Paranoid NSFW Announcement: Nothing happens but there are some memories that push the limit. Please read accordingly if that will bother you.

Chapter 71: Into the Sun

"It's just something most audiences don't see," Cully said quietly, her mobile pressed to her cheek as she rolled from her back to her stomach, propping her chin on the top of her pillow.

"I guess I just don't understand it," he said after a second, "the point of putting on a play about a play."

"The characters—that's usually a good answer to why an author is telling a story."

"Then what makes it so interesting?"

Closing her eyes, Cully stifled a laugh against the pillowcase. "The chaos, Gavin."

"I thought part of the job was keeping everything under control."

"It is. That's why it's funny." She had already lost track of the minutes as she heard his voice again, walking him through most of the plot of Noises Off as he muttered he'd only heard the title once a long time ago, though he didn't say more than he thought it was a movie and maybe he'd just try rent it rather than bother waiting for a local show*. Her first answer was never to bother with the film and how terrible it was, before launching into a swift synopsis, holding some moments back in case she could ever persuade him to come to a performance with her.

"If you say so," he said after a moment. "Don't think it'd be that amusing, letting everything go to pot."

"Well, that isn't too surprising, is it?" Cully added, twisting one of her fingers in a lock of hair, the strands tightening and grasping at her knuckle.

"Why would you say that?"

"It's your job, after all, keeping things under control."

She heard him laugh and couldn't help wonder where he was right now: in his front room—already in bed—all those places. "Trying to, you mean," he finally said.

"Then that. If your office started falling apart like the cast behind the scenes, you'd solve even fewer cases."

"We take care of enough of them."

"I know you do," she said, releasing the chunk of hair from her fingers. "It's just so easy to put your back up."

"And you enjoy that?"

"Don't you?"

"Well, not really—"

"I haven't forgotten how you woke me up today," she interrupted, not letting him finish.

"That's different, Cully."

"Is it?"

"It was certainly more fun."

Her cheeks were hotter even alone in her bedroom in the light of her lamp as she let herself laugh again, not able to forget everything from the morning—and early afternoon. "I suppose it was better for you than the end of the day."

"I'm not sure."

Cully pushed herself up on one her elbows. "You're not? After all morning?"

She thought she heard him take a deep breath. "It gave me even more time with you, didn't it?"

"Even with all things considered?"

Gavin didn't even pause: "Yes."

"Is that what they like to call growth**?"

"Maybe. It's probably not sense."

Cully shook her head. Nothing about the weekend made sense, except for the fact it all somehow made sense. "I don't know about that."

"I know he was watching us through the front window."

"I think we already talked about that."

"Yes..." His voice trailed away, like he was ready to say something else.

"What is it?" she asked quietly.

"I miss you. Already."

There was no surprise even with another laugh. "That was fast."

"But you're surprised?"

She shook her head another time. "No." Her left hand wandered up to the base of her neck, over the bruise she struggled to conceal with her windbreaker through the whole of dinner until she forgot herself, sat across the kitchen table from her mother as their tea cooled between them. Cully couldn't forget all those sounds as they both enjoyed themselves, easing into one another as the tautness and tightness rose until they finally broke together over the weekend.

"I don't know how I'll drop you off tomorrow."

"Why?"

"I think I barely survived this evening—can't imagine what he would think if I showed up with you then."

"It wouldn't be that bad, Gavin."

She heard him laugh again. "Call me crazy, but I'm not looking forward to another glare then—I'll have enough of them at the office tomorrow morning."

"So why don't I come to you?" Cully asked, shrugging her shoulders in the solitude of her bedroom—despising even more than she had over the past few days. "You'll just have to bother with him on Tuesday after that."

"And then rest of the week."

"That's beside the point."

"Late journey on the bus." Was that a catch in his throat? "Really, I can pick you up from the library—"

"I do have a bicycle—and maybe he should work on becoming used—"

"I know. I've never forgotten..." His voice disappeared, like it was back into some memory, she wondered.

"What?"

"It must have been after we just met, all that mess out west***."

