What's stopping you?
“Come to gloat?” Joan said defiantly.
Vera shot the door behind her and made a few steps forward. She stopped when she was at the other end of the bench, waiting for some kind of move. When none was made, she asked, as if crying, “Why?”
Joan was a bit taken aback by the tone in Vera’s voice. She tried to maintain her composure as she shifted on the bench.
Now facing Vera, she contemplated her from the bottom up: her face looked tired, sad, her features twitching in pain. Joan almost gasped at the sight. She had expected to deal with a pedantic Vera, the Vera who “enjoys petty victories,” and this victory was far from being small. But instead she finds a Vera that’s exhausted, almost broken and waiting for some sort of relief or comfort, as if hoping for Joan to grant her just that.
And her uniform, covered in Bea’s blood here and there like Joan’s clothes were. Suddenly remembering the question that was asked, Joan answered calmly “why what?”
Joan watched carefully as Vera inhaled and rubbed her temples.
Sitting opposite to Joan, Vera removed her governor’s jacket and folded it, placing it on the bench and almost symbolically sliding it halfway through in between them. It almost felt like a bonding gesture, a piece of offering for peace, in a very far-fetched fantasy of Joan’s. But it actually tasted like resignation for the both of them, as if they had lost too much in this war to even hope for a winner. Both sides were doomed to defeat. Joan looked down on the folded jacket with nostalgia, but lifted her gaze to stare at the creature she found most intriguing at the moment.
They looked intently in each other’s eyes, neither able to hide the redness of them. Emotions were running high and there seemed to be no more energy for smug faces or remarks. “Why Joan, why are you so... defective?”
Joan swallowed hard and averted her eyes at the utterance of the word she’d heard so often in her life, “defective, freak...” only to look back at Vera again, with an accusing gaze. “Defective? Me, Vera? While you tried to kill me?”
-I-WHAT? YOU killed Bea Smith! She died in my arms minutes before the ambulance even arrived!
Normally, Joan would supress a smile as she usually did in similar circumstances. But something in the way Vera said it was stopping her, something reminding her of the mistake she’d made by killing Smith, the line she’d crossed so many times, this time to the point of no return, which would probably condemn her to a life sentence. And most of all, Vera, whom she’d never seen like this. She genuinely seemed outraged by Joan’s suggesting she’d tried to kill her. Could she have been mistaken in drawing those conclusions?
“Joan, please, explain to me, how can a woman as intelligent as you waste so much of her intelligence and energy by focusing on hurting others as well as herself? Why are you persisting in being so... inhumane!”
Joan spat at her: “You know nothing!”
Joan turned away and straightened her back as she tensed up, sitting bolt upright, showing Vera her glorious profile. Vera found her beautiful, despite the circumstances, and she hated herself for it. But now was no time to glorify Joan. She had to get through to her in some way: “Oh please don’t give me that ‘greater good’ bullshit! What good could possibly come out of this one?! Look at you! Look at us! We’re ruined! You’ll never EVER be governor again, and I probably will lose my head over this too! And for what? A moment of glory? A taste of power? A game?”
-I always knew you didn’t have it in you. You never should’ve been governor, you don’t have what it takes. You had the ambition but you give up, so easily. You can’t be trusted with power.
Joan finished that last sentence with a sour laughter. That smug look was back on her face after all, however forced it was. Vera saw the corner of her lips curl up, which only reasserted the portion of hatred and disgust within her. She was silent for a while, simply staring at the outraging woman, who gazed back just to admire her work. But Joan hadn’t silenced Vera for long.
“WHAT power Joan?! Get real. This is fucking Clayton in Melbourne, Victoria. It’s only a fucking prison for god’s sake! Yes I too wanted to be governor, and now well, I can tell you, it’s shit! This life is shit!”
Joan lowered her gaze and started biting the inside of her cheek. She was losing her leverage.
Vera kept going: “Ever since you walked in mine it’s been hectic as hell, and the excitement I got out of it was not worth the struggle.” Joan looked up at Vera, the tightness in her jaw apparent, as she listened. Vera sure knew how to get her attention. She did something that startled Joan a little, as she changed her position to straddle the bench and slide forward, moving a little closer to Joan, who was almost tempted to do the same. As much as she wouldn’t give in, Joan felt so attracted to Vera at the moment and shaken by every move of the petite woman’s body that she found it hard to resist her. Vera dared to put her hand on the older woman’s left shoulder. Joan instantly tensed under her touch, as Vera added more calmly “but at the end of the day, this is a prison, for all of us. So where do you draw the line Joan? Where does it stop? We’re all defective, you’re right. But some of us wake up before it’s too late to start actually living for what TRULY matters.” At that, Joan harshly took Vera’s wrist in her right hand, and squeezed it firmly, tightening her grip as she pulled her close so that their faces were only an inch apart. Vera could see the hurt and anger in Joan’s eyes, but made sure to hide her own fear and apprehension. Joan kept Vera in place as she spoke directly to her face and retorted: “And what’s that Vera? What matters? What does a pa-theti-c mouse like you know about what matters? Family? Love? Friendship? When was the last time you made passionate love? Or just had a good and nice, Fuc-k.”
