Rating: T (PG-13, 12)
Spoilers: None
Pairings: Justin/Becca, Justin/Original Character
Setting: Six years on from the 'weekend away' in March 2006
Notes: The extended periods of text in italics are flashbacks.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Mersy TV, I'm just taking them our of their boxes for a bit, I'll try not to break them.
Burned
"This is what I'm going to do. I'm going to move away ... You'll never see me again. You can stay here with Jake, have a happy life, have babies, carry on being an English teacher and marking essays... If you don't want me though, I'm not going to stick around and watch because it's killing me. I'll find someone else. Someone intelligent, someone who I can't take my eyes off... She'll drive me mad because I lover her so much. And I'll be able to tell her, 'it gives me wonder great as my content to see you here before me'" - Justin
Chapter One:
Bull's Blood, Pálinka and Orange Juice
Bull's Blood. He was opening four bottles of it for the tourists at the back table. Their party of ten seemed intent on drinking each other under the table. He'd only been in this country for a year and a half and he'd already learnt to despise tourists, even though he was frequently still mistaken for one himself. Mari came over to take the bottles from him. Left with an empty bar he pulled out the barman's stereotype, a damp cloth, and started polishing at imaginary smudges on the varnished wood.
Rik and Ella bustled in behind him to restock the wine. Ella touched his shoulder as she went past. He barely had time to smile at her before she was forced back into the kitchen by the sound of a dropped pan. He turned around to face the room again and was greeted by a pair of blue-green eyes. He felt dizzy. For a second the eyes seemed to swim before his face in a way that made him certain that he must be dreaming. Everything settled back into focus again quickly enough though when the owner of those eyes said in her familiar voice,
"Justin?"
Becca let out a shout of laughter as they ran along the hall, his hand slipped from hers for a second and her heal turned on the carpet. She fell against the wall and in an instant felt his arm around her waist holding her steady.
"Are you ok?" he asked, the smile gone from his face and his eyes filled with concern. She grinned at him, "Fantastic," before looping her arms over his shoulders and bringing his lips down to hers. They kissed intensely. The hands he'd been supporting her with now slid down her back. He pressed her up against the wall and slipped one finger underneath her top. She broke the kiss with a giggle and, foreheads touching, they looked at each other.
"Your hands are cold" she said after a moment, teasing in her voice.
"Let me warm them up then," he countered, grinning as he slipped his hand over the small of her back. He rubbed the tip of his fingers against her bare skin. Before he could lean in for another kiss she'd slipped from his arms and was walking along the corridor again.
"Come on" she called, tossing her head in the direction of their room a few doors away. He grinned and followed her.
Chance was not something Becca really believed in. She believed that you made decisions and then reaped the rewards or took the punishment. She'd not always believed that of course, but people change. Walking into the restaurant had not been a big choice though, not a momentous decision in itself. It was hot outside and she was a little lost - not so much that she was panicked about it, but she knew that walking around the streets would just make things worse. The sign outside the restaurant was written in English and that had attracted her to step inside. She had no idea what she would find.
The dining area of the restaurant was really just a big wooden patio with cream-coloured sheets hung above as a temporary ceiling and red paper lanterns hanging in bunches from stands positioned randomly around the room. Most of the tables were empty, it was early afternoon. A group of sunburnt tourists with shorts, sandals and Hawaiian shirts on let out a cheer as she walked into the room, but it seemed the greeting was for the waitress rather than her.
The bar was under a real roof, propped up at each end by a pillar, and sat in front of the kitchen. Through the stack of bottles behind the bar she could see several chef's hats moving about and steam rising from somewhere in the distance. It was surprisingly quiet though.
Moving up to the bar she stood before the barman and waited politely for his attention to move from his friends to her, the customer. She was just about to speak up when he turned around. At the sight of his face everything seemed to freeze. He was familiar. His eyes, his lips, his nose... It all made her panic with recognition. Was she dreaming again? Was this real? It was a face she'd never expected to see again, especially not here, not today, not this second, in this place.
