This story is highly sappy. Please have Kleenexes nearby, don't sue me if you cry on your computer and short something out.

No objectionable language (I hope)
Minimal violence, and it's only suggested
No sex but beware of sappy kisses!

I am hoping to continue with this story sometime next month, probably later. I write kind of slow. Oh, one last thing: do I get honorary membership in D'MOB after this?

Whispers In The Dark

by Peg Carr

A warm breeze blew in the open window and enveloped the room in invisible haze. Irene lay still, listening, her ears straining to catch a whisper of sound, a footstep, a hand on the doorknob. Nothing, she told herself, it's nothing, but she knew better. Suddenly a sound: barely audible, almost like a knock. Her stomach tensed until she realized it wasn't coming from the hall, it was coming from the window.

As her feet hit the tepid floor, she willed herself to relax. She leaned slightly out the window, her loose hair falling around her face. In the darkness she could make out nothing. Strangely disappointed, she turned to go but heard a voice, quiet but insistent.

"Quick, help me up before I fall and break my neck!"

"Ray?!" she asked, incredulously.

She leaned out the window again and made out a shape clutching the stone of her father's house. Ray, swathed completely in black, hung fast to her windowsill. She grabbed a hand and pulled. He shimmed into the room and ended up on the floor. As he regained his composure, he flashed her a grin.

"Didn't think I would do it, did you?"

"Keep your voice down! If my dad finds you here he'll kill us both!" she replied, exasperated. He never listens, she thought hopelessly.

"Look, you seemed kinda down today. I was worried. Besides, when a beautiful woman beckons me to her balcony..." he trailed off. His face softened into the sweet smile so few people ever witnessed. How did he know? she thought. He saw the sad look cross her face and inwardly grimaced. He took a step forward and caught her up in his arms. She couldn't help but bury her face into his shoulder and just let herself shake.

"Hey," he whispered softly, "It's okay. I know."

Irene knew he didn't understand but accepted his comfort wordlessly. She should have been a lot more worried, a guy was in her bedroom, and not just any guy...she was serious about her dad killing him. Somehow something inside her knew this was Ray, he could take care of himself. He managed to get into her room, the guy's got street smarts. She noticed he had put off his usual ebullient garb to blend in with the shadows. Black jeans, black shirt, but of course it was silk. Good old Ray, she thought. Never caught without a fashion statement.

Ray was worried, not just about being on Zuko turf. Irene was more upset than he had ever seen her. All her defenses were down. Ha, he thought to himself, look at me, I'm a walking target! But right now that didn't matter, nothing else mattered. He had been so angry when he left his house. It wasn't the first time, not by a long shot, that he had crawled down the drainpipe to go for a long walk. Things were hot in the Vecchio house and it wasn't the weather. But this night was different, he couldn't place why until he found himself staring up at Her window. He knew she hadn't been serious about asking him up today. Or maybe she had.

Irene must have gotten some of her composure back because she reached for her bathrobe. It would never do to greet a guest in a less than appropriate manner. God, she thought, maybe this manners thing is getting to me after all. The light she left off; the streetlights and starlight bathed the room in an otherworldly glow. She crouched down in front of the window, making sure her silhouette would not show from the outside. Never knew who might be watching, not in this house. She stretched her legs out in the glow of the moon and sighed. Ray sat down next to her and put his arm around her.

Neither spoke for a while, both caught up in their own thoughts. He watched her, how could he help it? Her hair kept falling in her face, even as she absentmindedly tried to tuck it behind her ears. The color of it was amazing: it seemed to absorb all the light. She felt light as an angel tucked under his arm. Ray wondered if he wasn't dreaming, that he would wake to find the sun pouring in under his eyelids.

Finally she spoke. "You should go," she said to him reluctantly. He knew he shouldn't push her, but he didn't want to leave her like this. He looked in her eyes for a long time, and finally said, "This is the thanks I get for risking my neck! Really, Irene, I didn't think you'd be this rude to a guest." She smiled and responded, "An uninvited guest? I don't think so."

His face turned into the light. "Hey, you let me in. I consider that an invitation."

He pulled her up and held her once more. "You going to be okay? I can stay you know." She smiled again, briefly, but the sadness hadn't left her eyes. "Yeah, if you really want your neck broken." She watched him slip out the window, more gracefully this time, and fell in a heap onto her bed.

