he needed. 

Talk is cheap, especially to a man who uses words for a living.  I wanted to show him with my actions what he couldn't seem to accept in my words.  The harbor would always be open to whatever he carried inside him when he sailed into it.  You know what they say, the road the hell is paved with good intentions.  Even with all of that in the back of my mind, I was utterly unprepared for what happened next.  I barely even recognized him when he began to speak again.

A dank room in an ancient castle... you are waiting for God knows what.  Hours pass.  You are cold and afraid.  Shivering and listening for every little noise.  You hear the drip of water running down the walls.  Mildew growing.  The scurrying of rats and mice somewhere nearby.  It smells of damp wet earth.  The sound of metal, a grille clanging.

Footsteps.

Far away but getting closer.  You strain to hear them.  The sound of doors being brushed aside.  The footsteps approach with intent.  They are heading your way.  Someone knows you are there.  That anxious feeling grows.  You are afraid to call out to see who is there, afraid of angering the owner of those footsteps.  The silence is so loud that it rings in your ears.  There is nothing but the steady footfall.  Nearer and nearer.  Until they stop at the door keeping you in.  Your heart is in your throat.  Your eyes are wide.

You hear the sound of breathing.  Almost like an animal panting.  Harsh and rough... as if it senses the breeze.  You wonder if it is the kind of animal that can sense fear as well.  You press yourself against the far wall of the cell.  Wish yourself invisible.  Fear has a pungent aroma.

"So does desire."       

It is so silent that you believe the intruder must have gone.  You step forward to listen.  A hesitant step away from the wall, straining to hear the slightest sound.  Trying to control your breathing.  It makes you dizzy with the effort.  You hear nothing but the beating of your own heart and the blood pounding in your veins.  You are wondering where the owner of those footsteps disappeared to and then the door crashes open- kicked with force.

Something about his narrative was niggling at me.  Something was not right.  It would come to me later.  Men never build such elaborately detailed fantasies.   

A frightened sound breaks from you as you back up against the wall, hands raised, warding away the figure in the doorway.  It happens too fast for you to see clearly.  Catches your hands and bends them behind your back.  Your spine arches as you struggle.  Turns you and throws you against the wall, following you in.  You bite and kick.  It is a futile effort.   

More niggling.  For as much as this glimpse inside his head while we walked on the wild side was flipping all sorts of internal switches in me, he was eliminating all but the most basic pronouns.  Why?       

He raises your hands and holds them easily with his left arm above your head.  You struggle hard.  Right hand raises your skirt and tucks it into your girdle.  You are naked beneath, heart pounding as you try to twist away, gasping as your skin is exposed to the cold air.  He raises his knee and jams it roughly between your thighs.  It will bruise you.

'He'.  'He' not 'I'.  Where was he in his mind?           

You grunt at the impact, but you still fight.  You are not beaten yet.  I use my body to hold you still, lean in on your back, bite hard on your neck, draw blood.  You shiver and push back against me, trying to buck me off.  A near growl in my throat at that.  It makes me angrier.  You are not submitting.

"So make me.  Show me you can."

'I' had replaced 'he' and the tone had changed.  He was less detached now.  A casual observer no longer.  But it still felt 'off' somehow.  Different from the Dark Knight I had met in his office.  God, if only I'd known then what I know now.       

I drag your hips away from the wall, part your legs wider... stop you from kicking back at me.  You fight me in earnest now, knowing what is coming.  I whisper profanities in your ear.  Spit out my words.  You hear them pour for me, spittle running down your face.  I want you to cry. 

Your tears well up.  You are angry for your weakness as they spill over.

"Hurt me.  I need you to hurt me."

His soft words pulled me abruptly from this odd fantasy he was spinning.  Oh, God.  He needed the fantasy girl to hurt him as part of her struggle.  It would be the final straw.  The thing that would allow him to let go.  My heart ached for him.  He is such a good man.  Even now, like this.  Would he ever see that?  I did as he asked, unwilling to stop this strange narrative he'd set in motion.   

