"Princess"

"I know what you're trying to do Sharon. And I won't let you. I won't let you ruin this."

I took a deep breath, backed against the wall. I couldn't stand it. I ached and I throbbed with shame. What had I done? What had we done? How had we allowed it to happen? I daren't look him in the eye. Because whatever I had seen in them half an hour ago had led me into his bed. My own brother. I don't know what had come over me. No, I do. Passion, longing. It really has been too long. Tom has been gone for almost a year now and I've been celibate all that time. Shying away from men, retreating back into my grief and loneliness.
	
	Dennis, well he's been my only male contact. And tonight, in those instances, as much as I tried to keep hold of my senses, I forgot. I forgot he was family. I suppose I consoled myself. Not a drop of the same blood runs through our veins. But now I'm just making excuses. And Dennis isn't giving up.
	He's closing in on me, there's nowhere to run. His breath is hot on my neck, the hairs standing on end. I close my eyes and try to pretend he's not there. But it's not possible. I know he's there. The tightening knot in my stomach tells me so. And before I muster the courage to open my eyes, Dennis' lips are upon mine. Not a polite brotherly kiss. A kiss that tears my soul in two. Passionate, loving. For a moment I lose myself, savour every detail. I respond, but then I open my eyes, shatter the moment. 
	
	My brother, I must remind myself. I couldn't do this.

"Sharon?"
	
"Vicki!" I yell. Relief. She was back. I pushed past Dennis, unable to bear his closeness any longer. "Vicki!" I say again, flying at her with open arms. "Where have you been, why didn't you call?"

"I know." she smiles. "I'm sorry." She takes my hands in hers and her voice drops to an excited whisper. "I've got something for you."

"What?" I ask, breathless.

She continued to smile, fixing her gaze in the shadows. And then, something... no, someone emerged. And all time stood still, the past fourteen years of my life flashing before my eyes.

" 'ello Princess."

	As real as day, there he was. My dad. The great Den Watts. A dead man walking. My jaw dropped, and  I shook uncontrollably. How was I supposed to believe this? When I had so fiercely protested for so long that he was dead? That he would never abandoned me out of choice? Fourteen years I had lived without him, fourteen years regretting our last harsh exchange of words. Fourteen years blaming myself for his murder, and yet here he was.

The words got caught in my throat. "H-how...how could you do this to me!"

I flew at him before anyone could stop me, flailing my arms and pounding my fists against his chest, hot angry years spilling down my cheeks.

"Sharon!" Vicki cried desperately, but my ears did not hear her.

"SHARON!" Dennis took me by the waist and pulled me away. "It's OK. It's OK."

I collapsed into Dennis' arms, not caring who he was. Just someone to comfort me was enough.

"Vicki? Who's this?"

Vicki, in timid response, licked her lips and took to examining the floor. Dennis fixed her with a cold, hard, disbelievingly stare before he turned back to Dad.

"Wh-what? You mean you don't know who I am?"

"I haven't the faintest idea sunshine-" came the curt response. I felt Dennis lunge forward, as if he had forgotton I was stood before him. I put up my hand. 

"No Dennis, please-"

"Dennis? Vicki, Princess? Either of you want to tell me what the 'ell is going on here?"

"Oh Sharon, I'm so sorry, I didn't think!"

"What are you apologising to her for?" Dennis spat furiously, moving away from me and striding venemously towards Vicki who broke down in distraught tears at his mere approach. "Did you never stop to think about me?"

"What are you going on about? Dennis, Dennis who?"

Dennis hastily wiped his filling eyes and turned on his heel back to Dad, who was completely perplexed. Dennis extended his hand, still with a horribly venemous look in his eye. "Dennis Rickman. Nice to meet you at long last."

"Jesus, Mary & Joseph. You're never... Paula's son?"

"Oh yeah." Dennis answered, nodding. "I'm Paula's son."

"Well, what are you doing-"

 Dennis cut him off, drawing in a sharp breath. "But I'm your son too." 

	Dad froze, his bottom lip quavering as if he wanted to speak but couldn't find the words to express what he felt at this precise moment. Vicki cringed and I turned away, feeling as if I had just been slapped in the face. 

"Wh-what? Princess? Is he having me on?"

"Would it matter if he was?" I hurled, the anger rising up inside. "A phone call Dad. Just to let me know you were alive. All these years..."

"Princess-"

"Do you know where I was two hours ago? I was at the canal, missing my father. And then, well I come here, only to find that he's alive and well and just hasn't bothered to pick up a telephone in 14 years!"

"It wasn't as easy as that! The Firm-"

"Oh stuff The Firm! If you loved me as much as I thought you did, you would have found some way to get in touch!"

"What do you think I'm doing here now eh? Dalton's gone, so as soon as Vicki comes over to Spain and tells me that you need me I drop everything just to come over and see you!"

"Well what do you expect!" I screamed. "I thought you were dead! And what's Dalton got to do with all this anyway?"

"Never mind." says Dennis forcefully. His gaze is fixed upon Dad. "What about me?"

"Well what about you?"

"It's not only Sharon who's been on her own most of her life. It's all of us, me and Vicki too."

"Well, you were nippers."

Vicki nodded sadly, but Dennis was positively shaking with rage. "I was fifteen!"