When Ray reached his house he checked his watch: one a.m. That early? he thought to himself. Seemed like a lifetime up there...he still couldn't believe it had really happened. Hell, he thought, I can't believe I was that stupid. He didn't want to go back in, back to the real world where you are alone and cold most of the time. Except for tonight, tonight...

The next time he saw her was in the hall on his way to French class. As he brushed past her, their eyes met for a split second, and he knew with such clarity, it had really happened. He tried not to think about it, and managed to do a pretty good job. He had developed that habit a long time ago. But now things were different, Frank had left for college and the damn vulture wasn't watching her every minute. That had probably been what gave him the guts to finally make his way up the wall to her window.

Ray didn't make his way back to her window for another few weeks. He saw her, of course, in class, or after school hanging around the basketball court with the rest of the girls. He also went out with his friends on Friday nights, talked about cars and rock music and sex. All in large quantities. Then he noticed he hadn't seen her for a few days, her friends said she was sick or something. He hadn't realized how much he had come to depend on the moments they had together. It wasn't much, they had to be careful. Ray didn't really know how they managed to keep it quiet for so long. Perhaps they had been friends for so long, no one really bothered to look deeper. But Ray knew if he ever slipped, Frank would hear about it and that would be the end.

Ray found himself under an oak tree, staring up at her window. The dogs knew him by now, they seemed to think he was okay even though their owners would disagree. He didn't do it on purpose, they just came up and sniffed him and whined softly.

Her drapes were open. The window was cocked, almost listening. He summoned up his courage and ascended the stone wall with some help from the ivy.

"Irene?" he whispered, hoping. Suddenly she appeared to open the window and then disappeared into the darkness. This time it was truly dark in the room, he banged his knee in to something and let out a hushed yelp. Soon his eyes adjusted to the dim light enough to make out her shadow.

"I thought you would come," she whispered. "How did you know?" "I dunno, just from the girls or something." He rubbed his wounded knee.

She shook her head soundlessly. Ray, Ray, how do you do it? she asked herself. This guy would make Rhona Barrett proud. He finds out I'm sick without anyone realizing he's asking about me. He can't walk in a room without slamming the door but he climbs in my window and nobody sees a thing.

Ray watched her, waiting. He looked worried but didn't want to push her. Last time, she thought, it was a one-time thing. Now what do we do? She drew in a breath. "So, can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Grappling hooks?" He grinned, seeing she was okay, as much as he could see in this light. "Wait a minute," she told him, and rummaged around somewhere to come up with a lighter. "You hold this, I'll get a candle." She watched as Ray's face flickered in the dim light. He was hiding in the corner, shielding the glow from the window. She found the candle, lit it, and looked around. It was still too bright. "Um, Ray?" she whispered, "how do you feel about the closet?"

"It's a good thing your closet is the size of a stable, 'Rene," Ray remarked later when the candle was nearly gone. She made a face and glanced around for something to throw at him. They had made a nice little nest in Irene's "stable," using pillows and some blankets. Their conversation had lasted for hours. Ray told her everything she had missed: how Joey Mucillo made 23 free shots in a row on Thursday, and Teresa Gioia got caught smoking in the bathroom when she should have been in history class. She had heard about Teresa from the rest of her friends but listened to Ray tell her anyway. "You shouldn't have done, this, Ray," she protested at last. "I'll be back in school on Monday. It's just a cold and you could get sick too." He just smiled and kissed her on the forehead. "Yeah, well, now that Frank is gone you need a big brother."

She shot him an incredulous look. "Never thought I'd hear you compare yourself to my brother," she said. "Even though you've got everyone else convinced your intentions are honorable." "Is that so?" he asked and leaned closer. Their lips met and she couldn't help but giggle. "Now you _are_ going to get sick." He pulled back, unsure, but she pulled him closer and kissed him again.