"I jerk in your grasp.  My head hits your chin, bruises your lip and makes you bite your tongue."

There is a low grunt as his head snaps back and he spits blood.  A momentary loss of control.  His hands loosen and then tighten.  He spits blood on you and roars with temper.  You tremble at the sound of it and try to spit back but he is forcing your face away.  I press your neck in my hand, forcing it against the wall.          

"I will have you!"

The wavering 'he' had become a definitive 'I'.  He was flirting at the edge of this no longer.

Your voice gets raspy with the pressure of the hand on your throat.  You feel the cold gritty wall of the cell against your cheek.  "Take me if you're man enough.  Make me submit." 

Your words enrage me.  I have to pull one hand away to free myself.  "Take your chance, girl.  Try to get away.  Just try."  You jerk hard to free yourself while I'm busy with the fastening at the front of my pants.  You're taunting me, twisting in my grasp.     

"Let me go!"

I grab your face and push you down to your knees, forcing myself into your mouth.  I hear you make a low animal sound in your throat as you try to resist.  You might think you have me now... thinking you'll bite me if I can't find a way to stop you... but I've already thought of that.  My hand is on your throat.  "Use your teeth, girl, and I will squeeze the life from you."

You submit to my mastery.  I have won this battle.  You take me in and I shudder at the feel of your mouth even as I enjoy the spark of fear in your eyes.  Not much air for you, girl.  I am big and the hand I have at your throat never releases its tension.  I pull out and rub myself over your face, marking you with my scent.  Humiliating you.  You can hear me laughing.  Your eyes are wide with fear, wondering what I will do next.  I am almost calm, thinking you are beaten and I can relax my guard. 

My hand loosens and I stroke your cheek.  A glimmer of tenderness.  "Lassie..."  

"Even now, you are you, Terry.  My White Knight and my Black Knight, too....  Finish this."   

"Turn me then, love.  Make the man go or he will stop.  That is where he stops."

That is where the man stops?  I disagreed.  The man never would have touched a woman as he'd spoken of touching me.  Not ever.  Again, I did as he asked, aware we'd long since left whatever semblance this had to my fantasy.  I had no desire to ever feel humiliation or degradation at his hands- or at any man's hands.  But then again, I had the sense that this conversation had never been about my fantasy at all.  It had been about something else entirely and I knew he needed me to see it through to the end, however painful it might be. 

"I screech at you and snap at the fingers tenderly touching my cheek as I strike out at you."

Your hand balls into a fist and tries to hit me between my legs where I am most vulnerable, talking to me all the while with the express intent to make me wild.  I pull away but you catch me slightly, a ring on your finger nicking the skin of my cock as you taunt me.  I feel a blind rush of anger.  You laugh as I wince.  "Silence!"

"Not so strong now, are you?  I'm just a girl."      

Your mockery rings in my ears.  "I will show you.  I will make you beg me to let you go."  

"Show me then.  See if you can break me.  You will try and I will laugh."

I throw you against the wall.  You are so light you hit it hard and bounce away, dazed.  As you fall, I roll you onto the filthy earth and rip off your skirt.  You struggle, batting at my hands, snapping at me.  You manage a bite on my shoulder and you know you've drawn blood when you hear me hiss. 

I turn you over, wrench your legs apart as I force you to kneel.  Thrust my fingers into you and laugh as you cry out.  You are still too dry.  I am hurting you.  You tell me to spit on you.  To make you wet with me.  You tell me to hurt you.  To fuck you hard.  I do.  I just thrust in and fuck you so hard that I'm hammering you into the ground. 

"I want to feel you, all your power..."

 You beg me to fuck you harder.  You are limp, a rag doll in my arms, but still spitting your taunts.  "Harder... harder... harder..."  Begging and moaning.  I pull away and thrust again.  Miss.  Bruise your skin.  Mauling your tenderness.  Jam my thumb into your arse as I fuck you again.  You are totally in my power.    

