What He Couldn't Give, She Gave
Series: Pandora Hearts
Characters: Sharon Rainsworth, Xerxes Break, mention of Reim Lunettes
Disclaimer: Mochizuki Jun owns Pandora Hearts.
Title: What He Couldn't Give, She Gave
Rating: G
Genre: Drama, hurt/comfort
Summary: While Xerxes deprives her of his trust, she continues to give him hers.
Notes: A small dedication to proud_illusion!
Xerxes didn't trust her.
He didn't, hence why he'd withheld information from her. Amidst what had been shared by the people who'd gone to Sablier and returned, there had been a hole in his agenda, a time he hadn't been around anyone else and essentially alone. But that was not all of it, Sharon knew that much for certain the moment she'd look at him after three painstaking days of waiting. Knowing that he didn't trust her with this secret knowledge of his did little in making her feel better. She'd been relieved, felt as though a huge burden had been lifted from her when she saw him awake at last, but there remained a sinking feeling that refused to leave.
He didn't trust her, and it hurt her.
She'd always confided in him. The big brother she'd longed for since as a child, he had been the answer to her wish shortly after Reim had been temporarily appointed as one. Sharon had clung onto him and had even sewn Emily, that doll he'd somehow grown attached to despite her lack of talent in the field, and she'd hardly ever excluded him from any of her daily activities. No, Xerxes knew far more about her than any other servant did, more than anyone else in their merry little group.
Therefore it was more than a little unfair to her that he wouldn't return the favor. Every man possessed a secret they held onto dearly, but surely he could spare her a few words, perhaps a hint? She was out in the dark, the cold where she was unprotected and shut out. She wanted in, but it was as though he'd put up a sign that ruled out children, indicating that he still, after all these years, saw her as a child. Sharon had worked hard over the decade in order to gain proper recognition from her dear brother, and in the end he always -- always, no matter what -- refused to do just that for her.
It was unfair and immature of both he and herself. He for being persistent and stubborn in seeing her for someone other than a mere child, a little sister to be overprotective over; and herself for throwing an internal tantrum over being ruled out of something that not only she was excluded from. However, as his mistress and -- and sister, she'd expected something. Yet he gave nothing, only a look that was meant to reassure her, which merely resulted in unsettling her more.
Well, she decided. If he didn't want to tell, she'd have to pry it out of him one way or another. A servant could not withhold potentially important information from his mistress, and she would see to this situation in a mistress to servant perspective. Xerxes would not, would not be able to, to keep her out and in the dark.
At approximately six o'clock she stepped into the room on her lonesome, closing the door behind her as her gaze rested on the bed.
He wasn't there.
Panic was about to overtake her when her head thought to tilt to the side, at which point her peripherals caught sight of Xerxes sitting before a low table, a cup in his hand and another on the furniture across him. He'd been expecting a visitor, it seemed. She stood her ground and watched as he placed the cup down onto the table, resting an arm on the chair as he glanced in her general direction.
"What brings you here at this hour, Milady~?"
"You're not in bed," she said.
There was that smile he used to partially avoid the core of the subject, adding a lighter tone to the mood that was ultimately tense and strained. "Well, I didn't wish to possibly stain the bed by spilling the tea. That simply wouldn't do, now would it?"
"I suppose." She approached the table and sat herself on the other end, knowing well that he'd set the tea and cups ready in advance for her visit. He seemed to have a sixth sense for these sort of things, but it was one of the convenient qualities he possessed that made him who he was. "It would certainly have given the maids more unnecessary work to do."
"Indeed." With that the conversation simply died. Xerxes leaned back against the chair and closed his eyes, fingering the cup that was in his hands again. The gesture made Sharon uncomfortable for a reason she couldn't point out, and she tightened her grip on her own cup.
" . . . Break," she started. "Is there more you're refusing to disclose?"
His eye snapped open and shifted over to her direction. "Hm? . . . -- ah, you mean Sablier."
She nodded. "Possibly, if what you have in mind has anything to do with the place." Something told her that it partially wasn't. Something, somehow.
And then he laughed.