"I didn't know about you Dennis."

"Oh no!" I cry in mock humour. "And I don't expect Mum knew about Paula Rickman either did she?" 

"You leave your mother out of this Princess. She can't stick up for herself while she's drowning her sorrows somewhere halfway across the world can she?"

"She's not halfway across the world." I answer, shaking with fresh emotion. "She's dead."

"Oh." Dad turned away. "Like neither of us saw that one coming."

"You drove her to it! There was always something that she needed to drown her sorrows over. Or rather someone. First Jan, then Paula..."

"Your mother never knew about Paula."

"Well I'd say it's a good job wouldn't you? Mind you, we're pretty good at keeping secrets in this family aren't we? You with Jan, you with your supposed death! In fact, it's all you! I watched them drag what I thought was your body out of that canal. Have you any idea how that felt?"

Dad hung his head, but nodded. "Yes."

"No you haven't! You don't have any idea!"

For the first time in 20 years, Dad rose his voice to me. "Yes I do Sharon! And don't you dare try and tell me otherwise!"

"Why? Because it was your body they pulled out the canal. Well you're in pretty good nick for someone who had had their head bashed in!"

"Because I was there! I was watching you!"

"What?" I quizzed, disbelievingly.

"I was there." he muttered again. "I was watching you from behind the bushes."

	I expelled Dad from the club without much haste after this revelation. I couldn't bear it. He had watched me in my darkest hour, but he had walked away. Away from his "Princess". I didn't feel so special anymore. I sent Vicki away with a few harsh words. I didn't have the strength to reveal to her the true extent of my anger. Soon enough, within minutes of this momentous occassion, it was over, and only Dennis and I remained in the bar.

"Sharon, I-"

He stepped forwards towards me, and I stepped away, the breath caught in my throat. I turned my head.

"Don't Dennis, please just don't."

"Well, what do you want me to do Sharon? You're not the only one hurting here you know."

A strange calm swept over me as I glanced over my shoulder. "I know." I made my way to the other side of the bar. "Do you want a drink?"

Dennis scraped a stool along the floor and perched on it. He leant across the bar as I poured us some drinks. Close. Too close. He sported a wry smile as he repeated himself.

"What do you want me to do Sharon?"

"Nothing." I answered nervously. "I don't want you to do anything."

"Well I'll tell you what I want shall I? I want us to talk."

"About what?" I asked, taking a heart gulp of my whiskey. "There's nothing to talk about.

"Oh, I think you know there is." He placed his hand on top of mine and smiled up at me. I felt a tingling in my spine, but I tore away my gaze and and removed my hand. Dennis sighed and took his glass, sliding off the stool. "I'm sick of pretending it never happened Sharon."

"Well we don't have much choice. You're my brother. Even if I did feel anything for you in that way, which I don't, nothing could ever come of it. You know it can't."

"Do I? I told you Sharon, I can be a brother to Vicki, but you can't ask me to do the same for you. Not the way I feel."

"Whatever you think you feel you're going to have to stop feeling alright? We can't ever mention this again. Understood?"

"Sharon-"

"Understood?"

Dennis said nothing. He just slumped into a seat and moodily drank his whiskey. I took the chance. I grabbed my bag and ran up the stairs. It was stupid of me to think he wouldn't notice. He sat bolt upright and watched my every move.

"Where are you going?" he called.

"Home. Now please, just leave me alone."

	I lie alone in my room, in the terrifying darkness, emptiness of my flat, clutching a picture of Tom. Just seeing his happy expression makes me want to burst into fresh floods of tears. How I had betrayed him, his memory, our love...

"I'm sorry." I sob quietly, outlining his beaming face with my finger. "I'm so sorry."

I freeze as I hear a key turn in the lock, as I fear whose key it might be. I hear the door creak open and the dull thudding of someone stepping over the threshhold. They're doing so in an excrutiatingly slow fashion. The knot of fear in my stomach is tightening as the footsteps approach my room.

The shadowy figure looms in my doorway and my stomach lurches. 

It was Dennis. No question about it.

"Sharon?"

I turn away from him, onto my side. I bite my lip and hold my breath. He's not deterred. He steps into the room, lowering himself onto the bed. He is shaking too, and as he lifts his hand, he seems uncertain whether or not to reach across and touch me. I shrink away, implying that he shouldn't come near. I scramble to my feet. As I make my way across the room and towards the door, Dennis sighs.

"Is this the way it's always going to be, Sharon? Are you always going to run away from me?"

"I'm not running." I respond, my voice shaking.

"Then stay here with me. For two minutes if you can force yourself." Dennis viciously spits the end of his sentence and I feel a chill rocket down my spine. I steel myself to shake my head.

"Why not?" he asks, gritting his teeth.

"Because..."

But my reasons get caught in my throat. I sigh and go back towards the bed. I cautiously sit next to Dennis. I'm scared to get too close, keep the distance between us large. Dennis senses it.

"For God's sake Sharon," he growls. "I'm not going to jump on you."

I shudder with... well, I don't know what with  as I look across at him, folding my arms protectively across my chest. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Doing what?"

"Tormenting me like this."

