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[Deniaud/Salieri] Collaboration Log
Music Database on Shuffle: Good Grief
You might have to excuse me.
I’ve lost control of all my senses.
And you might have to excuse me.
I’ve lost control of all my words.
So get drunk, call me a fool.
Put me in my place. Put me in my place.
She had slipped out of the cottage after her drunk-induced nap only to find that most of the guests had been ushered away. Only the families of the former bride and groom were left, both parties doing their best to avoid the other as they packed up any sign that their children had been in the manor. It would be another day or two before the grounds were silent from the murmurings of the scandalous affair. The diminutive woman sat quietly under the white tent. Tables around her were perfectly set for a dinner that never happened. There was a near eerie silence that surrounded her, much more than was normal for winter. Marielle was sure it was her imagination, that it was only the fact that an unused dance floor was lacking without the gentle shuffling of soles over its polished surface. Her bridesmaid dress was wrinkled from her nap, her hair a mess of gentle curled waves even hours after her dark locks had been let loose from their intricate updo of braids and twisted strands.
“What a night, huh?”
Marielle turned and hazy emerald irises settled on the best man. “Tell me about it,” she muttered in response. She slumped back into her chair and sighed. “This should all be picked up tomorrow. It’ll be good not to have to deal with the accusing stares.” She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but it certainly felt as if she was being blamed. Without her brother to take ownership for the mess of a breakup, she was the proxy to the stares and whispers.
“That’d be good,” the medical officer agreed softly. He made his way to stand beside her and stood just beside her, his hands in his pockets. He remained in his tuxedo, but the bowtie had been untied and hung unassumingly around his neck. A button was undone and his posture was easy despite the mess of thoughts that muddled his emotions. “Where’s the security guard?”
She grunted at the less-than-subtle jab at Gideon’s position. “Chief of Security,” she all but snapped. “And he’s sleeping.”
He hummed but did not apologise for the slight. He lingered by her side before offering his hand to her. “Come on,” Adam insisted softly. “I know you’re staring at that floor and thinking how shameful it is that it isn’t fulfilling its purpose.”
The diminutive woman turned her chin and stared up at him. She couldn’t help but raise a brow, a smirk pulling at her lips. “Really? You think you know me?” When he simply stared at her as if she should know better than to ask, Marielle laughed. Her hand slipped into his and she followed him as he led her to the dance floor. They easily fell into position, and she wondered if his frame was always so weak. She winced when he stepped on her foot.
“Sorry,” he muttered weakly. He chuckled at himself and shook his head. Instead of leading her through the steps he had long forgotten, Adam simply swayed with her. He moved slowly and was silent until he began to hum. “Hold me close and hold me fast,” he sang softly. “The magic spell you cast. This is la vie en rose.” He tilted his chin and rested his cheek on the top of her head. “When you kiss me heaven sighs and though I close my eyes, I see la vie en rose. When you press me to your heart, I’m in a world apart. A world where roses bloom.”
Her eyes closed as they moved slowly together. She sighed softly. There was no warmth in his embrace. Only confusion. She said nothing as he continued to sing, his untrained voice trembling. ‘What am I going to do?’ she thought to herself again. ‘What do I say to Papa? How do protect Renard?’
“And when you speak, angels sing from above. Everyday words seem to turn into love songs,” he sang softly. The Betazoid was content to hold her despite the swell of her emotions, the confusion heavy and anguish thick. “Give your heart and soul to me and life will always be la vie en rose,” he whispered, speaking the last verse of their song. He continued to sway with her.
She waited some time for him to speak. Seconds turned into minutes and she was sure he would never say a word. “What are we doing?” she managed finally, breaking the silence. She tilted her chin, forcing him to lift his cheek from the top of her head. Marielle looked up at him. She was unsure of what to think, uncertain if she was reading the signals wrong. Thoughts of Gideon were at the forefront, but she made no mention of him. She felt it didn’t need to be said.
Adam dipped his chin to look down at her. He smiled tenderly. “I’m dancing with my best friend,” he whispered. His eyes searched the depths of her flawless emerald and he dared to lower his lips towards hers.
“Whoa!” Her eyes widened at the less than subtle movement and her body reacted before she even thought to move. Marielle quickly ripped her hand from his and took a step back, adding some much needed distance between them. “What are you doing?” She nearly screamed at him, nearly slapped him. “I’m not- I’m with- You’re with Vanessa!”
“I don’t want Vanessa,” he forced himself to remain rooted in place. He frowned as he saw her take another step away from him. “I want you.” The Betazoid sighed and roughly ran his fingers through his hair. “Maddie- Why can’t we be together? We were so good together. We were- are Adam and Maddie. You can’t tell me you feel nothing for me. After everything we’ve been through? We still connect. We’re still connected. You still love me.” He dared to take a step towards her.
She stumbled back and lifted her hand up to stop him. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she managed. She motioned in the direction of the cottage. “Gideon is right there. What makes you think that I would-”
“He’s a grunt,” he interrupted as he shook his head. “You have nothing in common with him. What the hell does he offer you? Can’t be conversation because I’m barely smart enough to keep up with you and he’s nowhere-”
“Don’t you frakking ever call him dumb!” she snapped, feeling her irritation swell. Defensiveness for the security chief quickly took hold of her senses. “Gideon is a good man! He’s kind and he’s loving! Who are you to decide-”
“I’m your husband-!”
“Former!” Marielle finally screamed, her tone harsh as she nearly spat out the words. “Former husband! You left me, remember?!” Her hands formed fists. Years of doubt and regret tumbled from her lips. “You couldn’t even stand to be with me for a year! Not one year! You were off on your ship and your internship and you couldn’t even stand to write to me when we were married! Then you come back and you tell me it’s over?! We never got a chance to be married because you ran off!” She could not stop despite how desperately she wanted to put the cork back into the bottle. “And what? You think you have some claim to me because I got on my knees and you got your frakking rocks off?!” She suddenly stepped forward simply so she could push him back.
There was nothing he could say to counter her claim and Adam could only stare with his shock as he stumbled back. He watched as she trembled, watched as she fought to control the surge of emotions that threatened to crush her. He could say nothing.
The diminutive woman fell back a half step and wiped away her tears. “Do you know what I feel when I think of us? How ashamed I am of what we’ve done?” She huffed with disbelief. “She doesn’t deserve this. I don’t deserve this.” She shook her head and turned to begin weaving through the maze of tables.
“I love you, Maddie. I don’t want Vanessa,” he called out to her. His steps were quick and he reached out for her hand. Disappointment hit him hard when she ripped her hand away. “Look. I messed up. I know, but it’s us. Look at Lexie and your brother. They found each other again because they both took a chance. Why can’t that be us?” Adam found hope in how she didn’t storm away. It didn’t matter that she refused to turn to look at him. “Maddie, please. Just look at me.”
Her eyes rolled to stare up at the ceiling. ‘Why the frak did I come back to Earth? This has got to be the worst holiday in the existence of all holidays.’ The diminutive woman silently cursed the heavens, cursed her best friends, and cursed her family. She couldn’t decide if she was frustrated, sad, tired, or simply angry. There was simply too much vying for her attention and she could feel control slipping from her fingers. She shook her head and resumed her retreat. “Go to bed, Adam,” she suggested, doing her best to sound as if the moment between them hadn’t happened. “I’ll see you in the morning.” It took everything in her not to run.