A/N: Chapter Fourteen—as promised!—and it's a biggie. We're nearing the end. Thank you so much for your reviews, atthtt and ISfan94! I think you will really like this chapter! :)
Chapter Fourteen – Want
That short moment of hope though is not to be repeated for Jude over the next week. Tommy is so busy: in meetings with Darius and Sadie; in the studio recording and mixing songs for the compilation; at the venue making sure everything is working out fine. The Grand Finale is actually a two-week event. Darius brokered a deal with several TV networks in America, Europe and Asia for broadcasts every night for two weeks: half an hour per night on the first week. Those short episodes will mostly be made up of footage from the rehearsals and short excerpts of songs that will be presented by the finalists. The first three nights of the final week will be one-hour broadcasts of performances from the finalists with comments from the three judges, as well as a performance from Mason on Monday, from Karma on Tuesday and from Jude on Wednesday. Finally, on Thursday, at the end of a two-hour special, Darius will announce the five grand finalists, with the winner set to be unveiled on the two-hour Friday broadcast during which Mason, Karma and Jude will each perform their song from the compilation.
But right now, on Friday—the eve of that second to last week—, surprisingly, the Grand Finale is the furthest thing from Darius' mind.
Darius is a man who's seen a lot and been through a lot, so he could probably count on the fingers of one hand—maybe two—the number of times when he's been stunned, truly stunned, but this moment almost beats them all. "I can't believe this." His eyes scan Tommy and he sees it now; the changes. Tommy's lost some weight, his skin has a strange texture and he looks paler than usual. How long have the changes slipped by, unnoticed by him? He suddenly feels a pang of guilt. Not liking the feeling, he lets some of his anger out on Tommy. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he accuses.
Tommy's eyes are cast down. In fact, he had pretty much announced the news to his shoes. "I guess… If I didn't talk about it, then it was—"
"Easier to ignore it."
"Yeah."
"Who's your physician?" Darius asks, softening his tone.
Tommy frowns. "Why do you want to know?"
"I want to make inquiries. I want to make sure you have the best care possible."
Despite their tumultuous history, Tommy is not surprised. It's just like Darius to want to take control even if things are out of his control; to want to hire the best, thinking that it will make all the difference. "I have a good physician, D. She's an expert, and she's doing all that she can."
"Still. I want to know."
"Dr. Stella Boldsen," Tommy says, and Darius jots it down before he asks where Tommy is being treated so he can also make a note of it. And then, there's a heavy moment of silence. Pretty soon, Tommy just can't take it anymore. "Now I know why I was dreading this so much." He shakes his head. "It's started already: you no longer see me; you just see the disease."
"Can you blame me for being concerned?"
Tommy glares at him. "I don't want your pity, D. I need you to act normally. This is already hard enough."
"If there's anything I can do—"
"You can give me the time off after the Grand Finale, like I requested: that's what you can do," Tommy snaps, getting up, wanting more than anything to get the hell out of this office, of G-Major altogether.
"I'll tell Sadie to make the changes. But T, with the Finale—"
"I'll handle the Finale. Just give me the leave after," Tommy cuts in.
"You got it."
"Thanks," Tommy says, walking out without looking back.
He comes out of Darius' office completely exhausted; so exhausted he's actually considering leaving his precious car in the parking lot and hailing a cab to get home.
He comes down the stairs and sees a group assembled in the lobby: Spied, Kyle, Karma, Sadie, Jake, Mason, Jude… He aims quickly for the exit, hoping to leave unnoticed, but Spied turns around and catches him just as he's about to slip out. "Hey Quincy! We're all going for drinks. You're coming?"
Tommy stops in his tracks, his right leg itching to propel him forward. "Oh, not tonight, Vin. I'm beat. But you guys have fun."
"Ah, come on, Tom! You never hang out with us. Come."
"I did. That night at the pub."
"That was ages ago. Come on!"
Jude watches as Tommy pretends to think it over—though she knows he's not: in his mind, he's already out of here, already halfway back home.
