The Wonder Years - Yellow - December, 2009 (Alexagramma)

Annagramma had genuinely thought her engagement to Simon would bring her and Ake closer together. It had certainly felt that way the night she had told him. For the first time in months, her Alex had taken her into his arms and let her stay there, not caring for the sparse few people still frequenting the study area after exams. Anna didn't know how long they had stayed that way, just that eventually he had escorted her back to her dorm.

The next morning, Alex was gone.

She could just feel it.

The tangible news came later, the sensible senses confirmed her intuition when she went to his room and saw his bed made, his suitcase gone and no personal artefact in sight. The knowledge from the dorm master confirmed that Alex had taken the first bus out at the crack of dawn and that him being an adult, he couldn't really be stopped or needed parental permission. But all of that came much later.

The sensation of being alone was the first thing that reached to wrap its cold, icy fingers around her throat when she woke up. And it could only mean that Alex and his sunshine - the kind that persisted in even the harshest winter - was no longer part of her sphere.

It felt difficult to breathe for the next few weeks, but perhaps that was a good thing. She didn't need to breathe at optimum levels to wait out the rest of term. She didn't need to take in air very much as Simon made plans for her to move in with the Quinns ahead of the wedding so that she could be tutored in the ways of High Society, she certainly didn't need the oxygen when her mother wrote back saying her few remaining things could be shipped to her at either the school or to Michigan, eliminating the need for a trip back home.

The following summer was the first of her life - that she could remember - when she didn't draw, paint or otherwise create art. Simon had arranged for her to stay in a little studio apartment near his office before House Quinn was ready for her. Apparently his parents were holidaying in New Port for the warmer months and he didn't want to bring her to an empty house.

The apartment was small, white and grey, and it washed her out more than anything else it did. After her first few attempts at bringing paint to canvas, Annagramma stopped trying.

After her first few untuneful attempts at keeping Simon from touching her, Annagramma stopped trying.

Her first step into the Quinn household happened on September the tenth, a date that the blonde would remember regardless of the memories associated with it. After a careful evaluation of her stuff, her self and her etiquettes, Anna was finally allowed to meet the rest of her future family. All her things had easily fit in one suitcase, which had made Simon frown. The day they were to leave for Michigan, he showed up with two more suitcases and a big hold-all already full of stuff to make it seem as if she had more than she did. Anna didn't understand why but she knew his plan had failed. To him, she had brough more than double of what she actually owned but to the family members and staff standing in line to greet the Younger Mrs. Quinn, she may as well have been a beggar off the streets. A comment from her future mother in law about not needing two footmen to take Annagramma's things up to the suite made quite sure of that.

She hadn't seen Alex upon arrival. He hadn't been present for the greeting line full of introductions and Simon had specially told her ahead of time not to ask for him. Instead she had focused on meeting the Quinn parents, their oldest son George and his heavily pregnant wife Janet.

And the fifteen odd members of full and part time staff that took charge of the household from day to day.

Anna didn't know how the instruction had gone but Simon seemed pleased afterword so she supposed it must have gone well. Phase one was a success, phase two, the evening meal, would cement his choice in the family's eyes.

Simon had planned every detail of the first dinner with her, from choosing her dress to teaching her how to use the cutlery she would be expected to use in the formal dining room. And had Anna been at all inclined to do something she liked, she wouldn't have been able to focus on the various rules of etiquettes she was being subjected to. As it was, she couldn't create her art and she couldn't keep Simon away. There was no more sunshine in her life so she may as well learn to use a salad fork.

Dinner had gone perfectly, at least in Anna's opinion.

Simon disagreed.

The blonde and her fiancé appeared at the top of the stairs just like they had practiced, Simon in his formal dinner jacket with Anna swathed in a wine red dress that fell to the floor, leaving only her throat and shoulders exposed. Long silken gloves adorned her arms all the way up to her elbows and her tiny feet were cinched in stilettos. Her golden hair, for the first time ever, were knotted and twisted into a neat French chignon at the base of her head and two ruby encrusted pins poked out from somewhere by her temple, serving no function but to just make their presence known.

It was just as Simon had planned. They began to descend the long staircase in full view of the family and staff serving them. Sadly, Simon hadn't factored in his fiancé laying eyes on his younger brother for the first time in months.

And yet there he was, in a muted dinner jacket of his own, making polite conversation with his sister in law, his own gold head leaned forward in attention, when she spotted him.