Ray was amazed how calm he felt. Just being around her made him feel safe. He hadn't meant to make a pass at her but he felt so comfortable after talking all night. It was so good to be needed, to know he was cheering her up when her head hurt and her nose was running. He had teased her about it earlier, how she couldn't talk right and would go through a whole box of Kleenexes before the night was over. But now it was different, he didn't understand but he really didn't want to think about it. He moved away a little and looked at her face, glowing in the candlelight. "I gotta go," he said. She immediately answered, "I'm sorry!" and he hushed her. "I should be the one apologizing, ravishing you in your own closet." She giggled again. He couldn't resist. "You know, you shouldn't do that, giggle at a guy like that," he said, "if I wasn't so sure you couldn't resist a hunk like me, I'd be worried." "Oh, you are so macho, Ray Vecchio," she laughed again, "But I am kind of tired and..." she trailed off.

He went to bed, his own bed, with a lighter heart that night. Somehow, he thought, everything is going to be alright.

Irene leaned back against the door and contemplated the November issue of Vogue. She turned the page and to her surprise heard a knock on the window. She knew immediately who it was but still couldn't believe it. It was only 10 p.m.! He was crazy! Maybe I shouldn't be so surprised, she thought. This is Ray, after all. In a heartbeat she had the window open and he was resting face down on the floor. He was melting all over it too, it had started snowing about an hour before. He looked up at her face, concern stamped into her brow and gave her a weak grin. She didn't say anything.

"Ray, what are you doing here?" she breathed softly, sweeping the snowflakes out of his hair. "You know my parents are still awake and if they hear you..." She didn't have to finish the sentence. His smile faded, and she saw dark circles under his eyes. "I had to come see you," he started, but when she put a hand on his shoulder to help him sit up, he flinched. "What happened to you?" she said in a suppressed yelp. She immediately began stripping his shirt off. Nice, he thought. If I didn't hurt so much I might enjoy it. Irene pulled his buttons apart and saw the livid bruises on his chest. She sucked in a quick breath and stared at him. "Why didn't you tell me about this?" she challenged. "I just did," he replied in his usual glib manner.

Ray hadn't meant to come to her window, he never did. You have finally lost it, he told himself firmly. First you waltz into Zuko's house, then you show her your war wounds. It sounded worse when he thought about it that way. He felt suddenly defiant. Why should I hide it anymore? None of it matters. Ray decided he had nothing to lose, and just let it go. "It's my dad, he kind of lost it and I was in the way." She looked at him, shocked, but with compassion. "Does he always do this to you?" Ray looked away. "Yeah, I guess, but not this bad. Never this bad. I guess he thinks I'm man enough to take it now that I'm 17."

Irene felt like she was underwater. Everything seemed distant, muted somehow. We are so much alike, she thought she heard herself say. Some part of her knew this was dangerous. She heard it, acknowledged it, and tried to put it from her mind. She felt the water cover her head and start to pull her under. Snap out of it! she commanded herself. He needs your help. "Are you going to be okay?" she asked, reminding herself, he must have been wandering around for hours in the cold. His hair was damp with melted snow. She found sudden inspiration. She told him, "Hang on. Stay hidden and for God's sake don't answer the door."

Irene shut the door behind her and ventured quietly downstairs. She blinked at the light in the kitchen. "Are you alright dear? You look tired." Her mother sat at the kitchen table, preoccupied with whatever she was doing. Irene didn't notice and didn't care. She rubbed her eyes and yawned. "Yeah, Mom, I'm getting ready for bed, but I got kind of hungry." Her mother asked absently, "Well, there's leftovers in the refrigerator. Are you hungry again? I thought you enjoyed dinner." Irene played along and prayed her mother would leave her alone. "Of course I did, that's why I'm back for more." Her mother nodded and turned away. Irene breathed a mental sigh of relief and made her way to the fridge. She grabbed a dish of ziti and some peanut butter, and an apple on the way out. Her mother didn't even turn around.

Irene sprinted lightly up the stairs and directly into her bathroom. She shut the door and locked it. Okay, okay, think, she told herself. She filled the sink with water as hot as she could stand and set some towels to soak. She collected a couple large clean towels and bundled the hot ones in it. Satisfied, she opened the door an inch and scanned the hallway. Quickly she gathered up her wares and dashed a few steps to her door. Irene stepped inside and closed and locked the door.

