Rating: FRC
Word Count: 660
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Authors Note: I wrote this at 11:30 last night and I was tired, so excuse all the mistakes and the crappyness.
Even when it was night in London, the city was never still. Cars and busses drove by, creating a blanket of noise across Capital. Taxis ran all night, taking party-goers and clubbers to and from their destinations. Drunken couples having screaming matching on the corner because they've been kicked out of the Pub and have no-one else to go. Stacie watched it all from the rooftop of the apartment building, surrounded by the twinkling lights of the hotels and the advertising boards. She leant her elbows on the metal railing, feeling the cold seeping into her flimsy silk dressing gown.
She still couldn't wrap her head around it. They had been well and truly conned, and they didn't even see it coming. Albert was right: it was beautifully done and perfectly executed. It was just so infuriating! They were meant to be the best; the best of the best, and they were taken by an amateur!
If she was honest, though, that wasn't the real reason that she was still awake at something past one in the morning.
She sighed and let her head fall forward, leaning more heavily on her elbows. She heard quiet footsteps behind her, walking closer until they stopped a few feet away.
"Stace?"
Her eyes fell shut, but she didn't move or answer to her name. The footsteps moved closer until they were mere inches away from her.
"Stacie? You ok?"
She opened her eyes then and straightened up, turning to look at the other person that had joined her. He looked like he hadn't slept either; dressed in yesterday's jeans and button-up shirt. The leather jacket he'd acquired a few weeks back was missing, presumably still hanging from the back of the chair where he'd left it earlier that evening. She gave him a reassuring smile and nodded.
"Course, Ash. I just couldn't sleep, that's all."
His facial expression didn't change. He stared at her; his eyes tearing through every layer of her front until she was stripped bare before him. He wasn't buying it, and if Stacie was honest with herself, she wouldn't either. Her smile slipped, and her emotions were laid out for him like a poker hand on a card table.
"I'm still here, Stacie."
A sound made its way out of her throat; a cross between a laugh and a sob. He'd hit right on the head with that one. It always amazed her how well he could read her. She turned back to the cityscape, biting her lip to stop the tears from welling in her eyes.
"I knew what you were doing," she started, "We all did. But for a split second there I actually believed it. I actually thought you were dying. And I was so scared, Ash. Even though my head had figured it out, my heart just ached inside my chest."
"Hey, hey, hey." He said, moving forward the extra few inches and placing both hands on her shoulders. "Shhh.." The heat permeated the thin fabric and caused her body to shiver. He softly rubbed her upper arms to warm them up, pressing a small kiss to her hair.
She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face into his shoulder. He returned the embraced, pulling her slender form as close to his own body as possible.
"I'm still here, sweetheart." He said into her hair, "I'm not going anywhere."
"I should bloody hope not!" She said, pulling back slightly so she could see his face. He smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"Come on...it's back to bed with you. Don't want you catching a cold now, do we?"
She shook her head and followed his lead, gripping his hand as tight as she could. At the last minute she turned and looked back over the London Skyline. Yesterday was a disaster, but tomorrow brings a new day, and with it, another chance to get back what they had lost.