Stairs Go Both Ways [Closed]

[Aimee Kensington]

[[-Snickers-
Don't you hate closed threads.]]

There were so many things that made leaving St Mungo’s at the end of a shift hard. For Aimee Kensington defining herself without her job was impossible. She lived for the satisfaction as patients began to bloom before her eyes, lived for their smiles, the tears of gratitude shed by their families as they watched their children, parents, siblings, grandparents and friends show glimpses of the selves they had lost. Aimee worked on the Spell Damage floor where the majority of patients were long term. Improvements in her patients were something that few could recognise. Even those that were trained in medicine but not specifically treating and caring those of more permanent damage struggled.

Aimee’s patients were the kind that couldn’t be cured by simple removal charms or healing potions. The patients on the Fourth Floor suffered under unliftable jinxes and many were tortured by the Unforgiven Curses. The majority of the patients lacked memory and sanity. While some took to odd behaviours like thinking they were a tea-pot, others slipped into silence sitting by the window and gazing out as if waiting for someone who would never come. It terrorised their families to see them so lost within themselves, so confused and pained. It hurt them when their closest friend, their own flesh and blood, the child they had carried or the mother they had loved so dear, could not recognise their face, nor respond to the memories they told them. The more distressed patients were put on closed wards, where visitors were limited to a short list. They were a danger to themselves and watched tentatively as often as was possible. Aimee knew what it was like for those families. To walk in the door for the hundredth running, to look upon the person they had shared so many moments of their life with and for them to crease their brow and ask their name. Aimee knew, because she was apart of one of those families.

When Aimee was twenty-four her mother was found unconscious in her office. After being rushed to St Mungo’s they had waited it out as a family, all four daughters supporting themselves and their dad who was sent into violent sobs just at the sight of his lifeless wife. Back then they hadn’t known how serious it was. But that was five years ago now, Aimee was now twenty-nine, a fully qualified Healer specialising in the care of those who had suffered serious injury through spell damage. Now, she understood.

Tracing the number on the door Aimee pushed it open and swept a smile onto her face. The paling woman with greying brown hair beamed at the sight of her. This was what she lived for.

The ‘accident’ had left Lydia with no memory past her fifteenth birthday. She knew none of her four daughters, nor the face of her husband. The family visited regularly, Lisa had moved back in with their father as a means of support. The man was so struck and dependent his use was measured. Lisa did everything for their father and in her thanks Aimee toiled over their mother. She enjoyed it. Forming anew relationship with the woman that had raised her but killed her inwardly to watch the woman who had once glowed with such passion, that lit the room as she entered it, shining in radiance, love, a timeless beauty. She was wavering now. The mind of a fourteen-year-old girl trapped in a much older body. But for a while she had shown improvement, remembering events that sent tears to Aimee’s eyes as she slid closer on the bed towards her patient, towards her mother.

The insane thing was that no one else knew it was her mother. Not a single soul. And that’s the way she wanted it. Aimee had done some things in her life she wasn’t proud of, but she never wanted that to be reflected on her family. Her mother would get the treatment she deserved at all costs.

Walking to the bed Aimee smiled in greeting.

“Good morning Lydia. How are you today?”

The older woman curled her toes, which were painted a fresh coat of hot pink, and smiled back, pushing wispy curls away from her face.

“Hey Aimee. I’m good. But honestly, Muggle soaps are shocking aren’t they? I watched The OC, last night. Most repetitive thing I’ve ever seen.”

She spoke like a teenager, something that had taken a while to get used to. Gone were her words of wisdom, her distinct graving for perfect grammar and pronunciation. For heavens sake she ever dotted her eyes with hearts.

Snatching the clipboard off the end of her bed, Aimee smiled again before lowering her eyes. Flicking the pieces of paper and checking the tests they had recently run. The things they were resorting to, to restore her back. It was then a scribble in Darcy’s hand writing caught her eye, the same scribble he used to write notes when he was going out. But this scribble was more important. This scribble was devastating.

Stepping back with the clipboard still in her hand Aimee looked to her mother who was now flicking through a copy of Teen Witch.

“I’ll be right back Lydia. I-”

But already she was out the door, running, running, running. To the stairwell door, shoving it open and closing it after her, barricading herself from the realities that pounded on the other side. The clipboard was still clutched in her hand as she sunk down to the floor, back pressed the door behind her, robes a mass of lime green swimming around her.

It would appear that the use of intense remedial potions have had the opposing affect than was desired. I wish to stop this form of treatment but will talk to you in person later in more detail. Darcy.

That was bad. It was the remedial potions that had taken them so far already. If he wished to stop than the ‘opposing affect’ had to be something serious. But she seemed normal, which wasn’t normal really but-

Aimee groaned and pulling her knees to her chest breathed deeply.

She needed to calm down, she was a professional, she had a job to do. But right now all she could see was her mother’s sparkly pink toenails and her talk of soap operas. Lydia hated soap operas, regardless of magical or muggle sort.

[Sean Andrews]

He had spent 10 years in the this place, 10 long years, and nothing ever changed. The hostile still felt the same, the vibe of pain, and worry seeping out of the cracks like a poisonous gas.. Once in a while hope would dirt through the air of the hospital. Finding it’s way into the staff’s hearts, attracting and enticing them the way the smell of freshly baked cookies can bring a family together. But that was rare. In his 10 years Sean had seen his Fair share of pain. To much of it. He had witnessed families losing their father, mother, sister, daughter, brother, son. He had watch him be crushed as he told them “Sorry but s/he’s not going to make it”. He had held brand new widows as they sobbed into his shoulder, soaking him with their tears and grief. It happened to offend. On the Potion and Plant Poisoning floor, they dealt with many, many poisonings meant to kill their victims, and they did more then they didn’t. Sometimes they got better though, sometimes Sean had a success. Sometimes they didn’t die, even when they were on the brink of death, so close they could taste it. But they were rare, rarer then one would think. Most of Sean’s patients left his floor for a grave, or for the permanent floor were they would spend the rest of their days. The floor wasn’t the worst in the Hospital, in fact most thought of it of an ‘easier’ floor. Sean was responsible for that, he did his best to take the hardest patients to, in effect, protect the younger healers on the floor.