"Another time, all right? I'm really wiped."
"OK, old man: another time. But I'll hold you to that," Spied concedes with a smile.
"Hey! When I was young, we had respect for our elders, kid!" Tommy quips, and Spied laughs.
"Oh yeah. I'm sure boyband you was all about respect."
Tom laughs, and Jude enjoys the sound. "Now, listen: you can't hold a man responsible for what he does when he's forced to wear parachute pants!"
"Speaking of parachute, go on, dude. Fly out of here!"
The duo keeps trading jokes, and the whole exchange—though nice—still seems odd to Jude. She has yet to get used to Tommy and Spied getting on so well, like old chums. Lost in thoughts for a short while, a smile curls up her lips. When she comes back to the present time, she notices Tommy staring at her. Her smile grows wider until she sees something dark appearing in his eyes. Sadness mixed in with something else. Regret? Yes, but something more.
She steps forward before Tommy can shake himself out of it and slip out of the building. "If you want to go, I can sit this one out," she says softly now that she's near enough to keep their conversation quiet.
"Oh no, Jude, that's not it. I really am tired. Anyway, you're only here for a short while still. You shouldn't keep yourself from hanging out with your friends because of anyone, least of all me." He didn't mean to say so much—especially not to mention her impending departure though it's on his mind despite everything else he's got going on.
"You're sure it's not me?" she asks, not quite convinced.
"Absolutely," he smiles faintly. "I'm really beat."
And now that he's saying it, she notices again what she had caught earlier in a brief moment when they had been in the same space together: his face is clammy even a little pasty. He doesn't look well. And before she can even think about it, her hand reaches up to touch his cheek; he's feverish. Subtly, almost imperceptibly, he draws back so her hand falls down. She knits her brows, but pulls her hand back and shoves it in her pocket. "You have a fever," she says quietly, her voice serious.
"Yeah. I think I'm coming down with something."
"Are you sure you're OK, Tommy?" she asks, looking at him straight, but he casts his eyes downward.
"Probably just a cold or something. A good night sleep is all I need, I'm sure."
She nods but she doesn't believe him. There's something else. She's positive there's something more.
"I'll see you later, Jude," Tommy says, looking up briefly. He's anxious to escape her gaze. "Have fun tonight!" And without waiting for her reply, he turns on his heels and heads quickly for the exit.
Though Jude tries to enjoy the night out with her friends, in her head, she keeps seeing Tommy's clammy face and that strange darkness in his eyes.
As though reading her mind, Karma takes her hand and leads her to the ladies' room so they can have some privacy. As soon as they get inside, Karma makes Jude spin around to face her. "I told you before, Jude: I don't believe in subtlety. You want Tommy? I say you go get him."
Jude is not so convinced. She remembers a time when she decided to go to him though he had specifically asked her not to, and the result had been heartbreaking. Her experience in New Brunswick is still very fresh in her memory. "He didn't look well. I'm worried: that's all."
Karma gives her a wink and a mischievous smile. "All the more reason to go and play the nurse."
"Sounds tempting," Jude chuckles. "I'm just not sure Tommy would welcome it."
Karma clicks her tongue. "Jude: what do you have to lose? Stop beating around the bush and go get your man already!"
Jude gives her a frank and amused smile, feeling encouraged. "I think I will."
It's a little past nine when Kwest knocks at Tommy's door with his medication; a prescription he had forgotten to fill and asked his best friend to pick up at the drugstore. Too exhausted, Tommy had said. The bag is stapled shut, but the brief look the pharmacist gave him when she handed it over has Kwest on edge. Seeing Tommy when he opens the door doesn't help to ease the sensation. "Whoa," he says. "What's going on?"
"I told Darius today," Tommy says, stepping aside to let Kwest come in.
"Shit."
"Yeah."
"You look—"
"Bad. I know. It was harder than I thought."
"How did he react?"
"Typical Darius. He was angry I didn't tell him sooner and then he tried to take control."
