Story: Casting Stones (R)
Title: Casting Stones
Rating: R
Chapter: 2
Fandom: Degrassi: The Next Generation
Summary: “So when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said to them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.” John 8:7 AKJV. A new patient enters the rehab center where Clare volunteers, but her boyfriend thinks he wants a different kind of treatment. Eclare. Flare.
Comments: N/A.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the idea.
FF.net Link: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6746997/2/Casting_Stones.
Clare flopped back on her boyfriend’s bed with a groan. She felt Eli’s gentle touch remove her shoes slowly. She arched slightly as his hands trailed up the inside of her legs, pulling them apart. She sat up, shaking her head, “Eli, I’m not in to mood. But thank you.” She crawled forward, pecking him on the lips.
Eli frowned, but obliged, watching is girlfriend rest back on the bed. He laid beside her, rubbing his knuckles gently across her arm. “Bad day?” he assumed, turning on his side to look at her.
Clare sighed heavily, “Yeah.” She furrowed her brow, tilting her head to the side, as she stared intensely at the ceiling, “Sort of. I guess. I don’t really know.”
Eli pursed his lips together in interest, but when she did not carry on, he nodded, “What happened?”
“I have a new charge and… I kind of know him. He’s not the best person in the world, but…” Clare trailed off, gnawing on her bottom lip.
“But…?” Eli urged, fastening his arm around her stomach, and pulled her closer to him. He carefully laid his head in the crook of her neck, nuzzling his cheek against the soft skin of her neck.
“God says that we should spend time with tax collectors, the prostitutes, and sinners alike, which is why I chose the most horrendous place I could find, the rehab center. He says that even the lowliest of sinners can repent and be saved. But, Fitz… after what he did…” Clare started, deep in thought.
Eli sat up, letting go of his girlfriend. His eyes shooting daggers at her. “Fitz. Mark Fitzgerald,” he stated coldly. “What the hell do you think you’re doing helping him?”
Clare sat up slowly, shrugging, “He’s in rehab, Eli. It’s kind of my job when I’m there. He’s my new charge. I have to watch over him; help him.” Her eyes were soft, sad, and slowly filling with tears.
“Why the fuck would you choose him of all people to help!? He’s a worthless piece of shit!” Eli shouted at her.
Clare struggled not to cry as countered his attack. “I didn’t choose anything, Eli. I was told to work him. Maybe God is telling me that Fitz needs me. Maybe he can change. Maybe he can find God, Eli!” She suddenly smiled at the thought. “Do you know how amazing that would be? It’s like Mary Magdalene in the Bible. She was a prostitute, Eli; a high prostitute. But she met Jesus and he forgave her and it was just amazing! Can you imagine, Eli, how awesome that is?”
Eli gripped Clare’s wrists, suddenly angry at her inquiries and beliefs. His hateful green eyes met her excited blue ones. “It’s bullshit, Clare. They feed you nothing but bullshit,” he said through his teeth.
Clare’s face dropped, her heart sinking inside her chest. She violently pulled her wrists away from his hold, shaking her head, “You wouldn’t know. Would you?” With that, she grabbed her shoes off the floor and walked out of his room in silence.
DTNG
Clare stood outside the rehab center, wiping at her eyes exhaustedly. She did not know anywhere else to go. She knew her church was locked; her parents would only ask questions; Alli would ask more questions. She also knew there was a small chapel somewhere inside the building and, right now, she needed the one person she always depended on, God.
Once she had pulled herself together, Clare walked inside the cold building, tugging her sweater tighter to her shivering body. She walked down the nearest hallway and stopped at the doorway of a fairly empty room.
The room had been painted a soft blue color, to lighten the mood, but the color was slowly chipping off from its age. There was a makeshift altar with a kneeling rail surrounding it for confessions. Behind the altar hung a small wooden cross, which was painted black with small red stains on three of the four ends to resemble where Jesus had been nailed to the cross. Throughout the room were various chairs for others to sit if they did not want to kneel.
Clare was not surprised to find the room empty. After all, it was a Saturday night in a rehabilitation center. She was much happier to find it vacant; more privacy. She slowly walked over to the rail surrounding the altar, getting down on her knees. She rested her elbows on the rail and bowed her head, closing her eyes.
“What are you doing?”
Clare gasped, quickly jumping to her feet. She wiped at the eye makeup that was smeared across her face. She could not help but smile a little. “Fitz,” her voice cracked slightly, but she was content with her company. She cleared her throat, looking down at the forest green carpet, “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Neither are you,” Fitz countered, but his voice sounded playful, as he walked over to her. He frowned, reaching out to touch her face. “You’re crying.”