Yes, in 10 years the hospital hadn’t changed, but Sean had. 110 years ago he was a bright eyed young man, ready to enter the this world, to cure the ill, to change lives for the better, to save the day. He was so sure that this was what he wanted, that this was were he belonged. Now he wasn’t so sure. Something had changed Sean after 10 years. He had spent to much time inside these walls, and watched to many people die, had to seen to many of the disgusting unspeakable horrors that came with the job. He wasn’t so young now, and no longer had the weekends to look forward to like he use to. Now that he was Healer in charge he had to be on call at all times. He couldn’t go out and get shit faced as offend as he’d like, he couldn’t bed all the women that he liked. He had clamed down, not too much, but enough. Sean now 33, though he didn’t really look it, was married, and lively a normal life. At least he was until Aimee entered the picture.

Sean, though by no means completely monogynous , had never had an affair during his marriage to Cassandra. There was the odd one night stand, and whatnot, but nothing like Aimee. When the girl walked through the door, Sean felt something that had him gasp for air. The woman was stunning, and smart, and Sean was instantly attracted to her. It didn’t take long for the two of them to give into the obscenely sexual tension they had. That was a month ago. Aimee had become his affair. He was cheating on Cassandra. And Lynne knew. Fuck.

He felt bad, and then he didn’t. He felt bad because he still loved Cassandra, but their marriage was falling apart. She was distant, she wasn’t the same person he had married all those years ago. His bad habits, which at first seemed cute now annoyed her. They fought a lot. Sean had been going out and staying out longer and more offend then he had been before hand. The honeymoon was defiantly over. Sean was in danger of becoming his father, an angry old man, mad at the world for making him what he was. He didn’t want to be backed into a corner like that. Trapped in an unhappy marriage. Trapped with a job he wasn’t sure he wanted anymore. But then there was Aimee. Aimee his tiny ray of hope an sunshine. She was always on his mind. She drove him insane. He wanted her, and he hated her. She could drive him mad up the walls, and around the bend. Yet the next moment he wanted to steal her away to some tropical island forever. He hated things about her, hated her sometimes too, yet with one look, he was back with his feelings for her intensified about a hundred times more. With one look she could make him hard, which was an embarrassing and annoying thing, considering she would use that look at work from time to time when she was feeling playful.

It was Aimee on his mind that was driving him up, what felt like 37367 sets of staires to see her. He was on his break, and after sneaking a fag in his office he decided he would sneak up the 4th floor to see his Aimee. As he climbed the stairs he tired to think of an excuse if anyone was to ask why he was on the 4th floor. He was checking on… Something … What was he checking on. Damn, his mind was drawing a blank. Yet he wasn’t worried, he would just use his wit and charm and whatnot, talk his way out of it, like every other thing he did. Rounding yet another set of stairs, panting slightly, he was taken aback to see his Aimee sitting on the stairwell, knees draw up, her breath to heavy for everything to be alright.

“Aimee..?”

Instantly he felt his chest tighten, she seem upset, which could only mean one thing. Cassandra knew, someone else knew, Lynne was telling, or worse Lynne had told. A million excuses, lies, and worries flew through his brain at an astounding pace. Yet he did his best to keep his outward disposition calm, and composed. He raked his finger through his hair, as he stared down at her.

“What’s..? Is everything ok?…”


[WHOA.
Longer then I thought. I still think I'm a little rusty though?
-laugh-]

[Aimee Kensington]

Not nine months ago Aimee had abandoned the cold of London in a spur of madness come brilliance, for the warmth of Australia’s summers. With her unexpected flight and luck she’d brought word of their mother to the ears of her eldest sister Charlotte and gifts for her niece and nephew from herself and their other two loving aunts back home. It had been nice to be looked after for a change, to have someone else cooking the meals, doing the washing and generally worrying enough that you didn’t feel obliged. During the week of her stay she had managed to go without a break down, no tears, no panic attacks, nothing entirely too stressful. In reality it was like a holiday, a house just a short walk from the ocean with two energetic souls to keep her on her toes. Trevor was three and Charday, five. They were the blonde hair of their mother and the tanned skin of their father; they smiled like the earliest rays of sunshine and brought meaning to every moment that passed. While at night Aimee dodged questions about her love life, why she wasn’t married, engaged or pregnant the days were spent toiling on the beach under the blinding rays of the sun. Building sandcastles, collecting shells, wading in the waters and running from waves.

One morning she’d taken Trevor and Charday to the beach by herself. Fully saddled up with all necessary items, and both children coated in sun screen, hats perched on their heads, they’d wandered down the shoreline, poking their toes at the seaweed that had washed up the night before. It was there that they had found the remains of a squid that had been undersized and left to die in the sand. Pinching their noses to the awful rotting smell both children had pointed at the mess and marvelled at the stained sand underneath, the shade of a royal purple, darkened black, ink.

In a way sin was like ink. It bled into you, tainted you and changed you from someone you once were to someone entirely different and almost unrecognisable. When their lips had first brushed, aching against one and other, Aimee knew that she was betraying more than herself and the law. Her morals stood and watched as she reached for the man she couldn’t have and craved all the while. Her mouth yearned for him, the taste of him, the feel of him, his hands her, wanting, hungry. It was a sin right from the first time till the most recent escapade that stood in there past, active and waiting. It was a sin but it caused question in her heart. Was what was immoral was always wrong? Could you justify your poison, your venom, your stolen happiness from another? But by not answering to her heart, was she betraying herself even more than now?