"Alex!" the squeal from up the stairs was loud enough to catch everyone's attention but Anna didn't care. Freeing herself from Simon's grip, the blonde lifted her dress out of the way and ran down the steps, her heels slipping and sliding across the plush carpeting. The girl stumbled once or twice but no one cared. The bright beaming smile on her face was the first one she had experienced in months and nothing could take it away.

The dinner had gone perfectly after that. Annagramma had stayed beside her orangey sunshiny best friend the whole time, even asking to change seats so that she would sit beside Alex and Janet could take her place by Simon. In her joy, she had used all the right forks and spoons and knives, eaten her courses in order and just smiled all around. When asked why she was happy, the girl had explained she finally felt like painting again, leading to a discussion on various artists on the contemporary scene.

The way Anna saw it, dinner had been a success.

Then why was Simon fuming afterword?

That night, Annagramma learned that Simon's anger had consequences. And she didn't see Alex again for a few days , not until after the bruising had healed.

***

Madam Quinn, the Lady of the House, had made her displeasure with Annagramma crystal clear from day one. She had also taken every opportunity to point out to Simon, George, Janet and even staff how much of a herculean task she had undertaken in getting the younger Mrs. Quin ready for public consumption. The few of Anna's things that had survived the first purge didn't make it through the second after Madam Quinn's inspections. Everything had to be bought new and acceptable for her. Anna didn't care about the clothes and shoes and accessories and toiletries, never having been too attached to those. But the girl had found herself hiding an old box of crayons under her pillow to save it. The crayons in it were now perhaps an inch tall from use and didn't even resemble the colors they once were. But they had been a present from Alex when she was twelve and of course the girl had kept them.

After months of training in everything imaginable, Madam Quinn had finally decided it was time to bring Anna out into the light. The light, in this case, being a Christmas party not actually held on Christmas but a few days before. December was a month crowded with such upper class soirees and everyone in the social order had a date. The more important you were in the grand scheme of things, the closer your date fell to actual Christmas.

The Quinn's designated date for many years now had been the eighteenth of December. Close enough to actual Christmas to denote their family as the leaders of the circus, but not close enough to rival the Kennedys or the Vanderbilts, much to Madam Quinn's chagrin. She had been hoping that Simon's marriage would push their date closer to Christmas, but that ship had sailed and she was now found muttering she could only do her best with what she was given.

Anna didn't really understand why the dates were important, nor did she try to. Madam Quinn was a lot like Simon in some ways. She didn't like being questioned and spoken back to, and Anna quickly learned that the same strategy of nodding and listening worked with her too.

A week before the party, Anna was tested on everything from potential conversation topics (all twenty two of them, all with their own scripts) to dance moves and movements in general. A detailed account of events that allowed her to leave Simon's side on the occasion were discussed and no exceptions were emphasized. When the blonde regurgitated everything she had been fed over the last three months, Madam Quinn deemed her satisfactory.

Or "She'll do." in neutral tones.

The preparation for the party began early in the morning, various people coming in and out to do various things. Sometimes it was moisturizing, other times it was skin polishing, yet other times manicures and pedicures and rollers in her hair. All of it seemed so bizarre she wished Alex was there to laugh at it with her. But maybe he was going through his own beauty ritual? Maybe somewhere in this big house, someone was threading his eyebrows too? The thought made her giggle.

"Mrs. Quinn," the beautician begged for the hundredth time, her patience thoroughly tested at this point.

"Oops, sorry, I was just-, I mean, sorry. Shush."

Finally as the clock struck seven thirty, Anna made her way down to the formal dining room where everyone would be meeting for a final inspection before moving on to the parlor where guests would start arriving at eight. She was the first one there, followed shortly after by Janet looking resplendent in her shiny black dress. The baby would be out soon, Anna knew from having watched too many human and animal pregnancies in her life.

George came in from a side entrance a few minutes later, buttoning the top of his shirt before moving next to his wife and engaging Anna in polite conversation. The Quinn parents and Simon arrived together, Simon dressed in a navy suit clearly chosen for him by someone else. Once Madam Quinn had inspected everyone to ensure they were at their most presentable, she frowned.

"Where's Alexander? Why must your youngest always be the source of my grief, James?"

