Author's note: Don't forget this was a dream, so yes, the night manager did look a lot like Tom Hiddleston ;) The dream stopped at the point marked with an * when the sappy music became the soundtrack to a kiss. Here I have incorporated the same music differently for dramatic, or rather schmaltzy, purposes.
Tommy used his Lord Asherton charm and platinum credit card to secure what he wanted. "The room will be ready in five minutes, M'Lord," the night manager said deferentially. "Do you have luggage?"
"No. It's a spur of the moment decision."
"Very well, M'Lord." Tommy knew how it looked, but he was grateful for the night manager's completely neutral efficiency.
Tommy went back to Barbara. "They need a few minutes."
Barbara eyed him suspiciously. "For what?"
"You'll see."
"Tommy... I don't..."
He smiled and took her hand. "It's not what you think."
"I never..."
"Lord Asherton." Rather than a porter, the night manager was personally escorting them. He led them to the old wrought iron gate of the antique open lift that sat next to modern ones. The lift clunked and groaned as it ascended. When the night manager opened the gate, they stepped into a private suite. The room was large, wallpapered in a subtle gold and cream pattern. A large lounge had been pushed from the centre towards a side wall. There was a mahogany desk against the opposite wall but no other furniture. Tommy presumed the bedroom was behind the floor-to-ceiling mahogany door on the side wall. He had asked for their best suite with separate rooms so as not to give Barbara the wrong impression.
Barbara's hand tensed in his palm. He looked across and smiled. "It's okay. Trust me."
"I think you will find this satisfactory M'Lord," the night manager said as he opened the French doors onto a Juliet balcony that overlooked the lights of London and the Thames.
"Thank you." Tommy let her hand go as he pressed twenty pounds into the man's hand as he shook it.
Barbara wandered to the doors and looked out. "What a beautiful view."
Tommy followed and stood close behind her. "It's peaceful too, up here away from all the everyday nonsense of our lives."
"Tommy?"
He walked over to the desk and tapped on the screen of the iPad. The lights dimmed, and music began to play softly. He held out his hand. "You promised me another dance."
Barbara smiled as she took his hand. "You did all this just for a dance?"
"Yes." Tommy pulled her gently into his arms. "I didn't want the night to end."
"Neither did I."
"Then we should dance until dawn."
Their dance began as the last one had finished with their bodies pressed together swaying to the music. When Barbara lay her head against his chest, he tucked his chin over it, locking her in his embrace. With Barbara in his arms, Tommy felt invincible. She was the only woman he trusted enough just to be himself. Barbara could see through any facade. She knew him better than he knew himself.
Barbara suddenly stopped moving. "Is this about your promotion?"
"No."
She let go of him and turned to the balcony. "Your speech. Your eyes. Wanting to dance with me. You are trying to tell me, aren't you? This is the end."
"No! No, Barbara. There's no ulterior motive. They're not splitting us up. This isn't about that. And we... we can't end. It's about..." He put his hands on her shoulders.
"What?"
"Us. What we mean to each other."
"Us?"
Tommy stepped closer so that her back was against his chest. "Dancing with you tonight made me realise something for the first time."
"What?"
Tommy felt her shivering, so wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin lightly on her shoulder. "That I was jealous. This time of Gary, but I am always jealous when you show interest in someone else. I thought I was just the controlling type who likes everything to go my way, but it's more than that. I don't want to let you go."
Barbara leant into him, then pushed back and twisted out of his grip. She walked over to the lounge, sat, and began to remove her shoes. "These are killing my toes. What are you trying to say, Tommy? Oh, that is so much better."
He smiled and shook his head. "It's hard to have a serious conversation about this with you rubbing your feet."
"It's alright for you in your flat shoes." She held up her stiletto. "I should have told Gary and Emma that the Spanish only had to make people wear these for four hours and they'd have converted or confessed or done whatever else they wanted them to do. These shoes are an instrument of the Devil."
Tommy laughed. "That's why the inquisitors couldn't use them."
"Ha bloody ha."
