I'll Work For Your Love
What others may want for free; I'll work for your love
I know Hoxie is going nowhere fast, believe me, I know, but I love Elizabeth – Iris and I love Don so I couldn't leave them alone. I thought of this while listening to one of my favorite albums, the new Bruce Springsteen CD MAGIC, it is really good. I'll try to make Hoxie go faster but no promises, I hope that this will tide you over till Hoxie gets going again.
"Life's a piece of shit when you look at it." Elizabeth – Iris said gently, but Don was still seething.
"This is NOT the time to quote me a musical, Iris!" the civility snapped and the sadness and the rage brought out the Mr. Hyde in every man's soul. He was just beside himself.
"I'm just trying to help Don. Life is shit, it's absolutely terrible. Every goddamn day we're all dying a little. Bad stuff happens, it happened before we were born, it will continue after the world ends. Trying to stop it all is like trying to stop time. All you can do is live! Survive and carry on. Severe some justice. Don senseless, blind rage will do nothing. NOTHING!" She was right, however following her words would not make him feel better. He wanted to be angry, it was better than feeling numb. He made no response, eyes vacantly enraged. Those fiery blue eyes burning cold watched as she quietly picked up her purse and put her shoes on. Before his eyes she walked out the door.
Cases with children are the hardest. There's something about a dead kid – the loss of innocence, short life, potential unrealized, the simple fact that once upon a time you were that age and now they'll never be your age – that hit right to the soul. A close second was when some asshole lawyer gets their asshole child killing client off on a fark. And this last trial had both – a gruesome twosome that created a Molotov cocktail of emotional hell. It was intensified to a breaking point by the jerk off lawyer blaming him. Don had spiraled down, the depression culminating in the night Iris walked out. He'd successfully managed to push her way.
So to recap, a child killer walked and the lawyer used him to get the verdict, and now it was the third Friday of the month. Iris' night, he had gotten it off every month since they'd met, it was their time. Except this month. As Don unlocked his apartment he lamented over the first date night in nearly a year he was alone.
A thumping was in time to Bruce Springsteen coming from his kitchen. His spirits lifted, she was not completely lost to him.
"Iris." He breathed entering the kitchen.
Pour me a drink Theresa in one of those glasses you dust off
And I'll watch the bones in your back like the stations of the cross
She was standing with her back to him flattening chicken breast. He watched each muscle and bone move as she tenderized. Her back, a thing of beauty, was a well known and holy to him as the stations of the cross, and he spent every Sunday and religious holiday with his very Catholic grandparents – he knew the station. It was overwhelming emotionally to see her, he was sure she was lost to him.
"What…" He began unsure of how to phrase himself, she turned and smiled.
"Chicken in olive oil with garlic, onions, squash, and zucchini. I opened a bottle of red." She told him.
"Why?" He felt so deplorable, she reached out to pat him, but remembering her chicken slim hand, didn't.
"It's Friday." Elizabeth – Iris was a saint.
'Round your hair the sun lifts a halo, at your lips a crown of thorns
Whatever the deal's going down, to this one I'm sworn
"You're a saint." He told her, she laughed. "No, really, I'm a bastard and here you are. I've treated you so badly." Elizabeth – Iris washed her ands and then kissed him. He pulled away. "Iris, let me…"
"No Don, let me. I won't insult you and say I know what you're feeling, but I do understand that it is emotional – you're emotional. You have every right to be, the other night was your emotions talking. I'm not going to hold that against you. If I walked out for good when your hard ass façade cracked I'd be a hypocritical bitch. You don't have to pretend around me." He was crying, emotionally exhausted, she held him tight and he cried. "You don't have to be anything other than yourself with me."
I'll work for your love, dear
I'll work for your love
What others my want for free
I'll work for your love
Don cried for a time, Farmer held him for it all. Once he had shed all his tears he pulled away wiping his eyes.
"Thank you." He croaked.
"It was nothing." She said quietly.
"It was something to me." He said. "I love you." Her heart fluttered, it did every time he said that.
"I love you too. Why don't you put something comfortable on, dinner will be ready in twenty to thirty and I need to do stuff for me."
Don entered his bedroom feeling better than he had in days. Tucked in the corner by his door was Elizabeth – Iris' garment bag. She was with him; he was ever going to get lucky, potentially. God, he loved her. He hung up his jacket and toed off his shoes. His slacks were traded for a pair of faded jeans and he rolled up his sleeves, relaxing his dress shirt, still wanting to look nice.
The dust of civilizations
And loves sweet remains
Slip off of your fingers
And come driftin' down like rain
"So what do you want me for?" Iris was browning the now flat breasts, she laughed.
"It's so nice out, but you don't have a place outside, so open a window and move the sofa, we're enjoying the outside inside."
"You only want me for my physical ability." He joked.
"And your mad skillz in the sack." She quipped back. He laughed and kissed her before doing what she asked, he'd never been so happy to do silly labor in his life. There was no real reason for him to move his sofa around, or take the kitchen table into the wrong room. Other than the fact she wanted it so. But that seemed like reason enough.
The pages of Revelation
Lie open in your empty eyes of blue
I watch you slip that comb through your hair and this I promise you
Dinner became ready in the time she had said and she set out the meal like a 1940s wife (or domestic servant, same thing really). She was dressed like a wartime pin up, the sensory combination was alluring. He sat down to eat, despite the sudden loss of appetite due to desire.
"So, how was work?" she asked in continuation of the domestic scene. He over the months had become more comfortable with discussing his job. Iris was the only one who stayed and listened long enough to help him.
"Murder/ robbery in the village, perfume shop, Danny's going home smelling like another woman." They shared a laugh before returning to the more serious topic of his day.
"After that there was a lot of paper work, a few assaults and an arson attempt. Just another day at the office." She smiled and ungracefully ate her pasta. After a slurp she tried to hide she paused, gravity in her violet blue eyes.
"How do you feel?" it was hesitant unsure of his reaction. He paused and drank some wine.
"I'm feeling better, especially since you're here. I know the truth, I know Howell's verdict was not my fault, and I know I didn't screw up with you." She reached out and took his hand. No words were exchanged because there was nothing to say.
I'll work for your love, dear
I'll work for your love
What others may want for free
I'll work for your love
That night Don lay awake playing with Iris' locks of Indian ink, listening to her rhythmic snoring. She was mouthy, he was moody, and life wasn't easy anyway, without effort nothing ever worked. Some things weren't worth the efforts, and other things were. Wanting for free was one thing. Things for free were worth what was paid for them. Real treasures were earned. And this woman in his arms – he wasn't sure what he did to earn her but he knew he'd keep working to keep her.
Your tears, they fill the rosary
At your feet, my temple of bones
Here in this perdition we go on and on
Now our city of peace has crumbled
Our book of faith's been tossed
And I'm just out here searchin'
For my own piece of the cross
The late afternoon sun fills the room
With the mist of the garden before the fall I watch your hands smooth the front of your blouse and seven drops of blood fall
I'll work for your love, dear
I'll work for your love
What others may want for free
I'll work for your...
What others may want for free
I'll work for your...
What others may want for free
I'll work for your love
Disclaimer: I am one of the others that want for free, I own nothing. CSI: NY/ Don is CBS's Iris is Don's. The song "I'll Work for Your Love" is by Bruce Springsteen found on his new album Magic.