Normally she would have stared deadpan in his direction, absorbing in his ha-ha's with ease due to the familiarity of the situation in numerous cases, but it was different this time. She was taken aback by his soft yet audacious outburst, that laugh of his that was more than a simple chuckle that implied that he was feeling something more than amused. She suddenly felt small, completely relinquishing her hold on the cup as it clattered onto the saucer right beneath it. Her eyes refused to leave his face, those lips that were tugged upright in the most strained fashion she'd ever seen in fifteen years, how his head nodded back and forth to accompany his trembling shoulders as his laugh slowly subsided.
She was still staring when he re-opened his eye, leaned over the table and studied her face. Right into her eyes -- . . .
. . . right into her eyes.
"Milady," he addressed, that smile that had been there seconds ago completely gone with no traces of it left. "Are you suspicious of me?"
Sharon swallowed. "Yes. I am suspicious of you."
To her relief and utmost devastation, he nodded, sat back down and confirmed her suspicions. "You've always had a perceptiveness for the smallest things."
"Why?" She wanted to know why he was telling her this much but remained quiet on what he was hiding. He knew it would haunt her, that it was taunting her, that it would destroy something within her once she found out that he couldn't give his all to her. She wanted to know.
Abruptly, before he could offer a presumably vague answer to her more than necessarily complex question, she rose from her seat and went around the table. Since she could not bear to see his face for the time when he would give his answer, she moved behind him, her back to his. Normally, she would have stayed where she was and take the truth in head-on, but this was something else entirely. When her movement ceased and the sounds of her footsteps with it, she could hear the cup in his hand being placed down onto the table. There was a short moment of silence which felt like an eternity, when his low, soft yet cutting voice sounded throughout the room.
"There are things better left unknown for the time being, Sharon."
She whipped around, her hands clutching the fabric of her dress as her unfocused gaze rested on his figure. She bit into her lower lip before quickly opening them in an effort to not cut into the skin and get her message across. His head was cocked to the side, though not in an attempt to look over his shoulder, simply in order to acknowledge her position, and it didn't help her any. Rather, she would have preferred for him to have looked straight ahead and not bother to turn towards her. Stepping forward and closer to him, she rested her hands on her chest.
"Break -- "
Xerxes pushed his chair out and jerked to the side, rising from his seat as he turned towards her. But not nearly, and when he came to a dead stop to her left, she looked questioningly at him, the words she'd meant to say drowned out in the silence.
"Yes?" When he made no sign of further movement, she took two, three steps back and searched his face. Her shoulders slackened and Sharon lowered her arms to her sides, the burst of anger having dissipated so soon.
"Break . . . "
You're looking the wrong way.
He cocked his head to the side once more, but again the angle was slightly off. It wasn't only his gaze, no, he could have faked that he was using his peripherals or refusing to meet her gaze, but it was that his entire body was positioned in a way that was awkward for conversation and indicated that he clearly had no idea where exactly she was standing immediately before him. For Sharon, it was like looking into a mirror. Xerxes stood waiting, waiting for an answer from her whilst he threw a guess at where she was, like he was in the dark where he couldn't see.
Where he couldn't see. Suddenly Sharon's world of darkness seemed to have grown dimmer; darker. Nevertheless she kept herself from saying anything that she would regret in the near future, and instead forced a smile upon her features. He would not be able to see it, but he would be able to hear the desired effects. She knew he would see through her effort being needlessly optimistic (after all, this was merely between him and her), but she would refrain from causing any more damage than what was already done.
"Nothing," she said in the politest tone she could muster up for the moment. Without taking another glance at his face she promptly walked past him and directly for the door. She ignored his call for her attention and stopped mid-way as she pulled the door open, slowly but surely.
"It really is nothing. Please, rest while you are able. I doubt Pandora will allow you to rest forever and will put you back to work as soon as possible." She was now on the other side of the door, beginning to close it quietly as opposed to her usual fashion of doing it roughly when it was only herself. "I will drop by tomorrow."
A door now stood between she and her brother. Sharon checked her hands; they were trembling, ever so slightly, enough to have made the door jar in a way that Xerxes surely would have picked up on her anxiety.