The Wonder Years - Yellow - December, 2009 (Alexagramma) 28e9b010

The news of the engagement had concreted in Alex's mind exactly what he had already worried about. For the longest time, Annagramma Hawkeye had only seen him as a friend -- Alex had been teased about this multiple times, from multiple people, but he had always felt like it was simply because nobody understood Annagramma like he did. In that respect, he had realised just how wrong he'd been, and what a fool he was for still harbouring those feelings for someone who did not feel the same way back.

The realisation, though, hadn't come the night Annagramma had told him the news. The boy had made multiple mistakes that evening. Opening his arms to the witch and allowing her to crawl in to his lap had been the first. The second had been to walk the witch back to her dorms, and be swayed to stay a little longer. Alex had found himself in the bed of his brother's fiancee early the next morning. The predicament only made worse with how his body had reacted to waking in such close proximity.

It was at that point that he knew.

Alex had to get away from the school. Away from Annagramma, and work on everything he hadn't yet come to terms with.

Which was precisely why Alex had not been there the morning after Anna and Simons's engagement. It was why he wasn't there in the weeks that followed, because he knew that being around Annagramma was not the right answer. She needed to throw herself in to her new relationship with his brother, and he... well, he needed to throw himself in to other things. The first had been the most simple for him to decide upon. The boy had first found a centre which provided the ACCA course that he'd been looking over, he'd signed himself up for that, but that didn't start until September. The next step had been to ask his father for something to do in the business -- he'd been laughed out of the room at that point, the notion of him being able to input anything seemed a source of amusement.

It had been George who had come with something in hand. A small bag of gold, and a project that would keep Alex away from the house through the summer, to make investments -- minor though they might be -- in the family's name, to further the wealth. Not nearly enough money to do anything consequential to the family name, but money enough that the boy would be kept busy with investment opportunities in the State of Michigan. Alex might not have had much experience in the field, but in the few months over the summer, he had learned a great deal about the world of finance, of accounting, and the trials and tribulations of investment portfolios.

By the time the young man had gotten to the end of the summer, his investments were just starting to bring in an income -- measly though it might have been, it was a return, and the blonde couldn't help but feel proud of himself for everything he'd done.

Well, somewhat.

George had appeared at the house one morning, not looking entirely happy with his younger brother.

"You were supposed to spend the gold." He finally acknowledged, watching the sun setting over the balcony of the house. Both brothers had a bottle of beer in their hand, Alex sipping his own much more timidly than his brother.

"I did," Alex replied simply, confusion on his features.

"Not on... safe investments." George returned, shaking his head.

"Then, what?" Alex asked, lowering the bottle from his lips.

"Whores, fast cars, more alcohol than you could stomach."

"That's not going to return anything..." Alex stated.

"The money wasn't supposed to bring a return." George said simply, looking to his brother amused. "It was supposed to be your way of... getting over her."

"Getting over wh-" Alex cut himself off as he realised what George was trying to say. "There's nothing to get over." He corrected, trying to look incredibly serious in that moment, but likely failing. George had always had the knack of being able to see right through him, or perhaps the youngest Quinn simply wore his heart on his sleeve. "She's Simon's fiancee, I don't have any misconstrued belief that will change, don't worry."

"That's where we'll agree to disagree." George replied, not unkindly but in a manner that showed he hadn't expected anything less. "You've fucked a girl, right?"

"George-"

"I only ask, because you really are uptight sometimes." George replied, and motioned to the tension even that statement had caused his younger brother.

"I'm not uptight!" Alex protested, lifting his drink to his lips and drinking deeper than he probably ought to in that moment. "But, yes. I've slept with a girl-"

"Just one?"

"I didn't... I mean, I was kind of..."

"Hoping Anna would fall in to bed with you."

"Don't be so crass."

"Fine, call it whatever you will."

"I just, didn't feel the need to go looking in other places. I thought... I mean, I was wrong. But yeah..." Alex finally conceded, downing the rest of his bottle.

"That's what I thought you were going to say. And, that, little brother, is exactly why I brought company with me tonight." George replied, and almost right on cue, three women exited the house on to the balcony. "Now, I'm not expecting you to take any of them to bed, little brother. I know you have a thing about knowing a girl first, or whatever it is, but, if you want them to be, these lovely ladies are incredibly happy to be Anna for you. Give them a set of paints, turn them around, you'll be none the wiser."

"George."

"It's alright, sit and talk, see where things go." George insisted, getting up from his chair. "Make sure you get the place tidy before anyone comes back from New Port, though."