He took off his jacket and tie, then sat beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. "That's one of the things I love about you."
"What? That I hate high heels?"
"No. That you don't pretend to be someone or something that you're not."
Barbara ceased her massage and looked up. "Yes. I do. This dress is not really me. Gary saw it in the window of the New to You store. He said it would suit me and make me feel good about myself."
"He was right. You look stunning."
"But the dress didn't make me feel better."
Tommy was surprised. "But you seemed so much more... confident."
"Did I? When you and Winston conspired to get me there, I was determined to pretend that I was having a wonderful time."
"We didn't conspire."
"No? I suppose you expect me to believe that introducing me to Gary just before the dinner was pure coincidence?"
"No. I wanted to make sure you came and that you didn't feel alone."
"And I appreciate the thought, but it did make me feel alone. In all the time I've known you, I never felt more alone. You had Emma, and it seemed like you were saying, poor old Havers can't get a date unless you give me one."
Tommy hugged her closer and looked into her eyes so that she knew he meant it. "I'm sorry."
"You meant well, and no one would ever know. He's a nice guy, but not my type."
Tommy could not help but smile. "Really? I thought you two..."
"Oh, Tommy, that's what I wanted you to think. No, I never even kissed him. I only want to kiss the man I love."
He grinned at her. "Good, because I thought I would have to tear him limb from limb."
"Is that what I should do with Emma?"
"Do you want to?"
"I did, for weeks, until I saw her with Gary and realised she never loved you. It was you I wanted to tear apart, until your speech."
"I... I never saw that side of you. You... the way you looked at me... you looked so confident, so... loving. You made me feel special, and it made me see that there was no one else that could ever make me feel like that."
"I think they should give Oscars for best actress at a police awards dinner."
Tommy dropped his arm from her shoulder and ran his hand slowly through his hair. "So it was all an act?"
Barbara took his hand. "No, not all of it."
"Barbara, I..."
"Shhh." Barbara stood and extended her hand. Tommy accepted it. "Dance with me, Tommy."
He moaned softly as her hand slid under around his waist and her face settled against his shirt. He brought their joined hands in to rest between their hearts.*
Tommy steered them towards the window. The song changed, and Barbara began to chuckle. "What?"
She looked up. "Do you know the words?"
He shook his head. "No. I don't think so."
Barbara began to sing. "What would you think if I told you, I've always wanted to hold you? I don't know what we're afraid of; nothing would change if we made love."**
Tommy remembered the song and grinned at her. "So I'll be your friend. And I'll be your lover. 'Cause, I know in our hearts we agree. We don't have to be one or the other."
Barbara joined in again. "Oh no, we could be both to each other."
Tommy stopped singing, partly in case his lack of tune put Barbara off. "It's true. We could."
"Tommy..." Barbara looked up at him. Even without finishing her sentence, he understood.
"Yes, I'm sure. I thought because I loved you as a friend, that I couldn't, shouldn't, love you any other way. But I do. I understood that tonight. When I was giving my speech, it was as if only you were there. It's only ever been about us, ever since that first case. And when I have you in my arms like this, I'm at peace. I love you, Barbara. And I'm sorry it took me so long to realise it."
"Are you sure? Really sure? Because I can't say it if you're not. I couldn't bear..."
Tommy moved his face close to hers. "I've never meant anything more."
"I love you, Tommy."
He expected their kiss to be tender and romantic. It wasn't. It was fire and need. Years of denial, shared experience, fear and love poured from them. As they stood together, their bodies moulded into each other in an almost frantic desperation.
"Is there a bed in this place or is that couch it?" Barbara said as her fingers tangled in his hair.
"No," there's a bedroom."
"Good. My feet are killing me standing here."
Tommy laughed then shuffled her towards the door. "I hope that's not the only reason you want to lie down."
"You'll have to see, won't you?" She kissed him fiercely. He had no doubt that her feet were the last thing on her mind.
** Friends and Lovers, Carl Anderson & Gloria Loring, 1985.