Cully well remembered the evening she first encountered Gavin, trying to convince him the Causton Players did not represent the professional theater as she bit back her own thoughts, watching a real life variation of Noises Off played out before their eyes. But out west, the western border of the county? More than a few nasty murders and moments had found their way to CID from Midsomer Worthy, at least if her father was to be believed, but she couldn't place one of them around then. "I don't know what you mean." Perhaps there had just been too many?

"I guess that's not surprising, I know you were dating...that guy."

Turning onto her back, Cully let out a sigh as her shirt twisted and tightened around her torso. "It's a moment in my past—just like her," she said, pulling the hem down to her waist. "It can't be changed."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know—"

"But I've never quite gotten you out of my head—ever since that night."

"Did I really make that much of an impression on you, back then?"

"Yes."

Cully had to wonder if his face was red, yet again. "We'd barely had a conversation—"

"I know—"

"Then how could you think that then?"

"I don't know, but I miss you already—now."

"So soon?"

"You're still not surprised, are you?"

"No." She shook her head for no one in her quiet, empty bedroom as the shadows grew longer. "Not after this morning."

Though she woke after him this morning, it was probably just a few minutes later, if the hour she finally noticed on the clock was any clue; her experiences in his flat over the last weeks had taught Cully that Gavin was more than a little slow when it came to pulling himself from bed. Saturday's afternoon, evening, and night had melted together, the minutes disappearing into Gavin. And today, Sunday, she hadn't complained as he pulled her onto him. Again and again, everything had shattered, his hands and fingers dancing over her body one time after another, until she struggled to remember where she stopped and left off—he began—all as she strove to keep her voice under control, until his mouth silenced her and swallowed her gasps and quiet shrieks as everything she craved grew stronger and more desperate, nearly excruciating.

"Ah..."

"Why do you sound embarrassed?" she asked, the sound of his voice jarring as it pulled her back from the last evening and morning. "I—"

"I'm not, Cully."

The lower half of her body was tightening again—her belly stiffening—still remembering everything. "I know, but you're so easy to frustrate."

He released a loud breath, and Cully could see him shake his head, annoyed and again, frustrated. "And I suppose that's fun for you?"

"A little, now and then." Cully shivered, a sudden cold chill rising along her spine. "Does that bother you?"

"No, but—I think I should ring off. Your dad said 9 tomorrow morning, but I think he'll have my neck if I'm not there by 8:30—or earlier."

"You're still worrying about that?" she asked.

"Maybe I think there's something I should do."

It was still too much to hope for: tomorrow and the day after, a future and something more than a weekend together. More than a few moments and hours woven together, even if she sometimes wanted to swat him across the face for his silliest words. "And you know—you feel that? Really?" she asked.

"Don't you?"

"Yes," she whispered, feeling the redness flush her face again. Cully hadn't missed anything Gavin had done over the weekend: his hands clenching her waist and hips, kneading at the swell of her backside; the taste of his tongue muddled with her own; the sweat and the heat; all the kisses as he lost himself in her, wandering from her mouth to the base of her neck (to say nothing of farther along her body) and left another bruise she'd noted when she finally showered mid-afternoon—and remembered his grip when it must have appeared, lost in the haze of lust threatening to crush them both. She had truly lost herself within him for twenty-four hours as he buried himself deeper and deeper within her and she took him wholly, loving the flavor and smell and noises of him. "And so do you?"

"What do you think?" Another breath. "Sorry, Cully, I didn't—"

"I know you didn't mean it," she finished, wanting to clutch him against her and feel...anything. "And I don't care."

"Still see you tomorrow?"

"Why are you even asking?"

He didn't say anything for a few seconds. "Just—I don't take you for granted, and I never—"

"I didn't mean it, Gavin—I was so upset, then—"

"But you were allowed to be angry."

"And that's in the past," she finished, running one hand over her abdomen. How many times had Gavin sought purchase there in the last hours? So many—and she loved it, already desperate for the feeling of him tangled within her. "No more living there?"

"No."

"Good."

"See you tomorrow evening?"