***

It wouldn't matter what had happened with the three women that evening, in truth, for the outcome would be the same. Had the young man sent the three women home, payment in full despite not taking the services, Alex's heart would have remained with the young witch who was not here. Had one, or all, of the women stayed with him that evening, the talking would have been amicable, they might have drunk some together, and perhaps they might have retired to a room. The sex would be nothing more than a carnal release. The intimacy of it all would not have formed any attachment for Alex, only resulting in his exhaustion that would put him in to a sleep that would be restful for once.

But, even though the boy had spent the night with the women, it hadn't done what his brother had intended.

It only made Alex feel worse than he had before.

It felt like a betrayal, even though Annagramma had already betrayed him, and decided to marry his brother, Alex couldn't help but feel like he should have been better for her, in some way.

Which had made it worse, two days later, when the house had returned to it's normal hustle and bustle as the rest of the family returned from their summer in New Port. Alex had met his mother and father with a warm enough demeanour, and had avoided George's suggestive gaze because he didn't need to be reminded of what he had done. The news that Simon and Annagramma would be coming for dinner that evening had not been welcome. Holing himself up in his room for the afternoon, Alex was the last to come down for the dinner, a note made by his mother as he skulked behind both his parents and his older brother, hoping not to have gone noticed.

That much, was of course, never going to happen with Annagramma around.

The display that the younger witch had made upon seeing him had made Alex cringe internally. Not for the act itself, he had no problem with Annagramma running to him like that -- she often did so in his dreams -- but because he knew the whole family was watching. Judging. It was the reason Alex had never brought the witch to their home himself, he knew that no matter how hard Annagramma might try, she would never live up to his mother's expectations. He'd kept Annagramma from home, because she was the place where he could really be himself, and unlike his brother, he would never want Annagramma to change.

The display, though, continued throughout dinner, and when nobody outwardly corrected the witch, Alex simply followed suit. He didn't want her to feel conscious of her actions, and Simon hadn't shown any distaste to the move. They'd conversed through dinner, but once they were done, and the dinner's excuse for them to be together had dwindled, Alex had removed himself from the company of the rest of the house, and not said another word to Annagramma past good night.

Alex hadn't been there for the next couple of days, so wouldn't have found Annagramma's non-emergence from the rooms upstairs to be a problem. He had, however, heard the whispers of her room bound antics when he'd come back from a trip with business. He had, without thinking, put it down to pre-marital bliss. The wanton behaviour of young people.

Behaviour he would definitely be engaging with had it been his fiancee.

The weeks continued in much the same manner. With September came Alex's classes, in which he found himself staying away from the house as much as he could. Either at his school, or else holed up in the library there so as not to need to come home. The months passed by quite slowly, but even slowly, Christmas was upon them quite soon. Which meant party season. Alex had shown to the events his parents had insisted upon, and politely declined the rest. His first ACCA exam had come and gone, and the results lingered over his head heavily.

The Quinn's party fell on the eighteenth, much like it had the previous year, and though his mother was upset with this, Alex couldn't have cared less which date they had. The day had called for his presence, and Alex had obliged, putting on a suit that definitely didn't live up to the formality of the occasion, but he was there.

As he entered the room where they would be moving through to the guests, Alex had caught his mother's words.

"Your son is here, mother." Alex met the question a little too fully, the mid afternoon drink having gone a little too much to his head. "Which leech do you wish me to dance with tonight?"

George laughed, before hiding his smile in a cough.

His mother did not look impressed.

Alex's eyes didn't move towards Annagramma, already too aware of her presence, and the false being she would be presented as, he didn't wish to ruin the image of her in his head.

He could hold on to that, a little longer.

________________________________________________

~ American (turned French) ~ Profile ~ 38 ~

"Your son is here, mother."

Despite her best efforts to school her expression into something neutral, a beatific smile broke upon the young witch's face. It was Alex's voice, his warm buttery sunshiny voice that she heard far too rarely for two people who lived in the same house. Anna had thought being engaged to his brother would mean more time with her best friend, but it seemed she saw him more before she was involved with Simon Quinn.

Still, she reasoned some nights, lying awake after Simon had gone to sleep, one palm still clutching at her flesh for reassurance. If she wasn't here, she would never get to see him. And a little sunshine was better than the wintry summer she had spent a few months ago.

It was a testament to her training that all Anna did was smile upon seeing Alex. Not least because this situation had been covered exactly in part of her lessons. She was, under no circumstances, allowed to go to Alex, or hurry towards anyone. A list of acceptable reasons to go to Alex were detailed including if he asked her to dance or if he moved gradually towards her.