Dennis' eyes flare with anger. He stands up and leans towards towards me, forcing me to lie back on the bed in order to escape him. "I'm not doing anything to you Sharon." he hisses. "It's you. You! Why are you denying there's something between us?"

"Th-Th-There is something between us.... we're brother and sister."

"Jesus Christ Sharon!" he yells. "I want you, and I don't mean as a sister, can't you see that?"

I'm scared now and I have to edge backwards across the bed to get away from him as he leans back towards me. He drops his voice to a kind, gentle, deceiving whisper. "Well, can't you?"

I look away, and he explodes once more.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you."

"I can't." I whimper.

Dennis roughly cups my face in his hands, forcing me to look him in the eye. "Why not? Because you know we'll end up in bed again?"

I nod, frightened. I scan his face for something I recognise, but there is nothing. All I can seem to concentrate on is how gorgeous he is. And before I know it, he has crushed his soft lips upon mine, kissing me hungrily, desperate for a response.

I had to respond....

	Once again, I find myself lying in Dennis' arms. He has a smile upon his lips, but I am not coping with experiencing deja vu. Dennis whispers lovingly in my ear but I just want to cringe. This is not the way a brother should behave.

"You're beautiful Sharon. You really are, you know that?"

"You have told me before," I answer, smiling weakly and not bothering to meet his eye.

"You don't believe me, do you?" he asks, pushing a lock of my stray hair tenderly behind my ear. 

I flinch and move away.

"Sharon? What's wrong?"

I struggle to sit up. I reach down to the floor for my clothes. There they lay, having fallen into a messy heap after being torn off in a frenzy of longing. A longing that was wrong. So wrong. I pull on my shirt and button it up.

Dennis rests on his elbow and looks up at me. Then his brow creases and his eyes grow stormy, his lips so thin and twisted. "Not again Sharon! No. I won't let you reget this, not this time. It wouldn't have happened again if you didn't want it to."

I bite my lip and look to the floor. "Dennis I'm sorry."

He kicks back the covers, pulls on his boxers and storms round to my side of the bed. His chest is still bare and I try my hardest to avert my gaze. Dennis crouches in front of me and takes my hands, looking sorrowfully up at me. He takes a deep breath and quietly, in an unnerving voice, asks:

"Look me in the eye..."

I pull my hands away, my cheeks flushing in shame. I refuse to make eye contact, refused to let him touch me. "Dennis. I'm begging you, please don't do this."

"I HAVE TO!" he shouted. 

I spring back, biting back the tears. I forced myself to look at him, but I give him a glassy look, don't want to register his depthless eyes, what I feel as I gaze into them. Because it's wrong.

"Look me in the eye," he repeats, "and tell me that what just happened between us meant nothing to you."

I feel my bottom lip quivering. The first sob escaped my throat. "I can't!"

"Fine!" Dennis holds up his hands. "Then tell me you don't want us to be together."

I swallow the lump forming in my throat, bite back a second sob and grapple at my senses. Then I look up at him, straight in the eyes. I feel another pang of longing. I just want to kiss him, tell him how deeply attractive he is, how special he makes me feel. But it is always there. That niggling voice. 

He's your brother.

And this is how I find my voice. "No Dennis. I don't, and never will, want us to be together OK?"

It breaks my heart to see him him gaze in devestation at the floor. He nods slowly and silent tears cascade down his cheeks. He takes my hand again and he squeezes it hard. I want to pull away again, but I owe him something, I have done this to him.

"Oh Dennis..."

I place my hand on his cheek and he holds it there, savouring my touch. His tears wet my skin and I start to cry too. I can't help it.

"What do you want Sharon? Tell me what you want me to be, and I'll be it. Do you want me to be your brother?"

I nod, the pain almost overbearing. 

"And that's all?"

"Yes." I reply, wiping away my tears. "Brother and sister. That's all..."

	We spent our days, after this conversation, throwing ourselves into work at the club, but deliberately choosing different shifts so we didn't have to come face to face. It seemed stupid, and I knew by the way he ranted to Vicki in the mornings as I hid in the bathroom that he was finding our new arrangement tedious. Amongst other things. Sometimes I would brave it and sneak into the bathroom for a glass of water, when Dennis sat merely in the lounge, watching TV. If I listened closely enough, I would hear him. Hear him crying. And that broke me in two. Despite the big tough man he claimed to be, he would cry.... over me.

I trudge silently back to my room, feeling thorougly miserable. He saw me tonight. He saw me watching him cry. I was stood, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, watching him watching himself in the mirror. And of course, he saw my reflection. Stupid of me to think he wouldn't. He spun round on his heel and threw me a stormy look. I shrank back, rushing to my room. I scrabbled for Tom's photograph, gazed at it, let my tears splash it until I fell into an uneasy slumber.

It doesn't feel like I have been asleep five minutes when my eyelids spring open again. The photo is on the floor, which signifies that my grip upon it must have loosened, that at some point, I've relaxed. But I don't feel as if I will again in a hurry. I can hear something. I strain my ears to listen to what it is. It was the floorboards creaking, my door swinging open on its aged hinges. I close my eyes, feign sleep, but my stomach tightens and the breath gets caught in the back of my throat.

