All That Glitters is Not Gold
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
-JRR Tolkien
Tory sat in a corner of the room, sipping champagne and watching as Charleston's wealthiest and most beautiful milled around the Claybourne Manor ballroom. The room shone a warm inviting glow, sharp, bright and full of life but the glamour had long lost its effect on Tory. Instead she felt as if everything couldn't look any more drab.
She hated these social events just as much as she'd hated the debutante events Whitney made her attend when she was younger. Despite everything she'd been through, part of her still felt inferior to these people, the same girls she went to school with and their stinking rich families. It didn't matter how often Ella reminded her that SHE was the one engaged to Charleston's wealthiest, most eligible bachelor, Tory still felt out of place in times like these. Catching the eye of one of the girls clustered around Ashley Bodford and Courtney Holt, the remaining members of the Tripod of Skank, Tory sighed tiredly because she just knew they were talking about her. It was obvious by the way their eyes flickered over to her and how they laughed obnoxiously behind their hands as if Tory couldn't see them.
Setting her champagne down, she stood and smoothed out her dress. Passing by the little group, Tory ran a hand through her hair surreptitiously making sure they could all see the ring on her finger. By the way they fell silent, she knew it had worked. Finding little joy in the pettiness, she weaved around the guests, catching snatches of conversations about the latest scandal or Friday's game. She found Chance near the entrance to the ballroom, talking to some investors interested in Candela's research. Waiting patiently for him to finish, Tory glanced around the room, all too aware of the eyes on her.
It was no secret that the high-class people of Charleston viewed her as an outsider, not that Tory particularly cared. It'd been almost 2 years since Chance and Tory had gotten together and frankly, they were just bitter people. Long gone were the days they still remembered her perfect curtsy at her debutante ball.
Chance finished talking, turning to her and smiling that blinding smile that to this day still made Tory's cheeks flush.
"I'm going to turn in for the night. Will this last much longer?" Tory asked quietly, mindful of the group of businessmen in front of them.
"We were just wrapping up. I'll be upstairs in a bit," Chance whispered, lips brushing her cheek. Tory nodded, pulling out of his arms and curtsying slightly in acknowledgement to the gentlemen before her. Speed-walking her way out of the ballroom and into the foyer where the grand staircase was situated, Tory shook off the unease she felt. Upstairs, the halls were dark and Tory felt that same thrill of fear she felt the night those men broke into the manor all those years ago. Walking through these halls, it was almost as if she could feel the ghosts of their younger selves creeping around. Her heart felt heavy just thinking about it.
Claybourne Manor hadn't changed much since then, having lost much of it's glamorous effect on Tory after having lived there for about a year. Living there felt like living in a gilded cage museum, one giving the illusion of warmth yet cold and impersonal. It drove her crazy sometimes; the constant scrutiny, having to play polite with people that cared for nothing but advancing their status, the intrusive questioning. She felt like screaming sometimes. If only she could have somehow told her younger self.
Coming to a stop before the master bedroom, Tory tugged on the door, stepping inside and turning the dial to brighten the room. From his doggy bed, Coop looked up at her miserably. Tory crossed the room, kneeling by the wolf dog and petting him gently.
"I'm sorry, boy. I'll take you out on a walk tomorrow. Promise," Tory says to him, Coop whining in response. Kissing him on the head, she moved to the closet, slipping out of her dress as she went. One thing Tory still wasn't used to was the abundance of dresses and jewelry and shoes that now dominated most of her closet. How she longed for jeans and sweatshirts and hoodies.
Having slipped into blue cotton pajamas, Tory sat on the window sill, watching as the guests began to leave in their expensive cars and rented limousines. Her gaze shifted from the streets down below to the sky. High above, you could barely see the stars with all the light pollution but one lone star shined in the inky darkness. She watched it twinkle, wondering where she would be in this moment if not here, living this life.
Much later, Chance slips into bed beside her, moving to kiss her. Tory turns away under the guise of sleeping, feeling the way he stares at her for a moment before turning his back to her. In minutes, his breathing has lulled into deeper, rhythmic breaths. Tory stares at the bright beam of moonlight that filters in through the window, the memories that run through her head a gentle lullaby that put her to sleep.
