TITLE: Shades of Gray
AUTHOR: coolbyrne
RATING: G
DISCLAIMER: No matter how many of these things I write they still, and always will, belong to Val McDermid.
SUMMARY: A small discovery leads Tony to a deeper one.
FEEDBACK: Compliments and/or constructive criticisms are greatly appreciated. Send any combination of the above to the contact addy.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Look! Only 22 more stories to go! (Read the author's notes of "Another Reprise" for the meaning. ScienceGeek- don't read this 'til February! LOL!) I'm waiting for WitB 3 to be shown on BBC America. I'm filling up the time with vignettes until then. Thanks to papiliondae for the infinite patience with all things twinkly. Heh.
--
It started like any other morning for Tony Hill.
His hand snaked out from under the comfort of warm blankets to hit the top of his clock and quell the sharp alarm. He didn't dare bring his hand back under the covers, knowing full well how easy it would be to fall back into sleep, so there it hung, lifeless off the edge of the bed. When it finally became too uncomfortable he forced himself up into a sitting position, the blankets twisting around his waist and legs as if not wanting to let him go. He knew the feeling. God, he hated mornings.
Unwilling to open his eyes just yet, instead he sat quietly for a moment, gradually allowing awareness to creep in via the other senses. The air in the room was cool on his bare limbs, not uncomfortably so but enough that he knew he'd never get back to sleep now if he tried. Sounds filtered in: A truck driving by. The slightly stressed tones of someone trying to corral their children into a car. Birdsong. His flat, however, was silent. Which, considering he lived alone, was a good thing. Planting both feet flat on the small rug he wearily pushed himself up, hitting his alarm clock on the way – just as it went off again.
There was an almost imperceptible change in his stride as his foot lifted from the rug and set down on the hardwood floor. He made an effort to pry his eyes open, though he knew he could make the trip from his bedroom to the bathroom with his eyes closed. Lord knows how many times he had done it in the middle of the night in all the years he lived there. Flicking on the bathroom light set off a display of fireworks across his vision and his eyes immediately shut. He chanced a quick look down to make sure he was hitting the target, and relieved himself before shuffling over to the sink.
He ran the water cold, captured a cupful in his hands and splashed it against his face. Eyes that had been lazy with sleep were suddenly bright and alert. Raising his head, he was greeted by his reflection and he looked straight into the blue eyes that stared back. He wondered what others saw when they looked at him, because he didn't know what he saw himself. 'No, that wasn't true,' he corrected, 'that was denial.' He sighed. 'God, it's too damn early for self-analysis, Tony.'
Breaking away from the haunted gaze, he rubbed his hand over his jaw. He needed a shave. The short bristles scratched over the slightly calloused tips of his fingers as he ran them up to his temple.
He froze.
--
"You found a gray hair," Carol repeated. Seeing Tony's nod, she leaned back in her chair. "And that's why you came in here, looking like you'd lost your best friend?"
He dropped into the dubious comfort of her office couch. "This is serious business, Carol."
"Go down to the chemist. Get some hair colour. Men do it all the time. None will be the wiser."
"It's not about my looks. You should know that," he retorted.
She nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, you're probably the least self-conscious person I know in that regard."
"It was only five years ago that I realized blue and green weren't supposed to go together."
They shared a laugh, then he became solemn again. Standing up, Carol walked over to the door, shut it, and sat on the couch with him. She turned to face him. "Okay, what's up? What's found a home in your head then?"
"I'm old."
"Oh God," she groaned, "you just turned forty. That's not old."
Looking off to the side, he said, "Maybe it's not the age. Maybe it's everything that's supposed to come with the age."
"I don't follow."
He chanced a quick glance at her then looked away again. "I'm single. Never been married. No children. That have come forward." This time there was a sliver of mirth in his glance and she smiled. "I just… I think maybe I should be doing more with my life."
Carol propped her elbow on the back of the couch and rested her head on her fingertips. "Like what?"
"I don't know," he shrugged helplessly. "Just… more."
"Maybe you need a sports car."
His head snapped up. "I'm not having a midlife crisis, Carol!"
"Okay, okay." She buried her smile though she couldn't prevent the playful twitch of her mouth. "You're really serious about this?"
"Yes."
Now it was her turn to look away and think for a moment. "Well, I suppose we all want something that's better, easier, more fulfilling. That's just human nature, isn't it?"
"And what is it that you want, Carol?" he asked honestly.
She waved her hand at him. "Oh, no. This is about you, not me. Besides," the smile returned, "I've got four years to catch up to you."
"Not funny."
"Okay. Let's work at it from a different angle. You're single, not married, no kids… would you change any of that?"
The room fell silent as he gave her question some thought. He held her gaze for the longest time before whispering, "I… no, I don't think so."
"Then what's the problem?"
He pressed his lips together then said, "I think I don't know what happiness is."
Carol's eyebrows shot up. "What?"
He smiled, realizing how he sounded. "No, what I meant was, maybe I'm happy right now and I just don't realize it." Her face was still a puzzled one. "We're brought up to believe that happiness is this almost unattainable thing, aren't we? That one of the biggest quests in our lives is to find happiness, as if it's buried somewhere only a handful of us can uncover. But maybe that's not what it's about at all. Maybe it's about waking up in the morning and knowing the pluses outweigh the minuses; having a job I enjoy, friends I care about, people I love. Maybe everything else is just the icing on the cake."
"Or splitting hairs."
His scowl did nothing to deter her grin. Reaching over, she ran her fingertips lightly through the short hair covering his temple and around his left ear. Though startled, he didn't pull back. Her fingers traveled the same course several times and he was just beginning to enjoy its soothing nature when he felt a sharp pain at his temple.
"Ow!"
Examining the evidence between her thumb and forefinger, Carol squinted and said, "Oooh, you're right. A gray hair!"
He patted his hair down and grumbled, "When you pull one, three grow back, you know."
She laughed. "That's an old wives' tale." Scrutinizing the side of his head, she added, "Though I guess we'll find out in a month or so." His scowl was just as ineffective the second try. "Don't worry, Tony; you're a man. You're allowed to grow old gracefully. As a woman, I just get old."
Tony made a face. "That's nonsense." In a softer tone, he said, "You're growing old beautifully."
She did her best to cover the flush creeping into her cheeks by narrowing her gaze and saying, "You know, that would be incredibly flattering… except thirty-six isn't old!"
"Hmmm?" Realizing his gaffe, he stammered, "Oh! Right. That's not… I mean… you're not… you are… I'm going now." He pointed to the door and stood up.
She followed suit and touched his arm. "You will be all right, yeah?"
"Yeah," he assured her. "Thanks for listening."
"Thanks for thinking I'd listen."
A quiet moment passed between them until he made a motion towards the door. She had just made it to the other side of her desk when he turned and asked, "Will you come by later?"
She attempted an innocent face that fooled no one. "Will it make you happy?"
He let her jab pass and simply replied, "Yes. It would."
-end.