I listen to the rhythmic thudding of someone approaching my bed, squeeze my eyes tighter shut as I realise it must be Dennis. My spine grows rigid as he lowers himself down onto the bed, his back brushing my own. The slightest contact seems now too much to bear.

"It's a shame Sharon." he whispers, nervously letting his fingers dance upon my hair. "We would have been good together." He takes a determined breath as he rises to his feet and looms in the doorway, looking back in on me. "We will be good together."

My heart skips a beat despite my determation to remember our relation to one another. It sounds so wonderful, so full of promise, if only I can forget for a single second what binds us.

The door clicks shut, and I'm left in the darkness, just me and my thoughts. And then, from somewhere, there comes a voice. And I'm staggered to hear it is my own.

"Yes. We will." 

	That next night was very much the same. It looked the same, smelt the same, tasted the same, but it didn't feel the same. Dennis went to the club in the morning, I was not due until late that evening. Which meant that we would both be home for the afternoon. As usual, when I arrive home, Dennis is watching the TV. I pause in the hallway, smoothing down my hair and taking a deep encouraging breath.

"C'mon Sharon. It's now or never."

I smile, and my reflection smiles back. I stride into the lounge, then stop dead. I hadn't noticed the other figure.

"Vicki." I breathe. And once again, I'm surprised to find myself feeling put out. "You alright?" I ask her coolly.

"Yeah, Sharon." she replies. She smiles, but I can see her eyes are still firmly fixed upon the television screen. "You?"

"Actually...." I begin somewhat timidly, but a stolen glance at Dennis' stormy, uncaring expression makes determination flare up inside me. "Vicki, could you go out for a bit darlin', I need to talk to Dennis."

Dennis looks up, surprised. I notice and I smile, but he pretends not to have seen me, and just continues to stare at the television screen. I wonder if he's even registering what he is supposedly watching.

"OK..." Vicki sighs, hauling herself up onto her feet. "I did say I might go play soccer..." She sighs again, turning back from the doorway and making quotes marks in the air with her fingers, as a way of correcting herself. "...play 'football' with Martin and Asif on the Square..."

I smile weakly and stand rooted to the spot as she leaves. As soon as the door clicks shut behind her, I take a cautious step towards the sofa. Dennis heaves himself up, and paces to the other side of the room, glaring defensively across at me.

"What?" I say, smiling nervously.

"I'm honoured you could force yourself to stay here with me!" he spits, storming off to the kitchen. I'm completely perplexed. Force myself? What does he mean?

"Dennis?" I call. "DENNIS!"

"What?" he yells back.

"Come here!"

He skulks back into the room. "Well?" he repeats savagely. "What?"

"I'm fed up of you treating me like this. What have I done to you?"

"You've done everything to me Sharon! I'm incredibly sorry if I'm not finding slipping back into this brother role quite so easily as you'd like, sister!"

"You offered. You said you'd settle for being my broth-"

"WELL I LIED!" 

Dennis' face is crismon with frustrated anger. He pounds his fist on the coffee table and takes me by the shoulders, shaking me vigorously at each of his words.

"I can't bear it Sharon. I lie awake at night, hearing you move around, hearing you sing songs under your breath, and all the time, all I can think is what we did, how much I wanted you, how much I still want you! I'm sorry, but I just can't stick to what we agreed!"

The tears, mainly because of fright, but also sadness and frustration, began to fall, and I hurl back into his face: "WHY?"

"Because I LOVE you, alright?"

I froze, and Dennis seems shocked at his own words. He falls silent and releases me from his grip. He sinks defeatedly down onto the sofa and repeats his words in an almost inaudible whisper.

"Because I love you..."

I take a deep breath, and watch him break down in tears.

"I'm sorry Sharon. It wasn't supposed to work out like this, I know how much you wanted a family..." He laughs nervously. "What a joke that's turned out to be, eh?"

I fall down next to him and take his shaking hand in my own. "Dennis?"

He looks up, silent tears still trickling down his cheeks. "Yeah?" he murmurs.

"I don't want a family, not anymore."

"But you said-"

"I know what I said, but it's just not true anymore..."

"Then what do you want Sharon? Because I'm feeling more and more like I'm just being pushed back out into the cold, and I-"

Wearily, I lift a hand to his cheek, stroking it tenderly. "I want you."

	Dennis just stares at me, as if he can't believe the words have passed my lips. He laughs nervously, slumping back on the sofa and shaking his head in disbelief.
	
"It's all a big joke to you, ain't it Sharon? You just click your fingers, because you know I'll come running. That ain't funny. It's bloody cruel."

I sit there, utterly confused. "Dennis? Don't you realise-?"

"Oh yeah." he nods. "I realise alright. But I'm not going to let it happen."

I let my hand fall away from his, rage boiling up inside. "Well, that's big of you!" I seethe, jumping to my feet and storming into the kitchen. I reach up, taking a coffee mug out of the cupboard, and slamming it down deliberately hard on the countertop. But I still hear Dennis sigh, still hear the sofa creak as he heaves himself up, still hear his shoes tapping rhythmically on the wooden floor as he strides into the kitchen after me. He leans against the sink, watching me as I struggle to place a tablespoon on coffee granules into the mug. My hands are shaking too much. Dennis' presence, my inner longing for him, makes it all too much.

