Thread: Hysteria  [Father & Forbidden]

There were many things he could do to immediately halt the moment, but he did not and he was not entirely sure whether it was surprise or a wish for it to continue that prevented him from doing so. Her lips were like heaven upon his own skin, the feel of her moving against him, and her hands tightening on his shoulders. He had allowed this, he knew that deep down inside of himself, allowed it for whatever reason. He could have prevented her from touching him, pushed her away from him, and had a measure of space between them...but instead he had let her hold him tight and mold her body to his own in order to kiss him. Did he feel her tongue against his own as the unasked kiss continued between them? The headiness nearly overwhelmed him in the nearness, her natural scent intoxicating in the close proximity and he found himself barely capable of thought. Did he want to think though? She had mentioned her husband in the midst of that kiss, and that frightened him deeply. Not that he felt she was a danger, but that he felt he had misjudged his true ability to aid her in her time of trouble. Perhaps she was far more damaged than he realized. Francis must have been so incredibly important, far more important than any person the doctor had ever had in his own life. The trauma, the responsibility, the guilt...why did it consume her so much that it had ruined her to this point? Made her uncertain not only of who and where she was, but in fact made her uncertain of what reality she truly existed within? The records had so little of what had truly happened and he would have to muddle his way through it just as he worked his way through this with her. As the kiss broke for a moment his teeth gritted, and he turned his face away to forestall any further affection. As he caught his breath he hurriedly tried to find some measure to control the situation once more, to find his way back into angling the conversation in a way that would ensure not only the safety of his patient but allow for a break in the physical contact. He knew Henry had rejected Anne Boleyn, like many people he knew the vague historical ideas. More than that he knew Henry had executed her, though even with the ludicrousness of the moment he couldn't imagine doing any harm to this beautiful young woman. No, he would perhaps play the role to it's completion...merely to find out where it might lead, find out if there was anything more he could glean from what had happened to her and her....Francis, and then maybe later he could research this role and be better prepared for their next discussion. He stood, pushing her away from him with his muscled thigh as he moved past her and towards the wall facing away from her. His face was hidden from her as he stood there and his hand reached out to turn off the music that had been playing on the 80's station, plunging them into silence. He stood there before speaking, the voice rough and perhaps there was a bit more to the act...a bit of jealousy having creeped in as he realized that he would never be as important as her late husband. That bothered him for some reason...bothered him deeply. Anne, he said, his head finally turning to look at her. Accept your apology? Offer you mercy? What have you done to receive my forgiveness? What have you given, could you give, that I might pardon your crimes and accept you back?