Aimee never lingered too long on the moral side. She couldn’t let herself, dare herself, contemplate what she should do because when it came down to it, she knew what was morally correct and that spelt them a no go future. But how was by any means a future? He was married; her love for him was a secret kept hidden from knowledge, from hurting others. Was that truly love worth breaking yourself apart over?

When he wasn’t around she thought clearer, sometimes she even imagined in her head ending it, being the bigger person, the more mature of two adults. But her actions had never followed through for when she saw him, everything turned upside down. And to be quite honest, it drove her mad.

Like now for instance, she was trying to pull herself together, to wallow in self pity for a moment or two privately and then go back to her job saving lives and making the pain go away for others when it couldn’t happen for herself. And then he appeared, his voice hesitant, worried and poking at her. He knew something wasn’t right, he knew she was upset and he handled the shock of finding her the way she was as any man would, awkwardly. Aimee had never been the break down and cry for an eternity person. She didn’t want people to perceive her as weak, fragile and to everyone on the staff, someone who fell to pieces when a patient slipped backwards. To everyone else Lydia was just a patient and that was something she had to remind herself as she pulled herself to her feet and straightened her green robes. Sean was undoubtedly here to see her. He had no reason to be on the fourth floor unless emergency called him so, but there was no emergency and yet here he was.

Clutching Lydia’s clipboard in one hand she shook her head at him.

“Of course it is. Just a patient that’s all.”

This felt awkward. Her eyes danced from him looking to anywhere but his face. Aimee was an honest person, an indecisive person, but honest. Most of the time anyway.

Leaning back on the door she crossed her arms and allowed herself a smile, bringing her eyes to his. She couldn't help hersef. It was Sean. Just the idea of him made her want to laugh and tear her hair out at the same time. Why do we love complications?

“Are you here to see me?”

She knew he was, she just knew it. But she needed him to say it. She needed to hear that someone was there for her.

[[-Grin-
I liked it!]]

[Sean Andrews]

He hadn’t been in this hell hole for longer then 5 months when Sean’s first patient died. He was working under the old healer in charge, an old man who was just trying to finish out his time at the hospital so he could retire and go home. The patient was a man no older then Sean. He had been poisoned badly by a jealous ex-lover. She had to have know what she was doing because everything Sean and the old man tried failed. They were basically waiting for him to die now, watching him die. Sean sat and watched as the poison seeped through the man’s body, watched the side effects take place. The old man was ready to give up, but Sean, so young, and eager, wasn’t. He was working day and night to try and save this man’s life. He tried everything he could think of, but alas nothing worked. The man died. Sean’s first dead patient.

It was funny how you remembered the horrible events in your life more then good ones. Sean could remember each of his patients deaths, but ask him when Cassandra’s birthday was, and he’d have no idea. But he did remember Aimee, the first time he saw her, the first time they gave into lust, the first time he started lying to Cassandra. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing, or a horrible, but he remember it. Remember it so well. The girl invaded every part of him, she haunted him. Working with her was difficult, him trying his best to keep clam and composed. Hoping no on would notice what was going on between the two of them.

He smiled at her as she stood, the lime green robes worked on no one, him least of all, but she could pull it off without trying. More then anything right now he wanted to pull her into his arms, to just touch her, and breath in the smell of her, leave his smell on her. But instead he kept his distance, and fiddled in his robes pockets, pulling out and lighting a fag. He sucked deeply on it, savouring the taste, inhaling as much smoke as he could. He smoked way to much, at times chain smoking his way through 2 packs a day. But this was his favourite bad habit, after Aimee. He wasn’t sure which one would kill him first though.

“Oh well then. You shouldn’t get so attached to patients Miss Kensington, or you’ll end up spending all your time in this stairwell.”

He was an asshole, and he knew it. He dropped the cigarette butt to the floor, and lit anther one. She wouldn’t look at him, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She hates this, hated the awkwardness of their affair, these public meetings. But he lived off them. The danger, the chance of being caught, it was thrill that he thrived on. When she finally brought her eyes to his, and smiled. He felt his heart melt. He wanted to take her home, and ravish her in his bed. Cassandra was at work, on anther floor in the hospital she wouldn’t be home, she’d never know. Was he here to see her? Stupid question why else would he be here.

“No…..Yes, why else would I be here? It‘s not like your ever down on my floor to see me.”

[Aww thanks!
rarwr
-snug-
gah, so short.
>.<]

[Aimee Kensington]

Aimee had never been one to sympathise with those who lived on the streets. Walking down the road stretches on a chilly London morning she had watched her sister from an early age toss coins to the huddled figures. She called them the ‘less fortunate’ but Aimee had a different view. Everyone was born the same, regardless of their place in the world. People expected too many things from life itself, were never grateful for just the moments that they had, the air they breathed, the food they ate. Aimee had known people who had started from rock bottom to only work their asses off and get everything that was coming to them; success.

There was however, one thing that made her walk slower as she past them, head straight but eyes wandering, examining them form a distance. Addiction.

Addiction was a sin. No one could say otherwise. It was addiction and lack of self-control that had driven people to the streets, their last coins traded for a quick fix, a liquid, powdered or tablet form friend. It was addiction that spoiled homes, drove good men out the door, leaving in their wake devastation, torment and tragedy. Memories that scared their children, scars that couldn’t be removed. It was addiction that screamed in you head, drained all other thoughts dry until it was the only thing that remained, pounding, pumping. Addiction killed people, mentally, emotionally, physically. Aimee had seen the results; she worked in a hospital for Gods sakes. Aimee had stared in the face of death too many times to count; she’d smelt the fear on people as they faced what appeared to be their last moments. She’d seen the look in their eye, magnified a thousand times over. Aimee could recognise death and for that, she hoped when her time came, she’d realise.