I throw down the spoon in frustration, coffee granules flying everywhere. I hear Dennis chuckle. "Well well, Den Watts' perfect little Princess having a little temper tantrum."

I spin round to face him and he blinks, unnerved at the fiery expression of contempt in my eyes. "Why are you doing this to me? Is this what you wanted to see, eh? Is it?"

He gives me a disbelieving, hateful look. "What? You think you've had it hard. Sharon, you know how I feel. It's torn me up, knowing the one thing I want is the one thing I can't have, because she's hell bent on just being my sister."

"Didn't you listen to me? I said-"

"I know what you said! But I'm not listening to you."

"Why not?" I yell, frustrated.

"Because you'll just regret it all over again!" Tears prickle in his eyes and his voice wobbles as he continues, "I couldn't bear that Sharon, really I couldn't."

I look him straight in the eye and sadly shake my head. "I know. But I promise you, I won't. I won't."

Dennis tries to smile, but his emotions are just too strong and his tears soon overpower him. It breaks my heart and I cautiously raise my hand, wiping away his tears with my thumb. I smile. "You're not such a big tough man after all are you Dennis? See, I know you too well. I can promise you here and now, I won't ever regret anything that happens between us."

"Sharon, I don't understand-"

I press a finger to my lips, using my other hand to entwine our fingers. I drop my voice to a whisper and shake my head certainly at my words. "I'm not Den's Princess. I'm me. And..." 

The words get caught in my throat. How exactly am I supposed to voice them to a man I have asserted is my brother for so long.

"I love you. I love you in any way you're willing to perceive it."

Dennis nods slowly and leans in close. My heart sinks at his gentle kiss. Brotherly. But then, he kisses me again, and something within his kiss explodes, releasing everything he has kept inside for so long. Longing, passion, love. He tears at the buttons on my blouse and I don't protest. His lips still upon mine, he steers me towards the darkened bedroom, lowers me onto the bed...

And afterwards, lying side by side, I feel he's tense, quiet. "You regret it, don't you?" he whispers.

"No." I answer, taking his hand in mine. "I love you."

There's not long to relax, because we hear the front door open, the hall light click on. We both freeze, petrified at being discovered. The footsteps are approaching, and we can do nothing to stop the inveitable. The door opens.

"Princess-"

And there, in the doorway is my dad. Open-mouthed and evidently disgusted at the sight that greets him.

"What the 'ell is going on 'ere?"

	I instictively pull the covers around me, absolutely mortified. I can see Dennis is embarrassed too, but he manages to keep his cool. He swings his legs to the floor, pulls on his shirt, and turns back to me, handing me my blouse. I feel as if I'm shrinking under Dad's glare, and I struggle to do up the buttons, my hands are shaking too much. Dennis zips up his trouser fly and leans over the bed towards me, taking hold of my blouse and gently buttoning it up.

"Come 'ere!" he whispers, a smile creeping up on his lips.

 His touch against my skin feels the most natural wonderful thing in the world. But under Dad's glare, it feels so dirty, so sordid.

"Get your filfthy hands off of her!" Dad growls, his lip curling in anger. 

Dennis pays no attention. And in a horrible split second, Dad lunges forward, grabbing him by the shirt collar and pushing him against the wall. I yell and plead, seeing Dennis' petrified look, but it seems, not for the first time in my life, my pleas have fallen on Dad's deaf ears.

"Go on then!" Dennis spits savagely. "Hit me. Kill me, do whatever you want. But I tell you one thing Den, it won't make your Princess happy!"

Dad looks back at me, his eyes brimming with tears. "What the hell were you doing Princess?"

My cheeks burn, but I can't say it was with shame. Because Dennis was right. What happened between us wouldn't have happened a second time if I hadn't wanted it to aswell.

"What do you want, a diagram?" Dennis asks.

"Shut up!" Dad hisses, pinning him back up against the wall. "You think you're such a funny little man don't you? Do you even realise what you two have done? It's sick. It's... It's against the rules!"

"What rules? From what I can gather, you've never been one for rule setting."

"I've always known where to lay the line."

"Oh yeah? Then how does that explain Vicki eh? You get your daughter's best friend up the duff at sixteen, and that ain't crosssing the line?"

"I'm warning you, son, you stay away from Sharon, or I will personally rip each and every appendage from your body, starting with your wedding tackle alright?"

"I can't do that." Dennis answers firmly, and my heart soars at his courageousness.

"Well, you're gonna have to, ain't ya?" Dennis shakes his head again. I can see he's scared, he's shaking, but he stands his ground. And Dad isn't liking it. "Why? Why can't ya, eh?"

And now, I can see something completely different in Dennis' eyes. All fear and worry had been extinguished, and in their place? Courage and determination.

"Because I love her!"

	Dad's absolutely dumbfounded. He can't even seem to keep his grip on Dennis' collar, and he lets him slump against the wall, to the floor. He turns to me, but I can't take my eyes off Dennis. He doesn't look physically hurt, but just the look in his eyes. What have I done to him, brought upon him?

"Princess? Tell me he just has verbal diarrhea!"

I hang my head, my hair, falling about my face. "I can't Dad." I whisper.

"Why not?"

"Because... because I love him too."

He held his breath and turned back to Dennis, still slumped on the floor in the corner of the room. He gives Dad a defiant look.