"Yes, at that place where I would give you whatever you ask.  Whatever you want to take."

"I want everything." 

"Then take it."

"I want you to bleed for me."  I was rough and you were not ready.  You will bleed for me and I'll see it when I pull out.  Wetness tinged pink.  A virgin?  Or just abused by me?  "It's too much, Heather... this is too much....I don't want to hurt you."

"Do you want to stop?  We can if you wish.  I would never ask more of you than you want-"

"I don't want to stop.  I do want to hurt you... Oh, God... I want to hurt you."  His voice choked on a sob.

"It's OK....Shhh... it's OK.  I'm exactly where I want to be... with you, Charlie."

His words took on a strange distant note.  "The animal takes over.  No real memory.  Just fuck and come.  No idea what I do next.  Just blank it out...  I was afraid of that."

"It's OK.  You don't have to be afraid."

His breathing was erratic.  "But this is a rape fantasy... it means I want to rape you... why would I want to do that with you?"

'With you.'  'With you' not 'to you'.  Even in his most base moments, he never descends into true darkness.  "For the same reason people who buy new sports cars take them out and drive them until they almost redline.  To experience all of each other.  To push it right to the edge."

"And what would I do when it was over?  How would I deal with that?"

God, is it even possible to lose more of my heart to him?  "I imagine that if it was someone you paid, you'd leave, shower, and forget it ever happened.  If it was me....I would love you with my mouth after, gently, softly, and then hold you close, safe in my arms.  My body would ache, feel bruised and tattered and I would relish it.  If you parted from me, I would still be able to feel you, feel your touch.  Like a ghost all over my skin."

"I don't know if I could look you in the eye.  Every time I felt my sore cock, and it would hurt too, I would know how I had used you... even if it was what you wanted."

"Yes, you would be sore and bruised as well... but you wouldn't have used me.  Not in the way you mean."

"There is something you do not understand, and if you did, you would know why this disturbs me so."

We said little else to each other in that moment.  He thanked me for the experience we shared, said he needed to have a good think about what had just happened and we said a quiet goodnight.  At that time, I was unaware of the magnitude of the revelations he would make.  I only knew that something had happened between us that neither of us had anticipated.  Afterwards, so much of what he'd said, and how he'd said it, just niggled at me.  The following morning, I received a note from him that frightened me even more than the previous evening's conversation.     

My dearest Heather,

Profoundly affected by our recent communication. I sat up and thought long and hard after we hung up. Replayed our conversation in my mind and am beginning to understand it better. My first reaction was that you had drawn me out- not so. I let you draw me and I played my own game. One day you may understand what I mean.

I want to be honest. I needed what you gave me and I let it happen. Most men feel like that at times and most women desire that experience with a man they trust. I am proud that you chose me. However, you played out a fantasy. I did not. Had you been that poor wretched woman waiting in a cell for God knows what punishment then your feelings would have been different. A healthy fantasy release is one thing but I was using the moment for a different memory entirely. Forgive me.

But it helped. Even at this time when I am contemplating domesticity, these violent and abusive nightmares have plagued me recently. Last night I slept like a baby and woke with the sweet warmth of the woman I love in my arms and the woman I adore in my head. For that I am proud to sin.

Whatever we shared, it will remain a fantasy. I will never behave like that with any woman in reality. But now I am aware that I must accept that the desire for such things is a natural part of my psyche. Last night you asked me if I was shocked at where your mind was prepared to take you. I did not answer. Now I will. No. You are healthy and normal and full of love for me, no matter how undeserved that love may be. But a word of caution- the world makes demons of us all. A true innocent like you may never know the thin line you walk between the light and the real dark. May you never know that distinction.

My thanks and love,

Terry

With a shaking hand, I wrote him back, trying to get a handle on the riotous emotions his note had turned loose inside me.

