A/N: Let's pretend it's still August and this didn't take 4 months. Yes?! Cool. Anyway, here it is. My nemesis. I suggest re-reading chapter 8 because that has been edited and is essentially the first half of this chapter seeing as it takes place on the same day, so it probably reads better as a whole. Once again thanks for reading. You're awesome. :)
The stifling heat of the day dims to a shade more bearable when Jeff and Annie sit in the outside terrace café overlooking the Louvre pyramid and the tree-lined edge of the Tuileries gardens. Despite the jumble of accents around them and the distant gush and babble of water from the fountains below, things between them are decidedly quiet.
Too quiet.
It's a little disconcerting, especially since Annie hasn't stopped talking about everything there ever was from the moment Jeff met her in London, and probably before that, if he's honest. But somewhere between Greek Antiquities and the Decorative Arts, Annie acquired this weird silence like a cheap, crappy souvenir Jeff really doesn't want and now he can't get rid of.
At first he welcomed it as they meandered from painting to sculpture to painting, needing the time to think about the moment Annie gazed down at his stupid picture on her camera, and the way she stroked it so, well, lovingly, for want of a better word, and how the warmth it stirred spread until he had to restrain that unyielding impulse to catch her face with his hands and kiss her and tell her just how good she made him feel. Because when has anyone ever looked at him like that – like he was more than just a handsome face?
He assumed Annie sensed his need to think for a while - she's usually pretty good at deciphering his moods and acts accordingly - and they'd eventually pick up where they left off, but aside from a few mumbles about the Mona Lisa and some painting they only recognized as the cover art of a Coldplay album, Annie was practically mute.
And now, now the silence is persisting and edging into the kind of awkward Jeff can feel in his fingertips as they rap harshly against the table and he can't think what happened in the last few hours that made it that way.
It doesn't make any sense.
Hooking his sunglasses into the collar of his t-shirt, Jeff watches Annie take a sip of coffee, barely meeting his eye before she turns to stare vacantly across the balcony lined with tall graying statues, their features eroded to near nothingness. He waits for her to say something, anything, because this is usually the part where Annie points out something in the distance and then Jeff makes some sarcastic comment about how little he cares but they're smiling, always smiling. It's kind of their thing.
Now there's nothing.
"Okay, that's it," he says, his palm landing heavily on the table, enough to make their cups clatter. "This weird silent thing you've got going on really isn't working for me."
Annie's gaze bites to his confusedly. "Huh?"
"Oh look. She speaks. That's a relief."
"What are you talking about?"
"Am I boring you?"
"What?" Her spine snaps upright. "Of course not."
"I can't believe I even asked that," he says to himself. "As if anyone would find me boring."
Annie's eyes dart dazedly between his face and their surroundings, like maybe she missed something and is trying desperately to catch up, and he knows he's confusing the hell out of her when she says, "Um. Jeff…?"
"Is this about the Mona Lisa? It's not really anything to get upset about, Annie, but even I didn't expect it to be the same size as my hand."
The hard line of Annie's lips finally breaks and the smile bleeds into her face. "Okay, Hyperbolic Henry. It wasn't that bad." She pauses to think about it and Jeff grins, feeling a shred of relief at the sound of her teasing. "Although, admittedly, it was a little disappointing after all the build up about how amazing it is, I'm not upset about that."
"But you're upset about something?"
"What? No." She hisses a noise that vaguely sounds like a pssshhh. "No."
"So that's a no then?"
Her shoulders actually sag. "Jeff."
"Hey, look. I'm just trying to lighten the mood here because something's clearly bothering you."
Annie's fingers dash to play with the hair curled behind her ear. "What, what makes you say that?"
"Well, Annie, as we established on our first day together, you are the world's most excitable tour guide." He pauses, encouraged by the small smile flirting with her lips. "This means that you like to take photos of everything, from streetlamps -"
"It had Victorian detail!"
"-to sidewalks-"
"It was cobbled and in London it's called a pavement."
"-you even took a picture of our feet."
"They just looked really funny standing together. You have huge feet and mine are tiny."
