Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow

...Another Thing to Fall Part One

A/N:  First part of the final chapter. Some emotional smut, and lots of thinking about Mabel...

August 1921

"I smell like that place," Clara whispered, still wrapped in his jacket as they went up the stairs even though the house, to him, was stifling.

"Do you want. A bath?"

Clara shook her head adamantly, almost losing her precarious balance. "No!"

He reached out to steady her as they stepped into the second floor. Richard tried to keep from staring at the red and purple ring of raw flesh around her neck. Something had been said about water treatment, and now he wished he'd asked Rose what that meant. The dark bruises around her wrists and ankles could have only come from restraints. They tied her down, and she'd fought against them. The discoloration was worse on her right arm, the bruising fading to green around her forearm. For a moment, he saw broken yellow blisters instead of fresh bruises and closed his eyes to push away the delusion and focus on his wife.

Turning the shower on as hot as it would go he turned back to help her as she clumsily attempted to undress.

Yes, Clara thought as her blouse fell to the floor, now Richard was the last person who undressed her, instead of some nurse preparing her for the next horror. It could all be washed away, she determined, and then they could go to bed, and then she would sleep and it would fade into something that happened to her once.

Stumbling into the shower Clara let the hot water pour over her. She braced against the tile wall in an attempt to stay upright, fighting to keep her legs going out from underneath her. She closed her eyes and stepped into the spray, hoping the hot water would drive away the cold. Drive away the smell. It felt like the antiseptic stench of the sanitarium was embedded in her flesh.

The shower curtain opened and she felt Richard slide in behind her. That was quick, she thought, but she was aware time was still vague in her mind. His fingertip trailed slightly down the inside of her arm, making her shiver in a different way. Then she heard the twist of the metal cap of her shampoo bottle before his hands descended into her hair. She closed her eyes and leaned back a little. Much better than washing her own, she thought dreamily as his fingertips worked across her scalp, and then he guided her head under the water. Wooziness hit her again, and he caught her and wrapped an arm around her ribs.

"Mmm. Are you okay?" he whispered into her ear.

Clara nodded. She wasn't sure how he managed to get her bar of orange soap in his hand, but he was slowly bringing it up her arm and across her clavicle and the sensation sent shivers down her spine. She leaned back against him fully and felt him against her. Suddenly he stepped back.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her hand reaching out for the wall to steady herself as she turned around.

Richard wouldn't look up at her.

"It's not the. Time," he answered.

"Stop acting like I'm made of glass!" Clara snapped as she realized why he moved away. The exhaustion, the drugs, the fear, all of it overwhelmed her reticence. "Why are you afraid to want me?"

He shook his head. "Clara. I..."

Still braced against the wall Clara clumsily lowered herself to her knees. Things were going to be normal, she thought. They had to be normal, and she'd do what she must to find normalcy.

The element of surprise worked in her favor. She ran her tongue along the underside of his cock, feeling it jerk against her face before opening her mouth and slowly sliding her mouth over the crown. Hearing him gasp, she put her hand on the back of his leg and pulled him more firmly into her mouth.