Charlie,

I've been mulling over your words, trying to read between the lines and also trying to decide what to say to you.  You know how I hate to go off half-cocked about things.  You have been honest with me and I want to be equally honest with you.  After the vibe I got from you on the couch that afternoon in your office, I was surprised that you'd take that sort of fantasy so far.  Now before you start getting all anxious, no, it wasn't too far and I am glad that the words that passed between us helped you find a small measure of peace. 

I do not know what it is about you (or me, for that matter) but whenever I am with you, whether it's digitally or in the flesh, I feel this intense desire to suss out and be what you need or want rather than to blindly accept the White Knight face that you offer up me even now.  I know that makes you uncomfortable at times, but I think at the heart of it all, I don't want the White Knight or the Black Knight, I want simply the man that you are under it all- to be his friend and his lover and his safe harbor in the same way that you have been all of those things for me.

You've made some interesting observations.  I have a few as well.  I think that yes, I did pick a bit at this but that you are intelligent enough to steer the conversation in the direction you desired.  Even for someone like me who occasionally reads you well, you do not allow me to lead you into places you have no desire to go.  You are much too astute (and stubborn!) for that to be the case.  And for all your kind words and reassurances, there were a couple of things in your note that struck me.

Whatever game you were playing at and whatever ghosts are lingering in your memories, the offer stands.  I meant what I said.  You cannot destroy this harbor, Terry.  You may change it, but ultimately, the earth and water remain.

Had you been that poor wretched woman waiting in a cell for God knows what punishment then your feelings would have been different.

I agree with you.  Had that been for real and the footsteps outside the door were not coming from a man I trusted with all my heart, I would have been terrified beyond measure, beyond thought or reason.  And I certainly would not have desired what happened as I desired the thought of your touch.

However, you played out a fantasy. I did not.

I will keep my own council for now on what those last three words of yours mean, Terry, but I will share my thoughts on those first ones of yours.  I might have suggested the idea, but this fantasy was yours.  The castle.  The cell.  The door.  The dirty earth.  The truth is that I followed where you led.  There was a darker more sinister edge here than I would have conjured in my own mind.  Rage and humiliation and anger.  I would never wish to experience humiliation at your hands.  Not like we played at that night.  In truth, I do not think it is possible for me to feel that with you because at heart, I want your touch.  It is that simple.   

Now, before you start freaking out that you said or did something I didn't want, I was interested in exploring that idea with you in a safe way.  In reality, I know you would never act like that with a woman.  Not even with the ones you've paid.  And I certainly don't want that for myself.  Not with you.  Not with any man.  When I spoke of a more wild fantasy with you, it took a different shape in my mind, more about feeling your physical power, sharing it in, being passive to such an extent that all things intimate that passed between us were exactly as you wanted them to be.  It is the physical expression of what I seek to be to you in an emotional sense.  A reflection of my desire to be, at least for a small measure of time, what you need or want.  It is not a wholly selfless desire either as it might seem on the surface.  I get so much from being that with you, from the simple fact you trust me enough to show me your true face, scars and all, and accept from me the same level of intimacy. 

Whatever you might think, know this.  The feelings I have towards you - they are not undeserved.  I see who you are.  Your true self shines brilliantly through the cracks in your armor, be it black or white.  And the honest truth is that I do not need any sort of fantasy with you to make what we have special.  It is that already.  You need be nothing but Terry.  That is more than enough. 

Always,

 
Heather 

It was days before I heard from him again.  

My dear Heather,

I have sat on this for a couple of days, going back at intervals to read it, and at every reading I find more gifts in it - and more truths. You are right, right about everything. I understood what you were eager for and I wanted to give it to you, but somewhere along the way other issues shanghaied me and I took a conscious (or perhaps subconscious) decision to test myself. Our conversation on the phone that night allowed me to do what I could not bring myself to do in reality when we were both together in my office.