She almost laughed. "I'll text you so you don't forget."

"I don't think I could."

Now, she did laugh. "We'll see."

"Not possible, after the last couple days."

Of course, Cully thought, on her stomach again as the knots newly grew sharper once more. If she closed her eyes, drifting back a few hours earlier...her cheeks were red again, burning like Gavin's so often did, just remembering him. "Well, I'll see you then."

"Yes," he said quietly.

Even with the easy, comfortable silence between the two of them across the phone, Cully still fancied she heard him whisper something. "You're still on the line."

"Right," he said quietly.

Cully wasn't ready to say good night: not quite yet, still twisting her fingers through her hair, rather as Gavin had hours earlier, the strands limp and damp with sweat. In a few moments over the weekend—more and more often as hours wore on—she truly had forgotten herself, uncertain if she was listening to his breath or her own, wondering what that was throbbing in her chest as a fresh calm washed over her. "I—" No, could she? "I..."

"What?" he asked softly.

The new sentence caught in her throat a second time. It was so simple, so easy: just a few little words, but with the weight of the world chained to them deep in her chest. And in listening to them in her own mind, not even murmuring them aloud for Gavin to hear, if he didn't already know?...And how they threatened to transform her life—their lives?—demanding a new course for the future that cut off every other path if she took those first tentative steps! But did she mind, did she worry about what might come to pass? "I'll see you tomorrow evening," Cully managed after another few seconds, her throat still as tight as the nagging yearnings in her belly. "Bye."

"Bye."

No, she didn't.

Even after they both rang off and Cully snapped her mobile closed, their conversation still lingered. Tugging a clean t-shirt over her head, she bit down a laugh as her phone's notification rang. Of course, she thought as she pulled her slightly ragged pajamas from her overnight bag; she'd nearly forgotten it in the front room after taking those few minutes to chat with her mother. Who else? She flipped the front screen of her phone open in her palm, utterly unsurprised. Just another quick message from Gavin, letting her know she had left her toothbrush in his washroom, in the ceramic jar just over the basin.

so ill really have to see you tomorrow she tapped out on the keypad.

i didnt think it was that easy

you didnt

i do now

isnt that what matters?

yes After a few moments, her phone buzzed in her hand again. still wish you couldve stayd. longer

Despite the silence and solitude of her own bedroom, Cully's face reddened yet again. As much as one hour had blurred into the next over the course of the weekend, hardly more than a day, so many moments stood out stark and brilliant against the deepening night. Between Gavin and his broken text messages and her own memories of their last goodbye—so much gentler and delicate than their last few farewells—the heat of her own happiness still burned in the pit of her stomach. His weight crushing her, every breath still scorching and everything hot and sweaty, all her cravings heightened...But the past day had at last left her satiated and tired, the same contentment untouched even as she noticed yet another bruise on her shoulder that had thankfully remained hidden as well. (She could only hope her mother hadn't noticed the one at the base of her neck, already darkening against her pale skin.) And even as she wished Gavin a final good night, at last closing her mobile and shoving the charging cable into the port before turning down the sheets and layers in her bed, Cully couldn't help missing him and the feeling of his skin against hers. Just him. Even with a shallow breath, she discovered the scent of his body was still in her nose. For another few minutes—rolling from her back to her side, stretching her arms against the tightness in her shoulders and elbows—she still enjoyed the ease of the hours alone with Gavin, and tried to forget the more uncomfortable hours that followed.

"You put up with that nicely," she said quietly, his palm still a little clammy in hers. Or perhaps hers was still sticky from helping her mother wash up.

Gavin laughed for a second, swinging their hands forward. "I didn't have too many options, all things considered."

"I didn't expect you to be put to the test quite so soon." And that was certainly the truth—even if Cully had once invited him to stay, and on another evening finally found a willing person to finish off...something of her mother's, she hadn't considered her mother might invite him to remain for dinner.

"Except that moment right at the end?"

"No—"

The pressure of his hand was suddenly more, even as she felt his thumb running along hers. "I'm not sure I believe that."