"Whatever. We talked about this earlier. You like to take a lot of photos. Agreed?" She nods slowly, not quite following, and he continues, "And you also like to describe everything you're seeing even though I'm seeing it too. I mean, I'm not blind Annie, although if you keep catching me off-guard with your camera flash I might be."
"Travelling is nothing without commentary, Jeff, and I said I was sorry about that." She winces apologetically. "I still don't know all the settings on my camera. I'm learning as I go along."
"My retinas forgive you," he grins, shifting to rest one elbow on the table, propping his cheek against his fist. "So here's the thing. When you don't take hundreds of photographs or tell me the history of everything there ever was, I know something's wrong. And something is wrong. I know you."
Annie's hand drops to toy with her necklace, absentmindedly flicking at the heart-shaped locket nestled against her collarbone, and Jeff doesn't miss the roll of her neck as she swallows.
"Nothing's wrong. I'm fine. Everything's fine," she says, although it sounds like she's trying to reassure herself more than anything.
"See, when people say they're fine, it usually means they're not." When her brow arches disbelievingly, Jeff angles his head to one side, more than a little haughtily because he shouldn't need to explain himself here. His skills really speak for themselves. "I'm a lawyer, Annie, I know these things. Is this because I wouldn't let you climb on my back?"
"No," she sighs. "Although that was kind of mean, Jeff. You know how small I am. It would have helped me see the painting above the crowd."
"Yeaaahhh but also your hands would've been all scrunched up in my shirt and this is Ralph Lauren," he quips, brushing delicately at the material against his shoulder. "And I'm not a tree. You can't climb me like one. At least not in public."
She whisper-shouts his name like it's some kind of scandal.
"Okay, okay, we can do it in public if you want." He arches one eyebrow suggestively. "I vote the elevator."
"What is this, Grey's Anatomy? And stop that!" She kicks him lightly under the table and glances sideways before leaning forward to whisper, eyes wide and asserting. "There are children present."
Jeff squints at the chubby-cheeked baby strapped in a stroller beside the next table, his lip coiling in disgust at the line of drool oozing from his toothless mouth as he chews on a brightly colored plastic ring. "Yeah, I don't think the kid understands what we're talking about, Annie." He eyes the parents chatting speedily in an accent his brain can't be bothered to process. "Same probably goes for the parents. What language is that?"
She follows the direction of his gaze, head poking to the side as she listens. "Polish maybe? I don't know."
"And here I thought you knew everything."
"You'd think, wouldn't you?" Annie splutters a laugh tinged with awkwardness as she shakes her head and doesn't stop. "But nooooo, no, no. Not me, no sir."
"Uh." Jeff frowns. "What?"
Her eyes meet his wide and wild. "What?"
"Okay, what's going on?"
"Nothing," she shrugs dismissively. "I'm just thinking. About things. And stuff. Stuff and things."
"Ah." He nods in slow understanding. "You're in one of those philosophical moods again."
"Would, would that be such a bad thing?"
"No," he murmurs, stretching the word slowly, confused and a bit cautious now. "I meant what I said, Annie. I'm just trying to lighten the mood because you've been weirdly quiet for hours now and it's kinda reminding me of that day you ignored my texts and I gotta say, that was tedious."
"Yeah, well, you deserved it," she snaps.
Jeff blinks at her, the clink of cutlery from neighboring tables filling the beats heavy with silence.
"Maybe. But do I deserve this, right now?"
"No. I'm sorry," she sighs around a watery smile and grabs one of the paper napkins, twisting it between her fingers. "Can't a girl just have some time to think about things?"
"And stuff," he smirks. "Don't forget the stuff, Annie."
Her brow furrows, only slightly, but Jeff feels like he knows every line, every smooth expanse of her skin, and the change in her face plays uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. If he had a Spidey sense, it would so be tingling right now.
"Do you," he starts hesitantly. "Do you want to be left alone? Is that what this is about?"
"No. That's the thing." Annie watches the pick of her fingers against the dried murky-colored milk foam around the rim of her cup, the twisted napkin abandoned now. "Even though I came on this trip by myself I never really wanted to be on my own, not once." She breathes a laugh that plays bitter with the sound. "Isn't that ridiculous?"
