Subj: Consequences of Falling Ch. 7
Date: 7/6/01 11:38:21 PM Central Daylight Time
From: Nicole

April 20, 1972, Collinwood, 4:55 PM

It's almost five. Where is she? Constance stood impatiently in the Collinwood foyer. Angelique had sent her a note saying to meet her in the foyer at five. She obviously had forgotten that Constance was hiding from Quentin. Constance did not want to ignore him but could not let him come to close. She did not want him to learn too much, to know the truth she tried her best to hide. Just standing here is too close for comfort.

Constance was surprised to see that no one was wandering through the house. Normally, the place crawled with anxious, moving bodies. This day it was eerily bare. She wondered if Angelique had shown up yet. If she had, it could explain the quiet. If Angelique's story were true, her reappearance would send the family screaming to the wine cellar.

At 4:59 she heard a door open and close. She hoped it was Angelique. She looked up to see Quentin walking down the stairs. He seemed shocked to see her although his face soon eased into a pleasant smile. "Constance," he cooed, "I didn't expect to see you so soon."

"I know." She glanced at her watch, distressed to see that it had already struck five. Where is she? Constance carefully looked up into his eager face, hoping her emotions were not seeping through. She retrieved Angelique's note and said, "I'm supposed to meet someone."

Quentin took the note from Constance. After quietly reading it over, he burst into mischievous laughter. "This is highly unexpected," he giggled. He pulled a note from his jacket and handed it to her. "Someone told me to give this to you."

Constance read the note. It was from Angelique.

Do as you please. You were going to go after him whether I thought you should or not. You adore him. Most people do. Just remember what you are. You're doing this at his risk. On that note, have fun!

Constance could not help but laugh as she shoved both notes in her pants pocket. This is the last time I tell her anything! It was almost easier to look into Quentin's laughing eyes, almost glad to be near him. "Did you read this?" He shook his head. "Well, I've been duped."

"You should expect no less from Angelique. Besides, was it so horrible?" he asked wickedly.

"Of course not."

"But I assume you still want to return to the cottage."

"Yes."

Quentin sighed. He slipped closer to her and asked, "Can I walk you back?"

"I...um...yes, I think I'd like that. I'd like that very much." Constance was slightly apprehensive when Quentin offered her his arm, but she accepted it nonetheless. Just being close to him again sent warm friction through her body. Her best instincts told her to fight the feelings. She did not follow them. She laid her head against his arm and increased her grip. "So I take it that Angelique has returned?

"Oh yes, she's regailing the family with her tragic story of life and death. They're treating her better than she deserves."

"I take it you don't believe her?"

"Of course not. But I hadn't returned to Collinwood at the time Angelique had spred her little bit of magic. I'm not expected to believe."

"Ah, I see." Constance looked up at him, his face expressing a bit more frustration than she was used to seeing in him. "Do you not like Angelique?" she asked softly.

"It's not that. I'm just not sure how much you can trust her. How long have you known her?"

"I've known her since 1798."

"Do you know what...?"

"What she did to Barnabas?" asked Constance. "Yes. I know what happened to him. It's hard for me to feel sorry for him when he slept with her, broke it off abruptly, and then flaunted a relationship with her mistress in her face. It's tragic but it could have been so much worse."

"That's not how Barnabas feels about it," said Quentin.

"That's to be expected. It doesn't matter, not now. Everyone's happy and no one's saddled with such arcane annoyances." She looked up at Quentin to see that he looked distressed. This was such a bad idea. "You don't have to walk me back."

"Yes I do. I've been worried about you."

"Why?"

"I never remember you acting this distant before," explained Quentin. "I know that I have done worse things around you in the early 1900s than I have now. I can't figure out what I did to you."

"You didn't do anything. It's all my problem."

"Really? What did Angelique tell you about me?" he asked quietly.

"Actually, she didn't tell me anything."

"Nothing?" asked Quentin. "She didn't say anything."

"No. Are you surprised?"

"A little."