"Well, maybe a little." Even as they walked along the drive, her shoulder bumped against his. For a moment, Cully forgot exactly where she was—who she was with—when she offered to help her mother clear the table and quickly scrub the dishes. Even for just a few short minutes as she wiped the last drips of soapy water from plates and utensils and glasses, his absence was newly jarring. How strange, really, if she was honest, everything rising so sharp and fast in the last few days and weeks—or months? It was all clearing, in these recent days, like it was all very simple.

"That, I will," Gavin said after another moment.

"You survived, didn't you?"

"I'm sure I'll have enough of his needling tomorrow."

"Well, maybe I'm hoping you'll get used to it until..."

"What?"

Cully found a new, deeper breath. "Until he can change."

"You think he can?" Gavin asked.

"I can wonder."

Gavin had left his car at the base of the drive: curious, but perhaps not. Foreseeing how uncomfortable the occasional long silences over dinner had been?

"I'm sure Mum was happy to have someone around who appreciated her cooking."

He laughed quietly, like she hoped he would. "The way you two have gone on about it, I'd expect worse."

"It was one of her better efforts. Maybe she knew to expect you?" Outside of the house, the awkward words and stale air were finally dissipating, washed away in each gust of gentle breeze whistling down the road. At least out here, it felt appropriate to say something in jest, even if quiet and cautious.

"Somehow, I doubt it."

She thought he had something else to say, but Gavin fell silent. "What is it?" she asked.

"I just wish we..."

"What?" she asked, their pace slowing. Please, Gavin. Not after this weekend.

"That we didn't need to say goodbye now."

Her pulse raced—and she bit back a sharp breath. "I know."

Sliding his fingers from hers as they paused, just beside his car, his hand drifted to her waist and the rounded swell of her hips for the briefest moment. "It was so—lovely, not worrying over the time, the last days."

"You already said that, Gavin—"

He seized her hand again, his grip so strong it almost hurt—and she never wanted him to let go. "And I hope we can have more than a few moments to ourselves, soon."

Cully's eyes flickered back to the house, the front window with its curtains—slightly askew? "Dad's probably watching us."

"I'm sure."

"And it doesn't trouble you?"

Gavin pulled her closer—their clothes rustling together when his hand found the small of her back and she gasped as she lost her breath, a newly familiar shiver washing over her. "Not right now."

"Good." Folding her arms around his shoulders, Cully dragged him down to her, finally kissing him again. Even standing the drive of her parents' home, she didn't resist the pressure of his lips—his tongue—the faint groans buried in his throat that she gulped down, still desperate for him and disappointed as she reminded herself she couldn't have him right now. But in the fading evening light, she shivered, gasping against his lips. "Are you cold?" he whispered as her hands slid away from the top of his back.

"You're not surprised, are you?"

"No"—she shivered with the strokes of his fingers against her skin as they drifted beneath the hem of her blouse, and she wondered if he even realized they did—"not now and not after...everything these last days."

Her voice was suddenly scratchy and deep: "Maybe I'll have to come around more often."

"I won't complain," Gavin said with a laugh.

"I didn't think so—"

Again, her words fell silent as he kissed her, almost biting her lip while his fingers twisted with and quickly tangled in her hair. With his own gasp, he tore himself away from her, now pressing his mouth to her ear. "Wish you could stay the night again," he whispered, the heat of his breath warming her cheek against the encroaching night. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yes. And talk to you later tonight?"

"If you want."

Cully slapped his shoulder lightly—his hand still clasped against the bare skin of her back. "Why did you think I wouldn't?"

"I didn't. But I should probably be going, before..." She saw his gaze shift past her, back to the house.

"I don't think he would really run you off."

"He'll already likely have my neck tomorrow at the office, why give him the fun of the chase now?"

Cully laughed, pressing her cheek into his shoulder for one last embrace before he vanished again, all that distance surging again...at least for a few hours. "I suppose. I'll call you in a bit."

Drawing her face up, Gavin kissed her cheek—that now familiar warmth spreading over her skin. "Sure."