Jeff frowns again, feeling like he's done nothing but. "No, it's not."
"I think…Maybe I just need some fresh air, you know, clear my head."
"Uh Annie, this stuff all around us is air and I'm pretty sure it's fresh, although from the look of concentration on that kid's face," he thumbs discreetly at the baby in the stroller. "It probably won't be for long."
Annie glances at the baby, scrunching her nose a little. "Do you want to get out of here?"
Jeff watches her for a moment, follows the agitated sweep of her fingertips across the bare expanse of her throat. With his usual assuredness he knows Annie's holding something back from him and the fact irritates more than it should. Still, this is Annie and he would do anything for her and it's that thought which has him pushing his chair away from the table.
He holds out his hand, ignoring the cautious way she slides her palm against his, instead relishing the warmth he's missed the last few hours, as crazy as that sounds.
"I know exactly where to go."
Annie follows Jeff's lengthy strides across from the Louvre to the line of trees framing the embankment of the Seine River, vaguely aware that for the first time since she left Colorado she has no idea where she's going. It's a short walk driven by the same lingering silence that she can only blame herself for, but the franticness of that thought fades as soon as she catches a glimpse of their destination.
She glances at Jeff, his smile verging on smug as he holds up his phone, muttering "Map app" in answer to a question she's pretty sure she never asked.
Arched over to the left bank of the Seine, the criss-crossed wire fence of the Ponts des Arts bridge is covered in padlocks of different colors and sizes, some with colored ribbons curling in the river breeze. They wander to the middle, settling beside one of the streetlamps; the glass shell of the light above a little crooked. Behind them the wooden slats are littered with families on blankets with picnics of food and drink, and somewhere, someone is playing an instrument Annie can't name but would like to murder if she had the chance.
"So," Jeff starts casually. "This air fresh enough for you?"
Annie nods, inhaling deeply, the crispness tickling the back of her nose makes her cough a little. "How did you know this was here?"
"You wanted to come here, didn't you?"
"Yes, but I never -"
"I heard some couple talking about it earlier." He shrugs. "I thought you'd like it."
"I do," she murmurs quietly, gripping the railing tightly in effort to dull the tingling rush of her pulse in her fingertips. "Thanks."
Their smiles hold long enough for Jeff's eyes to soften and fall to her lips as the flush climbs her cheeks, and Annie wonders why she ever thought fresh air would dampen the feeling burning inside her. It feels etched into her chest somehow, like it will always be there, and it's more than a little terrifying. She turns back to look at the sun in its slow descent to the horizon and the line of boats bobbing beside the embankment.
"What's with all the padlocks?"
Jeff's voice cuts sharply through her thoughts and she turns to him with eyes narrowed warily.
He grins. "Hey, look, no judgey face. I really want to know."
"They're cadenas d'amour," she smiles, the words curling around her tongue with their usual exuberance. "Love padlocks. Couples write their names and a special date on the padlock, fix it to the fence and throw the key into the river."
"Why?"
Annie shrugs. "It's romantic I guess."
"Hmm. Like, we'll always have Paris."
"What." She turns to him in surprise. "When did you watch Casablanca?"
"I'm pretty sure everyone has seen it, Annie. It's supposedly a classic."
"Oh, I know that. It just doesn't seem like something in your wheelhouse."
"I watched a lot of movies growing up. The TV was a friend of mine. And sometimes a parent." He shrugs, like it's no big deal, even though Annie knows it's the opposite. "But don't you remember when Abed made us watch the movies from the AFI's list of movie quotes?"
"Oh yeah," she smiles warmly at the memory of the group piling into Abed's dorm room last year, catching a movie from the list whenever they had some free time. "Didn't we only get halfway through though?"
Jeff chuckles. "Yeah, the last one we watched was Scarface. I remember because Pierce said, "Say hello to my little friend," and pointed at his crotch and Shirley hit him with her purse."
"Good times."
"Understatement. Pierce getting a black eye is the best of times. It doesn't happen enough actually."