However, her knowledge had failed her before. Addiction. There were three things in life that she could be considered addicted to. The first; her work. She went past what was required; exhausted her hours at the hospital and even when asked to leave struggled. She lived and breathed that hospital. It was everything. The second was her illegal man. Okay, so she wasn’t addicted exactly but sometimes he sure felt like a bloody drug. Or a bus running her over. And lastly; her coffee. That precious, precious caffeine that had nursed her through painful mornings and exam stress. That precious caffeine that she had the poor trainee get for her every single morning. That precious caffeine that she simply couldn’t function without. It was like her oxygen, her elixir.

Everyone had their addictions and everyone had their flaws. Some were just more open about it, and some were less deadly but it didn’t change the reliance people had upon them. The voice that screamed in their head and the mind that obliged. Even Sean had his weaknesses, his addictions and smoking was one of them.

Aimee waved a hand in front of her face irritably. She hated him smoking in front of her, smoking near her, smoking in the bed next to her. Sure, he looked sexy as all hell but he could do that without killing himself.

As he moved onto the next cigarette, stubbing the other on the stair beneath his foots, and let a sentence leave his lips unchecked Aimee felt a wave of anger burning at the back of her throat. He could be a complete asshole sometimes and it was hose times she really questioned what the hell she was doing. Luckily, those times were few and over in an instant at his grin, smile or charming words seduced her once more. She truly was beyond hopeless. And so in an attempt to prove something to herself, she closed the space between them, slowly. She stopped in front of him, one hand on his chest, the other hanging beside her; she could smell the smoke, the death, the damage. How could a person work in a hospital, see the damage and still smoke like a bloody chimney?

Aimee was a littler shorter than him, tilting her head her lips arched towards his ear.

“And you shouldn’t smoke.”

She reached the hand up from his chest took the cigarette from his mouth and snapped it clean in two.

Lovely.

“If you’re going to kill yourself, I’d prefer if you didn’t do it in front of me.”

In a moment she was just beyond his grasp, her voice was serious but in the last moment she smiled. Aimee was the key example of a sucker. He was here to see her, she’d known it but he’d said it. It was hard to angry at someone who went out of their way just to see your face. For Aimee, it was hard to be angry at Sean full stop. She knew what time they had was precious, short lived like a dying race, she knew she should treasure it but she felt as though she shouldn’t have to. She wanted this to last, to be real and that meant taking what you had for granted and knowing that your next kiss would never be your last.

That’s what she wanted with Sean. But was that what he wanted? He was still married for Christ sakes. And did that promise to another woman make this any less real? It killed her to see him touch her, kiss her and it killed her to see Cassandra do the same in return. He was hers, not Aimee’s but that didn’t stop the burn of jealousy.

Aimee had never been good at sharing.

[Sean Andrews]

Sean wasn’t a saint. In fact he was more then probably sure that he was going straight to hell. His life was a series of events slowly damning him. Of course Sean himself, didn’t believe in religion, but with a muggle parent, and the a muggle born, he had the muggle religion shoved down his throat his whole life. And according to that, Sean was a walking sin. Probably beyond help. He gave into them all lust, being the main one. Gluttony as he often drank far to much for his own good. Wrath, envy, and addition. Oh yes straight down to hell.

At this point in his life though, Sean felt that it was to late to do anything. He was old, well getting old, 33, god he remember 10 years ago when he would look at men his age and find them old. He did his best to try to not look like his 33 years, his best being drinking and smoking himself to an early grave. Kind of that live fast die young mentality, only not. Because he didn’t live that fast, and wasn’t that young anymore.

He smirked as she waved the smoke out of her face. He knew she hated it, the only time she didn’t complain was when he lit up after ravishing her. That’s the only time she kept her mouth shut about the subject. Sean himself wondered why he continued to smoke, even though he had seen the damage that he did to people, but he liked the knowledge that he would die before anything else got much worse. That seemed reason enough.

For some sick reason, he loved seeing her angry. He loved pissing her off more then one should. It was like a sport, but way to easy. Of course she could piss him off just as easily. In fact it was rare in their time together that they didn’t fight at least once. Their affair was far from perfect, they fought a lot. You would think that one would enter an affair because it was easy, because it was enjoyable. But Sean fought with Aimee more then he did with Cassandra. It didn’t make sense. Nothing seemed to be make sense these days though.

He smirked again, as Aimee’s hand snaked its way up his chest. He took a large drag, and then looked up blowing the smoke out of her face. As her lips arched up towards his ear, he learned down to steal a quick kiss. It was moments like this that made all the sneaking around, and lying worth it. These stolen moments, with the danger of being caught, were the best thing in his life right now. He knew that she hated his cigarette kisses, hated the taste that he left in her mouth after kissing her. But he also knew she loved this too.

“I shouldn’t cheat on my wife either.”

And then his cigarette was gone. That bitch.

His anger was quick and brief. He wasn’t one to dwell on something as little as a stolen cigarette.

“You know those cost money. Something which I don’t have a lot of. So the more you waste those, the less money I have to spend on you”

He smiled a trademark Sean smirk. He loved the playfulness he could have with Aimee. With Cassandra if he said something like that, not only would she not speak to him for days, but he would be lucky if his keys would open to door when he came home. Cassandra was serious, to serious, to the point where Sean felt as though he was being suffocated by it. He could remember seeing Cassandra truly smile in years. In fact he couldn’t remember having fun with her in years either. She didn’t drink like him, in fact she couldn’t stand Sean drunk. She was always at work, which cut way into their time to go out and do anything. In the bedroom she seemed to regard the sex as something that had to be done, it was stiff and mechanical. And becoming less and less frequent.

Speaking of the bedroom, Sean was just picturing Aimee on the large bed, with its white sheets. Picture what he would do to her, what she would do to him. They would probably fight again within that time, but it would make it so much better. Did it matter that he had just been with her 2 days ago? No, in fact that was far to long in his eyes. Aimee was his drug, more additive then Nicotine , and defiantly more poisonous.