How quiet everything was, Troy realized as he read that last message from Cully after their conversation fell quiet, both of them preparing for bed. (sorry i think im about fall asleep. A moment later. ill see you tomorrow) None of her laughter, her possibly infinite joy in teasing him as he misspoke or tripped over his own words, even the sound of her breathing that echoed in his ears. Everything throughout his flat was silent, calm, and empty—and all that silence reminded him of how much he wanted her beside him again, and...

Already, Troy was missing her: the heat of her melting into him, her body tightening around him time and time again. If he was honest, he had lost track of how many times they'd made love, over and over...for just one true day, the feeling of his body pressed into hers had never really ended. The evening had faded into the night, then into the following morning and newly born afternoon, all of him lost in Cully as she scratched at his arms and shoulders and back, her fingers slipping as he perspired. Her smell, the taste of her mouth, the noises erupting from her throat—once or twice evolving into a high-pitched squeal whenever he forgot himself and his hands descended along her arms and waist along the most ticklish patches of her skin until she slapped them away—all as her feet struggled to find purchase against the sheets of his bed and he finally rediscovered the deepest parts of her body, wishing there was nothing between them again. He couldn't help but miss the undiluted heat of her body and the sticky dampness that had encouraged him along with her moans.

It didn't make any sense, so fully craving all of her in the last couple days—except for the fact that he had never stopped wanting her. Never. Not since he spotted her cycling around that far off Midsomer village all those years ago—in that moment not caring about his then wife or her boyfriend of the hour, something he was happy to consider himself now...just hopefully somehow more—even more since that evening when he delivered her father's theater tickets, happily accompanying her in his stead. But the last weeks had driven that desire for her even higher: the one girl he desperately wanted and was so sure he might never have in his life ever again.

But it wasn't just now, Troy had to remind himself, it was tomorrow and day after—the week after—and more? God, it was all he wanted—all he had wanted for the past months and really years, something more—longer with more endurance than hoping for one moment to the next. Was it too much to want? He'd asked himself that so many times so long before, as she now and then haunted his dreams. He hadn't wanted her—sought after her—asked for her to be in his life—but the moment he found her there, Troy couldn't look away. Couldn't ask her to stop, couldn't ask her to leave, couldn't quite beg her to stay when she threatened to disappear.

He almost didn't care anymore, seeing Barnaby the next morning as he quietly relived the entire weekend in his mind—finding as much satiation in Cully as she seemed to discover in him—just happy and hopeful for the thought of seeing her tomorrow evening. Even knowing the man and the opinions he would walk in to hear at CID, 9 am at the latest, Troy didn't think he could regret a moment of it. Not when he couldn't forget everything she—they—had said as the hours whiled away, whispered words he struggled to hear even as he refused to miss a single one. And no matter how much he relished making love with Cully, he couldn't forget the calm—the easy happiness—of feeling her against him, forgetting the rest of the world as their breaths newly rose from the suffocation of lust and...so much more, hearts for once pulsing in tandem.

Closing his eyes, Troy almost felt her beside him, a place she was meant to be as she had been for the weekend—here, not there, and for...Was it possible, or still too much to want?

When Troy's opened his eyes again, the world remained black and inky, the moon and the stars snuffed out of the sky. "Where…?" he began to ask, but the words died. Lifting his right hand, the fingers tingled with pins and needles as he moved them—invisible in the dark. "What?"

"What?" someone echoed, the voice familiar—terribly, painfully so. No…

"Cully?" But certainly...no. "Cully, is that you?" It couldn't be…

In the moment it took him to blink, she stood before him, clad in her final costume for Pygmalion; that bloody play had overtaken the leisure hours of both of their lives for weeks, and now that it was done, it still haunted his memories. But her dress was suddenly all white and lace rather than the pale pink he remembered from that night on the stage, the large fabric flower still banding her waist. "Gavin," she said quietly, stretching out her left hand, touching his cheek. But—something was different than what he remembered. What…

Rather than a wide-brimmed hat atop lightly curled hair, it fell about her face without a wave out of place, a wreath of fresh roses a crown upon her head. And their colors: red, blue, and black, all somehow vibrant against the darkness as they trailed down beside her cheeks, framed by those same locks. "I—I don't understand," Troy said, placing his hand over hers, his own fingers still melding into the darkness.