Tory's feet pound against the pavement, her blood pumping to the rhythm of the music. Alongside her, Coop keeps pace, happy to be out of the house. She likes running just as much as he does, it's the one time of the day where she doesn't feel confined.
She turns down on the street that leads to Morris, passing by the sleepy town of Folly Beach, running across the bridge and down the familiar paths of Morris until she reaches the door of her old home. Swiping her sweaty hair out of her face, she rings the doorbell and waits, listening to Whitney puttering around inside with Jackson. Coop comes to a stop next to her, tail wagging and tongue lolling, back from the dunes he'd disappeared into the second they'd crossed the bridge.
Surprisingly, its Kit that opens the door, a bowl of what looks to be potato salad in hand.
"What are you doing here, kiddo?" he blinks at her owlishly.
"Hi dad. Just dropping in. Is that okay?" she asks, stepping up to hug him. How bad of a daughter do you have to be that even your own father is surprised to see you?
"Of course. You're always welcome here, Tor. This is your home. Are you staying for lunch? Whitney made chicken pot pie."
Oh god. Tory almost moaned at the mention of Whitney's food. It'd been so long since she'd had some.
"Yeah. Where's Jacks?" Tory asked, toeing off her shoes and letting Coop into the house. Coop shoots off into the kitchen and a few seconds later, Tory hears Whitney's indignant shrieks. Tory grinned and Kit smothered a laugh. Whitney never had quite gotten rid of her fear of Cooper even though Coop was a lot less threatening to her these days.
"TORY!"
Little six-year old Jackson came tearing down the hallway on short chubby legs, launching himself into Tory's waiting arms. She swung him up on her hip, blowing kisses on his cheek. He giggled, hiding his face in the crook of her neck. God, Tory adored this little boy.
He was absolutely precious. She knew that Whitney and Kit had tried many times before to conceive, something she tries not to think about too often, but it just hadn't happened until Jackson came around. Being a sister was a new experience for Tory but one that she loved wholeheartedly.
"I missed you, you little monkey. Where's my kiss?" Tory asked, following Kit into the kitchen.
Jacks' little blonde head popped up and he kissed her cheek, leaving a slobbery mark behind. Tory wrinkled her nose at him and turned her attention to where Whitney was wagging her finger at Coop.
"No. Bad boy. That food is not for you. Go get your food bowl," Whitney said. Coop stared at her, head cocking to one side in consideration before shooting off in search of his food bowl.
"Hi Whit," Tory mused, leaning to hug her with Jacks balanced on her right hip.
"Tory. Where have you been? We never see you around here anymore," Whitney frowned, wiping her hands on the kitchen towel.
"I know. I'm sorry. I've just been busy at the company. There was this huge production line mix-up and I had board meetings to attend." Tory explained, setting Jacks down in a chair.
"I never did understand why you chose to work at Candela. I thought you wanted to go into forensic science like Aunt Tempe," Kit said, setting the potato salad down.
"I changed my mind," Tory replied, tone off. She couldn't tell him she was trying to find a way to reactivate the parvovirus genome that had altered her DNA as a teenage and endangered the lives of her and her friends. Kit watched her suspiciously.
"So why are you home today? I thought you would be at Loggerhead," Tory asked, voice casual enough that the change of topic didn't raise suspicion.
"It's Sunday, Tor. Everyone has the day off," Kit looked at her strangely. "Are you feeling okay?"
"I'm fine."
Tory stared at the table surface, aware of the eyes on her. Whitney came around the table, laying a manicured hand on Tory's head. She wrinkled her nose, wiping the sweat from Tory's forehead off on her jeans.
"Well, you feel a little warm but that could be because of the running. Why don't you go upstairs and shower off while we finish up lunch? Maybe lay down for a bit," Whitney suggested, carding a hand through Jacks' blonde curls on her way back to the stove.
"Yeah… I think I will."