It felt unnatural, to go stand by Simon's side, her light blue gown hanging off her thin frame in cloudy waves, her hair styled in a narrow plait and her ears adorned with weird earrings, when Alex was only a few paces away, but she managed, somehow.

Even as her body turned sideways to angle itself towards the young blond currently being dressed down by his mother.

"Probably with someone we'd like bored to death," Madam Quinn replied sardonically, reaching to brush invisible lint off his shoulder. "i suppose the suit I sent over was too much of an effort for you to put on? Is that why we're being treated to something that went out of fashion in the Clinton era?"

Anna wanted to say Alex looked fine, and that what he wore didn't matter anyway, people always noticed the orange first. But she now knew that wasn't allowed either. It was alright, she would tell him later.

Hopefully, if he gradually moved towards her.

Once the inspection was complete, they were allowed to proceed into the parlor, situated strategically at intervals to cover the entire area. As planned, Anna was never alone, either Simon, Janet or Madam Quinn by her side, doing most of the speaking for her.

Over the next few hours, Anna learned both a lot and very little. She learned the names of people who must have been important from the way Madam Quinn spoke to them but couldn't understand why they were important. She met people who claimed to have grown up with Alex but she hadn't seen any of them at school. She met some people from Simon's work who grinned and winked but didn't know what that meant. She also danced a few times, a very boring one where Simon just passed her around from one arm to another without any proper dancing involved. She also watched Alex dance with a few women, even his sister in law and mother once. Never having considered him good dancer before, she wondered if Alex had just been bad compared to her. In this slow moving sloth parade, he seemed to be doing fine.

He didn't ask her to dance.

And he didn't gradually move towards her.

She didn't get to tell him about the orange.

Or that she missed him.

Or that Simon was drinking too much bubbly through the night.

The blonde witch was sure the party had been very boring, but when the ladies retreated to give the men space for their port or coffee, Madam Quin expressed some level of satisfaction.

"That could have gone a lot worse," the older woman noted, more towards Janet than Annagramma.

"Come on mom, Anna did amazingly," Janet offered kindly, a hand on her bulging belly. "Everyone loved her."

"She kept her mouth shut, which is her best feature," agreed the Lady of the House before turning away from them. Both younger woman took that to mean a dismissal. Annagramma naturally gravitated towards Janet who was the only one inclined to show her any kindness.

"So... do we go back to our rooms now?" she asked uncertainly. "My feet hurt in these shoes and the hook at the back is poking my skin."

Janet laughed, reaching to the small of Anna's back and undoing the hook. "Why didn't you say so earlier, silly?"

Anna didn't reply. She had been told not to say most things, so when she was unsure, she just remained silent.

"And the party is nearly done, it's just the men folks now. they'll be doing drinks and cigars. We wait out here in case they need anything, but they never do."

"Then why do we wait?"

"Just in case," Janet repeated patiently, sinking into an armchair and sliding her feet out of the pumps she was wearing. A sigh escaped her lips. "My back and the baby wont thank me for these."

Anna felt a twang of pity for the poor woman. She didn't know the language of backs but she knew babies could be vicious, especially when inside their mothers. She had seen her own mother carry enough times to know that. "Why don't you go lie down. If we aren't needed, it doesn't really matter if two people wait or one."

Janet looked up at her with a spark of surprise, as if realizing for the first time that Anna was more intelligent than people made her out to be.

"If you... don't mind," she managed, her obligation to stay warring with her tired body. When the blonde assured her she didn't, Janet got to her feet again, her pumps in her hands this time.

"Thanks sweetie," she mumbled in soft gratitude, reaching to give Anna a hug. "And remember, don't go back out there, no matter what. If someone needs anything, tell the staff to get it. You don't need to go out."

"Okay," Anna agreed, adding another instruction to her already too long list. "Don't go out, tell staff to get whatever is needed."

Janet left and the younger witch took her place in the armchair, for the next half hour. Bored and with time to actually spend as she wished, Annagramma took the opportunity to study the room which looked bland despite all the artwork that hung on the walls. None of it ever felt real here, like no one had ever spilled paint in the house, or thrown water balloons at each other.

"Mrs. Quinn."

Anna jumped slightly, looking behind her to see if Janet had returned. It took a minute to understand she was the one being spoken to. Anna quickly stood up as if a child caught doing something she shouldn't have been doing.