Ray looked panicked but relief overtook him when he saw it was her. He glanced at the towels. "Do you really need that many to mop up after me?" he asked. She gave him a sideways grin and responded, "No, somebody needs to take care of boys who are silly enough to wander around in the snow." He lay back and sighed peacefully as she warmed his bruised skin with the damp towels. "Hmmm, what else do we have here?" She unfolded the rest of the towels and handed him a fork. He took it gladly when he saw the spread she had pilfered from the kitchen. "How did you know I was hungry?" he asked her. "Oh, just a guess. I figured you had been out there for a while." He dove into the food like a starving teenager. When every crumb was gone, she removed the rapidly cooling towels and gave him dry ones.

Ray toweled off his hair and buttoned up his shirt. Irene watched him out of the corner of her eye. She still couldn't understand why he had come here like this. Ray smoothed back his hair with his fingers and regarded her. "Irene, I..." His throat closed up and he swallowed. "Thanks for taking care of me. You didn't have to." She interrupted him. "Yes I did! You come in here looking like a car hit you and you expect me to sit back and do nothing?" He was amazed at her vehemence. She was making this a lot harder than he thought it would be. He tried again. "Look, I came to say goodbye. I couldn't leave without seeing you." Her eyes widened. "You're leaving? Where are you going?"

"Look, Irene," he told her, "I have to get out of here. I don't want to leave but I have to. My stuff's already packed, I took it with me when I ran off tonight. I've got it stashed over at the garage." Irene didn't know what to say. She could understand how he felt, but she couldn't imagine him leaving. Instead she just nodded. For some reason, this was even harder for him to bear. He had expected her to try to reason with him, to talk him out of it. What can I tell her? he asked himself. I promise to write? "I gotta go," he said finally. She tilted her chin up and said, "I'll come with you. No, not to run away with you," she said, seeing his shocked expression. "To see you off."

The garage was only a few blocks away. Ray worked there in the afternoons, pumping gas, changing oil. Irene, of course, had never been there. He let her in the back door and they found a place to sit on some boxes. The streetlights shone in through the cracked glass of the windows. Ray felt very self-conscious bringing her here, with all the mud and oil stains on the bare concrete. Irene didn't seem to mind, she had plunked down on top of a box just like it was a Chippendale sofa. They didn't speak at all right away, and he was surprised when she reached over and pulled his head onto her lap. He laid back with a creak and a moan. "So you are really leaving." Ray looked up into her face, shadowed now, and smiled softly. "Yep." She stroked his hair and didn't reply. When he looked up again, he saw she was crying silently.

Ray quickly sat up and pulled her close to him, ignoring the ache of his abused ribs. "Don't cry, now," he said softly and began rocking her. His resolve was fading quickly. How can I leave her like this? he asked himself. Men are such weenies when it comes to tears. And I am no different. Irene had surrendered herself to his arms, still rocking her slowly. She couldn't stop now that she had started. She wished she could tell him everything, how much he meant to her and how she tried so hard not to think about it. How hard it was to see him like this. She wanted the best for him, but she also needed him. After some time, she wiped her face off with her sleeve and tried to smile.

Ray was bewildered. He couldn't believe what was happening. The events of the night were taking their toll on him. "I should take you home," he told her. She wanted to say something, but there wasn't anything to say. He walked her back to the wall below her window. The house was quiet now, he could almost imagine that no one was there but the two of them. She put her arms around him and just held him for a few minutes, then kissed him once. Then she climbed up the ivy and was gone.

Ray walked back to the garage alone, and feeling more alone with every step. His feet took him back to where he had left his backpack.

He stared at it for a while without seeing it. Then he got some keys out of the office, found the car, got in, and turned on the radio. Ed, the owner of the garage, bought the green Buick a few weeks ago. It was in a sorry state but the mechanics, especially Ed, enjoyed working on it whenever they got a minute. Ray slumped down in the driver's seat and tried to sort out his thoughts. He didn't want to admit how much he hated leaving now, and why. She really got to me, he thought. I didn't expect her to nurse me back to health like that. Well, what did I expect? I was so sure when I left the house. There was nothing else to do, I couldn't live like this, and I had to leave. What changed? He knew but he didn't want to admit it, not to himself, not to anyone. Usually it was so important that he not think about it, or he'd never see her again. Hell, never see my face again, he told himself. But I can't leave her, she needs me, he suddenly realized and felt himself turn white. And I need her. What am I going to do? I could slip off now and not look back. That's what I should do.

Ray got out of the car, through the pack over his back, and returned the keys to the hook in the office. He didn't look back as he walked out of the door and made his way back to his house.

The End