I am not prepared to divulge why I feel this way except to say that incidents in my distant past are playing on my mind. I believe it is connected to my life now. Strangely enough, it is something to do with the fact that I am happy and contented and possibly on the brink of a life that I never imagined could be mine. With my usual cynicism, I am already looking for the cost - someone will have to pay the piper sometime and I do not wish it to be any of the women that I love.

I think I have proved something to myself that I needed to know and in that lay peace- as ever you have been the conduit to enable me to find that ease. I could not have tried that with Uma for several reasons; I am not really sure why, but suspect that it is something to do with my fear of losing her, a fear that is ever-present, even now. Why do I know that you will never leave me and yet, no matter how many times that she proves her love for me, I find it hard to understand quite why she is still here?

There was more to his email and more emails following it, but the rest was far too private to share.  Not even with this odd family who shares so much of their intimate selves with each other.  Still, the more we talked, the more worried I became.  Our exchange ended with this, words from my heart to his.

Something clicked with me from our last conversation.  Past is past. (my comment) Until it starts to leak into the present.  (your comment)  I cannot help but wonder if this is why we spoke of dark cells and darker nights, or knights as the case may be.  I think now, in the time of your greatest joy, something seems to be leaking through.  Perhaps old things are rising to the surface - not because you wish to sabotage things as you have done in the past or to get the piper before he gets you - but because you are ready for happiness now and it is time to lay your old ghosts to rest, to free yourself of them so they no longer have the power to taint your future. 

We all have secrets, Terry.  Good ones, bad ones... and they can hold much power over us, in truth, they can consume us.  But - and this is a big 'but' from someone who has plenty of her own secrets - we ultimately have a greater power over them than they do over us because only we can decide how they will touch our lives.  The choice and the power rests with you. 

Two days later, I sat with tears streaming down my face as I read about his past, about all that he endured.  I felt like a mountain of stone sat right on my chest.  Like I'd never get enough air again.  Like I'd never stop feeling that piercing ache.  The fantasy we shared that night on the phone...  It was him in that dank cell- not me.  He was the one pressing himself against the back wall in terror, helpless, wishing he was invisible.  But later on, he seemed to change roles.  The captive became the captor.  In the end, he was the one meting out the punishment, striking back at his captors, degrading them as he'd been degraded. 

His words came back to me.  It wasn't the act he said he feared, it was what he would feel while he did it.  Now I knew why.  Oh, God.   

I was horribly, violently ill.  Lach found me in the bathroom, huddled on the floor in the corner, so nauseated I was pale and shaking.  He looked after me with far more tenderness than I deserved, getting me a wet cloth for my face, smoothing back my hair, carrying me to the couch and making me a cup of hot tea.  While he was gone, I went back to my computer.  Read Terry's story again... maybe just to punish myself, I'm not really sure.  It just hurt so much to know I'd so carelessly stirred his darkest demons. 

I felt so lost.  Sick at what I'd done.  Sure he'd never want to speak to me again.  Just the thought of him looking upon me made me cringe.  I wanted to hide myself away.  And yet, even as I felt that intense desire to withdraw from him well up inside me until I was choking with it, I also knew that pulling away from him now would be the most selfish thing I could do.  He'd finally been able to cut the heavy stones from his neck, to embrace happiness with open arms.  He was free... and for me to rob him of his happiness by forcing him to deal with my problems seemed so wrong to me.  He'd endured so much already.  He deserved whatever measure of peace and happiness he found. 

It took me four hours to decide what to say to him and it still fell far short of the true depth of what I wanted to express to him.  I sent it in email because I couldn't bring myself to call him.          

Terry,

I don't know what to say to you.  

I have stared at this screen for a long time and still the words won't come.  When that has happened before, I have waited until I could see you and read your face, let you read mine, and then it would be OK.  Now I can't even do that.  I feel like hiding, feel ashamed to be in your sight as I think about all the times I naively picked and pushed where I had no right to go.  All those times.  And then that night when we spoke of footsteps outside a door.  A cold cell.  Fear.  When I remember the things I said to you that night- taunted you with, I am sickened.  Horrified.  I told you I would never hurt you and I am no better than they are, saying such things to you.  How could you stand to look at me?  Talk to me?  And here I am making it about myself and my feelings, even now.  God, what a horrible woman I am.      