Tory made her escape upstairs, Coop at her heels. Peeling off her tank top, she passed by her desk, catching sight of something tucked into the corner of her mirror. It was a picture from freshman year. It was her first day of school at Bolton and Kit had come down to the pier to see her off with the boys. Hi was at the front of the boat with Tom, doing a ridiculous pose, Bolton jacket inside out like always. Shelton had his nose glued to his phone as per usual, Tory was staring up blankly at the camera from where she sat and beside her was Ben, cracking a rare smile.
Tory smiled sadly, swiping a hand over the picture to rid it of dust. She set it down on the dresser and looked through her closet for old clothes she'd left behind. After showering, she went back downstairs to the kitchen where Kit was washing dishes and Jacks was petting a sleepy Coop.
"Where's Whitney?" Tory asked, grabbing her plate of food and sitting down at the table.
"She went upstairs to sleep, she's been tired lately. You know she's in charge of the debutante committee now and the season is wrapping up."
"Mhmm," Tory hummed in response, savoring the delicious taste of chicken pot pie. "I wanted to ask you. Where'd you find this picture?"
Tory dug the picture out from the bag she'd put her stuff in, laying it on the table. Kit leaned over the table to look at it, squinting a bit.
"Whitney found it. She thought you'd like to have it," he said, rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.
"You need glasses," Tory accused, pointing her fork at him threateningly. Kit gave her a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I've been meaning to go but I haven't found the time. I don't like leaving Whitney alone with Jack for so long."
"You could always bring him over so I can babysit," Tory offered. Kit looked at her, surprised again but grateful.
"Thanks kiddo. Now tell me, what's been going on with you?"
Tory was in bed, watching an episode of Bones and feasting on a carton of cookies and cream ice cream, when Chance arrived. He flew into the room, slamming the door open and ripping off his tie. Tory watched him warily, pausing her show and beside her, Coop lifted his head.
"Who ticked you off?"
"We just lost a multi-million dollar contract because some idiot didn-"
Silence reigned for a moment as Chance suddenly stopped before the dresser, picking something up.
"Where'd you get this?" he turned around, his face as white as a sheet. It was as if he'd seen a ghost. He was holding up the picture Tory had brought from Whitney and Kit's of the Morris Island pack pre-virus.
"I went home today and Whitney gave it to me," Tory responded, getting up from bed with the carton of ice cream in hand.
"You went to Morris Island today?"
Chance's voice had become a whisper and his eyes seem to turn inward, seeing something Tory couldn't see.
"Are you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost," Tory brushed past him on the way to the bathroom, grabbing her toothbrush and stepping back out to catch his response. He grabbed her wrist.
"I haven't… But maybe you have," Chance whispered, eyes seeming to search her face. Tory ripped her wrist from his hold, cradling it to her chest, glaring at him.
"Are you high on something?"
Chance had taken to using recreational drugs to relieve "stress" while on business trips but lately, he was using them outside of business trips and it was making him a neurotic, unstable mess. It reminded her of the way he'd been after the fiasco with Katherine Heaton's body when he was at the ward (which of course made her feel guilty).
He stared at her a while longer and then turned away, locking himself in the bathroom. Tory huffed a frustrated sigh and moved to the window. Outside, the sun had set and dusk had turned the streets a dark blue. At the end of the street, a street light fizzled and for a moment, Tory could have sworn she saw someone standing there.
Shaking off the chills that ran through her body, Tory padded down the hall in search of one of the guest bathrooms. Once again the halls were dark, only illuminated by the light of the streetlamps outside. She couldn't fathom how Chance had ever grown up here.
On the exterior, the house was elegant and beautiful. The kind of house people look at and think they want to have someday once they're rich and famous. But it was different now, living here. There was a coldness in this home, no personality which was ironic since everywhere she looked, the history of its inhabitants and their adventures lingered. She thought of Kit and Whitney with Jackson. Tory couldn't imagine raising a child here, not that she'd given any thought to children yet.
