We All Move in Circles

Clockwise, Chapter 1

The apartment was dark, save for the blue-ish light emitted by the open laptop on the desk. Silly girl had left her computer on again, probably all night. He glanced at his watch. Four a.m. If he knew her, and he did, he would say she had probably sat down to write at around six, when she got home from work, and then around ten had drifted off on the couch, telling herself that she was just going to have some coffee and rest her eyes while she thought of the next chapter, though she had only completed a paragraph. His curiosity got the better of him, and he looked at the screen before shutting the poor overworked computer down. A sly little grin made its way to his face. Another story. She had started over. Again. And it looked like he was the hero. Again. Of course, no one would ever know that, except for the two of them. No wonder she had fallen asleep. Starting out was always the hardest part for her.

He turned on the desk lamp with a twist of his wrist, and found that he was correct. Cold cup of coffee on the end table, her legs still partially off the couch, still fully dressed, with her lovely brunette head cuddled up against the purple throw pillow which he absolutely loathed. Not that he had anything against her choice in decorating, it was very tasteful, he just could not stand the fabric the pillow was made out of. Faux silk. He hated the stuff.

He sat on the edge of the couch, his lower back against her stomach. So warm…she was always so warm. It was something he desperately missed. He stroked her hair, his hand hesitating before he dared to touch her.

"Valerie. Valerie, you fell asleep on the couch again." Her face scrunched up into a terribly endearing expression, then smoothed out again as she turned her face toward him, but she didn't open her eyes.

"Is this a dream?" She asked sleepily.

"No. Not this time."

"Hm." Her mouth curved into the tiniest of smiles. "I dream about you so often, I can hardly tell what's real anymore. How do I know it's really real?"

"You're breaking my heart. You mean to say I'm not as good as the dream version of me you keep?"

"Well, you're far more sarcastic than he is at least." She said, with a giggle, opening her bright green eyes to look up at him. She raised a hand, laying her palm against his face. He put his hand over hers, leaning in to the feeling of her soft hand. God, how he missed the sensation of touch. It could be nearly perfectly recreated, sometimes, but there was nothing that compared to the feeling of Valerie. "Welcome back, Arthur."

"I…I missed you. So much." He pulled her hand to his lips, kissing her fingertips lightly.

"I missed you too." She sat up, slowly, and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face against his shoulder, inhaling. "Yep. That's you. I make my dream version wear different cologne."

"Clever girl." He murmured in her ear. They both knew that she could tell the difference in a heartbeat, cologne or not. She really was a very clever girl.

"It's a little early, but do you want breakfast? Or do you want to sleep? You seem tired." She leaned back, suddenly taking on the concerned look that he knew all to well. Any minute now, she would ask how the job went. Ask if anyone had gotten hurt. Ask if he was alright. She never asked if it was successful. She knew better than to ask that. If she knew, that would make her an accomplice. It would mean she wasn't safe. But she worried. He knew how she worried. It was always there, in the back of her mind, that one day she might only have the dreamed up memories of him. And yet she welcomed him with open arms every time. There was no one else. He knew that. He didn't understand it, but he knew it.

"No. I don't feel like sleeping. Breakfast sounds amazing though." She smiled, and maneuvered around him to get her feet to the floor, into her Jack Skellington slippers. She still loved the movie, even at her age. It was cute.

"Sit tight. I'll make some more coffee, okay?" She ran her hand over his hair as she went, fixing some stray piece he had missed or messed up since getting off the plane. He could scarcely remember what he had done between then and now. All he knew that when the plane had landed, and they had safely seen Dom off to his kids, his first thought had been Valerie, and the plan he had held onto for so long. He had spent weeks tying up every loose end he could even vaguely be linked too. He paid out to people he'd been avoiding, some for weeks, some for years, he'd completed, or at the very least overseen the completion of, every job he had ever walked out on unfinished, and he had bribed the necessary people to insure that he was not found and bothered for a long time. Time he planned to spend with Valerie. Time he planned to use to be the lover he had wanted to be for her, for so long. He was ready to go out, just like Dom had. He was ready to start living a normal life, with her, and without asking her to wait and worry for months at a time.