I once wrote I thought the universe has a sense of humor.  That somewhere, some greater power is watching me and laughing.  Silly girl.  Watch her run.  Give her a treat behind this door and a shock behind that one.  Isn't it funny to watch her tie herself into knots?  Two nights ago we loved and today this revelation.  I am not laughing now.      

The little dog.  My touchstone.  All these years I carried thoughts of its owner inside me... and now my unknown soldier has a face.  Yours.  No words exist to express to you the emotions that knowledge invoked in me.  Your blood.  Your life. 

Your story.  Terry, I cannot tell you how deeply it moved me.  You have never appeared more honorable, more strong and good and beautiful to me than you have at this moment.  You see a broken man.  I see one whose inner beauty shines through so brilliantly that it brings tears to my eyes.  You are the best of men, Terry Thorne. 

Safe harbor.  I made a solemn promise to you and it holds true.  I will never close my heart to you.  You are my lover and my most special friend.  Your revelations have shaken me, have wounded my heart with the pain you endured and lifted me up with the grace with which you have shown even in your darkest hours.  Knowing what I now know, I cannot see why you would ever seek such from me again, but the harbor remains yours.  I will never turn you away and I will never walk away from you.   

I am sorry for everything.  For what you endured.  For what you lost.  For the thoughtless, hurtful things I said.  For not being the kind of friend you deserve.  Something I read once comes to mind just now - I give these words to you, for I have no more of my own.

To endure is greater than to dare; to tire out hostile fortune; to be daunted by no difficulty; to keep heart when all is lost - who can say this is not greatness?

- W. Thackeray

It was less than ten minutes before I had his reply.  

Hey, hey, hey, what's all this?

Heather, baby, this is not your doing. This is my life. I just wanted people to know who I really am so that I can move on. I just stopped running and let the world in... and you are one of the people who have made this possible. This new free man with future and a chance.

I was a soldier. I went to war and I had to face some bad things. Many men (and women) have - I don't corner the market in suffering. Recently these memories refused to go away. I raised the issue with you- to you it was just a sex game, a thrill, a pleasure we could share because you trust me, no different from the pearls. Why would you imagine it was anything more sinister than that?

You didn't hurt me. You opened the box and started the process that set me free. I was ready and I shouldn't have started something I couldn't finish. You were in no way responsible. And your words did not hurt me. I just knew then that I did not wish to play such a game with an innocent. You are innocent- that is why I love you so much. I need pure things in my life to shield me from the corruption.

The last thing I want in the world is for you to feel responsible or that you have let me down... you have to look after yourself not me- I'm big and tough enough to do that. This is an emotional time for you, I can't bear to think I have made you cry. What kind of man would I be if I reacted like that?

The little dog... yeah that was a jolt. But, Heather, look at the other side of things. I got a chance in this World and I'm taking it. It makes it even sweeter to know that this is such a rare and precious thing that so nearly was never mine.

I'm not a hero or an exceptionally brave man; I'm just me. But to know how you feel about me, that you regard me as a man like that, makes me feel proud. Like when I read her story. She showed it to me first- she was also scared that I would be upset by it, that it would stir up the demons again. It just made me proud. Not of the story but that she wrote it with such love. That's all I could see. Like your mail. All I could see was your love. Do you know how that makes me feel?

No more apologies. No more tears. No self flagellation- that's my specialty. Listen to my story and know that I am healed and happy, thanks to the love and support of a few remarkable women. Few men get that in any life. You are still my harbor, the shelter from the storm. I have all I need- friends, family, loved ones- a hurricane to fill my life with love and madness and passion and a quiet haven where I can be at peace. You know- sometimes those twin poles merge- so you are occasionally wild and Uma the harbor... is that necessarily a bad thing?

