Emily shivered slightly against the faint breeze that whispered through the garden. It was colder than she'd anticipated for a midsummer night, though it could just as easily have been her imagination, her own feelings of isolation leaving her chilled.
She startled slightly as a layer of warmth wrapped itself around her shoulders, warm hands slid along her bare arms to entwine fingers with hers. With a soft sigh, she leaned back into the familiar embrace, his arms and the forgotten shawl beating back the chill.
"I was starting to think you'd pulled a Cinderella on me," Derek said, voice a low rumble she could feel against her back.
She raised a brow, though he couldn't see it. "You're my ride," she pointed out.
He shrugged, fighting the urge to make a joke because he could sense the gravity of the moment. "Do you want to tell me what you're thinking?" he asked gently, "Or do I have to profile you?"
"You promised you'd never do that," she whispered.
He might've pointed out that he'd never needed to in order to know what she was thinking, but decided against it. Instead, he murmured, "You don't need to pull away before you've even left..."
"I'm not..." she started to protest, but didn't finish the sentence. She sighed. "Can we not...do this right now?" she asked weakly.
And, though it seemed that he very much would have liked to continue the discussion, he sighed, nodded. "What would you like to do?" he asked. He kissed behind her ear softly, rested his chin on her shoulder.
She hummed quietly as his warm breath tickled her skin. "Dance with me?" she asked quietly.
"I've been dancing with you all evening," he pointed out, a soft laugh in his voice.
"Here," she corrected, "Where we don't have to pretend." She didn't specify what they were pretending; she didn't have to.
He opened his mouth as if to protest – that they couldn't hear the music, that the ground was uneven...but he didn't get the words out. It wasn't about the dancing...it was about holding each other, while they still could.
Emily swept Derek into a warm, familiar embrace. Holding him had always been like coming home...though, she supposed he wasn't her home anymore.
He looked at her like he wanted to say something – something more – but ultimately, he just smiled, murmured, "Oh, Princess..." The familiar nickname making her want to hold on that much tighter.
She managed to hold it together just long enough – long enough that she could almost almost forget that she was barely holding it together. Long enough for him to get to the elevators before she chased after him.
He seemed surprised when she stepped into the elevator with him, even more so when she failed to say anything once they were alone together. "Em?" he prompted at length when she didn't seem about to speak of her own volition.
His voice seemed to startle her, almost, and for a few moments she seemed to struggle to piece together a sentence. "Can... Can we go somewhere?" she stammered, "To talk?"
It was his turn to seem startled by the question, though he supposed he shouldn't have been, all things considered. It took him a few moments to gather his thoughts, to find the words best suited for what he wanted to say. "I don't know if that's the best idea," he said gently.
A flash of hurt crossed her face. "I just..." she tried, failed. "I just want to..."
He didn't give her the chance to finish. "You're a memory I don't mess with..."
"What?" she asked, voice barely there at all as she tried to parse his words.
He sighed, tried again, "Seeing you... It's..." He shook his head as he trailed off. "I need to leave us in the past." Seeing the way her expression changed – from confusion to hurt to confusion again – he tried to explain, "I love Savannah, but you... It was different with you. And when I think of what we had, I... I can't help but think that it was better."
"Derek," she tried to interrupt.
But now that he'd gotten the words to flow, there seemed to be no stopping them. "If you asked me right here, right now, to come back to you, I can't say for sure that I would be able to refuse you."
She had no words now, her mouth hanging open just the slightest bit. She was barely breathing, almost as if afraid that the slightest sound, the slightest movement would crash what was surely an illusion because there was no way this could possibly be real.
He nodded slowly, even though she'd said nothing. "I don't think of you – not because I don't want to – but because I don't trust myself."
"O-okay," she stuttered. "What... What does that mean?"
Though it seemed to pain him to say it, he murmured, "I'm asking: if you care for me at all, please let me keep us as a perfect memory. Because when I think back on us, that's what we were: perfect."
She scoffed, but said nothing.
"We were," he insisted, "Flawed, but in a way that was exactly right. For us. For me." He offered her a smile, even though it seemed just the slightest bit pained.
She nodded slowly. "Well..." she said slowly. She paused, tongue flicking out over her lip. "Can... Can I hug you?" she asked, almost timidly. "To say goodbye?"
And, though he seemed to consider refusing, he ultimately didn't have the strength to say no. He extended his arms, pulling her into his chest and holding her like his very life depended on it. He nuzzled into her hair, inhaling deeply the scent that had always made his heart race, from that first moment he'd met her, and he couldn't help but smile, if only to himself.
When he pulled away, albeit reluctantly, he paused to look into her eyes, offering her a smile, this time a sad one.
The elevator doors continued clanging to signal that they'd long since arrived at the parking level, but neither of them seemed to notice. They were too busy saying goodbye without saying anything at all.