She'd trust him to keep quiet about it.
Characters: Sharon Rainsworth, Xerxes Break, mention of Reim Lunettes
Disclaimer: Mochizuki Jun owns Pandora Hearts.
Title: What He Couldn't Give, She Gave
Rating: G
Genre: Drama, hurt/comfort
Summary: While Xerxes deprives her of his trust, she continues to give him hers.
Notes: A small dedication to proud_illusion!
Xerxes didn't trust her.
He didn't, hence why he'd withheld information from her. Amidst what had been shared by the people who'd gone to Sablier and returned, there had been a hole in his agenda, a time he hadn't been around anyone else and essentially alone. But that was not all of it, Sharon knew that much for certain the moment she'd look at him after three painstaking days of waiting. Knowing that he didn't trust her with this secret knowledge of his did little in making her feel better. She'd been relieved, felt as though a huge burden had been lifted from her when she saw him awake at last, but there remained a sinking feeling that refused to leave.
He didn't trust her, and it hurt her.
She'd always confided in him. The big brother she'd longed for since as a child, he had been the answer to her wish shortly after Reim had been temporarily appointed as one. Sharon had clung onto him and had even sewn Emily, that doll he'd somehow grown attached to despite her lack of talent in the field, and she'd hardly ever excluded him from any of her daily activities. No, Xerxes knew far more about her than any other servant did, more than anyone else in their merry little group.
Therefore it was more than a little unfair to her that he wouldn't return the favor. Every man possessed a secret they held onto dearly, but surely he could spare her a few words, perhaps a hint? She was out in the dark, the cold where she was unprotected and shut out. She wanted in, but it was as though he'd put up a sign that ruled out children, indicating that he still, after all these years, saw her as a child. Sharon had worked hard over the decade in order to gain proper recognition from her dear brother, and in the end he always -- always, no matter what -- refused to do just that for her.
It was unfair and immature of both he and herself. He for being persistent and stubborn in seeing her for someone other than a mere child, a little sister to be overprotective over; and herself for throwing an internal tantrum over being ruled out of something that not only she was excluded from. However, as his mistress and -- and sister, she'd expected something. Yet he gave nothing, only a look that was meant to reassure her, which merely resulted in unsettling her more.
Well, she decided. If he didn't want to tell, she'd have to pry it out of him one way or another. A servant could not withhold potentially important information from his mistress, and she would see to this situation in a mistress to servant perspective. Xerxes would not, would not be able to, to keep her out and in the dark.
At approximately six o'clock she stepped into the room on her lonesome, closing the door behind her as her gaze rested on the bed.
He wasn't there.
Panic was about to overtake her when her head thought to tilt to the side, at which point her peripherals caught sight of Xerxes sitting before a low table, a cup in his hand and another on the furniture across him. He'd been expecting a visitor, it seemed. She stood her ground and watched as he placed the cup down onto the table, resting an arm on the chair as he glanced in her general direction.
"What brings you here at this hour, Milady~?"
"You're not in bed," she said.
There was that smile he used to partially avoid the core of the subject, adding a lighter tone to the mood that was ultimately tense and strained. "Well, I didn't wish to possibly stain the bed by spilling the tea. That simply wouldn't do, now would it?"
"I suppose." She approached the table and sat herself on the other end, knowing well that he'd set the tea and cups ready in advance for her visit. He seemed to have a sixth sense for these sort of things, but it was one of the convenient qualities he possessed that made him who he was. "It would certainly have given the maids more unnecessary work to do."
"Indeed." With that the conversation simply died. Xerxes leaned back against the chair and closed his eyes, fingering the cup that was in his hands again. The gesture made Sharon uncomfortable for a reason she couldn't point out, and she tightened her grip on her own cup.
" . . . Break," she started. "Is there more you're refusing to disclose?"
His eye snapped open and shifted over to her direction. "Hm? . . . -- ah, you mean Sablier."
She nodded. "Possibly, if what you have in mind has anything to do with the place." Something told her that it partially wasn't. Something, somehow.
And then he laughed.