This made Vera gasp and blush, but she kept looking in Joan’s eyes trying not to flinch. She knew it was meant to unsettle her and she didn’t want to lose her ground now. But God why did that word sound so right in Joan’s mouth? It was wrong and twisted but she knew deep down how turned on she was. She tried to ignore it.
Joan went on. “The way you deliver this little nonsense of yours is quite noble and poetic, it clearly attests of That Westfall woman’s rubbing off on you. Speaking of rubbing, I hear Mister Stewart likes a woman in authority, extra points if naive and malleable,” Joan said as she started rubbing circles on Vera’s wrist with her thumb.
Vera felt the embarrassment return, but soon was able to recover from it and strike back, withdrawing her arm from the woman’s grasp. “You know Joan, you’re doing it again, trying to move your problem around by putting somebody else on the spot and hurting them. Because you have no argument whatsoever to refute that little nonsense, as you say. You see, you’ve come to the point where you realize that the nonsense is the alleged greater good you’re fighting to maintain... and that you’re only fighting yourself, and your true chance at happiness.” Joan felt the anger inside her rise. She stood and turned her back to Vera. This was a little too close to the bone and she wanted her to shut up, so much that she didn’t know what was stopping her from lifting Vera off the floor and choking her to death like she did Warner. But instead, she kept listening to the petite woman talking behind her.
“You could’ve had so much more. Instead you’re here, in this shithole. I might get fired, who knows, maybe even get charged with negligence or god knows what. But I didn’t try to kill you, you’ve killed, many times. And you’ve ruined yourself. And you’re still lying to yourself. You’ve been imprisoned in this flawed psychology of yours for as long as you can remember and now you can’t even tell the difference between good or bad, power and solitude, freedom and prison-”
“Love and hate,” Joan added while cutting Vera off. She seemed to have momentarily returned to her state of trance. “Ehm.. what?” Vera looked at Joan, unable to decipher what she was thinking. Joan turned around now facing her. “You want to be honest? Cards on the table. Right now, I am not feeling very much in control.”
Vera looked at her as if saying “no kidding you’re trapped in here.” She let Joan continue. “I-I am experiencing... feelings. I don’t-I don’t really know how to feel... about you. Where I stand with you. Do you understand?”
-I feel the same way about you, so maybe.
-I need to know. Did you plan on having me killed with Smith?
-No! Joan, no!
-I have to ask.
-And what if I did? What if I told you, I did it for the greater good? Would it be wrong then?
-It would be wrong Vera, because I would NEVER try to kill YOU! Never!
-Oh really? What would stop you?
-What’s stopping me now?
As Vera considered this, Joan shortened the distance between them. Vera’s confidence was taming with the sweat building on her forehead. Joan was now dangerously close, looking down on her. She lifted her chin to gaze into her eyes. “Do you trust me? I bet you do, or else you wouldn’t have come here in the middle of the night to lock yourself up in here with me. You know I’m much stronger than you are,” she whispered as she started caressing Vera’s shoulders. Rising to her neck, she tightened her grip around it, feeling Vera tense under her touch. She traced the bump of her pulsing point, and murmured “precious little Vera.” Vera, despite her notable fear, couldn’t help but to arch her back a little and moan at the words Joan was whispering. She could feel Joan’s hot breath on her face and Joan could feel the effect she was inducing in her. Vera circled Joan’s waist with her arms and buried her face in her shirt, right below Joan’s chest. The standing woman didn’t know how they’d gotten there but she returned the embrace. Vera softly let go of her and lifted her chin to bring up the unanswered question again, “what’s stopping you Joan?”
Joan stroked her cheek while remaining silent. She licked her lips. Vera was unique in her eyes, and so attractive for some reason. They seemed to be holding their breaths, until Joan, in one swift motion, pressed and rotated Vera’s shoulders down to have her laying down on her back on the bench, with Joan on top, straddling her and holding her captive. Vera moaned loudly and sensually, as Joan pressed down on her with all her weight, and started nibbling at her neck.
“Oh Joan, I can’t-I can’t“
-I know, Vera I know.
-We're-we're not good people. I feel-so dirty.
-Let me get rid of your bloodied clothes if that helps.
Joan yanked Vera's shirt up and started sucking, licking and trailed down to leave soft kisses on her firm stomack. "Joan! Oh god. This feels... nice... but-" Joan was stopped by Vera, who was too conflicted to know whether she wanted this to be their first time. She abruptly stood and re-buttoned her shirt under Joan's disappointed gaze. As she picked her jacket from the bench, she looked at Joan with a puzzled face. “I can’t. I'm sorry.This feels wrong, you’re using me. I can sense it. This is all part of your great "Joan Ferguson's come back" plan isn’t it?”