"Master Simon would like you in the parlor please."

"But I'm not supposed to go out there," Anna replied blankly. "Janet said the staff can get him whatever he wants."

"He seems to want you, Mrs. Quinn."

The server had a point. And the staff could only bring him Anna if she followed. Janet hadn't covered this part so Anna, used to following instructions, nodded and stepped behind the server.

Entering a very different parlor than the one she had left behind not too long ago.

His mother's fussing had been the least of Alex's worries as he set about the evening. His eyes had followed Annagramma in to the hall -- wondering how she felt dressed up in such a fashion. Probably uncomfortable, he told himself, almost too hopefully, as he moved in to the ballroom beside his parents. The event started easily enough, greeting the more influential families first -- the Kennedys and their children, then the Vanderbilts and their children. Alex had spoken politely with them in turn, and accepted the invitation to dance with one of the Kennedy daughters in the process.

Rose Kennedy was just a little bit older than he was, in her last year at Harvard university. An English degree almost to her name, they had very little in common really. Rose liked the arts, Alex liked the more certain things in life, and with Rose's decree that she didn't understand numbers very well at all, the young man found himself quite uninterested in her. They had finished their dance, and Rose had moved back to her family, Alex had returned to his parents, and the cycle started anew.

His eyes, though, would always find Annagramma -- ensuring she was alright, and not in need of pulling from an awkward situation.

It never arose, though, which was perhaps a blessing in it's own right.

Alex remained in the centre of the buzz for most of the night, not really noticing the time until the ladies had deemed it fit to call it a night. The men had converged together, and Alex had let them go for a moment, keeping an eye on the women as they left, and ensuring that Annagramma was amongst them. Janet had been keeping an eye on her, it seemed, because she had left with Annagramma in tow. Turning back towards the group, Alex had taken what was just one more (too many) drinks for the evening. He sipped at the scotch, not enjoying the taste at all, and was moved towards a seat, away from the main group, as he pulled his phone from his pocket, clearing notifications.

"She hasn't got much to lust over, though, has she Si."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she's not... you know."

Alex hadn't been looking to catch the movement that would make the sentence understandable, but he hadn't really needed to.

"Her tits are the perfect handful, I don't know what you're talking about." Simon replied, in a much too defensive manner. "Any more than that would be a waste, anyway."

The grip around his glass tightened, but Alex didn't say a word.

"Besides, who cares about that. You should see how tight she is." Simon insisted, letting out a drunken laugh. "Best fuck I've ever had."

"You're just trying to make up for the lack of tits."

"She has tits!" Simon shot back at his friend angrily. "You. Get Mrs Quinn."

Alex could see the help hurry off, and the rising feeling of anger made itself more prominent in that moment. Why did Simon need to be such a dick about people like this? To say he wasn't pleased would be an understatement and a half. Alex's eyes would remain upon the door in which the help had left, almost begging for her to be unable to find Annagramma. Or for someone to point out that this was not the place for a lady at this hour.

But, of course, those wishes didn't come true, and as Annagramma stepped in to the room, Alex found himself getting to his feet. Not moving closer to the witch, or making her attention move to him, but being ready.

"Annie, come here." Simon instructed, opening his arm for his fiancee as the others in the room leered.

Alex's eyes moved to Anna's dress. A dress that didn't seem quite so fitted as it had in the hours before...

Why did it not look right?

________________________________________________

~ American (turned French) ~ Profile ~ 38 ~

"Annie, come here." Simon instructed, opening his arm for his fiancee as the others in the room leered.

The blonde looked uncertainly around her. The place she had left some time ago consisted of expensively dressed men talking politely to each other. The one she had reentered now was different. Much of the older generation was gone, leaving people around her and Simon's age. Most of the jackets had also come off, shirt buttons undone and ties loosened. There was a lot more bubbly than she remembered now and the faint smell of fancy tobacco hung in the air. Some tables had been pushed together to make ample space for cards but the most boisterous and dominant group was one with Simon at the center of it.

And he was calling on her to join him there.

The idea of resisting manifested for a split second, almost as if her subconscious knew she was in dangerous territory. But that was silly. The best thing to do was what Simon said, and he wanted her to come to him right now.

Obediently, the blonde walked to him, trying not to wrinkle her nose at the smell of alcohol that slowly engulfed her as she neared her fiancé.