Normally she would have stared deadpan in his direction, absorbing in his ha-ha's with ease due to the familiarity of the situation in numerous cases, but it was different this time. She was taken aback by his soft yet audacious outburst, that laugh of his that was more than a simple chuckle that implied that he was feeling something more than amused. She suddenly felt small, completely relinquishing her hold on the cup as it clattered onto the saucer right beneath it. Her eyes refused to leave his face, those lips that were tugged upright in the most strained fashion she'd ever seen in fifteen years, how his head nodded back and forth to accompany his trembling shoulders as his laugh slowly subsided.
She was still staring when he re-opened his eye, leaned over the table and studied her face. Right into her eyes -- . . .
. . . right into her eyes.
"Milady," he addressed, that smile that had been there seconds ago completely gone with no traces of it left. "Are you suspicious of me?"
Sharon swallowed. "Yes. I am suspicious of you."
To her relief and utmost devastation, he nodded, sat back down and confirmed her suspicions. "You've always had a perceptiveness for the smallest things."
"Why?" She wanted to know why he was telling her this much but remained quiet on what he was hiding. He knew it would haunt her, that it was taunting her, that it would destroy something within her once she found out that he couldn't give his all to her. She wanted to know.
Abruptly, before he could offer a presumably vague answer to her more than necessarily complex question, she rose from her seat and went around the table. Since she could not bear to see his face for the time when he would give his answer, she moved behind him, her back to his. Normally, she would have stayed where she was and take the truth in head-on, but this was something else entirely. When her movement ceased and the sounds of her footsteps with it, she could hear the cup in his hand being placed down onto the table. There was a short moment of silence which felt like an eternity, when his low, soft yet cutting voice sounded throughout the room.
"There are things better left unknown for the time being, Sharon."
She whipped around, her hands clutching the fabric of her dress as her unfocused gaze rested on his figure. She bit into her lower lip before quickly opening them in an effort to not cut into the skin and get her message across. His head was cocked to the side, though not in an attempt to look over his shoulder, simply in order to acknowledge her position, and it didn't help her any. Rather, she would have preferred for him to have looked straight ahead and not bother to turn towards her. Stepping forward and closer to him, she rested her hands on her chest.
"Break -- "
Xerxes pushed his chair out and jerked to the side, rising from his seat as he turned towards her. But not nearly, and when he came to a dead stop to her left, she looked questioningly at him, the words she'd meant to say drowned out in the silence.
"Yes?" When he made no sign of further movement, she took two, three steps back and searched his face. Her shoulders slackened and Sharon lowered her arms to her sides, the burst of anger having dissipated so soon.
"Break . . . "
You're looking the wrong way.
He cocked his head to the side once more, but again the angle was slightly off. It wasn't only his gaze, no, he could have faked that he was using his peripherals or refusing to meet her gaze, but it was that his entire body was positioned in a way that was awkward for conversation and indicated that he clearly had no idea where exactly she was standing immediately before him. For Sharon, it was like looking into a mirror. Xerxes stood waiting, waiting for an answer from her whilst he threw a guess at where she was, like he was in the dark where he couldn't see.
Where he couldn't see. Suddenly Sharon's world of darkness seemed to have grown dimmer; darker. Nevertheless she kept herself from saying anything that she would regret in the near future, and instead forced a smile upon her features. He would not be able to see it, but he would be able to hear the desired effects. She knew he would see through her effort being needlessly optimistic (after all, this was merely between him and her), but she would refrain from causing any more damage than what was already done.
"Nothing," she said in the politest tone she could muster up for the moment. Without taking another glance at his face she promptly walked past him and directly for the door. She ignored his call for her attention and stopped mid-way as she pulled the door open, slowly but surely.
"It really is nothing. Please, rest while you are able. I doubt Pandora will allow you to rest forever and will put you back to work as soon as possible." She was now on the other side of the door, beginning to close it quietly as opposed to her usual fashion of doing it roughly when it was only herself. "I will drop by tomorrow."
A door now stood between she and her brother. Sharon checked her hands; they were trembling, ever so slightly, enough to have made the door jar in a way that Xerxes surely would have picked up on her anxiety.
She'd trust him to keep quiet about it.