She reached the guest bathroom, brushed her teeth and hurried back down the dark hall to the room. She shut the door and slid into bed besides Chance, who turned to her.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to grab you. I don't know what came over me," he whispered, the smell of spearmint toothpaste hitting her. He grabbed her wrist, much gentler this time, caressing the skin there with the tips of his fingers. He kissed the pads of her fingers, dark brown eyes fixed on hers. Tory smiled, her eyes flickering over his face. Even in the moonlit darkness, she could see every little detail on his face from the flecks of lighter brown in his eyes to the chiseled jaw and high cheekbones.
Tory cupped his face, her fingers brushing over the scratchy stubble growing there and kissed him softly, overcome by a wave of affection. His lips were soft and plush and the kiss was soft at first, just the gentle press of lips. He ran a hand down her back, dragging her towards him until they were flush against each other. Angling her mouth, he opened the kiss, feeding it fire until they were both panting. Kissing him was all fire and heat and hunger… But that's all it was. Unbidden, the thought of another kiss came to her mind, one so very long she was surprised she remembered. But then again, she could never forget that moment.
Tory pulled away, swallowing around the sudden lump in her throat and blinking away the burning sensation in her eyes. Chance followed, seeking her lips again. Tory put a hand on his chest, shoving lightly.
"Not tonight," she said, voice wavering a bit. She cleared her throat and continued. "I'm tired."
"You're always tired these days," Chance accused, irritated. Tory felt her chest warm with fury. Not wanting to say something she'd regret, she turned over. She heard Chance get up from the bed.
"I'm going out."
She let him go without a word.
In her mind, the memory lingers. A kiss on a boat long ago, under the starry skies.
She's sitting on the hood of her car, tapping out a business email and wolfing down her sandwich. She's been waiting for her spare tire to arrive for over 20 minutes. Normally, she could have changed the tire herself but her spare had been taken by Ella a few weeks ago when she'd blown a tire and Tory had never replaced it.
Tory was about to call the shop again when a familiar car rolled up beside her. He stepped out and Tory's breath caught in her throat.
She hadn't seen him in almost a year since he'd headed back to the army after a brief R&R in December.
"Ben," she choked out.
The next 20 minutes of her life were, beyond any shadow of doubt, the most unnerving of her life. While in no way strangers, Tory's relationship with Chance had put a strain on her relationship with Ben and while it wasn't much of an issue while he was overseas, whenever he came home, it was awkward to say the least. All she wanted to do was hug him and catch up but the lines between them had long blurred, making it difficult to understand what was acceptable and what was not.
She shifted uncomfortably, heels dragging the gravel underneath around. Gathering her courage, she cleared her throat.
"When did you get back? You didn't call," Tory hesitated and taking a deep breath, continued ahead.
"How have you been? It's been a long time since I last saw you," she said shyly, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. Dark brown eyes glanced up at her, pinning her where she stood, mesmerizing her with the maelstrom of emotions in them.
"I'm fine. I got back late last night from Mount Pleasant. How are you?"
Ben hadn't changed much from when she'd last seen him. He still had the same warm, inviting coppery skin and though the regulation cut he now sported wasn't anything new, Tory still missed his long hair. His style in clothes seemed to have expanded to include flannel shirts, which looked great on him, and he even seemed a bit taller too. All in all, Ben was still Ben.
"I'm good… I missed you," she added quietly, biting at the inside of her cheek nervously, refusing to look away from his eyes. He stared at her a bit longer before looking back down at the tire and giving the wrench a final turn. Tory felt her heart sink.
He stood up, wiping his hands on an old rag and turning back to the truck. For some reason, Ben actually worked some of his R&R days at the local mechanics shop. No one had ever really questioned it, just chalking it up to Ben doing what he loved but now that he'd fulfilled his 8-year requirement to the army, she wondered if he was going to settle there.
"Wait. How much do I owe you?"
He looked back at her, dark eyes smoldering with some unknown emotion.
"Consider it on the house… I- I missed you too, Tor," he murmured, lips quirking into a lopsided smirk. Tory couldn't help it. She moved forward and before she knew it, she was in his arms, hugging him. He smelled the way he always did, something that struck Tory as earthy and masculine. He stood still for a moment, arms held out awkwardly as if afraid to touch her before finally, he hugged her back. Feeling those arms slide around her loosened something in Tory's chest that she hadn't been aware of until then. Everytime he came back, it always felt like the final puzzle piece slotting into place.
