It felt warmer outside this time around; it could've been because the temperature might have really increased in the past thirty minutes, or it might've been because he had his arm wrapped around her, with his hand clutching tightly onto hers. She felt safe with him, she felt like no harm could ever come to her again, not least from her husband, and she was glad that she had actually had the guts to call him and ask for his help.

And he had helped her beyond reason. She hadn't anticipated him being this…hands on with helping her out; she had predicted the tea, but not the hugs or the tender care he had given her. She felt guilty almost for wrecking his night, like she had apologized for earlier, and even though he had told her that it expressly did not matter, she still felt bad about it. And he was taking her out for dinner as well; how was she ever going to thank him for this?

She felt extremely self-conscious however about going out. Surely if someone recognized her, and then the papers got wind of her both being with Matt but mainly being severely bruised, then what sort of crazy theories would they publish? Or would they somehow guess the truth? It made it seem like a game, evading the journalists, but this wasn't anything special. It wasn't like some sort of…date, it was one friend taking another out for dinner to make her feel a bit better after being through a rather frightful incident that she hadn't deserved.

He opened the door of the taxi for her, once again showing off his truly gentleman manners, and she, as gracefully as was possible, climbed in and sat on the left hand side on the weary back seats of the taxi. Matt quickly strode around the back of the ageing yellow taxi and plonked himself down in the seat behind the driver. Before he sat down though, he leaned forwards and muttered to the driver where he wanted him to take them, and although Alex strained her ears trying to hear what he was saying, the location just escaped her and she leant back in the seat, feeling a little more than bewildered now they were actually on their way to dinner.

Sensing her second-thoughts on whether tonight was a good idea or not, Matt looked towards her and whispered, 'Don't worry Alex, it's just dinner.'

'You're too good to me, you know that don't you?' she said, half-jokingly, half it being the most serious thing that had ever come out of her perfectly formed mouth. 'Oh, you deserve to be treated once in a while Alex,' he relied charmingly, like he was just some sort of perfect creation that God had given her. But he wasn't hers, nor was she his.

Turning his head away from her gaze, Matt promptly smacked the back of his head on the window. Okay, so, perfect but a little clumsy as well. She giggled fondly, and she was a little flustered at how ridiculous and out of place her laugh sounded. But then, to her downtrodden surprise, flustered tears began to shroud her eyes and collide sharply with the flesh of her cheeks. She quickly wiped her general eye area, wondering what on earth was going on, but realized that she couldn't help it. What the hell was wrong with her? Why was she crying?

True to form, Matt noticed this almost immediately, and in the same millisecond began questioning her on what was wrong. She didn't quite know, but maybe it was coming to a sudden point of acceptance. 'You read about this sort of thing all the time, but you never think it would be you on the receiving end,' she sniffed out, continually spreading her palms across her face to remove the glistening droplets of water leaking from her sapphire eyes, the blue becoming so pale and faint that they were almost lost, merging, with the white. Matt squeezed her hand, 'You always think that you would see it coming, and you would be strong enough to carry on, but when it actually happens, it's j-just horri…and you feel so weak and pathet…'

Her voice cracked to such a degree that she could physically not choke the words out, and, like a bullet into the side of the head, the sheer obliviousness she had portrayed in response to being used as a punch bag this evening sank in and, for the first time, Alex reflected back on the moment that her husband's knuckles had slammed into her face, and it was truly the most haunting thing in the world.

Matt was at a loss for what to do. Obviously this event would've seriously affected and dented her, but he didn't quite know how to handle it. It was okay the first time around, because that was mainly dealing with the tears of loneliness and clearing up the bruising, but this time it was the mental scars that he felt was his duty to try and heal. And he did not have the first clue where to start.

'Alex, I want you to listen to me,' he began steadily, not anticipating or knowing in advance what the words, which would hopefully be helpful, about to pour from his mouth were, 'this didn't happen to you because you were weak. It happened because Jack was. It wasn't your fault, and it never will be. No one had the right to hit any other person, especially when it's supposed to be someone you love.' And with that resounding statement, he ended his speech, centering his eyes right on her face with the words someone you love. He hoped that he had helped in some way or another with his words, but then again he wasn't Shakespeare, he couldn't uplift someone by just ordering words into a specific order.

The taxi slowed to a halt, where it parked unpresidently in front of a huge, majestic building made up of what looked like limestone and marble. There was a grand staircase leading up to the hall (or so it looked like) and it looked very Cinderella all of a sudden. Alex was still in silence after Matt's words, replaying them in her head, trying to convince herself that he was right, that it hadn't been her fault. But she still couldn't shake the immense feeling of guilt telling her if you hadn't scolded him he wouldn't have been forced to do it. You did this; it's of your own doing.

He opened the taxi door for her, and as she stepped out, she stared up once more at the street they were on, trying to deduce where they actually were. But she had lived in L.A for almost eleven years, and she had never realized until now how different the two countries were. There were thirty metre high street lights hanging over the pavements, just metres apart, lighting up the whole city. The countdown to Christmas was evident, with thousands of tiny little fairy lights dotting all over the building she and Matt were walking over to. Even the stone banisters of the stairs were wrapped in white lights and it felt so magical just walking up the steps; just like a dream.

And then she saw the name of the restaurant. She almost fell over.

'Oh, you're joking,' she breathed out breathlessly, her words almost escaping her lips before she had good opportunity to speak them. She looked up at him, eyes wide and bare, all previous mascara and make-up washed off by her tears, and he laughed at her shocked expression. 'Matt, are you being serious?'

'Perfectly Miss Kingston. I promised you dinner, and dinner you shall have,' he replied courteously, bowing at the top of stairs, and tilting his head to motion for her to start walking again. She followed him in a dream state, feeling so light and like if there was a sudden breeze, she would just fly away with the wind.

She had always wanted to go the Ritz.