Room 6620, Morning of the Third Day

[lady_bols]

She slept, and dreamt of fields of verdant green shrouded by the grey English sky.  A bell tolled in the distance, and in the mist, she could see ranks of her fellow officers, solemn in their black dress uniforms.  In their midst, six figures carried something heavy on their shoulders.  She can see the line of the casket, but it takes a moment for her to register what it is.  

There's a hole in the ground, clean edges, the mound of earth beside the grave covered with faux turf to hide the truth of it.  She can smell lilies and her favourite, white roses.  Evan has his arm around Mols shoulders, and her face looks so still.  She's been crying, Alex can tell.  But she's put a brave face on.

He's right, she knows.  She's strong, and resourceful.  She's going to be all right.  She is.

(I'm happy, hope you're happy too.)

But it doesn't keep her from missing her daughter.  And it hurts.  Like nothing she's ever experienced.  A part of her knows she should look away, but she can't.  She watches as they lower the casket into the ground, listens as the pipes play, a haunting melody that puts voice to the ache in her heart.  It feels like a final goodbye, and she struggles to stay there as long as she can.

But there's another reality she belongs to now, softly snoring in bed next to her.  She opens her eyes, feeling the tears on her cheeks, and drinks in the sight of him.  His hair is mussed, and when he's asleep, she can see the outlines of that young man's face beneath the surface.  She thinks of Betty, and gently brushes a lock of his hair back from his face, tucking it behind his ear.

Betty knows what it's like to lose a child.  Two of them, even.  God, she hopes this place will afford her the chance to meet the woman again.  Anything is possible, here, isn't it?

Aren't they both proof of that?

Comments

[lady_bols]

He's just spent five minutes defending a joke?

'Well, then why did you answer that on the the the form?' She stammers a bit, embarrassed and confused. 'For heaven's sake, you just told me...'

She pinches the bridge of her nose, and sighs, trying to find the humour own tendency to overanalyse.

[the_gene_genie]

He maaaaay be stifling a smile, all the way through breakfast turning up and fresh mugs of tea being set down.

'Because, Lady B,' he turns his plate, so the sausages are at the front, 'it was partly the truth. An' I wasn't prepared to elaborate much further on a soddin' dating agency form that we were using for an investigation.'

The in front of you should, it seems, be obvious.

[lady_bols]

'Oh really. Partly the truth. So then my observations stand.'

She tucks in as well, bread and beans first, closing her eyes for a moment to savor the bite.

'You know, that form was terribly reductive anyway. I suspect, and no doubt you'll correct me if I'm wrong, but I suspect, you want a confident lover, one who knows what she wants; someone who enjoys sex. Someone who enjoys you. Not someone who has a limited menu of options and exists solely to keep you happy for the duration of the transaction.'

[the_gene_genie]

He shrugs, and slices into a rasher of bacon.

'Of course. Any bloke wants that, probably.'

Why wouldn't they? He takes a bite, and then points his fork at her.

'But you're misrememberin' what the form said. 'Attitude towards the opposite sex' - at no point did I put that I wanted an actual hooker in my bed. Just a bird that acted like one. So you comparing your own performance to someone I'd pay a tenner to on a Saturday night is unnecessary.'

He still looks rather amused. Also wondering if every off-the-cuff remark he makes is going to be subject to this level of debate. He's enjoying this one, though. It reminds him of the days at the office when things were good.

[lady_bols]

'I'm not comparing my performance to anyone else's. I'm simply stating that your expectations and the reality are -- may be vastly different. And you're absolutely right. You answered the form succinctly. I just think, and again, I may be completely off base, but I think --' It's her turn to do the fork pointing, 'your expectations are far more romantic than you let on.'

She catches his eye and quirks an eyebrow at him. It feels good to flirt with him again. It feels good just to talk to him.

[the_gene_genie]

'Romantic!?'

Good Lord. His eyebrows shoot up, and stay there.

'Never been accused of that before. 'cept by a prozzie once, an' only 'cos I said 'thanks' after.'

He may be joking. Then again, it may be the truth laid out as a joke, in order to deflect - and to subtly let her know that if she thinks he's some kind of angel, she's sorely mistaken.

Plus, y'know. He's quite aware of how skewed most of his encounters over the last thirty years could have been. It's been playing on his mind a bit since last night.

'S'pose the proof'll be in the pudding.'

Something to look forward to then.

[lady_bols]

Her eyes narrow at him, and she takes another bite, chewing thoughtfully. He can be such a conundrum sometimes.

'I suppose it will.'

After another sip of tea, she sets her mug down and offers her hand to him.

'I'm rather looking forward to it.'

Understatement.

[the_gene_genie]

This random hand holding is weird to him. He looks at it a moment, then takes it for just a brief squeeze.