Despite the heat outside, Tory shuddered. She stepped back, willing herself away from the temptation of that embrace. She smiled at him and hearing the ringing of her phone, mouthed a goodbye, retreating into the air conditioned cabin of her car.
In the rear view mirror, she could see how he looked after the car for a while before turning away and Tory didn't know whether to feel ashamed that she enjoyed the attention or joyful that she still had it. She was a horrible person. Still… she couldn't help thinking 'what if'. It was the question everyone had asked themselves at one point. She wondered what her life would be like right now if she'd chosen differently all those years ago. What if she'd chosen Ben?
These heels had been designed to torture Tory. She was certain of it. She was headed home after a long day at the office, having met with a representative from a company hoping to merge with Candela. She pressed the button for the elevator, rubbing at the back of her neck.
She honestly didn't know why she'd let Chance talk her into an administrative position. A chime signaled the arrival of the elevator and with a whoosh of air, the elevator doors slid open. Inside, it was empty save for one little old lady hunched in the corner.
The lady looked up, gray eyes smiling up at her kindly. Tory smiled, taking in the green wooly coat with the star pin and the black saggy pants. The faint smell of lavender permeated the air.
"Lovely day today, isn't it?" the woman asked, her chin quivering as she spoke.
"Yes. Too bad I spent it in the office," Tory mused, quirking a smile at the lady. The old lady looked at her strangely, almost knowingly.
"Makes you think what life could have been, doesn't it?" she mumbled.
Tory startled, blinking at her reflection in the silvery surface of the elevator. Her thoughts turned to Ben and in her mind's eye, she saw him standing before her at 16 with the most heartbreaking look on his face. Her heart twisted.
"Yeah, it does," Tory trailed off, unable to find the words.
The doors slid open to the lobby and the old lady slipped past her, murmuring a passing remark. Tory made her way to the parking lot in a daze.
When Tory arrived at the manor, she immediately headed for her room. Walking into the closet, Tory moved aside a pile of old jeans and workout clothes, grabbing the box hidden behind them. Taking the box back to bed, she opened it, staring at the contents inside. Her mother's eyes stared back at her.
Swallowing around the lump in her throat, Tory moved the pictures aside, shifting aside trinkets and knick knacks from years past. There, tucked into a corner, still as bright and cold as the day he gave them to her, were the dog tags. His dog tags.
Outside, the sky was a woven blanket of colors; reds mixing into orange and gold, purples fading into blues and pinks. The colors faded away as the memory came to her.
Shelton stepped back, tears in his eyes as he turned away from Ben. Tory watched him sadly, catching sight of Hi wiping back tears off to the side. This is it, she thinks. The day we finally stop being Virals.
Of course, they had long lost their powers but up until that moment, they had all remained together in Charleston. But now Ben was leaving, being deployed overseas and it would be months until they'd all be together again.
Tory lunged at him, feeling herself get teary-eyed. Ben hugged her to him firmly, placing a lingering kiss where her hairline began. In her chest, her heart beats along to the words that loop over and over in her head.
Don't go. Don't go. Don't go.
"I'm going to miss you," she whispered into the crook of his neck. She could feel him swallow.
Pulling back, he took her hand and dropped something cold and metallic into it. Tory knew what it was before she even looked down.
"I want you to have those," Ben said. Tory could feel something inside her break. She had promised herself long ago to never hurt Ben like she had so long ago but in that moment, what she did felt right.
Tory reached up and pulled Ben to her, kissing him fiercely and pouring every ounce of emotion into the kiss. When she pulls away, Ben's eyes are still closed, face twisted into an expression of anguish.
"Go be a hero," she says to him, stepping back to join Shelton and Hi, ignoring the looks Tom and Myra send her.
Ben picks up his bags, eyes sweeping over them; his family, biological and spiritual. He turns away, crosses the street and steps into the station.