She laughs softly, her usual words of defense for Pierce just starting to formulate when Jeff's phone starts to ring; the loud generic tone softened by the thick material of his jean pocket.
Jeff frowns a little bemusedly at the unexpectedness – aside from a few texts his phone has been mostly silent for a change – and fishes the phone from his pocket, his smile fading as his eyes flick over the illuminated screen. "I, uh, I have to take this. Sorry."
He spins away and wanders to the other side of the bridge, side-stepping a couple sitting cross-legged on a picnic blanket, both shouting "Sante!" in a toast before drinking what looks like champagne from plastic cups. Annie frowns at the huge intake of breath stretched across Jeff's back seconds before he answers.
He talks for a while, distractedly pinging at the padlocks before he finds a thread of ribbon to twist between his fingers. Annie feels like she's intruding on something private but she can't stop glancing over, part intrigued, part relieved by the distraction, her pulse racing when he catches her gaze with a muted smile as he nods at whoever's on the line.
Eventually his call ends and Jeff drifts back slowly, stopping to apologize dazedly to the couple whose blanket he walked over. He finally reaches her, not quite looking at anything, and Annie's not sure what to say.
"That was my mom."
Her mouth drops soundlessly. "Oh," she squeaks her surprise because that is the last person she expected. "Is she okay?"
"Yeah, I guess." Jeff stares at her distractedly before turning back to his phone still in hand, blinking at it slowly like it's completely alien to him. "She wanted to know if I've found anything about my Dad. I think it's been playing on her mind."
Annie jolts a little, eyes widening. She's been so wrapped up in everything they've been doing together – so absorbed by Jeff's hands and mouth and that thing he does with his tongue, so focused on taking photos of streetlamps and feet and creepy armless statues - that she completely forgot the reason Jeff even came to Europe.
And maybe she forgot her own reasons too.
Maybe.
She shakes her head of the thought and sweeps her fingertips up his forearm where it's clenched and tense. "I hope she's okay."
"She's fine but… Fuck."
Annie rears back and grimaces an apology at a startled couple hastily trying to cover their children's ears too late as they walk past. She mouths "Sorry" but when she turns back to Jeff his face is wrinkled in confusion and shaded with the kind of pain that feels all too familiar, and her chest actually hurts.
"Jeff."
He scrubs a palm down his jawline and slouches to rest his forearms on top of the railing, like all the energy to hold himself up has fallen away. Annie does the same, tucking herself close beside him, and they both stand there for a moment, watching the ripple of murky water below.
"Have I just been really selfish here, Annie?"
Her eyes grow wide. "What, what do you mean?"
"Since I decided to look for my dad I've been thinking about how it would affect me, what it would be like to see him again, what I'd say. I didn't once consider what this might be doing to my mom." He shakes his head, huffing bitterly, "I'm an asshole."
"Please don't say that." Annie smoothes a palm across the broadness of his back, rubbing at the tightness she finds stretched there. "You have every right to think those things. He's your dad and he should have been there."
"Yeah, but I'm not the only one he left."
"True. But he divorced your mom. He didn't divorce you. That's not how it's supposed to work. Your mom knows that. She's probably just wondering where he is. I think anyone would want to know where someone disappeared to for twenty years. I know I would."
Jeff turns to look at her, expression softening in the way that makes her toes curl. "How'd you get so wise?"
"Meh," she smiles lightly, raising one shoulder to cheek. "I had to grow up quickly I guess."
His smile falters a little and he nods as though the thought just occurred to him. "I forget, you know, that your dad left too. I'm sorry."
Annie jolts at the pain creeping out, low in her chest, at the memory. She doesn't feel it very often because she's mastered blocking it out as quickly as she mastered the periodic table, but sometimes it slithers out unexpectedly, startling in its intensity. She tries to smile but it just feels a little sad and pathetic the way it plays with her lips.
"I'm sorry too."
Jeff wanders her face with warm eyes, reaching out to run his hand over the back of her head, smoothing the wind-mussed strands of her hair. He stoops to brush his lips against her temple and Annie leans into it for a moment, closing her eyes, savoring the contact she's missed the last few hours through no fault but her own.
