So after the season finale I didn't even want to think about writing any of my fanfictions. I was tempted to delete all the songs off my itunes and chuck out my DVDs. lol. Then I wrote this and now I feel a lot better. Denial is a wonderful thing.
I wanted to get inside Jude's head and understand her thinking while giving it a positive Jommy spin.
Please comment and more then one sentence.
Solitary Resolution (One Shot)
I can't begin to describe the feeling of loneliness that washed over me the moment I stepped out Heathrow airport and into the chilly London air. It followed me like a wounded puppy or a psychotic stalker, all the way to my luxury apartment in Notting Hill.
A woman from the Real Estate agent was there to greet me and for a few moments the loneliness was left with my luggage, forgotten by the door. The woman showed me around the fully furnished apartment and I smiled and felt a thrill of excitement at her British accent and my new reality that accompanied. Highlight after highlight, glittering objects, and high-tech doo daddy after doo daddy was put on display. I felt the thrill; the thrill of power, prestige and glamour. I was living the dream, the dream that until recently I hadn't realized I had. And then she handed me the keys, thanked me for using her firm – a stark reminder that I was her client and she was not a cherished friend celebrating my new home with me – and she left. And the loneliness washed over me again.
I dropped the keys on the table and walked over to the window. As I gazed down at the street with it's strange taxi cabs and people who spoke, acted and were entirely different from me, I felt an overwhelming panic well up within me. I was choking, choking on my aspirations, sleeping in the bed I'd made and living the life I'd asked for.
I busied myself with making the apartment my home. One of my favorite CD's blared loudly as I began to unpack. Pictures were put on dressers and I smiled sadly at the familiar faces. I knew, at the bottom of my suitcase was a picture of Tommy and I at Spied and Karma's wedding but I didn't dare touch it. I hung my clothes in the closet and when I turned I saw, for the briefest of moments, his clothes strewn across the bed with mine but then the image faded. I swore I heard his voice, directing me with my choice of music when I changed CD almost an hour later and when I placed my products and perfumes on the bathroom counter, my eyes were drawn to the mirror.
Before me I didn't see my own reflection; a young girl in a large empty room that seemed to expand by the second until it dwarfed me to an insignificant ant on the floor. Instead I saw the reflection of what could (should?) have been. As I stood, entirely frozen, afraid to shatter the elusion, a ghostly form of Tommy walked up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. Without even noticing, I leaned into him as his hands slid down to mine and wrapped around them securely. My eyes fluttered closed as his warm lips found the sensitive, icy skin of my neck and teased and caressed it, sparking a fire, bringing me back to life. And then I made the mistake of opening my eyes and the ghostly vision before me vanished.
I gasped, I shook and I hated myself. I hated myself for being so weak without him, for being unable to enjoy my freedom and success and for having such a strong emotional tie to a man who had constantly pushed and thrown me away.
I remembered the earnest look in his eyes when he asked me to marry him, the way he stumbled over the words in his nervousness, how surprised I was to see him come apart in a way that was new and warming and made me feel that maybe, just maybe, I was as special as he viewed me to be.
I cursed and I screamed and hurled things at the mirror and was both relieved and angry to see that it didn't shatter,
"Amen," I muttered to myself as I grabbed my keys and strode out of the apartment. The lyrics of 2am were screaming through my mind – didn't they get the memo? That's not where it's at!
I ran past nameless faces and empty eyes and onto the crowded street. What was wrong with me? Yes, I handled it badly, I broke his heart and that stung even worse then the empty loneliness. I should have handled it better but ultimately I did the right thing.
Sadie was right! I'm only 18! I have a life to live, experiences to have, wisdom to learn, things to discover, I shouldn't, couldn't commit! Tommy thought he loved Portia and they were eighteen when they made the biggest mistakes of their lives – a mistake that led to a person's death!
He and I, we were unstable. We were like a disc that played beautifully and passionately, building towards an amazing crescendo only to get stuck mere seconds before the blissful release. We were doomed to be trapped in that loop forever; drawn to each other by some overwhelming magnetic force only to end up tearing each other apart.
Sadie… I was bloody right! (There, it's working. I already sound like a pom.)
I smiled at a child on the street and banished the thunder claps that were clouding my features. Unconsciously my hand crept into the pocket of my jacket and wrapped around my cell phone. I wish I could call him. Not to beg him to take me back but to talk to; to talk to my friend, my mentor, to hear the warmth in his voice, the teasing and the unwavering faith in me.
"You're it girl, you're the real thing. You've even better."
He had held my hand, every minute, and every second of my journey. He'd been that silent, unwavering enforcer that protected me from industry sharks and most importantly; myself. And that was why I had to do this. That was why I couldn't take out my phone, dial his number and sob, "I can't do it!" Because I have to do it - Because he's been the one to hold my hand, because he believed in me, because he protected me, wanted me and loved me. Because I'm terrified I can't do this on my own. Because I'm scared I'm not me, I'm us. That all I'll ever be is because of him and with him and that I can't do a damn thing on my own.
How could I be with him and love him like he deserves to be loved, like no one ever has, if I'm resenting him for being the wonderful support that he is. How could we survive if I grew small and bitter and decided I was nothing without him? How could I be the woman that he loves if I allow myself to become some barnacle like creature fused to his side and completely dependent on him?
See, that's where the music dies and the CD skips. That's the vicious cycle that I'm desperate to break. I still hate myself for doing it the way I did, for not explaining to him the truth – I'm not running away from us, I'm running to us, I'm fighting for us.
I'm battling the demons and fears within me that would kill our love if left to flourish.
I'm walking alone so I can walk with him again.
I'm going to record my first album without him holding my hand and I'm going to triumph. I'm going to see the world. I'm going to learn what I am and find my independent strength and then… I'm going to take that paper ring and put it on my finger. I'm going to run to him, kiss him, hug him and never let him go.
Maybe it seems presumptuous to assume he'll still be there but I saw the unspoken words in his eyes during that lingering look, before I left for the airport. I think he understands, maybe not all of it but enough. He's waiting for me.
So now… I'm going to find myself so that I can find him again.
And then I assure you and this dogged loneliness that's so intent on bringing me down, we're going to do it; we're going to live… happily ever after.