Tory looks down at the object in her hand. Dog tags. How fitting, she thinks.
Tory startles out the memory as Coop jumps up on the bed beside her. She traps the wolf dog against her, sliding lower into bed, the tags digging into her chest as she holds them against her heart. Tory lets herself succumb to the sweet temptation of sleep, the tags in her hand and Coop's warmth a comforting presence.
Tory wakes to warmth, the feeling of being safe and cherished. She can feel the slide of cotton against her bare skin and the rigid line of a warm body pressed up against her. Tory scrunched up her nose. Coop didn't have soft warm skin.
Tory's eyes flew open, immediately taking in the unfamiliar white walls and the bright, airy ambiance. Her tongue felt like rasping paper, the rest of her mouth a cotton ball, quenched for thirst. She twists and her eyes settle on the body next to her and in that moment, she became distinctly aware of every inch of skin her own pressed against. She reached out with a trembling hand and curled a finger around the glossy strand of hair. Oh my god. He was real.
Tory scrambled to sit up, flinging away the arm that had settled over her waist and holding the blanket up to her chest. A dark brown eye fluttered opened and peered up at her.
"Oh my god. What did I do?" Tory moaned, hiding her face in her hands and flopping back onto the mattress. Ben chuckled lowly, turning over onto his back and tucking his arm under his head.
"Me, apparently," he mumbled, snickering to himself. Tory felt her face redden 75 different shades and reaching out with one pale hand, she smacked him on the arm. Tory peeked at him through her fingers and found him looking back at her with sleepy half-lidded eyes and the fondest little smile. She never had been able to find the right defense against his smiles. They were so rare and disarming.
Oh god. She was lying here in his bed after sleeping with him. Sleeping with Ben, one of her oldest and best friends, her pack. That wasn't even touching upon the fact that she was engaged to someone else. Still…
"What am I doing here?" she mumbled, more to herself than him.
Ben looked at her strangely and opened his mouth to speak when the phone rang. Ben reached out and grabbed the phone off the dresser. While he spoke on the phone, Tory got out of bed and walked around the room, blanket wrapped tightly around her body. She stopped at the dresser and looked at herself in the mirror. Somehow, Tory looked… fuller. Her face was rounder, her body curvier. Even her hair, cut layered with bangs, was different. Now Tory definitely knew something was wrong. Someone couldn't gain weight overnight. Tory ran her fingers over the bottles of fragrances and cologne on the dresser, mixed in together. Some of those were women's perfumes. Did… did Ben have a girlfriend? Tory shook her head. That made no sense. Ben would never cheat. Neither would I.
She looked down at her ring finger, startled to find a wedding ring instead of the engagement ring Chance had given her. It was beautiful to say the least yet simple, just the way she liked it. Her eyes landed on the picture sitting on the dresser. It resembled one Tory had seen many times of Whitney and Kit on the beach at Morris Island instead it wasn't Whitney and Kit in the photograph, it was Ben and Tory.
Tory picked it up, fingers trailing over the joyful expressions. She didn't remember this, this picture shouldn't exist. Behind her, Ben finished his conversation and stood from the bed, the blanket falling away to reveal a delectable stretch of coppery brown skin, only interrupted by boxers. He moved around the bed, reaching for Tory. She took a deep breath as he wrapped his arms around her waist and tucked his chin on her shoulder. The smell of spice.
"I have to go into work. The Chief called, there's been an accident," he explained, looking at her reflection in the mirror with soft eyes. He reached up and turned her head toward him, kissing her slowly, thumb brushing against her cheekbone. Tory's head swam, lips opening under his as he deepened the kiss. Suddenly, he stepped back, leaving Tory dazed.
"Remember to pick Grayson up at your dad's," he murmured, brushing a quick kiss on her forehead as he left the room. She stood there for a moment, fingers brushing her lips and then-
"Wait. What?"
Note: This story was inspired by my absolute favorite Drarry fic Turn. This story will hold a lot of my theories and head-canons concerning the Terminal ending. Like always, feel free to send me a message here or on my Virals blog themorrisislandpack. Hope you guys enjoy.