"You know, it's weird. I came to London to maybe get some idea of where my dad is and I've barely thought about him."
"Do you," Annie starts slowly, lifting one of the padlocks and watching it clink back. "Do you think it's because if you think about him, it hurts?"
Jeff angles to face her. "It hurts to think about him?"
Annie's mouth opens to protest but the sound slips away as soon as she looks at him and the way he's watching her, eyes squinting and knowing. "A little," she shrugs.
"Me too."
"Yeah?"
He nods. "But in this case I actually meant that, well, you had kind of distracted me from thinking about him. You're very distracting, Annie Edison."
Annie smiles in spite of the rapid rush through her veins. "It has been nice to get lost in everything. You... You're kind of distracting too, Jeff Winger."
He grins, eyebrows raised. "Kind of?"
"Semantics."
Jeff chuckles but it trails off into a heavy sigh that pulls his lips downwards as he grips the railing and rattles it in frustration. "Ugghhhhh."
"Your mom will be okay, Jeff."
"I know. I just…as much as I don't want to, I think I should probably go see her. Go deal with it."
Annie's heart jumps erratically like it missed a beat and the realization of what is about to happen has the distinct no no no rolling around her head, so loud she's certain everyone can hear it. She prints a nail pattern into her palm. "Oh."
Jeff frowns. "I mean, Paris was only ever meant to be a couple of days. Right?"
"Yeaaahhh. About that. What if we didn't go back?" She ushers close, turning to press herself against his chest, tracing the indent between his pecs visible through his t-shirt. "What if we stayed?"
"Annie Edison, are you suggesting we..." He glances left and right before leaning forward to whisper scandalously, "Skip school?"
"Of course not!" She swats at him, though there's no fire behind it. "But school doesn't start until next week."
"But don't you usually need the week before to plan your outfits and buy textbooks and pens and read ahead for the semester?"
Her lips pinch at her own ridiculous predictability. "Yes, but maybe I'm not ready to do all that. Maybe I've had enough of reading for classes I don't have yet, or wasting time researching pens with the best grip and ink flow, or picking out, what, a different colored skirt and cardigan combo? Maybe I've had enough of planning out my life!"
Her voice escalates until Jeff raises his palms in mock defence, laughingly muttering, "Whoa okay, easy now, and really, ink flow?" but his teasing only serves to heighten the surge of something burning up the back of her throat.
It feels like frustration but she's not sure why. She hooks her fingers around the wire of the fencing, watching the skin turn white the harder she presses and pokes.
"Is this another attempt at being spontaneous?" Jeff smirks. "Because I gotta say, Annie, I think you should let that one go."
"This is what my trip was all about, Jeff. Being loosey-goosey and -"
"Loosey-goosey?"
"You can blame Britta for that."
"Oh, I will. Repeatedly."
"Anyway," she snaps, annoyed by the interruption. "Why are you questioning this? Anyone would think you actually want to go home and go to school."
"And anyone would think that you don't."
Annie shrinks backwards, turning to rest against the railing, the metal of the padlocks cold against her bare legs. She's momentarily mesmerized by the soft sway of the current below as Jeff moves closer, the silence licking at the space between them.
"Annie, seriously, what's wrong? And don't say nothing because you've been acting weird all afternoon."
Annie swallows the sudden thickness of her throat, the threads of her restraint barely holding on to the madness that's been threatening to burst for hours.
What's. Wrong?
Well, now she knows the map of Jeff's body and the touch that makes his cheeks flush and the breath catch high in his throat. She knows he clutches at her in the deepest of sleep and the whisper of her name when he's inside her makes her pulse race in a way she didn't know was possible. Now she knows that just the sight of his smile widening makes her happy and god isn't that just a little bit sickening? And the more she learns these things, the more confused she becomes because she didn't plan or prepare for this strange fluttery feeling that is buzz-humming beneath her skin and she's not even sure what it means and is there not a book she can read first?