As soon as she reached him, Sion turned her around to face his friends. Confusion dusted her delicate features for a moment before transforming into mortification as he reached out a hand and grasped her right breast firmly.

"See, told you she has tits."

"I don't know," Someone commented, someone Anna couldn't see because her gaze was lowered, wondering what to do. This had not been part of the instructions for today's party. And relying on her instincts had been unequivocally forbidden.

"Port's making you blind, Pete," Simon commented, giving her breast a firm squeeze. "Perfect handful, like I said. Ain't you Annie?" Anna remained quiet, unsure what to say. There was wet at the edge of her vision, though she didn't understand why.

"Or you have really small hands," another voice contributed with a chuckle. "It's okay Si, size doesn't matter bro."

"As Anna tells you frequently, I'm sure," Pete added with a guffaw.

Simon wrenched his hand away, the beginning of anger in the set of his face. "Fuck you guys, you're just jealous Annie's better looking than any of the dogs you're with."

"Woah, not cool bro," a new voice joined in the fray. "Rocky's dating a supermodel."

"Yeah, and we've seen her nudes man, you can't compete with that."

"I can," Simon challenged, a territorial gleam in his eyes. "And I will. Hey Annie, slip off that dress a minute please, let these fuckers eat their hearts out."

Something akin to terror gripped Annagramma's insides. The lesson about following instructions beaten into her over the last few months colliding with the overpowering sense of self preservation. When she didn't comply, Simon reached out to her again.

"Fuck's sake Annie, don't be such a prude," he scolded irritably, reaching for the top of her gown.

Anna felt a violent shudder as she realized that the hook that had been securing the dress to her all night was already undone. As a result, Simon's yanking compromised the fabric's hold on her, bringing the material down to pool around her waist, leaving her upper half fully exposed.

For a moment, the whole room was quiet than someone whistled.

"Okay man, you win."

Annagramma didn't know who had won what tonight. But she knew she was the one who had lost, and she had lost something that could never, ever be recovered.

Her dignity.

Alex had watched in horror as the scene played out. Why did his brother and his friends have to be this way? He had only be able to wait at the side-lines, not knowing how or when to intervene, and that had been the problem, hadn't it? He hadn't intervened thus far, and Annagramma's fate was sealed in the indecisiveness that he displayed.

Before he could do a thing, Simon's hand had jerked the unsecured dress from Annagramma's being. The breasts he'd been boasting of for the last ten minutes were shown to all of them. Where Alex had moved his gaze from the witch's breasts to his brother, the rest of the room had openly ogled her at Simon's behest. What was wrong with him? He knew better than to act like that...

But, perhaps he didn't Alex conceded, as nobody stepped forth to stop the mess.

"Simon, for fuck's sake." Alex heard himself saying, grabbing his jacket and hurrying forth to Annagramma. "She's your fiance, not some trophy!"

"That's exactly what she is." Simon retorted, trying to swat Alex's jacket away, but having little and less coordination to do so in that moment. The Jacket was wrapped around the witch's shoulders, amidst a gaggle of boos and hisses in Alex's direction. "You keep your fucking hands off of her."

"I'm not putting my hands on her." Alex returned evenly, because by technicality, he wasn't. He'd only put a jacket on Annagramma, to stop her chest being laid so bare for the world to see.

"Bet he's fucking her behind your back, though." One of Simon's interjected, causing the rest of the group to laugh at Simon's expense.

"Come on, Annagramma, lets get you out of her." Alex told the witch gently, pushing her towards the door so he could get her to relative safety.

"Don't you take my fiance-"

Alex turned as Simon laid a hand on his arm. They were about the same size, all told, but Alex would win if Simon tried to start anything. They both knew that much as they looked at one another, Simon seething at his brother's actions, Alex looking back with a weird calm in his eyes that almost poked the older Quinn in to action.

"Annagramma will see you in the morning. When you're sober." Alex finally said. Simon let go, and Alex took his leave, gently guiding Annagramma out of the parlour, and to anywhere, except the upstairs of their home. Something told him to keep her away, whatever that might have been, but he didn't really know where or why.

________________________________________________

~ American (turned French) ~ Profile ~ 38 ~

Everything felt cold the minute her dress went down, and it wasn't just any kind of cold. It was the black kind of cold. The kind that couldn't go away by hiding under a blanket or putting on more layers. It began to freeze Anna from the inside out as the men around her whooped, whistled and jeered at the young woman's humiliation.