“Kensington when does your lunch break commence?”

Pause.

“Because I’d like to take you home and do things to you that would make your mother blush”

What did you expect. He was a naughty boy, who had his needs. Why else would he have climbed up all those stairs.

[Aimee Kensington]

Love did insane things to people. In the Kensington family home there was simply too much to draw breath. It clogged the air, pressed in against your body, suffocating, strangling, pushing each breath out, leaving you reeling and light headed. It consumed their lives. On the fatal night where the news of their mother escaped in through the front door on a strangers tongue sacrifices were made in the name of love. For their father James it was his life, all that made him whole, all that completed him had vanished like his wife’s memory. And although he remained drawing breath, proving his scientific existence, he simply lost his passion for life and no longer bothered. To James, there was no difference between here and death. It had been Lisa, the youngest at twenty-one, the promise, who had sacrificed her future to keep their father grounded. She never moved out of home, she rarely left the structure and still every time Aimee saw her she never held any regrets. But did you need to hold regret in the pal of your hands, allowing it to roam your thoughts with permission, for something to be wrong?

On Aimee’s floor there was an elderly woman by the name of Pearl Jeppers. She looked like everyone’s grandmother, soft white hair like clouds, laugh lines dragging down the skin under her eyes, a face that was natural, warm, a face with history and a story to tell. But she hardly ever spoke. Pearl had been transferred six months ago and her room was a permanent one. Pearl never left her chair by day. She sat in it by the window, slow hands clasped in her lap, waiting, always waiting. She’d spoken to Aimee once or twice in the entire six months.

There was a slight breeze but you’d never know with the window tightly closed. Pearl sat in her chair, her white hair a veil on her shoulders. Her eyes cast towards the window, watching, waiting.

“What are you doing Mrs Jeppers.”

“Waiting.” She would reply. Always, waiting.

Curiosity getting the better of her Aimee had spent a few too many minutes in the filing room one afternoon. Pearl Jeppers husband Earl had been tortured and killed by death eaters in front of her. It had been the shock and trauma of watching that had sent her memory into overdrive. It had erased the horrific event and until tis day Pearl could not remember her husbands death, in fact the staff was forbidden to tell her for every time it was mentioned she’d go into hysterics. And all those years since his death she’d been waiting, putting her life on hold and waiting for the love of her life to return. In Pearl’s mind there was simply no question that he would, when you were in love you didn’t doubt, you did.

His lips on hers were warm. She could taste him and the cigarette and her eyes hovered on his face, stolen kisses in secrecy. She knew how he liked it, the thrill that came with knowing that anyone could see. Aimee was a little more cautious and sometimes she wondered if what he really enjoyed was her or the adrenaline rush.

“No one’s making you.”

The distance between them felt more stretched than one that could be closed in a step. She wanted him to deny her, just to hear him say it but until that moment came her arms crossed defiantly. She hated him talking about Cassandra. Hated to hear it, to imagine his hands on her and hers on him. To imagine him touching her like he touched Aimee, to imagine his love for her large, public. Cassandra had things Aimee didn’t. In a public sense, she had Sean, she had the ring, the vows, the husband, the life Aimee wanted. Jealousy and hurt burned in her eyes at the mention of his wife, she looked down, tapping her toe, giving herself a reason to no longer meet his gaze.

It was then the hints came. The thing about an affair was that it wasn’t so much an emotional connection for the male, more physically, sexual. Affairs were known for sex, or rather, better sex. For Aimee it was more than the sex, sex was a bonus and one heck of a bonus.

Aimee drew her eyes up from the floor to her clipboard, pretending to examine it, forgetting the fact that this wasn’t the clipboard with her patients but rather the one from the end of Lydia’s bed. She had in fact skipped her lunch break already and had chosen to steal those moments with extra time with Lydia but he didn’t know that.

“I’m actually in the middle of seeing a patient, Lydia Raymond.”

She nodded. This could quite possibly be the closest thing to rejection she had ever flashed his way. And while her body ached to touch him, kiss him and breath him in, her mind wandered to the one word that struck her a little less than the mention of his wife; home. It wasn’t her home, it wasn’t their home, it was Cassandra’s and his and every time she went there she could see them, eating dinner at the table, laughing, sharing the bathroom, having sex in the bed, the bed that they too slept in. It was there that she was reminded; there were something’s that were never, and would never be Aimee’s.

That was the problem with affairs.

[Sean Andrews]

Love did make you do insane thing. It was a force so strong that it could take lives, move mountains, all that wonderful and crazy shit. And for those reason love was dangerous something to be regarded with care, not to be enter into lightly, taken seriously. Which was probably why Sean had experienced lust a hell of a lot more then he had love. When he married Cassandra, he loved her. God he loved her, he would have done all that moving mountains, Romeo/Juliet dieing for each other. He was in love with her, and he was sure that it would last forever, sure he gave into his lust’s a few times, but his love for Cassandra never faltered. Then times began to change.

Cassandra started working longer, and longer hours, while he started working shorter one. Not because he didn’t care about his job, but he no longer loved it. Cassandra seemed distant from Sean, she didn’t let him touch her, the sex ended. It seemed that Cassandra had lost her spark for the marriage. Sean was no angel but he felt the change before he became a apart of it. He sensed that something was going on, but then he became part of the change. He was sleeping around more then he had in years, he thought nothing of spending a night at the bar and coming home completely smashed, when a few yeas earlier he would have felt guilty and tired to hide it form Cassandra. Some nights he didn’t even bother coming, spending the night at his mates or with a girl.