With all this in mind, he had still tried to keep up his usual appearances on the way here, despite the long flight with two unpredicted stops, for all he knew though, he could look a mess. How long had it been since he'd looked at himself? Thinking this, he pulled himself off the couch and headed to the bathroom, while Valerie went about in the kitchen, singing a tune he didn't recognize.

The mirror revealed that he didn't look too shabby. His clothes were a little wrinkled, and he was starting to get a little shadow along his jaw, but he looked relatively presentable. Minus the circles under his eyes. But he was beginning to get accustomed to those. Working with Dom had not done any wonders for his beauty sleep. Neither had loud, already-drunk frat-boys on their way to a Toronto Beer-fest.

"Coffee." She announced, poking her head into the bathroom, nearly making him jump. He hadn't been expecting her so soon, but there she stood with her favorite brown coffee mug, holding it out to him. "You still take it the same, right?"

"Always." He nodded, taking the mug from her hand. One sip later, he was fairly certain he'd achieved coffee Nirvana. Perfect. Just perfect. She never got it wrong. She stepped into the bathroom, leaning against the counter, staring at him. Well, perhaps staring wasn't the right word. Gazing would describe it better. Then she looked at the floor.

"You want a shower?"

"You think I need one?"

"You're such a smart-ass. Either way, breakfast will be in twenty. Don't make me wait." She kissed him on the cheek. So chaste. She turned to leave the bathroom, and he snagged her arm lightly, swinging her back around and pressing his lips against hers.

"I won't make you wait anymore." He informed against her mouth.

"I'm a patient woman, dollface. You should know that better than anyone."

He did know that.

She had changed her clothes. Or rather, she had changed out of her clothes and into her pajamas. Red sweats and a white tank top. Neither of which he recognized. How long had he been gone? She usually took him shopping so he could help her pick, citing that she was no good with fashion as her reason. He knew it was because she wanted to know what he liked. He didn't care when it was on her. But he pointed her in the direction of things he thought would look nice on her anyway. Not to say he was always right of course, but he often was.

Her long copper-brown hair was pulled up in a loose ponytail as she practically danced around the kitchen, making what he was beginning to think was a five-course meal.

"Still go for over medium?"

"Always." She shot him a smile over her shoulder, then went back to the eggs.

"So…I heard Dom made it back to the kids finally."

"Yeah…How did you hear about that?"

"From Miles. I've never been able to keep in touch with you, but one day he sent me an Email, said he was Dom's dad. We chat a lot, about you guys, nothing incriminating of course, but it's nice to have someone to talk to who understands what you're worrying about. Anyway, what did you have to pull to get Dom stateside again?"

"It's…a long story."

"One you can't tell me then?"

"It's for-"

"For my own safety. I know." She finished his sentence. She didn't sound bitter. She didn't sound like…anything really. She had said it in a monotone. "If you tell me, I might dream about it, and if that happens, you guys are in deep shit. I know."

"Valerie-"

"I've been hired to help write a movie." She swiftly changed the subject. "Nothing major, just an Indie film, but the pay is pretty good."

"I'm glad. You're very talented." He responded, though he couldn't help but feel that she didn't want to hear it. She wanted to hear the truth about what had happened, even though she knew he couldn't tell her anything.

"Thanks. But I don't think this is what we can call a big break." She laughed, sounding almost as if she were scoffing.

"You'll get it. And then you'll be famous, and live in a big gothic mansion in the woods somewhere, where you can write for days at a time, and Johnny Depp will be begging you to write movies for him."

"I'd never sell my soul to that jerk." She declared, pointing her spatula toward the window, as if she were indicating where Johnny Depp lived, before she turned to point the utensil at him. "And don't you laugh at me, Art. I know he's a jerk. I met him once."

"Did you now?"