"No?" Touching the fingers of her right hand to her own lips, Cully then pressed them against his. At that moment, the petals began to whither, dropping into the dark, shriveling as they vanished: the black, the blue, and finally the red. As those red petals fell rotting, the pressure of her hand on his face lessened, though he still saw— No, her hand faded even as it didn't leave his. Now, the emptiness choked him, and she was less than a specter before his eyes, and he could hardly whisper, "Stay, Cully—"

"Stay?" she answered, her voice right at his ear, tightening her palm within his.

"Yes—"

"But I already told you, Gavin: I'm not going anywhere."

"But—" It was like a feather, her kiss, just a flicker of breath he drew into his own lungs. "Cully, where are you?"

"Don't you know?" The words echoed in his skull—his chest—rising up from the depths of his own soul. And her eyes—they had faded to the darkest grey swallowed by the black, but now they opened, pale and suddenly shining inches from his. And as she kissed him, that other hand he could not see found his face, cold and mercifully real against his cheek.

"Yes," he managed, closing his eyes. Beneath his other hand, he found her lower back, tracing the curve of her spine as he followed his memory. Warmth blossomed under his palm as it wandered higher, the smell of new roses and her finally twisted together in his nostrils. Did he dare to look? He had to: and he found her still so close to him, pale and faint, almost ethereal...still real—

Troy's eyes snapped open to his own bedroom, white and coated with the shadows of the early morning. His heart raced, the last hints of his dream still wafting over him: hardly more than a wraith, suddenly transforming more and more real under his hand. "Not going anywhere," he murmured to himself, turning onto his side as the clock on his bedside table rose in his still blurry vision, rather than to the other half of his bed where she had passed much of the weekend. Half seven, more than enough time to put himself together and be at the office before Barnaby, at his desk reviewing their reports and notes and anything new that threatened to come up.

A brief shower—a quick shave that nearly saw him nick his chin twice, his mind on the day ahead—another couple of minutes to brush his teeth, almost grabbing Cully's toothbrush instead of his. So haunting, that lingering image of her as he scrubbed at his teeth and shivered—but not going anywhere, he reminded himself, spitting the toothpaste into the basin and rinsing his mouth. By a few minutes after eight, Troy had already tidied up his flat from the typical morning chaos and was pulling his suit coat over his shoulders. More than enough time.

The last few steps to the front door of his flat, though, he slowed, each pace heavier. He had driven Cully home the evening before, but it was somehow...different than walking into the office this morning. No doubt she had softened the weight of Barnaby's glare since it fell on them both—as no doubt more than a few tells of the weekend had wafted from them both. How did you suddenly set aside the satisfaction of the desires and cravings crafted over months and years, unexpectedly and happily doing little for the entire weekend than indulging in one another? And not just their bodies—

Already shoved into his inner coat pocket, his mobile phone buzzed. Not a call, but a message; Troy had never been one for these things, no matter how more widespread as they seemed every month, but he almost looked forward to them now. And it was her name in the ever more familiar boxy electric letters, just a short pair of sentences beneath: good luck putting up with him today. ill see you tonight

looking forward to it he tapped out before he snapped it closed, at last turning the doorknob to take that first step out into the world whose hours separated him from Cully. It might be enough to get him through the day, Troy realized, smiling as he tucked his mobile back into his pocket though he almost dropped it as it slipped against the silky lining. Not going anywhere.

* I've mentioned this before when Troy encounters something he's unfamiliar with (plays, religion, etc.): he's clearly a clever and smart individual when it comes to his areas of knowledge—mostly—but for things that are not in his wheelhouse, not so much. But we all have those things, I think.

** See some of SORTEDfood's latest Pass It On videos on YouTube.

*** S01E04, Faithful Unto Death. Cully's memory is much more garbled here than Troy's, intentionally.