“No, I’m not,” Clare shook her head, looking up at him willingly. “I was,” she admitted timidly, her lips taking their natural pout.
Fitz’s face softened, his eyes awed at her honestly. He cupped her cheek, gingerly rubbing his thumb under her eye. “What did he do to you?” he asked.
Clare watched him intently, her whole body shaking. She took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “He didn’t do anything. I’m just stressed out.” It was not completely a lie, she was stressed out and Eli was not the only thing or person to cause her stress.
Fitz slowly dropped his touch and walked around the small room, examining it. “So you do your worship thing in rehab centers,” he noted.
Clare smiled, laughing slightly, “Not usually. I just know my church is locked and if I go home, I have to face my parents.”
“What’s wrong with your parents?” Fitz asked bluntly. “I mean,” he shrugged, “you’re pretty perfect. I assume your parents are kind of the same.”
Clare shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not perfect.”
Fitz smirked, tilting his head to the side, as he slowly circled her, “You didn’t answer my question.”
Clare spun around as he finished half of his circle. “I chose not to,” she replied simply. She furrowed her brow, continuing to turn with him after every half circle. “What are you doing?”
Fitz shrugged, stopping his action, “Is it bothering you?”
“No,” Clare shook her head. “I’m just… curious.”
Fitz smiled, “You haven’t changed, Edwards.”
Clare quirked an eyebrow, smirking, “I hope that’s good.”
“That’s great,” Fitz stated. He sighed, glancing at the clock hanging above the doorway. “It’s like, eleven. Shouldn’t you be home?”
Clare’s eyes went wide in surprise, blinking, “Um… I probably should.” She took a few quick steps backwards towards the doorway. “I’ll see you later.”
“Tomorrow?” Fitz questioned, trying not to sound hopeful.
“Fitz…” Clare sighed heavily, pursing her lips together.
“Tomorrow,” Fitz stated.
Clare hesitated, her breath hitching. “Tomorrow.” She gave him the smallest hint of a smile and rushed out of the room.
Fitz smirked, turning towards the front of the room. He looked at the cross, which Clare was so attached to, and smiled. “Thanks.”
Rating: R
Chapter: 2
Fandom: Degrassi: The Next Generation
Summary: “So when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said to them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.” John 8:7 AKJV. A new patient enters the rehab center where Clare volunteers, but her boyfriend thinks he wants a different kind of treatment. Eclare. Flare.
Comments: N/A.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the idea.
FF.net Link: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6746997/2/Casting_Stones.
Clare flopped back on her boyfriend’s bed with a groan. She felt Eli’s gentle touch remove her shoes slowly. She arched slightly as his hands trailed up the inside of her legs, pulling them apart. She sat up, shaking her head, “Eli, I’m not in to mood. But thank you.” She crawled forward, pecking him on the lips.
Eli frowned, but obliged, watching is girlfriend rest back on the bed. He laid beside her, rubbing his knuckles gently across her arm. “Bad day?” he assumed, turning on his side to look at her.
Clare sighed heavily, “Yeah.” She furrowed her brow, tilting her head to the side, as she stared intensely at the ceiling, “Sort of. I guess. I don’t really know.”
Eli pursed his lips together in interest, but when she did not carry on, he nodded, “What happened?”
“I have a new charge and… I kind of know him. He’s not the best person in the world, but…” Clare trailed off, gnawing on her bottom lip.
“But…?” Eli urged, fastening his arm around her stomach, and pulled her closer to him. He carefully laid his head in the crook of her neck, nuzzling his cheek against the soft skin of her neck.
“God says that we should spend time with tax collectors, the prostitutes, and sinners alike, which is why I chose the most horrendous place I could find, the rehab center. He says that even the lowliest of sinners can repent and be saved. But, Fitz… after what he did…” Clare started, deep in thought.
Eli sat up, letting go of his girlfriend. His eyes shooting daggers at her. “Fitz. Mark Fitzgerald,” he stated coldly. “What the hell do you think you’re doing helping him?”
Clare sat up slowly, shrugging, “He’s in rehab, Eli. It’s kind of my job when I’m there. He’s my new charge. I have to watch over him; help him.” Her eyes were soft, sad, and slowly filling with tears.
“Why the fuck would you choose him of all people to help!? He’s a worthless piece of shit!” Eli shouted at her.