"Yes I did. When I was a secretary for that one producer, in LA. He was trying to hire him, he sent me, all the way to freaking France, and Johnny was a jerk. He wouldn't even open the door all the way to talk to me." She jabbed the eggs particularly hard at the end of the sentence. Worried for his breakfast, he walked around the bar-counter, volunteering himself to help. "Could you grab the toast? I think it's just about done."

"Yes dear." He responded, only in a half-mocking tone, taking the bread slices from her toaster.

The end result of all this was two perfectly arranged plates of eggs, bacon, and hash browns, with a side of toast and coffee. Valerie even broke out two of her crystal wine glasses, pouring orange juice into each, as it was a bit early to actually drink wine. She squeezed in next to him at her tiny kitchen table, her legs turned toward him, bumping his elbow occasionally as they ate, as if they were in middle school and trying to flirt.

"Are you going to stay?" She asked suddenly. He hadn't noticed the quiet in the room, or associated it with the fact that she had stopped eating, the plate only half empty. He sat his cutlery to the side, following her example. He went to take a sip of his coffee, but found the cup empty. She stood and retrieved the pot from the counter, pouring him another.

"I don't know." She sat next to him again, now ignoring her food to lean both her hands on his knees. "I want to. For a long time, if you'll let me."

"Hm. I'd like it if you could." She smiled, though her eyes still looked a bit sad. She didn't think he meant it. He had to admit, there were a few times he had tried to promise such a thing before, but it seemed like every time, Dom had ended up calling him, needing a Point Man, and he had been forced to disappear again. He had hopes that it would be over now. Dom had gotten back home, and he had managed to save enough money to keep him for awhile, despite all his major payments. It was time he was allowed to live normally too.

"Hey…I mean it." He set his coffee on the table, touching her face lightly. "I'm done for awhile. Maybe forever. For real."

"Well, that being the case, I'm hardly going to know what to do with you Art. We'll have to find you something productive to do with all your new spare time."

"I can think of a few things."

He was staring at her ceiling, listening to Valerie shuffle around in the bathroom. He was showered and shaved, but still didn't feel quite up to sleeping. So he was staring at the ceiling. Her pillow smelled like Garnier. The same shampoo and conditioner she had used since he'd known her. There was a bra hanging on her bedpost, about an inch from his head. Some cute little black lace thing that he had no recognition of. Did she buy sexy lingerie just to have it? Unless…maybe there was someone else? Was there some tell-tale clue he had missed?

He raised his head off the pillow, scanning around the room. Nothing looked different, though he wasn't sure how having a secret boyfriend would change the layout of her apartment, unless she was trying to hide the mystery man. Or what if he was the secret, and she was really trying to hide him?

Now that the idea was stuck in his head, it wouldn't stop nagging at him. He rolled to his side, opening the drawer of her side table, digging through the contents thoroughly, but respectfully. There was a birthday card from him, from several years ago, sitting on top of the pile. He couldn't recall what he had written specifically, but he distinctly remembered it being horribly sappy and romantic. Some personal papers, consisting of a doctors bill for some painkillers, apparently she had hurt her foot at some point, a letter from her mother, a stack of bills in their envelops, bound in a rubber band, and, at the very bottom, a notebook. He lifted the cover, seeing it was full of her handwriting. He skimmed the few lines he could see, and decided it was a manuscript, not a diary. He wasn't the sort who would read her diary unless she gave him permission anyway. Violating privacy was sort of his job, but he just couldn't do it to Valerie. Of course, she had also threatened to castrate him at one point if he ever did. She had told him to just ask if there was something he wanted to know. Was this something he ought to bring up right now though?

He didn't have time to come to a decision, as Valerie entered the room then, her sweatpants over her arm, and her legs bare up to the silky looking underwear she had on. He couldn't decide on the fabric from this distance. She crossed the floor elegantly, tossing the sweats on the end of the bed, yawning and tousling her hair between her fingers.

"You seem cozy." She observed, looking down at him, where he rested comfortably in the center of her mattress.

"Join me." He scooted over a bit, lifting his arm along with the blanket, making a space that was perfectly Valerie-sized. She smiled and crawled into bed with him, pulling his arm, as well as the blanket, down over her shoulders.