'Yeah, got that impression last night.'

He smirks and starts on the fried bread.

'I've been looking forward to it for three years.'

[lady_bols]

She squeezes back, and then goes back to eating. It's difficult to remember the last time she enjoyed a meal so much.

'Looking forward to it? Or just -- indulging in inappropriate thoughts about your DI?' She's teasing, and maybe trying to cover for her own inappropriate behaviour in the past.

[the_gene_genie]

'True.'

It's a valid distinction.

'I'd given up on it ever actually happening. Well-' and he'd never have made this admission a few days ago, '-that's not right. I never thought it'd happen at the beginning. I just had hope for a while.'

And then he didn't, anymore.

[lady_bols]

'We've got a second chance, now,' she says, her voice quiet. 'To make up for all that lost time. And this time, I promise, I'll do better.'

She feels like she has so much to make up for to him, and then there's the real truth. She hasn't felt like this about anyone, ever. Not even her daughter's father. He was comfortable, nice, when he wasn't so self-absorbed. But he never made her heart race like this man does.

[the_gene_genie]

His cutlery stills, just for a second. He glances up, then down.

'It's not about doin' better.'

This is a good breakfast.

'You had your own stuff goin' on that I didn' know about.'

He wishes she could have told him. But he knows she couldn't, and the one time she tried - well, they both know how that turned out.

[lady_bols]

She nods, faffing about with the few items remaining on her plate, smiling as she thinks about all the heartaches they could have avoided had they just been able to talk to one another.

'Well, now we both know. And we're together. Right now, I would feel greedy asking for anything more than that.'

Oh more tea, thank heavens.

[the_gene_genie]

He stills again, but this time in mock alarm.

'What else would you ask for?'

[lady_bols]

Today is not a day for dark thoughts, she reminds herself. His question brings her head up, and a smirk blossoms. A decidedly wicked, playful smirk.

'Let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?'

[the_gene_genie]

'Oh no no, no you don't.'

He spears a sausage, and bites it.

'You can't say somethin' like that an' leave it hanging.'

[lady_bols]

She laughs, looking away across the room, taking in the Window and the door that leads down to the lake.

'I'd ask for a chance to get to know you better. A chance to -- be...'

Her voice trails off, and her smile softens.

'A chance just to relax and be myself around you. And I'd ask the same for you. I have no idea what that even looks like, after all this.'

[the_gene_genie]

'Isn' that what we're doing?'

Statements like that make him nervous.

'I've always been myself aroun' you, Bols. Like you said, I'm not any different now. You just know a bit more - we know a bit more.'

He gets that she might be different now. She already is. But it worries him, that she might expect something other than she already knows.

[lady_bols]

'Everything's changed, Gene. Everything. I've spent the last three years -- look, I'm not sure you've ever seen me relaxed. Pissed, yes. Exhausted, worn down, punch drunk, but never relaxed.'

[the_gene_genie]

He blinks.

'OK.'

He's not sure how to respond to that.

'Are you different when you're relaxed?'

[lady_bols]

'I -- I don't know. I honestly don't know. I've been running for so many years. And before that, I was a single mother, with a career and a book to write.'

She leans an elbow on the table, resting her chin on her hand.

'I guess you'll just have shag all the sharp edges off me and find out, won't you?'

[the_gene_genie]

He chuffs a laugh, but there's not much humour in it.

'Yeah.'

He toys with some beans, then pushes his plate aside. It's not even half eaten, but it's enough.

'Beginning to sound like you only want me for shagging, Alex.'

He's kidding.

At least, it sounds like he's kidding.

[lady_bols]

She regards him quietly for a long moment. Maybe he can see the hurt in her eyes, if he cares to look.

'I thought you knew me better than that, Gene.'

She hasn't slept with anyone since that yuppie twat as he likes to call her one night stand. And she came back. She's pretty sure he has an over-inflated ego, but not even he can think he's that good a lay.

'What can I do to convince you otherwise, hmm?'

[the_gene_genie]

No, that's not what his ego is concerned about. He'd just rather the edges came off when they weren't in bed, that's all.

But he can't think of a way to say that that doesn't come off as criticism, and he's very aware of how they seem to be going out of their way to accommodate each other. Probably understandable, but he's starting to fray a bit.

'Don' know. Nothing. You don't have to convince me.'

He rubs a hand over his forehead, and picks his tea up.

'You going to be long? I'll go an' have a fag outside if you don' want smoke on your food.'

[lady_bols]

'No, I'm done. Let's walk, shall we?'

She finishes the last of her tea, and stands, a lot more contained than she was when they came down the stairs. Have they forgotten how to be friends? Has it been so long?

Is there too much damage to undo it all?

She waits by the table, and it takes a moment to drum up her courage, but she holds her hand out to him again.