emptynight | Do you ever get the fear that your perfect verse is just a lie you tell yourself to help you get by?

They arrived in Chicago an hour before sunset and, surprisingly, it was Thomas who insisted they stop off at a mall. Within an hour or so, he had bought clothes and changed, and come out of a jewelry boutique with a small bag in hand. Prying Alice away from the shoe stores took a little doing, along with a pair of earrings from his bag.

The drive from the mall to Thomas’ apartment building in the expensive part of town didn’t take long, though by the time they got there the last rays of sunlight had faded from the sky. The doorman recognized him immediately and grinned, mentioning something about how good it was to see him again. Thomas swallowed his irritation and nodded back pleasantly, dragging Alice with him up the elevator before either she or the doorman could say anything more. Once inside the elevator, he pulled on his last purchase of the evening, a pair of fine, thin leather gloves.

The first thing Thomas noticed when he unlocked the door to the apartment was the scent of perfume, her perfume, bittersweet and familiar. Stepping inside, his eyes immediately went to the couch, where she sat waiting patiently to all eyes except his. Even without feeling her emotions, he saw the way her gloved fingers tapped against her leg, a tiny nervous gesture he knew as well as he knew his own hand.

Thomas’ laugh was weak as he practically stumbled down the stairs. Justine hadn’t even had time to move by the time he was down the stairs, falling to his knees in front of her, arms wrapped around her waist, clinging to her as if he could pull her into himself.

(Tag Alice!)

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Even as he listened to Alice's words tumbling out of her with frustration and disbelief, Thomas watched Justine's face. She had, by her own admission, been following the show all night. And her stunned disbelief flowing seamlessly into agreement with Alice held the ring of truth. It was just hard to remember that it had only been one night when he'd been carrying it for weeks. Didn't seem fair somehow.

Justine turned to Alice instead and shrugged. "You said it better than I could have," she replied before Thomas could come up with anything at all to say. In the silence, Justine put away the gift, wrapped it in its tissue paper and set the lid back on the box. "You're bringing them all back," she said firmly. Her expression softened once she had them all back in a pile. "For me?"

He couldn't help the smile then, touched with bitterness. It wasn't for her, and they both knew it. This was for him. For his idiotic mess. For whatever little happiness he could have. Always for him. Thomas breathed deeply, savouring the scent of her perfume, and nodded. Justine relaxed, and he smiled again. "I'll go back. And I'll bring it all with me." That. That was for her. All that had happened on the show, the relationships and friendships that had grown out of it, that was for him. But being there, being on television, was only the first step of something more. And that would be for her.

Thomas crumpled the take out container, tossed everything back into its neat little plastic bag. Equilibrium. "Happy now?" he asked irritably, shooting both Justine and Alice a look of affection tempered annoyance.

Sometimes she could swear there were parts of little boys that just never grew up, and ok it could be said for either gender, but men always seemed to find some circumstance where they got this look on their face like they were about eight years old and had been tricked into eating their vegetables, which they secretly liked anyway. It didn't matter if they were thirty-eight or a hundred and eight, they just went fine I'll eat my broccoli and waited for you to say something and Alice couldn't help it, it made her smile.

"Close to it Thomas, pretty damn close. You can ship 'em with my presents if you want, they'll all get there at the same time that way, or you know if you wanna keep it separate from me I get that too." Her nerves were going to take a lot more work on her part to keep quiet now that Thomas had been hauled over the hurdle, which was what they were going to do now, dammit. "Either way yeah, happy is the look on my face, and seriously, you're really gonna like broccoli eventually."

Ok so that was a bit random even for Alice, but hey, it was a weird night.

Grumbling, Thomas took the few steps needed to get to the kitchen and disposed of the trash. He would have been more irritated if Justine and Alice hadn't felt so damned relieved about everything. As it was he was mostly just putting on a good show for his own ego.

"Let us take you out for a drink or to a club or something," he said to Justine. "Help me show Alice around the city?"

She shook her head, a stray lock of hair falling into her eyes. Brushing it away, Justine smiled, calm and bittersweet. "I'd love to, but I need to get back to work. She knows how long it takes to check up here. I'm pushing things as is." Her voice turned brisk and businesslike for a moment. "It'll be safe to stay here tonight. There's no security and the doorman is trustworthy. But I wouldn't push it past that, and I know it's hard, Thomas, but try to keep a low profile?" She hugged Alice again, kissing the petite woman on both cheeks, before offering Thomas a hand. "Walk me to the door?"

Thomas nodded, nodding a silent 'I'll be back in a minute,' to Alice, and took Justine's hand, fingers twining, holding on as if he would never let go. She did the same. The walk up the stairs to the entry took too little time, and they stood at the door, silent and staring. Too many things to say, too few words to use.

The hand not clutching hers moved to Justine's cheek, brushing the familiar curve with leather covered fingers. He could feel her warmth seeping through it, and smiled. Her smile turned tremulous but her confidence never wavered as he leaned in close, a painfully familiar gesture. Justine. His Justine. Always his Justine.

The touch of her lips was like tasting the sun. Bright and warm and for a split second it was all there was, warm lips and overwhelming desire that he seemed filled with it. Warmth, and following on its heels, fire that scorched, that burned everything it touched. Love. Thomas could feel it burn, could feel the skin of his lips crack and split and blister, but he held on, pulling Justine closer, as if he could just have her if he tried hard enough, held on long enough for her touch to reduce the darkness in him to cinder and ashes.

She pressed against him, wanting and familiar for a long, precious moment, and then pulled away, silken fingertips brushing his face. "See? It's alright," she whispered, eyes filled with tears, fingers tracing his heat blistered lips. "I love you."

The words bubbled up, natural and wanting, but stuck in his throat. Like they always did. "I-- Drive safely, Justine." She smiled again, nodded, and opened the door. Thomas stood there for a long moment, wrapped in the lingering warmth of her touch, before he closed the door and headed back down the stairs.

As if nothing had happened, he walked into the kitchen and filled a glass with ice and water. Taking a sip from the glass, Thomas smiled at Alice, maybe a little slower than normal. "So, you want to go to the salon for a Cosmo or three?"

There was going to be absolutely no mention of the smell, or how it looked like he'd taken matches to his mouth, or even how unbelievably proud she was of him 'cause ok, maybe she and Justine had pushed him to the water but he had been the one to drink and that was something. And if she was still trying to work out a way around this idiotic burning crap well that was just 'cause she was Alice and defeat did not come easily, even when she opened the door and invited it in like the mature, confident vampire she was.

"I could drink, yeah, and I wanna see Mad again, maybe we can even catch a bit of the show." They were going to have to talk about that. How they were getting there and by what route because Alice already had ideas, hopefully the same ones now that he'd kind of come to his senses. She grinned. "But only if you do the accent, yeah? I've only been looking forward to that for ages."

Do you ever get the fear that your perfect verse is just a lie you tell yourself to help you get by?

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