Chapter Ten: The Glasses of Justice

Olivia

I couldn't believe that weasel Hammond. Sending over some damn paperboy at 11pm on a Friday. One of the few actual weekends I've been able to beg off. The only good news is that if there's paperwork to do on your case, it must mean we're getting closer. That you're getting closer.

I unlock the door, moving into the bathroom to wash the mud mask off my face—another habit you hooked me on. I didn't want to greet even an assistant of Hammond's looking like a jungle beast. When the knock landed on the door, I was just ready to towel off my face, "Come In! It's open!"

I hear the door open and close, hear footsteps entering the living room, and I talk to whoever Hammond has sent as his errand boy, "Just leave whatever papers there are on the table, I'll be out in a minute." I turn to grab a towel off the rack. It's when I have my face buried in white terrycloth that it happens.

At first I'm convinced it's my imagination. Convinced that the idea of your return has finally driven me crazy. Because I can't possibly be smelling that scent. Because I can't possibly be sensing your presence. I drop the towel and turn around slowly, afraid that reacting to fast will make this apparition disappear. My eyes are on the floor, and I see the tips of dark brown boots. I know the shape of them well. My eyes travel upwards, drinking in every detail, waiting for it all to vanish. When I get to your face I realize you're still there. You slide the glasses off your nose and all I can do is stare.

"What's wrong detective? Are your powers of observation starting to fail you? Don't you recognize the glasses of justice when you see them?"

I can't answer. Instead I look at the glasses dangling in your fingers, they're not the same as before… but you are. No. You're different too. Your hair is longer. Your eyes are so blue. The same blue. But… god. That blue. I look you over again. Boots… and oh my god jeans. You're wearing jeans, and a leather jacket. A leather jacket? Not just any leather jacket… could be a twin to mine. The dark brown matches your boots, and my eyes are drawn back to your face. I'm still not convinced you won't disappear. Not convinced you won't just blink off… sputter out into thin air. I move towards you, drawn in by the familiar smell of you rushing through my body.

Alex

At your command I let myself into your apartment. I walk into your living room, and am surprised by the yellow that greets me out of the kitchen to the side. I can see a water bottle on the end table by the sofa I picked out for you. I'm relieved not to see liquor bottles, or shot glasses. I'm tempted to check your fridge but I realize that doing that would ruin the whole point of this night. I decide to trust that you've kept your word. I move further into the apartment and hear you shifting about in the bathroom, I see the light spilling out to the hallway through the open door.

"Just leave whatever papers there are on the table, I'll be out in a minute!"

I ignore you, and tiptoe towards the bathroom door, happy to see your face buried in a towel. The open tube of mud mask on your sink almost makes me laugh, but I don't want to blow my entry. I lean against the doorjamb and wait.

It doesn't take long. I watch you drop the towel and turn around slowly, your eyes still on the floor. I swear I can read your mind. I know you're trying to decide if you've lost it. Trying to decide if I'm just a figment of your imagination. I can only speculate at how my appearance has affected you… but I know how the sight of you has affected me. I'm trying hard to keep my cool, to play out my hand. And it's hard because you're staring at me with those eyes, and I'm starting to drown in their depths. I snap back to the plan as quickly as I can, trying to ignore the rumbling in my body. I watch you look me up and the down and then up again. By the time your eyes reach my face the second time I've slid my glasses off my nose.

"What's wrong detective? Are your powers of observation starting to fail you? Don't you recognize the glasses of justice when you see them?"

You continue to stare for a minute… two minutes… I'm starting to wonder if you'll ever recover when you finally start to move towards me. I take a quick step to close the distance between us. Somewhere in the middle our bodies find each other, and we're both speechless.

Olivia

As you step towards me I realize I'm not dreaming. I finally believe that it's actually you. Our bodies collide in the middle of my bathroom, and I feel you wrap your arms around me as I bury my face in your hair, your long hair. It falls below your shoulders for the first time since I've known you. As I lose myself in the familiar scent of your shampoo and for the first time since the night they took you away I start to cry.

This is not what I wanted. This is not how I wanted to greet you after all this time. I wanted to be romantic, and yeah, even a little goofy. I wanted to show you how strong I've been while you were gone. Instead I let you lead me out of the bathroom and into the living room. All I can do is let you shuffle me to the other room, wrapped in your arms, brushing angrily at my tears. The sight of you, and your touch.. the confirmation that you're real seems to be the release I've been waiting for for two years. I can't stop them once they start, and I'm frustrated because my tears cloud my eyes and I can't look at you as you try to soothe me.

After ten minutes that feel like ten hours., I finally manage to stay my tears. I take the Kleenex you offer me, and blow my nose—how lovely. I wipe my eyes with a second Kleenex and look up at you, I'm still nestled in your lanky frame, amazed at how safe I feel with you… since I was always the one trying to protect you.

Finally you look like you might speak again. You stare in my eyes, and for a minute I think you've gotten lost there…

"Hi." Your voice sends shivers down my spine. It's soft and warm and I'm desperate not to cry again so I answer you the only way I can think of. I close my eyes and kiss you. The way I've imagined for two years. The way I've imagined my whole life. The taste of you on my lips warms me from the bottom up and I'm relieved. This is how I wanted to greet you.

Alex

I know it's not just because of me that you're crying. I know it's all of the little things pressing down on you at once. I know the sight of me, the realization of my presence, released all of the barriers you've been holding up since I left. But still I feel guilty. As I shuffle you to the couch in my arms I almost start to cry myself, but I know that right now you need me to be strong for you. It's your turn now. I let you cry for ten minutes, content to hold you all night if I have to, but you finally pull out of my embrace and take the Kleenex I've offered you. I watch you blow your nose, wipe your eyes. Then you turn to look at me and I'm drowning in those perfect chocolate orbs again.

"Hi." The word comes out soft, quiet. Almost a whisper. It's not much… but it's enough to spark you into movement as you lean up to meet my lips with yours.

We start like new lovers. I'm reminded, for the millionth time this week, of our first kiss. Tender, questioning, unsure… but full of longing. We start this way… almost innocent, but quickly the last two years of aching catch up with both of us. I take control and dart my tongue between your lips, seeking you out, wanting to be in all the familiar places I remember.

As usual my height gives me an advantage… but this time I actually use it. I plant my feet and without breaking our kiss I pull you up with me, then walk backwards, leading you to your bedroom… your lilac bedroom—not that I notice until much later.