"This is nice. I miss this." She said, hooking her leg over his. "But I do have to be at work in a couple hours."

"Mm. You could call in sick. I'll vouch for you. And I'll even spend the entire day taking care of you." He leaned in enough to kiss her ear, hoping to persuade her.

"I don't think so. Gotta pay the bills somehow Art, and I'm not a famous writer yet, so my day job will have to cut it." He felt her grin against his cheek, right before she bit his ear. "No more seducing me. You're too good at it."

He sighed a bit over-dramatically. "Alright. If you insist. I'll make do with cuddling."

"That's my gentleman. We'll have plenty of time to get reacquainted tomorrow. Or after, if you're going to stay for a long time." Her voice carried a hint of promise, as did the kiss she left lingering on his neck, before she cuddled against his shoulder, her breathing consciously slowing down as she tried to put herself to sleep.

"Valerie…can I ask you something?"

"Sure. Anything." She mumbled, her eyelashes fluttered a bit, but she didn't open her eyes.

"Do you see anyone else? I mean like-"

"Like a boyfriend?" She offered, as though sensing he wasn't sure how to word it.

"Yeah."

"No."

"No? Why not?"

"Well…what? Do you want me to or something? Like, a threesome?" She was more awake suddenly, propped up on her elbow with her eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"That's not what I meant. It just seems odd that you wouldn't. It's not like I'd ever catch you, and really, how many times have we seen each other in the last year?"

"Arthur…what brought all this up?" She questioned, clearly not having expected to have this conversation, now or ever. Which to him, seemed odd.

"Nothing. I was just thinking."

"Well, this isn't really something you just think about for no reason." She prodded. "Do you have a girlfriend that I don't know about? Is that why you're asking?"

"No, of course not. Well…there was this girl…"

"Ariadne." She ventured, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah- how did you know that?" He sounded a bit more guilty than he would have liked. It wasn't as if he had been intending to hide a harmless little kiss in the first place, though he hadn't been too keen on explaining it. But there definitely weren't any other women in his life that were anything more than friends.

"Miles. He was complaining that Dom had stolen his best student, and I figured you were with him. So wait, she was in college?"

"No! Valerie, nothing happened. Well, nothing serious anyway. I kissed her. Once. And it wasn't even in the real world. I swear. It was nothing."

"Well I knew that." She practically laughed at him. He was lost.

"What do you mean?"

"If it had been anything serious, you would have done something silly to try and makeup for it. You would have like, shown up with flowers and champagne or something. You always try to apologize before I even know what you did."

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it when he realized she was right. He was prone to trying to make up for things when she was clueless. Call it his insurance policy against her being angry. He had always figured sucking up ahead of time would soften the blow when it finally came time to tell her when something had happened, they had too little time together as it was to spend it being angry. Although, he had only ever seen her angry, at him, once. When she had caught him doing a background check on her. He still wasn't quite sure what had set her off about that when he knew she didn't have anything to hide, but by now had attributed it to the fact that he had more or less violated her trust and invaded her privacy. It did seem bad, now that he looked back on it.

"So really, why did you bring this up?"

"Sometimes I'm not sure I'm worth all the patience you have with me. That's all. It occurred to me that maybe you would want someone around who hasn't missed your birthday three years in a row."

"Sweetheart, you are so worth it." She assured, patting him lightly on the chest. "Besides, I've been trying to make it work with you for too long, I wouldn't know how to stop. You're the only one for me Art. I promise."

"I'll do my best to keep it that way." She nodded and kissed him lightly in lieu of an agreement, before snuggling back down against his shoulder. Silence fell over the room, he could hear the clock ticking in the kitchen. "Are you sure you don't want to call in tomorrow?"

She huffed a laugh and bopped him on the cheek. "Art, dollface, shut up and let me sleep."

"Sorry." He smiled at the top of her head while she turned her face down into the pillow. He wasn't.

Little Author's note to go here: The next part get's a bit confusing, but stick with it. I promise it will eventually make sense. Reviews are most helpful.