Things were so different now, it was impossible to hold onto the past. The love he had felt for Cassandra was gone. He still cared for her, but he didn’t love her. No, not anymore that something, that thrill was gone now. It was gone before Aimee entered his life, but now it was cemented. But did he love Aimee? That was the question now on his mind. Did he love her? He wanted to say yes, just plain simple yes, he loved her and wanted to be with her always. But then that was insane to say he loved Aimee after being with her for a month. Sure she was his drug, intoxicated him, filling his sense, making his days worthwhile, and happy. But love her? It was to early to tell, and he wasn’t going to rush into this. He was older now, and he like to think wiser. He had spend many a nights, lying next to a sleeping Cassandra, thinking about easy it would be leave her, to go and be with Aimee. But there was the little nagging bit in his mind that it would be crazy ro run off with Aimee, they’d only been together for a month. In school that would have been a long time, but as adults that was nothing. A fling.

A fling. He hated that word, Aimee was much more to him then a fling. Though she might not even know it. Sean was an asshole, but he cared deeply about Aimee. He loved her as much as he allowed himself to. She wasn’t just sex, though it was an important thing to him. Aimee was more then a fling, more then a one night stand. She was his affair, his choice, his mistake, his thrill.

“I know, but I choose too. Once you have the finer things in life, you can’t go back”

He smiled then, not smirked, but smiled. He wanted to reach out for her, but she was stepping away. He heard her deny him, and he wouldn’t deny to him self that he was shocked. She normally jumped at the chance to be with him. Maybe she was feeling guilty. Maybe something about asking her to come into his home, his bed, that he shared with his wife was unfair. Aimee deserved more then that. He wanted to give her more then that, but he couldn’t not right now. But then the brilliant idea stuck him. He joked about not having money, but that was a lie. Being healer in charge paid well. In fact it paid well enough for Sean to live any sort to lifestyle he chose. Aimee didn’t like coming into his and Cassandra’s bed. Aimee lived with 3 other people in a flat.

PING! Light bulb.

If he could scrap together the down payment for a flat or apparent or house or something for Aimee she could live alone, and they could have their own place to be together. Even if Sean couldn’t afford to pay for two homes, he could at least pay for half of it once the monthly rent started coming in. It was perfect. God he was a genius sometimes.

Sean closed the distance between them, place his hand son her cheeks. Pulling her face to look at him. He gazed into the eyes of the woman that ignited passion in his day, his loins, and his life. He put a finger on her lips.

“Then let me kiss you before you go back”

[Aimee Kensington]

When Aimee was four she’d gone with her mother to the supermarket to get bread for the following mornings breakfast and a packet of apple juice boxes. Lost in a word, entirely her own Aimee had walked the aisles in awe. Shelves staked full reached to the ceiling like caste walls, the labels were bright, eye catching and with eyes wide open she had pranced ahead of her mother, brown hair swinging behind her in loose plaits, black Mary Jane’s tapping on the cold floor. Soon she become so absorbed in this fantasy world. Where everything was bright and ripe and full, where there was an entire row for chocolate, each foil wrapper waiting to be opened and apples polished and gleaming. Aimee became so involved, hypnotised that she was unaware that the mother who had been at her heels previously had vanished. And when your four-years-old, and you realise that the person who is supposed to be looking after you, standing guard over you, is no longer there the feeling that boils within, turning your veins to ice and creeping its way inch by inch up the back of your throat, is that of sheer terror.

Needless to say she froze in her steps, and the tall stacking shelves she had once marvelled at became barriers between everything she knew and everything she didn’t. It was then she had started runningrunningrunning. Backwards through the aisles, eyes frantic, plaits flying behind her in the wind of her path. A scream was on her lips but never got any further. She’d been so alone, so completely petrified that she hadn’t been able to think, hadn’t been able to see and it was only when she fell into the arms of her mother, being scooped up and pulled close, that she felt any form of normalcy.

Aimee too often raced through life blindly. She went fast, running life as though it were a race. It wasn’t her competitive streak that made her accelerate it was simply the fear of slowing down and not being caught. Aimee crammed her days so full she didn’t have time to think or breath, she booked appointments and made them overlap just to make herself hurry and feel the pressure of each tick of the clock. It was the urgency of things in life that drew her to them. Her work was demanding, savings lives was no walk in the park and sure you needed to do the job well but most of the time, in true emergencies it needed to be done quickly also. One needed to act instantly, know precisely what to do and have their mind so focused there was no room for anything else. Her work was addictive, just like the other element of her life that caused her blood to pump faster. Sean Andrews.

People tended to hate or love Sean, he wasn’t an in between guy. His arrogance and ability to wriggle his way out of anything were equally a marvel as they were annoying. There was possibly only one other woman on this earth that can understand Aimee’s reasons, her attraction to him, and that was Cassandra.

Which was one of the reasons Carrie still didn’t know. The others revolving around disappointment in herself and not wanting Carrie to look at her and see one big mistake, an idiot. She didn’t want her doubts and disappointments in herself to be reflected in her best friends eyes. It ate Aimee up though, not being able to tell her. It was like none of this was completely real until she could sit on the couch with Carrie and chat about it as though it was a natural topic of discussion. And my god, how Aimee wanted this to be real.

Aimee melted under his smile. It was simple things like that a smile, a soft word, a caressing touch that reminded Aimee Sean was real, that under his thick skin and ego he was a guy with a heart.

It was the combination of those guys that had made her fall for him. The arrogant ass hole and the sweetheart, though admittedly, she tended to see one side a little more than the other.

The distance between was closed once more, this time by his doing, a single step and they were a breath apart, his hands on her cheeks guiding her chin, her eyes to look at him. After a moments hesitancy she rose her eyes to his, imagining what it would be like for someone to walk in and find them like this. So close, touching and now, as Aimee pressed her lips to his, kissing.

Indeed, just that would have made the woman she recognised as her mother, blush.