"Get out."

Dennis struggles to his feet and looks to me for approval. I nod nervously and he strides past Dad. "I'll be here if you want me Sharon."

"Oh, I think we've gathered she wants you mate, now sling your hook." Two more venemous looks are exchanged then Dad shuts the door. I can hear Dennis settling himself outside in the hall. I want to call out to him, beg him to come back inside and protect me from the wrath of Den Watts. But I must be able to stand up to my own dad.

"How could you Princess?"

"Dad, if it wasn't for you, he wouldn't be here."

"Me? How did you work that one out? It was you and Vicki who tracked him down, not me."

"No, I know. We've had to do a lot of that recently, tracking down family. And you can't blame this one on me and Vicki. We didn't sleep with Paula Rickman!"

"Nah. What's in a name eh?"

"Exactly. It's just a name. Me & Dennis, we're not even blood related. There's nothing wrong with the way we feel. I mean, I thought so at first, but there isn't."

"You think Vicki's gonna see it like that do you? You and Dennis are her brother and sister. How is she going to see it like you do? C'mon Princess, tell me, 'cause I'm interested!"

Tears prickle in my eyes. Too many questions. But I know one thing. The one thing I want. "Don't call me that."

"What?" Dad asks, confused.

"If you can't accept that Dennis, no matter who he is, where he comes from, makes me happy, then maybe you better rethink your place in my life!"

"Oh don't tell me Princess," Dad scoffs, "you love him!"

"YES!" I yell. I'm shaking with certainity now. "And I said, don't call me that."

Dad nods slowly, her lips set in sadness. He sinks down onto the bed next to me. "No more Princess?" he murmurs. 
	
I close my eyes, biting back the tears and accompanying sobs. And I nod in confirmation. "That's right Dad. From now on, I'm just Sharon. No more Princess." 

	
	I began to cry. I shrugged off Dad's attempts to hug me, and just listened to my own deep, harrowing sobs. The door burst open and Dennis stormed through, glaring furiously at Dad.

"Get away from her." he growls, in a terrifying whisper.

"She's my girl," Dad answers calmly, forcing himself to refrain from uttering the banished "Princess." "No-one, especially not a worthless little pervert like you, tells Den Watts what to do."

"Listen to yourself!" Dennis scoffs. "Am I supposed to be scared? Of my daddy?"

Dad sighs, as if anything Dennis had to say was insignificant. Then he turns to me. "Good luck. You're going to need it if you think Vicki's gonna take this lying down."

Dennis sinks down next to me, pulls me into his arms, and looks determinedly up at Dad, who had a new disgusted look upon his face. "We know it ain't gonna be easy. But we know we're worth it."

I nod nervously, and smile when Dennis kisses my hand, clutched around his own.

"I'm glad. But just remember, not everyone else is gonna have the same view." 

"Oh, don't get all concerned for us now. You ain't been much of a father to either of us have ya?"

"No. But I am your father. Both of you."

Dennis holds me closer, and we watch in a broody silence as Dad leaves. "Just us now then."

And he kisses me in passionate celebration. My heart and my stomach do simultaneous somersaults, and I realise, for the first time since my last few hours with Tom, that I am genuinely happy. Dennis has been the one to make me so.  And we stay, content in one another's arms.

Until we hear the door slam shut. I tense, but Dennis' breathing remains steady and I'm in awe of his coolness.

"Sharon? Denn-"

But it all slips. Dennis jumps up, looking completely panic-striken.

And Vicki's expression is almost identical. "Wh-What's going on? What were you doing?"

"We were cuddling darlin'," I stammer.

"Yeah, I saw. B-B-But... you were... holding hands..."

"Vicki-" Dennis begins, but she lifts her hand to silence him, looking coldly across at me.

"Sharon?" she says, with an awful commanding voice. "Tell me what's going on."

	"There's no proper way to explain it darlin'," I begin, leading her to the sofa. She shrinks away from my touch and perches cautiously on the armrest. Developing sobs seem to choke her and she splutters, taking in a deep breath of air. Shaking, she looks from me to Dennis.

"You've been sleeping together haven't you?"

Neither me or Dennis can find the words to confirm her suspicions and she grows frustrated at the awkward silence that greets her. She lets out an aggravated scream and curls her hands into angry little fists. "Please, stop treating me like a child, and just tell me!"

"Then stop acting like one!" Dennis snaps irritably, stepping back into the light of the room. I flinch uncomfortably as Dennis puts his arm around my waist, Vicki scruntinizing our every move. Her face twists into an unpleasant look of horror, her mouth gaping open.

"You are?"

"Yeah," Dennis answers, shrugging casually. "So what?"

"So what?" Vicki repeats, gasping in disbelief. "But you're brother and sister... you're my brother and sister... you can't!"

"Well we have."

I'm uncomfortable with the way Dennis is so easy-going with all his revealations. My fingers dance over the sleeve of his shirt. "Dennis..."

"What? She'll have to get used to it sooner or later."

"Oh, no way." Vicki hisses. "There's no way I'm putting up with this! Have you any idea what people will say?"

"Let them say what they want!"

"Well what about me?"

"Darlin'," I say softly. "Not everything's about you."