"Justin?"
His face had been carrying a similarly shocked expression to her own until she said his name. Then, so slowly she could see it happening, his expression closed itself off. His lips drew together, his eyes narrowed and focused themselves disinterestedly on the empty table behind her and the vaguest of frowns played about between his eyebrows.
He seemed to deliberate for a second before offering, "Mrs Dean" as a greeting.
The coldness of his voice made the sick feeling in her stomach worsen. He picked up a glass from under the bar and started polishing it with determination.
"What are you doing here?"
He offered a little closed smile to the glass in his hand and, still not looking at her, mimicked, "What are you doing here?"
He looked good. Different, but good. He'd grown a couple of inches since she'd last seen him, some of the puppy fat around his face had disappeared and his hair was back to dark stubble again. Part of his left eyebrow was shaved off in that ridiculous way that was fashionable. Five years and his eyes were still as big and blue as ever though. His uniform was a crisp white shirt, black waistcoat and thick blue tie. She couldn't see behind the bar but could detect the edges of a white half-apron around his waist.
He was looking at her now, actually glaring would be a closer description. She answered, "Holiday," to his question. He looked back down at the glass with a disbelief written on his face, but didn't say anything. It was clear he thought her answer was a lie, and that wasn't pleased to see her.
He hung back as she opened the door, a nervous smile on his face. She took two steps into the suite before pausing. The room was lit up with candles, every available surface boasted a little flickering orange glow that gave the dim light a warm feeling. Without turning around she let out a soft gasp and then whispered in a wistful way, "Oh Justin.."
"Do you like it?" he asked, moving into the room and shutting the door behind him. She turned around and despite the smile on her face there was something sad in her eyes,
"It's just so..."
"Cheesy?" he joked, stepping closer to her until he could see every detail of her face. She still looked troubled. He lifted a hand slowly and stroked the side of her face, then laced his fingers through her hair and leant in to place a soft kiss on her lips. When he pulled away she was smiling again.
"Dangerous" she finished. He grinned.
"Wait, there's more," he said, darting past her to the CD player on the vanity. He flicked a few switches before the song came on, turning he held out his hand just as Enrique sung 'would you dance, if I asked you to dance?'. She laughed then.
"Now that is cheesy..." she said. He reached out, took her hands in his and her smile faded. Pulling their bodies together he wrapped his arms around her. She did the same and leant in until they were cheek-to-cheek. They swayed to the music for a few precious seconds, both lost in their own thoughts. Superficially it was perfect. She could not help letting out a little sob.
"Becca..."
"It's ok" she said weakly, lifting her hand from his shoulder to wipe away a tear. Then, as if gathering herself, she added with more conviction, "I'm ok... This is just so perfect, so wonderful, I can't believe it has to en--"
Before she could finish speaking he kissed her. That final word never made its way out of her mouth. He backed her onto the bed and then laid her down on the sheets, she made one final attempt to talk to him, "Justin.." but was greeted only by a soft comforting 'shhh' and another kiss. She smiled up at him and nodded her head a fraction, he smiled back and started unbuttoning his shirt.
'Am I in to deep? Have I lost my mind? I don't care you're here tonight'
Clearly he was not going to his explain what he was doing here. He didn't seem inclined to speak to her at all and yet... he wouldn't move away from in front of her. Maybe he was waiting for her to move. Or for her to say something.
"How are you?" she asked finally, her mind reaching for and cancelling out thousands of more interesting questions at a rapid speed.
"I'm working" he said abruptly. He put down the glass he'd been polishing with some force on the bar and tilted his head at her, "Do you want anything?"
"What?" she forced out, unsure what he meant. The hardness of his voice alarmed her. Was he still angry after all this time, or had he forgotten about her so much that he ceased to care whether he treated her with kindness?
"Do you want a drink?" he clarified, gesturing to the collection of alcohol behind him. When she stared at him with an open mouth he continued, "If you want food we're not serving at the moment."