[Sean Andrews]

Sean was fourteen when he had his first kiss. He was a fourth year Ravenclaw, she a sixth year Gryffindor. He couldn’t even remember how he knew her, or why. But he remembered the kiss. He had no idea what he was doing, and she, being so much older, was angry at his lack of knowledge. But he would always treasure that moment. She lead him out in to the gardens, sat him down, looked around until he made sure her boyfriend was watching and then started snogging him madly. The boyfriend noticed right away, marched his way over to them, ready to kick Sean’s ass. Luckily the girl saved Sean, telling the boyfriend that she only kissed him to get him jealous. Sean wasn’t willing to stick around to hear the rest, and booked it out of there.

The first time Sean kissed Aimee he knew that there was something there. It was in his office. They had both been working late. He didn’t plan on it happening but it did and he didn’t regret it at all. Anyone within a 5 mile radius could have felt the sexual tension between them that night. It was obscene. It was unavoidable that they would end up in his office for a mad snogging session.

It was funny how kissing her now, felt just as passionate and fresh as it had then. The kiss started off innocent enough, all tender and sweet. But it wasn’t enough. Sean wanted her so much, he wanted to live with her, sleep by her side every night. To touch her, taste her, be hers, and she his. Sean deepened the kiss, mischievously sliding his tongue between her lips, and into her mouth. His hands slipped from her checks, one hand nestled against the crock of her neck, the other slowly tracing it’s way down her spine, to rest in the small of her back.

“Aimee”

He half whispered, half moaned against his mouth.

He deepened the kiss again, eating hungrily at her mouth. He down pushed her against the wall, not in a harsh way, but he was too blinded by passion for it be gentle. His hands slid down her slender body with a mind of their own.

[painfully short.
-stabs eyes-
Sorry
Next one will be longer]]

[Aimee Kensington]

His name was Benny. And he had once been Aimee’s entire world, her ticket to another dimension, her drug, her first love and her first disappointment. Aimee had met him at the back of the room of a party for a girl she didn’t remember the name of. He’d hung back in the shadows like a mystery, blowing smoke clouds tainted by alcohol. Everything after their first conversation was way too fast but she enjoyed the thrill as though going slow wasn’t an option. Benny was a drinker, a smoker, a secret. He stole her heart with his dark eyes and equally dark mouth that were clamped constantly over a smoke. He had rough hands and devious plans, a different idea as to how life was meant to be lived. She kept him entirely to herself, knowing her parents would disapprove and never wanting to hear a bad word against him. He was a drug, so wrong but with his mouth frantic over hers, nothing seemed righter.

And then all of a sudden she woke up and realised what she was loosing, sacrificing for the boy with wandering hands. She had been sixteen and he, nineteen. She had been the one to break it off after seeing him haggle with a quiet guy in her class, to antics she had once applauded she now saw the wrong side, the true dark side. On the inside Benny hated himself, he felt so small he had to bring others down so far to tower over them. He lived for attention, the fast life. But it was too fast for Aimee, too much and she had told him so. It was when she chose to take her leave, turning her back on him he had grabbed her, pushing her up against the wall, too hard. The fag always in his mouth left and suddenly it was on her, pressing hard on the skin of her left breast, burning. Aimee tried to pull from his hold, she wriggled in his hands, scared and he’d done nothing but smile, not pulling away until he’d left a burn on her skin and the taste of smoke in her mouth.

Aimee hated cigarettes. Not because they killed thousands, not because it was like committing suicide publicly, not because Sean did it and she couldn’t muster the idea of him dying from the inside, but because of Benny and his last words.

‘Something to remember me by.’

Aimee fell for men from a parallel universe. Benny came from the wrong side of the tracks, with wrong ideals and a burden of misfortunes. Sean on the other hand, was married, which technically meant of limits and yet here she was and here he was, her back to the wall, his mouth on hers. It was in these moments she felt complete.

There was a clunk at she dropped her clipboard, her hands went from his cheek to his hair, running her fingertips through it, wanting to be as close to him as she possibly could. She pulled her lips away from his mouth and trailed them down his neck, her hands slipping to his lower back. She wanted this. So much in fact she wasn’t registering the fact that this was a public stairwell, meaning the public were open to it, meaning that anyone could walk up or down those stairs at any time and see them in a rather compromising position. Therefore it wasn’t the fear of being caught that had slid her hand between them to his chest, resting it there for a moment, her head back and her eyes set, watching him. She wanted him closer again, to entwine their bodies once more but there was that guilt again. The guilt that stabbed at her heart and soul and promised to rip her limb from limb. She wanted him but he had a wife and a family home and no doubt, a shared bank vault at the wizarding bank. She wanted all of him but that was something that couldn’t be given. Cassandra held Aimee’s dreams in her hands and she didn’t even know.

And there were so many things he didn’t know about her either. Her mother, her entire family for that matter.

Her eyes looked at him, dark, daring him to move as she offered him a piece of her soul, a secret.

“My sister’s husband left her and their two children yesterday morning for another woman. I’m that other woman aren’t I?”

She paused, shaking her head, surprised at her courage to keep her eyes on his. Aimee always seemed to look away, not wanting to see the truth that slipped into his eyes.

“There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Silently she slipped past him, pulling open the door and disappearing, back to her job, back to her responsibilities. Just the idea of that made her feel slightly braver. Finding her mother’s closed door she hovered before it. She was not seriously doing this. There was no way she was seriously doing this. From the small window she could see her sitting on her bed with one knee bent up and the other crossed underneath, a remote was balanced on thigh and her brow was creased with concentration. She was painting her nails, once again. Aimee watched her, from where she was standing the woman looked insane, and there was no doubt in Aimee’s mind that that would be exactly what Sean saw when he looked at her.

This was a mistake, just another regret.


[[Mine's a little dodgy. I'm still coming to terms with the Aimee character.
Lol.]]