"What do you mean?" Kwest asks, subtly steering Tommy towards the couch so he can sit while he goes to fetch him a glass of water from the kitchen nearby.
"Wanting to know the name of my physician, worrying about work, that kind of thing."
"You asked for the time off after the Grand Finale?" Kwest asks, taking a glass out of the cupboard.
"Yeah. Indefinite leave. Fuck, I hate the sound of that."
Kwest fills the glass and brings it to Tommy. "But that's what it is."
Tommy shakes his head. "It just sounds too much like definitive, you know?"
Kwest nods—yeah, he gets it. He gets it too well. "Darius won't tell Derek, though, right?"
"Derek quit," Tommy says before swallowing his pill.
"What?!"
"Yeah, a little over a week ago. I didn't tell you?"
"No! Who's replaced him?"
"No one."
"What?!"
Tommy shrugs. "Darius couldn't find anybody ready to jump in. The people he saw needed training, and there's no time for that."
"So you've been doing everything yourself?"
"Well, Sophie, the technician working with Matt, has been helping a little, but Matt's producing schedule is really full since I can't produce much except for the compilation. Darius pitches in when he can and Spied and Kyle have been helping too. Even Jake helped me just yesterday."
"Still, T, that's crazy!"
"Yeah, it is, but what can I do? I can't quit on Darius, too!" Tommy runs a hand on his face. "I've got to hit the sack, man. Thanks for picking this up for me," he says, motioning to the bag. "I really appreciate it."
"Anytime. You know that. I'm going to stick around for a bit in case you need anything else."
Tommy stands and squeezes Kwest's shoulder as he walks past on his way to the bedroom.
Knowing it's probably a mistake, knowing she is doing the opposite of what good sense screams at her to do, Jude parks her car in front of his building. She remains seated behind the wheel for a few minutes, debating it once again, listening to the loud voice that tells her to just go home. Home, she thinks, and she's a little shocked by a strong urge to cry. She shouldn't be here. But then, she remembers how restless she's been the whole night, her mind incessantly going back to him. After a year spent an ocean apart—a year over which she never let herself even think of him—how is it possible that she can't rest tonight without knowing that he's OK?
In the end, she pushes herself out of the car, summoning some of Karma's boldness. What else is there to do?
The doorman, who recognizes her from when she used to be a frequent visitor, smiles when she approaches the desk. She pats her pocket. She still has his key. Tommy never asked for it back so she never gave it to him. "Haven't seen you in a long while, Miss Harrison."
"I know. I've been abroad this past year. How are you, James?" she smiles.
"Very well, miss. And yourself?"
"Pretty well, thanks."
"I assume you still know the way?"
"Eighteenth floor."
"Elevators are still on the right. Have a good evening, miss."
"You too, James."
She pushes the button, waits for the ding and hurries before she loses her nerve. The elevator is empty and doesn't make any other stop, so she's quickly taken to the eighteenth floor. Another ding and the door opens. She steps out in the hallway and makes a left, her breath trapped in her throat. In front of his door, she shakes her shoulders, her head and her arms, like she's trying to get a grip, like she's getting ready for a fight.
He might not be so happy to see me, she thinks. In fact, he might be downright pissed. She almost turns back, but she knows, in her heart of heart, that if she goes back downstairs, it will only be to get back here in a short while. Once I know he's OK, I'll leave. Everything will be all right.
Taking a deep breath, she lifts her fist and knocks, quietly. Soon enough, she hears movement on the other side and the door opens. "Kwest?"
"Jude!" he exclaims with a puzzled look. "What brings you by?" he asks, a tad worried about her answer.
"Oh. Well, Tommy didn't look well when he left G-Major earlier and, uh… Well, I guess I was checking up on him." The last few words are barely audible, but Kwest catches them. Realising that he's been blocking the entrance, he shuffles back in and motions for her to get in.