"An orange juice please" she said finally. She watched him pour it in a tense silence. He laid a napkin and then the drink down on the bar in front of her. She reached into her purse for some money but when she glanced up he'd already left and was down at the other end of the bar serving someone else.
She took a sip of the drink that was already sweating onto the napkin and tried to decide whether to walk out or to go over and demand answers from him. As she was watching him an attractive petite brunette in clothes that vaguely resembled his squeezed behind him to put something in the till. She might have been seeing things but she could have sworn that the girl ran a hand down his arm as she was doing it. Becca's grip on the glass tightened and she forced herself to take another slow sip.
He was sitting in one of the empty chairs when she walked up to him. He was on a break. She put the napkin down on the table, written on it he recognised a hotel name and room number, "Just if you..." she started saying, her eyes downcast. When she noted no reaction from him she looked up and saw that his expression was blank, she hurried on saying, "...If you want to contact me while I'm here," She lingered for a few seconds but he didn't touch the napkin, or show any interest in it. Carefully she set her glass down on the bar and then turned and walked out of the restaurant without glancing back at him. Suddenly she was finding it hard to breathe.
He lifted the bottle to his mouth and took another long swig. Behind him Ella was getting ready to go out, rifling through the dresser first to find a silk scarf then her favourite necklace. He didn't offer his help and she didn't ask for it, they were so used to this evening routine by now that despite her rushing around the atmosphere felt comfortable. He stood at the open balcony window with a bottle of Pálinka in his hand. The night air was warm as usual, but as they were high up the building a breeze ruffled the lace curtains beside him and cooled the beads of sweat on his forehead. He stared out over the city at the window lights of various colours, the trees with leaves already yellow from too much sun despite it being early summer and the gaps in the landscape where he knew the Danube wound through the district but all he could see at night was dark space. Below he could hear the sounds of a lively card game taking place on the veranda, the smell of cigarette smoke even made its way up to his window on the 9th floor.
Usually looking out over the city made him feel calm but not tonight. The napkin in his pocked felt huge, he kept putting hand down to pat at it to make sure no telltale corner was peaking out for Ella to see. It was almost a reflex movement that he could not stop, but every time he did it he felt a little pang of guilt afterwards. He was hiding something, he knew it, and it felt awful.
He'd been honest with Ella from the beginning about his past. She had listened patiently to everything he'd had to say, her hazel eyes fixed intently on his in a way that made him want to reveal more to her than he had to anyone else, least of all a relative stranger. His father, Ali, his sisters, Becca. Becca. Curled up with her on their bed he'd stared at the ceiling and told their stories, his story, until he could see the events unfolding before his eyes again. Finishing speaking he'd felt as exposed as if he'd just peeled open his chest and let her have a look at his organs working. She had taken his face in her hands, brushed away the tears he'd not even noticed falling, and given him one of those sweet little smiles of hers that said 'I've got you, I understand'. And she had understood. They'd been together for a year and a half and every time he'd lapsed into moodiness she'd known exactly what to do to bring him out of it, even if that sometimes meant leaving him alone to deal with it.
Now she was standing by the door waiting for him to follow her out. Her reflection in the window gave him a little wave and smile to break him from his thoughts. When he turned around to look at her she bit her lower lip in that anxious way she has and did a little twirl to show off her outfit. She's joking again. He's seen her in the same thing many times before. She's beautiful.
Justin gave her the smile that he knew she deserved and slowly put down the Pálinka on the broad windowsill. As he turned to close the window he pulled the napkin out of his pocket and when reaching for the handle he crumpled it up in his fist and dropped it over the ledge. He watched it fall for a millisecond before closing the window. In two strides he was at the door and offering her his arm. She took it with a laugh and opened the door. As he reached back inside the apartment to turn off the lights he called out to her, "Lets go."
Author's Note: Any comments are gratefully received. Next chapter is on its way..