Entry tags:
- alex,
- gene,
- oom,
- post-canon
Room 6620, Morning of the Third Day
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?
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?
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'OK.'
He's not sure how to respond to that.
'Are you different when you're relaxed?'
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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?'
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'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.
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'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?'
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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.'
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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.
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He lights a cigarette outside, glad it's not pissing down, or windy, or cold. It's one of those times where the least thing can turn a mood, and he'd rather hold on to the few moments of easy banter they managed. Or last night. He'd like to hold on to that for a long time. But he knows things are likely to stay awkward for a while - try as he might, he can't seem to stay in any one mental space. They were fine there, and then she just asked one too many questions and it started to grate, and now he's on edge and trying not to let it show - which just makes it worse.
Deep breath. Smoke a fag. It'll be fine.
'You been out here before?'
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'Once or twice. There was a football game going on, and some sort of garden party, I believe.' Right now, with the summer breeze playing in the trees, setting up a ripple of waves across the surface of the lake, it's a beautiful sight.
'I bet you know this place like the back of your hand.'
She's content just to walk in silence, if that's what he needs.
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He pauses, and looks around. Really, there's a logical place to head towards. It'll afford the opportunity to look around a bit too. He steers towards a path that heads to the right side of the lake.
'I rode a horse a few times on the trails. There's a stable, and Teja's got a forge. If it's still...yeah, there it is.'
He points it out, but keeps walking.
'Haven't been in the woods, but there's some kind of infestation of demon rabbits in there, apparently. An' I've driven the Cortina out a bit, but I wasn' paying much attention then.'
Having too much fun, and therefore, trying not to accidentally end up in the lake.
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'I haven't been riding since I was seventeen or so, but I'd love to get back into it. And I've heard mention of the rabbits. Do they bother the horses?'
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He glances at her sideways, faux-exasperated.
'You would like horses.'
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He snorts a laugh, and goes back to his fag.
'They let you borrow some of them. You'll be able to get one, no problem.'
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'I heard a rumour that there's a beach down there somewhere. Not a pebble beach, but a proper, white sand and sun beach. Something about a part of the Caribbean washing up here one day?'
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He glances up at the sky. It's all right, but it's not proper sun. A bit pale, a bit weak, a bit washed out from all the rain.
'Might cheer us up a bit. I don' know how, or why, it's there, an' I don't care.'
It'll be like having a holiday, maybe. He can't remember a time when it didn't feel grey.
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Alex remembers going to the seashore when she was younger, but it's been ages.
'We should plan a picnic. Bring a bottle of wine and a blanket, maybe. Just lie out and watch the stars?'
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'OK.'
It's a bit Mills and Boon for him, but there might be something to be said for trying it on a stretch of Caribbean sand, rather than anything you might find back in England. And if there's booze, and her, it doesn't sound bad.
He does lapse into silence now. Not because of a mood, more of an absence of one. He's not that good at small talk, and it's not necessary with her anyway, he thinks. A few minutes of peace will be nice.
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'Amazing.' The sun on her face feels good, and she closes her eyes and takes a long, deep breath, letting it out again and with it, feeling some of the tension slipping away.
'Look! Gene, that's not lake. That's ocean.'
It's like something out of a postcard. This place, it's full of miracles. She cuts a glance up at him, thinking just how lucky she is to have found him again.
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He probably wasn't clear enough on that point. It's bloody nice to see her smile though. It brings an answering one from him, and he squeezes her hand.
'Before you suggest it, I didn't bring a towel. An' I'm only skinny-dipping if you do as well.'
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'Don't tease, love. Because I will take you up on it. In a heartbeat.'
She needs something, something to break this grip around her heart and her head. She needs to see him finding his way back, too.
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It's not sensible, and he can't suggest it, after what he's said. But he just wants something to be different now, anything to pull towards something good.
It doesn't matter. He steps on to the sand, glad he's wearing boots so none of it will get in his toes. Maybe just a change of scenery will do it.
'Want to sit for a bit?'
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'No, I want to go for a swim.'
She's already haphazardly kicking off her shoes, and looking at him as her hands start to unbutton her blouse.
'You coming?'
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Hahaha. OK. Um.
Sod it.
'...yeah.'
Though he may be already revising the 'skinny-dipping' to 'pants work as swimwear'.
He yanks off his rugby shirt, and refuses to think of anything. So what if someone else comes on the beach, so what if things move quicker than he'd wanted? Who cares?
'Good job I stuck shorts on this morning.'
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There is currently a bare-as-the-day-she-was-born Alex trotting down the sand, headed for the water.
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...yeah OK, he's just going to stare at her a while.
Of all the times he's imagined first seeing Alex Drake naked, this wasn't anywhere near the top ten.
He's not complaining. He's yanking off boots, and socks and jeans and walking down to join her. He has no illusions. The shorts will be coming off. He's just going to maintain a shred of dignity a while longer, thanks.
Also, he averts his eyes a bit when he gets closer, so she has a chance to get in the water properly. In case she wasn't planning on giving him a full-frontal just yet, or gets embarrassed or something.
'It better not be cold,' he says, to the water just in front of him. 'A bloke's got some pride.'
He was right. She is a bloody minx.
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