Despite all this, she doesn't want to go home now. With Jeff she's seen and said and done things that never would have happened. It all feels like a hazy, languid dream that she wants to float through for as long as possible. Because she knows, somewhere in the deepest part of her, locked in that place she tries so so hard not to think about – where she hides the lingering shame of her addiction and the memory of her mother's face just before she left for rehab and the sound of her father's car as it pulled away from the drive one last time - that whatever this feeling is can't continue beyond this moment, here and now.
Because she's Annie Edison and he's…he's Jeff Winger and that combination never worked at Greendale.
She just can't believe she didn't realize sooner.
Startled by the warmth of Jeff's hand running soothingly across her shoulder blades, Annie sighs. "I…I really don't want to go home yet. I just want to stay a little longer. That's what was playing on my mind earlier, the thought of going home."
Jeff tilts his head a fraction, eyes roaming her face affectionately, and wraps his arms around her tight. She burrows closer, aware of the tip of his chin resting on her head, undulating as he speaks. "Why didn't you just say so?"
"I don't know," she mumbles, the words slightly muffled where she's pressed into his shirt.
"Annie, this feeling is completely normal. You're sad that your vacation is ending and that's understandable but -"
"Jeff. I know what I'm feeling. You don't have to explain it to me." Pulling back slightly, she glides her palms up his chest. "I just want a few more days of this," she starts, wetting her lips a little, aware of the sudden zip of her pulse. "Will you stay with me?"
Jeff clutches at her hips. "Do you really think I want to go visit my mom?"
"Probably not. To be honest, I kind of thought you avoided her most of the time."
"Well, I try. But I don't know, I feel like I owe her this - to be a good son for once. And, well, that same shitty feeling we have about leaving will still be there in a couple of days. Unfortunately."
Annie's palms slip low as she stares at their feet. "Well that's the good thing about living in the moment, Jeff. You don't have to think about that stuff. You just, you know, live. In the moment."
"Is that what this is about?" Jeff catches her chin to draw her gaze upwards. "That doesn't sound like you, Annie."
She swallows thickly, whispering, "Maybe that's the point"
His eyes narrow as he trails his fingers through the hair lashed around her neck by the breeze, pushing it back over her shoulder. "Annie -"
"Will you stay?" She runs her fingertip along the line of his belt, tapping at the metal clasp as she looks up at him, biting down a smile at the clench of his stomach. "I shouldn't have to give you reasons but," she hooks her fingers into the belt loops of his jeans, pushing her hips against him. "I'll be naked. A lot. And we'll go to all the designer shops you like and I'll drink scotch every night because I know you like the way it tastes when we kiss. And I'll stop shoving food in your mouth. I know you've got this thing about maintaining your abs and I wouldn't want to ruin that because, well, they're pretty impressive."
She watches his smile stretch wide and returns it when his palms glide against her cheeks, breathing, "I know," as he brings her up for a kiss. The heels of Annie's ballet flats hit the wood beneath them as she stretches on tiptoe to meet his mouth and the kiss deepens until the need for air is the only reason they stop.
Jeff presses one final kiss to the tip of Annie's nose and it's so gentle and unexpected that it stirs that inexplicable something that's been burning and turning inside her all day, knotting her insides and muddling her brain, and she has to swallow it down, inhaling the freshness of the breeze drifting from the river. Once she's got a handle on it, she smiles up at Jeff as he links their hands and pulls her away from the railing.
A bigger crowd has gathered to watch the sunset now, dotting the bridge with couples and families and artists with wooden easels, eyes bright and bewitched, and for a moment there is only the soft thump of Jeff and Annie's footsteps padding slowly across the bridge.
They're nearly at the embankment when Jeff squeezes her hand tighter, murmuring, "Okay," and it is all he needs to say.
Annie exhales a breath and smiles, feeling the tension burst and settle into relief inside her, for now. It's tentative but she'll take it. As she turns to him she has to hold a flattened palm against her forehead to shield her eyes from the dazzle of the sun glinting gold off the water as it sets in the distance; the sky a pretty canvas of pinks.
"I had you at naked didn't I?"
Jeff wraps his arm around her shoulders and tucks her close. A gust of wind comes up off the river cold as he ducks to press a kiss against her forehead, nudging the tip of his nose across her hairline, muttering, "Something like that," softly against her hair.