"Tommy's asleep," he says while thinking of a way to explain his presence here. "He realised when he got back home that he was out of flu medicine. Since he wasn't feeling so hot, he called to ask if I could pick some up for him and swing it by." Kwest looks at Jude intently to see if she's buying it. It is partially true, though it's not flu medicine Kwest brought.
"Oh. How is he now?"
"I think the medicine knocked him out. He's been out cold for a while. I was just hanging around in case he woke back up and needed something else, but I think he's down for the night."
"Good. That's good," she says nervously. "He seemed really out of it earlier."
"Yes, I suppose he was since you came all the way here," Kwest says with a smirk.
"I guess some things never change," she replies before she can realise what she's saying.
"I guess so." Kwest smiles and motions towards the living room.
They both walk to the leather couch. Sitting at an angle so she can face Kwest, Jude lets her eyes linger on the view. She can see the lake from here, and the traffic of cars moving in and out of the city's core. "Do you think it's too late, Kwest?" she asks without looking at him, and he's grateful for that small favour because it gives him time to keep the truth from shining in his eyes.
"I think you're asking the wrong person."
Jude sighs. "I really messed things up, uh?"
More than ever, Kwest wishes Tommy had taken his advice and told Jude the truth about his condition already. Jude needs to be told. She had to know if Tommy… Jude should know that Tommy could be dying. But he had sworn Tommy he would not say a word unless he chickened out until the very end. He couldn't betray his best friend's trust, could he?
"Maybe you should talk to Tommy about it?"
Jude sighs again. "He's avoiding me. I can't blame him. And what am I supposed to do? Trap him for a secret, private meeting?" She barks a little laugh.
"Well Jude, you're here. He's here. You could wait for him to wake up."
Jude gapes at Kwest. Surely, he doesn't suggest she spends the night here? "I'm not sure Tommy would be happy to find me here when he wakes up."
In truth, he shares her opinion. Chances are Tommy will be pissed, though a bigger part of him thinks it might force the issue, might urge Tommy to tell her everything; his disease, his love for her, the reality that he may be dying. "Listen, Jude: I won't lie to you. Anyway, you know Tommy. He's protective of his privacy, so yeah, there's a chance he will be pissed, but I also know he won't have the heart to kick you out. And I guess staying would achieve the whole trapping him part," he chuckles.
Jude ponders on this for a short while. At this point, what does she have to lose?
Kwest nods, realising she's made her decision. "Well, since you're here. I think I'll go. I doubt Tommy will wake up until the morning, but if there's anything, call me, OK?"
"I will. And thanks, Kwest," Jude says, getting up to give him a hug.
At around three am, Tommy is awoken by a vivid dream. It takes him a moment to realise he is in fact in his bed and not in the hospital. He brings his hand to his face and feels the perspiration all over his forehead and neck. He gets up and heads for the kitchen to grab a glass of water, but when he gets there, he catches the light from the television. Thinking it's probably Kwest who stayed too long and fell asleep on the couch, he hails: "What are you still doing here?" On the couch, someone stirs and moves up in a seated position. "Jude?"
"Hi, Tommy," she says with a sheepish smile.
"What are you doing here?" he says, walking towards the couch.
"Well, I-I guess I came to check up on you. I was worried."
Seeing her here after the dream that just woke him up with a start, seeing the worry in her eyes; it makes Tommy feel at once vulnerable and unguarded. Unbeknownst to him, he lets the barriers drop and looks at her with so much love in his eyes. Really, she was the only one he wanted to see after that horrible dream.
So he's giving her the look—her look. Unable to hold back any longer, she gets up and closes the gap between them. Her hand reaches out to circle his neck and she brings him down, brings herself up, ready to just feel his lips on hers again. His breath caresses her face and mouth. She closes her eyes, expecting, hungering, needing, and then Tommy pulls back. "No, Jude. We can't." And just like that, the gap is back, wider than ever. Insurmountable.
Fighting back tears, she whispers, "I really messed everything up, didn't I?"
