A/N: Written as a Tumblr request from free-from-you. Thank you so much for your kind words on my work so far. I hope you enjoy this one.

I've never written Freddie/Lix before and wasn't sure how it was gonna turn out, but I'm actually really proud of this! Let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Hour.

Freddie pushed open the door of Lix's office, laughing as she kissed him on the mouth.

This was what he needed.

Since his father's death, on top of the Ruth Elms story and getting subsequently fired, Freddie hadn't been feeling good. He didn't consider himself to be a particularly unhappy or melodramatic person. But for a week after his father's death, he had genuinely thought he would never be happy again. Bel did what she could, but she was busy trying to save The Hour and hold on to her job at the same time, and Freddie was never going to take that away from her, no matter how much he needed her. So every time she asked if he was alright, he had answered 'yes,' and even though she hadn't believed him even slightly, something hard in his gaze stopped her from contradicting him or insisting on staying.

He had never felt so alone.

Then, one night, about a week after his father had passed away, Lix had appeared at his door with a bottle of whisky, and two glasses.

One glass had led to another, and before they knew it, the bottle was empty and they were kissing.

The next morning, when they were lying cramped on Freddie's small single bed, he had looked at her with something like guilt in his eyes.

"Don't worry, darling boy. It's just a fling, that's all. Two friends, having fun. You need it, after all." There was something like motherly concern in Lix's eyes as she said this which reassured Freddie more than the words.

After that, he had relaxed.

"After all, I'm not her, darling, and I never will be. As long as you remember that, we'll get along just fine."

There had been a sharp intake of breath at that. Freddie realised too late that it was his. Lix raised an eyebrow. Freddie laughed and got up to make coffee.

As he brought it in to his room, where Lix was lying propped up on her elbow and tangled in the sheets, she again raised an elegant eyebrow.

"You may not do breakfast, Ms. Storm, but I'm afraid I do," Freddie grinned.

"Well, Freddie, coffee is hardly breakfast."

"Ah!" Freddie placed the coffee tray on the bedside table and darted out of the room, returning a moment with a croissant on a plate, complete with knife and butter.

For a moment, Lix looked wistful. Then just as soon as the look had appeared, it vanished, and she smiled as she took the plate from him. "You shouldn't have, Freddie," she said.

"Least I could do," grinned Freddie, sitting on the edge of the bed. His face took on a more serious expression; still smiling, but meaningfully. "Thank you."

Lix smiled, but otherwise ignored him. "Aren't you having anything?"

Freddie shook his head.

Now it was two weeks later, and Malcolm Lyon's funeral had taken place earlier that day.

They lay in each other's arms in the post-coital quiet. Freddie whispered, as if the world would shatter if he broke the silence.

"Me and Bel...it's never gonna happen, Lix. It's just not." His voice was sad, but resigned.

"Oh, nonsense, Freddie. Everyone can see it..."

"Except her," Freddie finished, shaking his head. "It's alright. I'm going to America. Next Tuesday. I've booked the flight and everything."

Lix shook her head at his foolishness, and Freddie twisted round so he could see her. He grinned helplessly. "Sometimes you just have to know when you're beaten."

He turned away with sad eyes, and Lix allowed despair to fill her own eyes too. He was right, she thought. And how sad that she knew that, that she had known that since Paris, a baby in a mother's arms (but not her mother's), and a man who had left...

"Go out into the world, then, beautiful boy," Lix whispered in his ear. "Go and knock the world flat."