Clare struggled not to cry as countered his attack. “I didn’t choose anything, Eli. I was told to work him. Maybe God is telling me that Fitz needs me. Maybe he can change. Maybe he can find God, Eli!” She suddenly smiled at the thought. “Do you know how amazing that would be? It’s like Mary Magdalene in the Bible. She was a prostitute, Eli; a high prostitute. But she met Jesus and he forgave her and it was just amazing! Can you imagine, Eli, how awesome that is?”
Eli gripped Clare’s wrists, suddenly angry at her inquiries and beliefs. His hateful green eyes met her excited blue ones. “It’s bullshit, Clare. They feed you nothing but bullshit,” he said through his teeth.
Clare’s face dropped, her heart sinking inside her chest. She violently pulled her wrists away from his hold, shaking her head, “You wouldn’t know. Would you?” With that, she grabbed her shoes off the floor and walked out of his room in silence.
DTNG
Clare stood outside the rehab center, wiping at her eyes exhaustedly. She did not know anywhere else to go. She knew her church was locked; her parents would only ask questions; Alli would ask more questions. She also knew there was a small chapel somewhere inside the building and, right now, she needed the one person she always depended on, God.
Once she had pulled herself together, Clare walked inside the cold building, tugging her sweater tighter to her shivering body. She walked down the nearest hallway and stopped at the doorway of a fairly empty room.
The room had been painted a soft blue color, to lighten the mood, but the color was slowly chipping off from its age. There was a makeshift altar with a kneeling rail surrounding it for confessions. Behind the altar hung a small wooden cross, which was painted black with small red stains on three of the four ends to resemble where Jesus had been nailed to the cross. Throughout the room were various chairs for others to sit if they did not want to kneel.
Clare was not surprised to find the room empty. After all, it was a Saturday night in a rehabilitation center. She was much happier to find it vacant; more privacy. She slowly walked over to the rail surrounding the altar, getting down on her knees. She rested her elbows on the rail and bowed her head, closing her eyes.
“What are you doing?”
Clare gasped, quickly jumping to her feet. She wiped at the eye makeup that was smeared across her face. She could not help but smile a little. “Fitz,” her voice cracked slightly, but she was content with her company. She cleared her throat, looking down at the forest green carpet, “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Neither are you,” Fitz countered, but his voice sounded playful, as he walked over to her. He frowned, reaching out to touch her face. “You’re crying.”
“No, I’m not,” Clare shook her head, looking up at him willingly. “I was,” she admitted timidly, her lips taking their natural pout.
Fitz’s face softened, his eyes awed at her honestly. He cupped her cheek, gingerly rubbing his thumb under her eye. “What did he do to you?” he asked.
Clare watched him intently, her whole body shaking. She took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “He didn’t do anything. I’m just stressed out.” It was not completely a lie, she was stressed out and Eli was not the only thing or person to cause her stress.
Fitz slowly dropped his touch and walked around the small room, examining it. “So you do your worship thing in rehab centers,” he noted.
Clare smiled, laughing slightly, “Not usually. I just know my church is locked and if I go home, I have to face my parents.”
“What’s wrong with your parents?” Fitz asked bluntly. “I mean,” he shrugged, “you’re pretty perfect. I assume your parents are kind of the same.”
Clare shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not perfect.”
Fitz smirked, tilting his head to the side, as he slowly circled her, “You didn’t answer my question.”
Clare spun around as he finished half of his circle. “I chose not to,” she replied simply. She furrowed her brow, continuing to turn with him after every half circle. “What are you doing?”
Fitz shrugged, stopping his action, “Is it bothering you?”
“No,” Clare shook her head. “I’m just… curious.”
Fitz smiled, “You haven’t changed, Edwards.”
Clare quirked an eyebrow, smirking, “I hope that’s good.”
“That’s great,” Fitz stated. He sighed, glancing at the clock hanging above the doorway. “It’s like, eleven. Shouldn’t you be home?”
Clare’s eyes went wide in surprise, blinking, “Um… I probably should.” She took a few quick steps backwards towards the doorway. “I’ll see you later.”
“Tomorrow?” Fitz questioned, trying not to sound hopeful.
“Fitz…” Clare sighed heavily, pursing her lips together.
“Tomorrow,” Fitz stated.
Clare hesitated, her breath hitching. “Tomorrow.” She gave him the smallest hint of a smile and rushed out of the room.
Fitz smirked, turning towards the front of the room. He looked at the cross, which Clare was so attached to, and smiled. “Thanks.”