"No. I'm beginning to realise that."

She gives us both another disgusted look, much like the one Dad had given us moments before. It cuts, deeply. But my feelings do not waver. I still love, I still want Dennis. His eyes grow stormy and he stalks towards Vicki's room, despite my pleas for him to leave her be, to get her head round everything she had just learnt. But he pays no attention, and I have to follow him.

He goes into Vicki's room, without so much as knocking at the door before entering. She sits there, curled up on her bed and crying to herself. When she sees Dennis, she jumps up, obviously repulsed at his nearness.

"Get away from me. Get out!"

"You want to realise a couple of things here Vicki. Me & Sharon are together now, and no matter how many temper tantrums you throw, nothing's going to change that. If you don't like it-" He turns to her wardrobe and lifts her empty suitcase off the top, flinging it effortlessly onto her bed. She jumps, then nods, tears beginning to cascade down her already slippery cheeks.

"Is that what you want? Fine!" She pulls open the drawer on her beside table and pulls out the contents by the armful, flipping open the lid and dropping it in. I want to say something, to stop her, but she spoke again before I could muster the courage.

"A family Sharon, that's what you wanted. But it's you who's torn it apart. You know something? You make me sick! The both of you!"

"Vicki..." I begin, somewhat pathetically.

"And don't worry, I won't be staying around. Wouldn't want to clutter up your little love nest now would I? Consider my bags packed!"  

	She's all ready to go, still fired up and refusing to back down. Despite how much I know she detests living in America, she'd sooner return there than remain here with me & Dennis knowing what we've done. Can't say I really blame her, I know I'd feel the same, but her rejection still cuts alarmingly deep. I try to hug her goodbye, but she shrugs me off, lifting up her suitcase, and heading out the door. Dennis and I receive only another disgusted look as a way of goodbye. He slams the door shut behind her. Somewhat numb, I sink onto the sofa, holding my head in my hands and trying my best not to let my emotions get the better of me.

"Are you alright?" Dennis asks quietly.

"What do you think?" I answer darkly. "I've lost my dad and my sister in one fell swoop. Of course I'm not alright."

"You haven't lost me. I'll always be here Sharon."

"Yeah." I say, a smile creeping up onto my lips. Despite my sorrow, Dennis still has the power to make me smile. He perches on the armrest where Vicki sat merely ten minutes before. I flop my head into his lap and he runs his fingers gently through my hair. I sigh as I clamber up. Dennis goes into the hall and pulls on his worn jacket. Then he strides admirably back in and offers me his hand.

"C'mon. Let's go get this over with. Everyone's gonna have to know sooner or later Sharon, so they might as well know now."

I sigh, but I take his hand anyway. "I hate it when you're right."

"But you love me really." he answers teasingly, leading me out onto the Square. "Where to then, eh?"

"Well, I don't know about you, but after this I'm going to need a stiff drink."

"The Vic it is then." he smiles.

And, hand in hand, we step off the pavement and weave through the Gardens, The crowded Vic looming ever closer. My breath gets caught in my throat, and Dennis pulls me to the side, just outside the door. He takes me by the shoulders, looking me straight in the eye.

"Tell me that you don't want to do this, tell me now and I'll just go straight back home."

"No." I squeeze his hand reassuringly. I take a deep breath and open the door, leading him in. "C'mon."

"Sharon!"

But Pauline's face falls when she sees Dennis, and she wears the same disgusted, horrified look as Vicki when she sees that I am clutching his hand, as if he were, because he is, a lover, not a brother.

The whole pub falls deathly quiet. I can see all eyes are upon us, and I'm starting to shake, completely unsure of where to look, to escape the disapproving stares. "I knew it would be like this." I murmur nervously, but Dennis keeps a hold on my hand, fixing Pauline with a defying glare. She ignores him and turns to me, folding her her arms sternly across her chest.

"Sharon?" she asks, smiling menacingly sweetly. Her eyes grow stormy almost immediately. "What the hell is going on?"

	"Paul." I say nervously, breaking the stony silence. "Let me buy you a drink."

She curls her hand around her glass. "I'll get my own drink thank you. Now," she repeats coldly. "what's going on, because we're all dying to know!"

I look to the floor. Dennis glances momentarily at me, but turns back to Pauline. "Work it out, woman. We're together now."

Her contemptous glare turns into one of horrified disgust. A look I have seen too many times today. But still, no regrets surface. Then, surprisingly, Pauline laughs.

"Oh you really are a chip off the old block, aren't you Dennis? If she's drops her knickers, you'll jump into them."

The pub gasp at her cattiness. Dennis' cheeks flare red. Mine aren't far behind, but I can feel something else. A much stronger emotion. Fury. "It isn't like that."

"Oh no? Well, come on, tell us. We're all ears."

"And mouth." Dennis mutters, and Pauline lifts a commanding finger, but he just throws her a dark look in response.

I can't answer her question, and just gnaw on my lip, an awkward silence descending on us all again. But Pauline takes in a sharp breath, as if she has just worked this whole sorry mess out. "Well," she begins, "if you'll jump into bed with the Mitchell brothers at the drop of a hat, then why not your own brother eh? Don't you realise, Sharon? What you're doing is... sick... against the law."