I am smiling. Smile for me. There have been enough tears shed. We're looking ahead now, not behind. You got that, lassie?

His words helped and as the weeks passed, talking to him became easier.  I had vowed to remain the harbor he needed, although I didn't pick at things that niggled at me as I had that night we spoke of the Black Knight's castle.  Never again.  I might have dropped the subject and picked back up with him were we left off... but I had never gotten over my naïve bumbling through his psyche, no matter what he said about it.  It is raw and painful for me still.  It brings tears to my eyes even now, every time I think of that night. 

Of that Knight.

Don't get me wrong, I am humbled that I had the even the smallest part in helping him cut the stones from his neck, but at the same time, I was unprepared to be the knife he used.  I had cut him and he had bled.  Ultimately, it had been for the greater good, but it still killed me.

Still, I gloried in how happy he was when we spoke.  He was so free.  Almost giddy.  It seeped from him each and every time we spoke, colored his every word.  And much to my surprise, he returned to the harbor again as he needed to, most recently when the ghosts of Uma's past had interrupted his domestic idle.  He called me several times, never from home, more in need of a friendly ear, I think, than anything else. 

But for all our talks, I knew seeing him in person, standing there in his sight, would impact me physically....and that moment was nearly upon me.  I knew I wasn't going to be able to keep my composure and I desperately wished that I wouldn't have to have this moment with him in front of everyone else... Lach... Uma... Hando... Teener... Bud... Darcy....Jeff... Paul... Dino. 

As the cars pulled up in the drive and everyone started getting out, I thought I might be sick.  I hid it as best I could and stayed close to Lach, never stepping so much as an arm's length from his quiet strength.  As everyone started heading up the walk, I had a moment of panic.  I picked up my suitcase just to have something to do with my hands and Lach 'tisked' at me as he took it from my fingers.  I put my hand to my middle, somewhere between my heart and my navel, as if pressing it there could hold in the emotion threatening to overwhelm me.   

I looked at the group of them heading up the walk, three happy couples with Dino bringing up the rear.  He was looking back at me and I saw the flash in his eyes before he turned his face forward once more.  I felt a hot stick of emotion but it wasn't his place to help me.  It wasn't at his side I belonged.  Lach's arm tightened reassuringly around me and I leaned into him as we made our way into the foyer of their lovely home.

My face felt hot and my heart was fluttering somewhere in my throat.  I kept my gaze on the floor, afraid of what I might see in Terry's eyes.  I caught a quick glimpse of them, Terry and Uma standing together.  A united front.  And I was reminded how terrifying a moment this must have been for Uma, having had her own dark demons so recently revealed.  My heart went out to her.  Everyone was hugging and the men were all shaking hands and slapping Terry on the back.  Lach left me to go greet Uma and for one insane moment, I nearly gave in to the impulse to bolt from the place.  At least, I might have if I'd been able to move.

Every one of those stones I'd felt when I read his story were back, sitting square on my chest.  I was doing that stupid hiccupy breathing I do when I'm trying not to cry and trying to think of what I might say to him.  Of course, if the right words hadn't come to me on the flight there was no reason to expect I'd find them now....and then he was there, standing in front of me like always, like his story hadn't cut my heart to bloody ribbons. 

I hugged myself tighter and simply stood there, unsure what to do.  I couldn't even give him our usual greeting; a long look exchanged so I could read his eyes and let him read mine.  When he touched me, his palms were warm on my face as he raised it to his.  I felt my lip tremble and he brushed the tears from my face with the rough pads of his thumbs.  And as our eyes met, I felt the stones begin to lift from my heart.  I had never seen such happiness shining in his eyes.  Such peace.  Such joy.   

I touched his chest, just over his heart, and he embraced me fully, tenderly.  I buried my face in his throat and he whispered into my hair, "Do you hear them, lassie?"  I nodded.  I did hear them.  And for the first time, the piper was truly playing them for free.