"No, that's not it—"
"No, Tommy, I did," she almost yells. "I should never have let a whole year go by. I should've reached out, called. Now, you don't want me anymore—"
"I always want you, Jude," he interrupts, and the tone of his voice takes hers away momentarily. His eyes—a whirlwind of emotions—are fixed on her. "I've been wanting you almost since the day I've met you. Hell, I want you now," he adds, almost in a whisper.
"Then why are you pushing me away?" she asks, her voice little.
Tommy sighs and sinks on the couch. He's not sure he can stand anymore. The painkillers may be stronger, but their effect has grown weaker. He shakes his head, not wanting to think about it, but the disease is so huge, it takes half the space in his brain. Right now, Jude occupies the other half. He wants to tell her—needs to tell her. The time has come. But he's already told Darius today, and it was hard. It made everything so goddamn real.
Meanwhile, Jude is gaping at him, still processing his words. I always want you, Jude… Hell, I want you now. Looking at him, she realises that she does as well. In every sense of the word. She wants him in her life; yes; but she also wants him, wants his body pressed against hers; wants his hands all over her, her hands all over him; she wants his cheeks, his forehead, his lips, his neck, his chest, his arms, his legs, his buttocks, his penis—everything.
When Tommy looks up, he sees that she's flushed. He blocks that vision out of his mind. He can't. They can't. "This isn't real," he says, casting his eyes down.
She's waiting for him to continue, to say that this moment isn't real, but when he stays silent, she asks: "What isn't real?"
Tommy looks up again. "This. I mean, you being back here isn't real. It's like a vacation. You're only here for, what, another fifteen days?"
"You've counted the days?"
"You know I've counted the days."
"Counted the days until I'm out of your life?" she asks dryly.
"No. Counted for how long I'll still have the chance of seeing you almost every day. I have missed that, you know."
"I thought you were avoiding me."
"Not exactly, Jude. I've avoided being alone with you, yes, but not you altogether."
Now that she thinks about it, she realises it's true. He hasn't avoided the group meetings. He even stuck around to see her jam with the boys. He hasn't been going out with them much, pleading exhaustion, but he did come once. Looking at him now, she sees that he does look exhausted.
But the end result is still the same: he's avoided time alone with her, which means they've had no moments en tête-à-tête, as he would say.
"It's been so nice to see you play music again," he says. "Not to mention to hear you sing again. I've always loved your voice, Jude. And I won't say my heart hasn't leaped every day at the thought of seeing you. But like I said, it's not real. Soon, you'll be back to your reality, and I'll be back to mine. And we can't let a vacation fling happen between us."
"But what if I told you I want us to try again?"
"It doesn't work that way."
"Why not?" she asks, frustrated. "And don't tell me you're not good enough for me, Tommy!"
He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, to find the right angle to reject her without giving her the impression that she is rejected. "You're making a life for yourself. You're finding your voice. I don't think you're done yet, and I know I would stand in the way of that." Half of it is true—she is still finding her voice, though he knows he would be more than capable to give her the space she needs, when she needs it. But he's dying. Actually dying. He has ignored that truth for so long; but in the last few days, it's been hitting him like a wrecking ball. A sob—a fucking sob—is threatening to erupt from his throat. He swallows it down hard.
"You wouldn't stand in the way," she says, wondering why everyone seems to think she needs a wide way, free of people and interruptions, to get anything accomplished.
He has to tell her truth. Now. Right now. One deep breath and out with it. He brings his gaze back on her.
And he can't. Just can't. Can't find the words, the courage. It's all too much. So he takes the coward's way out. "You made the right decision when you left me. This," he says, pointing his finger from him to her, "it's just residual feelings."
"Come on, Tommy: it's more than that!"
"Maybe… But it's pointless. Let's just finish this Grand Finale, hug goodbye and go back to where we're supposed to be."
"So… that's it?" she asks in a frustrated tone. "You're fine with me slipping out of your life again?"
He's not fine with that. But what else can he say? It won't matter soon enough because I probably won't be here? "Well, I hope we stay in touch this time around. Actually, I'd like that very much. But this has to be it until you're done figuring out what you want."