Dennis lunges forward, and I have to throw myself in front of him. "Dennis, no!"

Pauline smiles smugly to herself, but now I turn on her, giving her a stormy look. "Dennis is not my brother. There's nothing wrong with what's happened between us."

"Well now you're just confusing us all Sharon." Phil says, stepping into the bar from the corridor. "See, we all thought you wanted a family!"

"I did. Not anymore."

"What about Vicki, eh?" Pauline hisses. "What about your precious father?"

"They're both gone. And no, I don't blame them. If they can't accept that Dennis is who I want to be with, then fine, I'd rather not have them here. But you Pauline, you cannot preach to me on this one! Alright, OK, so I know you didn't go jumping into bed with Pete, but just look at your kids eh? Look at them, before you start criticizing me." I take a deep breath, casting a steely glance all around the pub. "I've got no qualms with Mark, he's a fantastic man, and you should be proud to have him as your son. But Martin? He got poor Sonia pregnant at 15! Sonia gave that baby up because she knew what was best. But no, you had to fight for the poor thing because, deep down, you knew that this was your last chance at being a mother because everyone else had upped and left, just to get away from you!"

Pauline moved forward on her barstool, and slapped me across the face. I hit her right back, and continued.

"In fact, your precious Martin has made Sonia's life hell. He's a murderer. Then Michelle, well, she ain't really much of a best mate is she? Getting pregnant by my dad and my husband."

Phil chuckled, and leant across the bar. "Like you cared about Grant. You were too busy living it up in America."

I don't know why, but Phil's words seem to cut the deepest. Tears brim in my eyes, and my throat tightens. The walls seem to be closing in, and I have to get out. I bolt towards the door, Dennis right behind me. Opening the door, Phil calls "Dennis."

Dennis looks angrily back. Phil smiles menancingly, and says, "She's not really much good is she? In the bedroom departmenrt."

Once again, I find my cheeks burning. I watch Dennis storm to the bar, and punch Phil. It was all so quick. Had it been any slower, I might have tried to stop him. But maybe not, because Phil deserves the bloody nose he has received. Dennis stands there, silently seething and looking down on Phil, a blood stained hand and sat in the shattered shards of a gin bottle, and of course the gin itself. And he smiles in satisfaction. He comes back to me, taking my hand and slipping out of the door.

As soon as we are out on the Square, I tear my shaking hand away and break into a desperate run.

"Sharon!"

	I sit, alone and crying, in Angie's Den. I'm looking around me, my year's hard work, and all I can see is the memories. It's like my life is flashing in front of me, and there's no cause to smile once. I remember the Hallow'een party. I try to smile. After all, it was mine & Tom's engagement party. But I can't. Because the memory that overshadows that is the housefire. I'd tried so hard to keep him back, clung to his hand with all my might... but he'd still gone back, he'd still left me here...

"I thought I might find you in here."

I jump, looking around. "Oh Dennis." I smile, relieved.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his brow creasing with worry.

"Oh nothing. It's just this place. It's amazing how many ghosts one place can hold you know." I smile nostalgically. "Not as may as The Vic mind, but enough."

Dennis slides onto the stool next to me, and smiles. "Amazing? Is it? I wouldn't know. I never stayed in one place for this long. Unless you count prison."

I turn around and fix my gaze upon the sign. "It's a bit of a joke really isn't it?" I say, gesturing with my glass of whiskey.

"What is?"

"Naming this place after my parents. I mean, my dad wasn't exactly my mum's was he? He was anyone's."

Dennis chuckles and I manage a smile too, in spite of myself. Dennis takes my hand. "What are you thinking?" he murmurs.

"I'm thinking..." I begin, in a dream like state. "If someone better came along, would you go too?"

Dennis looks crushed, and I regret even saying the words. But he finds it within himself to deliver me with an answer. "No. No, I wouldn't. No-one better /is/ going to come along Sharon. You're the only person I want. God knows I've fought hard enough to be with you."

My heart soars at these words, and I lovingly caress his cheek with my hand. "I-I want to rename the club."

Dennis' eyes grow wide. "What? What to?"

	Of course, he was shocked initially, not understanding where this decision had arisen from. But he understood. Us, we were a new life. I had to get rid of the old ghosts. We were stood outside the club, huddled in winter coats, watching mezmerized as the "Angie's Den" sign was finally taken down. 

Dennis hugged me closer. "Are you sure you want to do this Sharon?"

I nod, certain. I'm never going to lose the good memories. But this is the right way to go to help me get over the bad ones, the ones I'd rather forget. I know I'm doing the right thing. And then, after about half an hour, listening to hammering and drilling, the new sign is in place, our life together really ready to begin. The style, the colour, it's all remained the same. The name, although only slightly different, holds a whole new meaning.

Dennis sighed happiy. "Sharon's Den eh? Well I'm honoured Ms Watts." He laughs heartily. "C'mon darling, let's get inside. I'm freezing!"

He goes to open the door, but I pull him back. "Come here."

We kiss passionately, we embrace romantically. "I love you." he whispers, holding me close.

"I love you too." I answer. 

Hand in hand, we descend the stairs, enter the main bar. We stand, in awe of the new sign mounted on the wall too. "This is us now Dennis. Who needs to be a Princess eh?"