AN: I've been working on this one for a little while and just finished it a few days ago. What can I say? I love these two a lot.
Summary: Simon turns to Amanda for comfort late one night.
Set: Early-mid season 2. No spoilers.
Divorce Can Make You Do Crazy Things
She's my best friend. This isn't unreasonable, is it? I mean, regardless of... anything else.
Even Simon didn't quite know how to mentally justify his actions. Yes, he would simply say to himself that, aside from how he felt about her, what he wanted from her was emotional support; but he knew better.
Amanda answered the knock on her door and took in the dishevelled appearance of the man who occupied her mind. She was instantly worried. Here was Simon, standing on her doorstep at an ungodly hour with his hair mussed, his tie undone, his shirt rumpled – he generally looked ill put together, and it was highly unlike him to say the least.
"Simon..." She breathed, reaching for first his cheek, then catching herself and going for his upper arm. "Are you alright?"
"I... uh. Can I come in?" He babbled. Amanda shook her head to shake herself back into the moment, remind herself of her manners.
"Of course." She stepped back to let him in. Simon flopped onto Amanda's couch and dragged his hand over his face.
"I'm sorry for this, I just... I – " Amanda cut him off, sensing more excuses, and came to sit beside him; her hands falling on his.
"Simon, it's fine. I promise. Is this about...?"
"Eva? Of course." He answered sardonically. Amanda pulled her robe closed a little self consciously. How was she supposed to act? She was an affectionate person, and she wanted to hold him, comfort him, but there was an unspoken boundary between them borne out of a fervently denied attraction.
He turned his large blue eyes on Amanda {she noted they were a little bloodshot} and studied her passionately.
She was nothing like Eva. Eva was attractive in a neat, hyper-efficient-German way – actually everything about Eva was in a hyper-efficient-German way... She was not unlike a Volkswagen.
But Amanda...
Amanda was different.
She was passionate. Beautiful, lively, funny; Eva was, of course, entertaining, but Amanda made him laugh and smile without even trying. He'd not even thought about the things he was missing with Eva; knowing what she wore and what she ate, but he wondered those things about Amanda if he didn't see her, didn't eat with her. To top that off, she looked so adorable in her half-asleep state that it was unfair – and was potentially lethal to his already compromised self control.
He reached out and touched the fall of her hair and marvelled at its softness. Amanda twisted her head very slightly towards the contact, involuntarily going to kiss the inside of his wrist, but caught herself. He was sitting in her lounge room at a ridiculous hour because he was having marital problems, and want him though she may, right now he needed her friendship, and that was more important.
She caught his hand and returned it to his leg, but kept holding it, reassuring him. "What happened?"
"When I called her tonight..."
"What happened?" She repeated the question softly; encouraging him, squeezing his hand a little.
"There was someone with her." His voice was no more than a broken whisper and it broke her heart to hear the pain in his voice. She read his true meaning – he believed Eva to be having an affair. Amanda wasn't all together surprised. She didn't mean to be prejudiced against Eva, but something in her thought that to be able to spend seven months away from someone like Simon she mustn't have been as committed to him as she was to her research, and that galled Amanda. She couldn't imagine choosing to be away from him for seven waking hours, let alone seven months.
On an impulse she crawled forward on the couch and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him to her tightly.
"I'm so sorry." She breathed. He settled his hands on her back and hugged her back a little. He wasn't prepared for her sudden burst of affection.
"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked as she pulled away, sliding her hands off him in a way that meant she had contact with him for as long as possible.
"I don't know what there is to say – or feel, even." He shifted in his seat and she folded her legs underneath her. "We've lived separate lives for so long now." Amanda nodded in understanding. "Honestly, it's like we've both been feeling duty bound to a marriage that wasn't really a marriage anymore."
"How do you mean?" She queried.
"I suppose it was what you were saying about intimacy. Clothes and food and hairstyles. You lose that. You get to a point where you don't even really mind that you've lost it." He smiled humourlessly.
Guilt flashed behind her eyes. "One day you're going to have to stop listening to me, Simon."
He kept her gaze for a seemingly endless moment before uttering almost inaudibly: "How could I do that, Amanda? It's all that keeps me sane."
Amanda was unprepared for such a confession. She didn't acknowledge it. "So what are you going to do?"
"Divorce."
"Is that what you want?"
"You don't want to know what I want."
"Simon, you have to know me well enough to know that I'm going to support whatever you decide." He looked away from her, turning his gaze towards the ceiling.
"I never intended to get divorced. So, I'm not sure I'd say it's what I want, but it will let me go after something I want."
"Well if you need someone to talk to about it. I've – "
"Had it, lost it, regretted it?"
"Actually today I was going more down the route of 'been there, done that, bought the tee-shirt'."
Simon looked back to her now, his eyes shining with something undeterminable. She interpreted it wrongly and stumbled on.
"Sorry, I shouldn't... I just mean, if you need someone to talk about it with, I've been there."
"Thank you." He muttered.
"Any time." Amanda took his hands in each of hers and squeezed them reassuringly.
"Amanda..." He said on a moderated exhalation. Don't keep talking, Simon. If you finish that sentence I'm going to have to let go, and I don't want to; Amanda thought, but managed to keep it off her face. For the first time Amanda actually saw the longing in Simon's eyes.
"She seems reasonable, Simon. It doesn't need to be ugly."
"No, no, I'm not worried about that." He dismissed, his gaze unwavering.
"I'm afraid to ask."
"Ask?"
"What you are worried about."
He considered her for a long moment. "Nothing. Not right now." His eyes finally dropped and landed on their entwined hands.
"'Manda..." He didn't meet her eyes, and struggled with how to ask the question.
"I'll grab you a pillow." She rose, pre-empting his question and reluctantly freeing her hands from his. "The couch doesn't fold out, but..."
"No, that's fine. Thanks. I really appreciate this."
She smiled at him, affectionate disbelief dancing in her eyes. "One day you'll understand, Simon."
"I'm sure I will." He agreed, even though he had no idea about to what she was referring.
Amanda returned a few moments later with a doona over her arm and a pillow in her hand.
"You tired?" She asked softly, perching on the arm of the couch.
"A bit."
"Is there anything I can do to make this easier on you?"
Simon smiled appreciatively at her. "You already have."
"Okay." She whispered. A smile touched Amanda's lips, mirroring his own, before she items down beside him and squeezed his shoulder. "If you need anything I'm just down the hall."
"Thanks." He smiled widely at her. She nodded, letting her hand fall away from him and rising to her feet.
"I promise, this will all look better in the morning." She assured from the doorway. Simon nodded, peeling off his jacket and ardently studying her indescribably beautiful eyes. "I, on the other hand will be another story." She teased, making him laugh. "Try and get some sleep." She encouraged softly.
"I will." He promised. "Thank you, again."
"You don't need to keep thanking me, Simon; this kind of thing is what I'm here for."
"What, being woken up at ungodly hours of the morning?"
"You, when you need someone. Now go to sleep." She replied mischievously.
"Alright. Goodnight."
She held his gaze for what seemed like an eternity, leaning her weight against the doorframe and feeling tension melt from her shoulders.
"Goodnight."
Simon watched her retreating form and realised, not for the first time, exactly how lucky he was to know someone as frighteningly perfect as Amanda McKay.