Perhaps she would freeze to death now, Anna postulated, an eerie calm to her mental voice as she floated somewhere above the room, leaving the world when it became too much. Her green eyes turned glassy, her features slack and her posture artificially straight now.

Until she felt her personal sunshine break through the cold, wrapping his jacket securely around her. Anna couldn't have been aware of the words exchanged between Alex and his brother, or Alex and the other men. It took all her effort to stay connected to the scene enough to be gently walked out from the parlor. Had she been in a sate to ask where they were going, she still wouldn't have. Because wherever they were going was way from here.

And with her Alex.

It seemed Alex didn't know where they were going either. The walking was the important part though. When they ha cleared the fornt doors and slowly made their way into the estate's estensive gardens, Anna didn't know. When they eventually stopped at a bench, she couldn't say. When Alex gently helped ehr sit down and fix her dress, the blonde had no clue.

But it was as they were sitting that reality broke on the young witch. The shock, humiliation and pain of what she had endured rained down on her in an emotional flood, a small sob breaking from her lips. Her pale features crumpled as tears flowed down her cheeks. All she wanted was to hide in Alex's arms like she had always been able to do.

Annagramma looked up at the man pleadingly, her emerald gaze begging him for her usual refuge one last time. One last time and then she would go back to behaving, to keeping he mouth shut and using make up to cover any marks on her skin.

"A-lex," she stumbled over his name, unsure what to say. He was supposed to understand her. That was what made him Alex, he didn't need her to make up the words she didn't have. Why couldn't he understand her now?

The crispness of the December breeze was probably not the best choice of location for Alex to take Annagramma in her attire, but his mind had not been thinking about that. His mind had insisted on getting her out of the house, away from Simon. But the notion of getting her further from the house was one that seemed to fade with each step, until finally, Alex sat them down on the nearest bench, and worked to right the witch's dress. It did not go back perfectly, Simon's actions had caused the fabric to break in multiple places, but it was better than having her chest exposed to the winter weather.

Tucking his jacket back around her snuggly, Alex felt the sob before he heard it.

Instinctively, he pulled the witch in to his lap. Wrapping his arms around her frame with care. "It's alright." Alex tried to tell her, but he couldn't say he believed that himself, not truly. Instead, he sat rocking her, trying to make her feel like the world wasn't out to get her, that she was safe in his arms, even though he could only protect her from so much...

"Is... it worth it?" Alex asked, not elaborating at all in his question. He wanted her to say no, that Simon was not worth it. That she didn't want to be with the older Quinn. If she said it wasn't, he would take her from this place, anywhere she wanted. Back to her home, to a city that she would be accepted within, away from the society that she was not supposed to be a part of.

All Annagramma would have to do was tell him, and he would move the world for her.

________________________________________________

~ American (turned French) ~ Profile ~ 38 ~

Some part of him must have heard her, somehow, Annagramma concluded as he opened his arms to her, letting her crawl into him in a movement that felt old as she was. The girl may not have known Alex all her life but she could certainly argue that her real life hadn't begun until she'd met him. The effortless way in which he had just inhabited all the empty spaces in her life, filling them with sunshine and warmth and orange, it was the most natural thing in the world.

And this ability didn't go way with distance.

For the first time since arriving at the Quinn residence, Anna felt safe. Back where she belonged. With Alex.

They stayed that way for a long time, uncaring of the freezing cold because it was always warm when she was curled into him. There was dew on the grass when he spoke next, asking one question only.

"Is... it worth it?"

So used to answering his questions thoughtlessly, this time Anna took a few moments to consider. Had the last few months been ideal? No. Did she feel dirty and used after what had happened with Simon and his friends? Yes, for the first time in her life she didn't feel like a color but the dirty water in which artists cleaned their brushes.

But was it all worth this? Sitting with Alex out in the frosty night, holding him close, breathing in lungfuls of his scent to remind her she was alive and with him.

Close enough to touch, close enough to melt into him and forget everything else.

"Every time," she replied with a firmness hitherto absent in her tone. "Always." She wanted him to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was worth everything to her.

» .The Wonder Years - Blue - June, 2009 (Alexagramma)
» The Wonder Years - Red - May, 2008 (Alexagramma)
» The Awakening - Purple - February, 2010 (Alexagramma)
» The Awakening - Green - July, 2010 (Alexagramma)
» The Palace of Versailles, 2009 (Louis)