"I want you. Just like you want me," she says in a tiny voice.
"That's right now. You may feel differently once this whole thing wraps up and you're back in London."
"But," she begins, looking at him again, but stops short when she sees how pale he looks. Almost green. Here she is, debating their relationship in the middle of the night when she came here because she was worried given how sick he had looked earlier. "I should go. You need to rest."
"I do. But thank you for stopping by," he says, and though she's tempted to doubt the sincerity of his words, his expression tells her he actually means it. Despite everything, she can see on his face, in his eyes, that he was happy to find her here earlier.
She walks toward the door, but stops and turns back. "Can I just," she begins, her voice so low Tommy has to lean forward to hear. "Can I just hold you?" He looks so fragile, so lonely; the urge to hold him is irrepressible.
He shouldn't; he knows he shouldn't, but he wants to clasp her in his arms again. He wants to feel her body pressed against his. He wants to run his fingers on the small of her back. He wants to bury his head against her shoulder and her hair. The need is so strong, he ignores everything else and just gets up to walk to her.
Jude is taken aback when, wordlessly, Tommy wraps his arms around her and pulls her to him abruptly, almost brutally. His right hand snakes up between her shoulder blades to grip the nape of her neck and some of her hair; his left hand is splayed on her back; and his face is tucked where her right shoulder meets her neck. He presses his lips on her neck and she hears him murmur her name against her skin. Soon, she's surprised to realise that he actually began to kiss her neck. He moves his lips slowly to her jaw from where he leaves a trail of kisses ending right below her ear. Dozens, hundreds of shivers run up and down her spine when he captures her earlobe with his mouth, but under her own hands, she can feel bones in places where she remembers feeling muscles; she can feel weakness where there used to be strength. She wants to ask him what's wrong, but she knows that one word from her and Tommy will stop; he will remove his lips from her skin and pull away from her when all she wants is for him to hold her even tighter, almost to the point of bruising her skin.
So, even though it's nearly impossible, she presses herself closer and turns her head so her eyes meet his. She reads something dark in his; something festering underneath the desire, but soon he closes his eyes and his mouth crashes on hers. And the kiss makes her forget everything else: she just revels in it; in his lips, in his tongue probing hers, in his teeth nibbling on her lower lip. Finally, after a year away, she's home. The kiss seems to last a long time and yet ends too soon. Tommy pulls his mouth away but keeps Jude in his embrace. She tries to read his eyes but is only left with a feeling of dread. What the hell is wrong? she worries. But aloud, she says, "See: it's not just residual feelings." And with those words, she breaks the spell.
"I know," he says simply, and his arms leave her. He takes two steps back, his eyes still on her. "But still, you need to go. Please, Jude: just go."
"You've said that to me before; after a kiss, and in almost those exact words," she says, hurt.
"I know. I'm sorry. But I really need you to go. Please," he implores.
She's not sure exactly what makes her obey—maybe because the Tommy in front of her is a stranger in his familiarity—but she does. However, before she passes the door, Tommy seems to shake himself out of his daze. "Are you OK to drive?" he asks, stepping closer to the door.
She snorts bitterly. "Yeah, your lips are not that good," she says, regretting it almost instantly. Tommy flinches. "I'm sorry," she adds quickly. "I guess I'm frustrated."
"No, I'm sorry," he says and when he sees her expression, he amends: "Not sorry for the kiss: I could never be sorry for kissing you. But the timing… It's bad."
"I don't understand."
Tommy nods. "I promise to explain soon, OK? We will sit down and talk before you leave. But right now, I can't. I'm exhausted."
"I know," she says. "I shouldn't have come."
"You can always come here, Jude."
"But right now, you want me to go."
"I need you to go if I'm to get some sleep."
"OK," she says turning around and opening the door.
"You are OK to drive, though, right?"
"I'll be fine, Tommy." And she closes the door behind her before she can hear his reply—if there is even a reply.