[Sean Andrews]

Sean knew Aimee’s scar on her breast, he had seen in many times, but had never asked. He thought it was just a scar, a scar in an unusual place, but a scar all the same. Sean never asked about any of Aimee’s ex lovers. He didn’t want to know about them, just like Aimee wished she didn’t know about Cassandra. But they wasn’t really a choice there. Cassandra came first, and legally she was still with Sean, if not emotionally.

Sean knew that Aimee hated being an affair, hated being the other women. He knew that, but what could he do. If he left Cassandra now, it would be a public humiliation. That he, Sean, was so eager to be out of the marriage that he left her for a women he had only known for a month. Yet if he waited longer, she could find out or someone else could find out and tell her. He wasn’t sure which was worse. He may not love her anymore, but he didn’t want to hurt her more then he had too.

Yet Sean wasn’t even sure if he wanted to leave Cassandra. He was sure he didn’t love her anymore; yet leaving her seemed so hard, so cold, so mean. It was unlike him to truly care about someone else’s feelings, to not be a jack off. But god, he was so confused. He wanted Aimee, wanted her so bad. Yet Cassandra was there, in his mind, in his home, and his bed. He was one man, with two women. Sounds great on paper, in real life? Hell.

This was the single hardest thing Sean had ever experienced in his life. It was harder then moving out on his own, harder then fights with anyone, harder then his job, harder then losing patients. And it was defiantly the hardest relationship. His school loves, had been nothing. He had never really felt anything much more then lust for the girls. He remembered spending most of his days trying to get into their pants, and then dumping them shortly afterwards. He was an ass, but he had grown up since then. At least he liked to think so.

In moments like this, this kissing in the stairwell. It made up his mind for him, in these moments he was ready to leave Cassandra. Ready to leave her, and leave the life he knew to be with Aimee. Every kiss, every touch made him want her more. He know understood why in those fairy tales that they stash princesses up in towers, locked them in there. Of course Sean would have locked himself in the tower with her, but that was besides the point.

And then Aimee pulled away, something that happen to much for Sean’s liking. He looked down at her, with such emotion in his eyes, but she looked away. She always looked away. He supposes that guilt was the reason. And he was apparently right. Other women? Yes, but it wasn’t same. He didn’t have kids, he barely had a life with Cassandra, at times it felt like they were just rooming together, coexisting rather then living together. And this was long before Aimee even came into the picture.

“No Aimee. No. Listen. Things with Cassandra were fucked up long before we met. And listen we don’t’ even have kids. Aimee. Your not that.”

He gave her a tight hug, before she surprised him by saying she had someone for him to meet.

“Sure.”

He followed her silently, ranking his fingers through his hair, to make lay flat, look normal, look like they weren’t macking the stairs only moments ago. He didn’t saying, as they walked through her ward, stopping at a door. He peaked inside, it looked like the room belonged to an over grown teenager. And the overgrown teenager looked like Aimee.

“Aimee. What…Who’s room is this?”

[Aimee Kensington]

Too many hours she had spent lost in world where they could be together. They were wasted hours in reality, crushed by the glint of gold, his wedding band, crushed by the small kiss he shared with his wife when they met on the floor. Crushed when she realised the affects of what would happen if they actually came true. In Aimee’s fantasies there was nothing but them together in a variety of settings, a home, shopping, doing crossword puzzles. In Aimee’s fantasies it was her who he kissed in the corridor, her who he woke up next to each morning, her he would turn to. Her jealousy for Cassandra who had such simple things ran too deep in her blood. It poisoned her, tainted her but that jealousy never scarred her lips. With Sean Aimee wasn’t looking for the fairytale ending she was looking for those small things in a relationship that people took for granted, the shared look across a room, the ability to sense the other when they were near, the sharing a bed, sharing a moment, sharing a life. There were some things on her list that they already had but did it truly count if the other was married to another woman? Did it truly count when you couldn’t publicly proclaim them as yours?

There were things in her fantasies that Aimee had somewhat conveniently left out. The major one being how is affected everyone else around them, particularly Cassandra. Never had she run over the idea of Sean ending it with Cassandra, she couldn’t actually bring herself to think about it. It was just so- so strange. It had always been Cassandra and Sean Andrews and well, his dirty mistress Aimee Kensington but she was more a footnote at the end of the story. She was Sean’s weakness, his flaw.

Aimee didn’t tear her eyes away from the small window in the door. Inside was the woman that had taught her everything, how to cook, though not very successfully, what was right, what was wrong. Inside was the woman who had held her when her world fell apart just so she knew there was someone there who was stable, someone there who wasn’t going to turn her world upside down. It pained her entire family to see the woman who had been such a strong presence in their house whither away to this.

Aimee ran her fingers on the door, still not daring to believe that she had actually led Sean to this door, her door. His words still echoed in her head.

No Aimee. No. Listen. Things with Cassandra were fucked up long before we met. And listen we don’t’ even have kids. Aimee. Your not that.

As soon up to her Aimee turned and placed a hand on his chest. It didn’t matter that this was a public floor that anyone could walk past. If anyone dared question her she’d say she was asking medical advice…several centimetres from his face.

“That’s not the point. It doesn’t matter that you don’t have kids. It’s just-”

She shook her head and her eyes grazed the floor for comfort. She didn’t find any and so raised her eyes to his once more leaving that conversation to burn the back of her mind for another day.

Noticing Sean’s eyes look behind her Aimee turned her attention back to the small window. Lydia had returned the nail polish to her bedside table and was arching both feet out in front of her waiting for the polish to dry. She was flicking through the channels with a expression of upmost boredom.

“Lydia Raymond.”

She paused wondering if he’d remember the name from the moment before in the stairwell. She wondered if he had enough time to digest everything to put two and two together. Upset Aimee in stairwell over patient, Aimee checking on a Ms Lydia Raymond, Aimee now disclosing information that was normally kept secret.

“She’s- She’s…”

Crazy.
A teenager trapped inside a teenager’s body.
A lover of music.
An excellent cook.

“My mother.”