A/N: This is a mood piece. It's different from my usual work, but I hope you enjoy it.
Naomi fought for her client. She raged (professionally, of course) at the judge, she raged against opposing counsel, and she raged against the system. She exerted herself, to her utmost, on behalf of her client, the environment. She strived to make the world a better place.
After the trial, reporters swarmed around her. They fired questions at her, thrusting their microphones in her face. Flashes went off, nearly blinding her. They demanded answers, they insisted on her opinions, they wanted her to explain what had happened before they tortured her words to make their own stories. Naomi shouldered them all aside and retreated to her office.
Back in the office, Naomi settled gingerly into her chair. There was a spring that had a tendency to poke into tender places. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of old soup mixed with industrial cleaner that permeated the building, and wondered again why she had chosen this career. Non-profit law was hardly glamorous… but she believed in the cause, believed it had to be done.
She dragged over a stack of legal brief, and steeled herself for the aftermath of the day's case and for the next steps. They would have to draw up plans, they would have to strategize, for the struggle that lay ahead. The blonde flexed her fingers, rolled her shoulders, and got to work.
She worked for hours, stopping only to eat a few stale Garibaldis from the packet in her desk. She was reluctant to leave her desk, knowing that the moment she poked her head around the corner she'd be picked up by one of the other associates in the office. They'd either want to riddle her with questions about the day's events, or bore her to death with stories about their own courtroom skirmishes. Looking up, she cursed the flickering overhead light; it was giving her a headache. She sighed and soldiered onwards, knowing that the work she did was for the benefit of everyone, regardless of the toll it was taking on her.
Finally, having made all the progress possible for the day, Naomi decided to call a halt. She packed up her papers and note pads, preparing herself for the long march home. She could picture it now, the massed bodies on the train, the elbows and newspapers everywhere, the headphones that couldn't contain the blaring "music"… The perfect end to the day. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and set out.
Back in Bristol, Naomi returned home. As she walked in the door, she felt a sense of calm come over her. Her day was done; she had no further obligations, no more needs to meet, nothing more that needed to be done. The house smelled of vanilla and lemon and a certain perfume, one she fell asleep to every night. She could hear music playing faintly in the background, but it wasn't bothersome. A corner of her mind identified it, tentatively, as Debussy - Emily had taken a liking to his work ever since college. She didn't mind; she found it soothing.
She dropped her bag and then hung up her coat, glad to be free of her burdens. She wandered into the kitchen, following her nose. A pot of sauce was bubbling on the stove, and she could smell noodles and cheese in the oven. She smiled; someone had been busy that day, and that someone knew what she liked. She continued through the house, looking for her oasis.
Emily greeted her with a smile and a kiss. She handed her a glass of wine and pointed down the hall. Naomi gratefully accepted the wine and headed down the hall into the bathroom. The room was dim, lit only by candles with low, steady flames. A bubble bath had been drawn, and there was a copy of Heat next to the tub. Naomi sank into the bath with a sigh, happy to be home at last. Happy for a rest. Happy to be at peace.
A/N: You might have noticed that there's no dialogue in this; that's on purpose. I wanted the focus to be not on what's happening but on what Naomi's feeling, what she's sensing and what she's thinking.