"You shouldn't be," murmured Constance. She increased her grip on his arm and said, "It's my problem. It has nothing to do with you."

"Then what is it? You said in your letter that you were having problems but couldn't tell me about them. Can you tell me now?" Constance pulled away silently. "Now Constance, if you have anything to tell me, you should tell me now."

Constance sighed and walked farther away. I want to tell him but I can't. He can't know. She casually looked up to see gray clouds spilling into the sky that had been perfectly clear moments before. "It's going to rain."

"You're dodging the question." The moment he spoke the rain began to pelt them. Without being asked, Quentin took off his jacket and draped it over Constance's head. She grabbed his hand and together they ran the rest of the way to the cottage. She dropped her keys twice before unlocking the door. Constance slipped the wet coat on the rack and walked away. She turned to see Quentin standing on the mat, shivering as he clutched his soaked body. He smiled as he weakly snarled, "It's refreshingly freezing."

"Strip and I'll get you a towel and a blanket." She escaped to her bedroom to take the warm blanket from her bed before taking a towel from the clean pile in front of the bathroom. When she returned she saw that Quentin was still standing by the door, trembling more as the air hit his bare skin. Constance handed him the towel and turned. She had seen him naked many times before, but, for some reason, she gave him this bit of privacy. Once he finished, she took his hand and guided him to the sofa. Constance started a fire as Quentin wrapped himself in the blanket. "Is this better?"

"Much better," murmured Quentin. "Thank you."

Constance picked up the towel and took a seat at the opposite end of the sofa. She could not help but stare at Quentin no matter how much she tried not to. There was something lovely about the way his damp hair stuck to his forehead, the way droplets clung weakly to his dark lashes. Against her better judgment, she reached across the sofa and wiped a lock of hair from his eyes. The moment their eyes locked Constance eased to Quentin's side of the sofa, wrapping her hands in his hair as she kissed him. It was Quentin who pulled away. "I don't want to do this if you're going to kick me out tomorrow," he insisted. "I'm sick of it! If you don't really want me, I'll pick up my clothes and tremble the entire way back to Collinwood."

"I want you," she maintained, her hands wandering from his hair to his shoulders. "I've been wrong. I want you to stay."

What's changed your mind so quickly?"

Think of something quick! "I've been afraid," she said. "I know you too well. I know what you've done to others. I could take it when I was just an observer, but if we go further, I don't think I could. I won't be one of the girls you use and toss the side when you've finished with them."

"I wouldn't do that to you, Constance. I've changed. So have you."

"I know. I thought you'd use that against me. I thought it would be easier for you to cut the lines with what you know of my past, that you'd toss me aside and call me a whore. If I didn't care, I could've easily gotten over it. But I know you want. I really want you to stay."

"Are you serious?" asked Quentin.

"More than ever." Constance silently watched as Quentin took one of her hands into his and brought it to his lips. "Please stay. It'll rain the rest of the day if not throughout the night. Stay the night and stay the next one too. I don't want you to leave until they come to drag you away."

Quentin smiled and took Constance into his arms, cradling her close and tight. "I can see that. I can see it in your eyes. I've not seen that look in such a long time."

"I know. I've not felt it in so long."

"Neither have I, not really. I didn't realize how much I missed it."

Constance looked into his eyes and saw the look Quentin spoke of: eyes full of passion, longing, desire. It was not a lie to say that she felt it. It had been years since she had longed for another's touch and missed it more than anything. But she could not think of that now. That relationship had ended disastrously, more for her lover than for her, and it pained her to think of it. She believed that all relationships would end the same. But she knew that Quentin would be different. After all, they were living in a different time, a different place, a different set of rules. "I know," she whispered, her mouth searching for his, "but that can be eased. We just need to forget the past."

"I'll try. Can you?"

Constance could not help but smile, her mouth only inches from his. Oh god let this work! I want this more than I've wanted anything. "I've already begun to."

Dark Shadows is a Dan Curtis Production.