Allegro
Rated PG
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Moore, Lloyd, and others.
Evey lay Edmund down in his crib and covered him. His little mouth puckered, sucking on an invisible nipple. Dreaming about milk, no doubt. She turned the lights out but left her door open in case he should wake. He rarely slept for more than an hour at a time during the night, but slept soundly during the day. She knew she should be trying to get a nap in as well, but there was still too much to do. The Inspector would be arriving this afternoon. She looked around appreciatively at her new house. Her solicitors told her that the lease on this place had expired on October 31st of last year, the tenants moved out on November 4th. The furniture, she was told, belonged to the original owner and stayed with the house. She had gone over each of V's properties, realizing he had set this house up for her. There was a huge library on the first floor, strangely empty of books. Evey had arranged for the books from the Shadow Gallery to be brought in and catalogued and arranged by a graduate student from King's College. The third day in her new house she discovered the name of the original owner. Audrey. The name was on the deed the solicitor showed her. Evey walked through the house, thinking of her, touching her things, thanking her.
Dominic had been working long hours at the Nose; there was no telling when he would be home. Packages had arrived, some of Finch's belongings from his flat, Dominic's things from his Mum's house, and there were bills that needed to be paid. She made her way downstairs, checked the ground floor guest room. Everything is ready here. The medical transport will be bringing him from hospital in a few hours. She sat down in the kitchen and opened her day book. I have meetings with the curators of the British Museum and the National Gallery tomorrow.
The main entry clicked. Eve turned her head toward the door. Dominic came in and hung his Mac over a kitchen chair. It had been raining all week. September was turning out to be a stormy month.
"Eve," he said in greeting.
"Dom." She smiled warily, curious as to why he was home so early, not so comfortable about asking him. He moved to the cooker and turned on a burner, then filled the kettle in the sink. She watched him set the kettle and get the teapot down from the shelves behind the counter.
"I came home early," he said unnecessarily.
"I see that. Everything is well at the office?" It was just a thing to say. Evey covered her day book with her hand, no sense in letting him see how busy she was. His tone suggested he came home for a good reason.
"Would you like some tea?" He pulled a cup down for himself, and then paused his hand over a second one.
"Please. Yes. Some chamomile. Caffeine keeps the baby awake." He lifted the tea rack and ruffled through it looking for chamomile. Evey closed her day book. His mouth held a grim line when he didn't know she was looking. Something is wrong. Finch? "What's wrong, Dominic? Is it the Inspector? Did you hear something from the hospital?"
"No. He's fine. His doctor called me this morning. He should be here before tea time. He's been signed out and in ready to transport. He will be heavily sedated and a nurse will visit every day to report back to the Ministry of Health."
"That's good to know. So what is it? You can't hide anything from me. Every thought you have is broadcast clearly across your face, Dom. Not such a good thing for a detective, I would think."
"It's just you, Eve. You are the only one I have trouble with."
"Trouble? Is that the word we are using?" She was sorry she quipped so quickly. The room became icy. She cleared her throat. "Sorry. That was uncalled for." She covered her face with a hand as the kettle began to whistle. Stupid stupid. I need to be more careful with him. He did not respond to her apology, but poured the boiling water into the teapot.
"We need to talk about the living arrangements you have made." He set her cup before her and sat across the table with his own steaming cup. She looked at him over the rim of her tea as she took a sip. He was neat in his blue suit and tie, his dark hair carefully combed back off his forehead. She remembered how the long parts would fall over his eyes when it got wet or disheveled. It lent a boyish charm to an otherwise overly serious face. Evey tried to remember the last time she had seen him smile. Ages. Maybe never. And now he wants to talk about his trouble. He wants to talk about me. Very well.
She set her cup down. "And? Are you not satisfied? Is this not a very comfortable place?" He lowered his own cup to the table and scanned the kitchen and the rooms through the doorway. Evey remembered his flat. It had been small, cramped with oversized furniture and had a definite air of a place that rarely contained an occupant. This house is warm, tastefully decorated, large and airy. Plenty of sunlight can come in through the large windows. It's a damned sight better than where he had lived before. And Finch's place was just as empty. The Inspector still retained his lease, but would need at least six weeks of care before he could be on his own. Best to stay here for now. Eric has no family to take him in. Evey took another sip. I am his family now. We are. She tilted her head. That might be the trouble. It's not the house. It's the family. "Dom?"
"It's a beautiful house."
"Yes," she said proudly. "It's perfect, I think. And your room? Large enough? Your closet? Your bathroom? It's nice, isn't it?" She was aware she was pushing him.
"Yes." He buried his face in his cup, drained his tea and looked back at the teapot.
"Then what is the trouble?" He got up and poured himself another cup, but he did not return to the table. He seemed to want to keep the countertop bar between them. Evey became impatient. I don't have time for this anymore. "Dom. Speak up, man. What is troubling you?"
He turned to her, put his cup down. "You are the trouble, Eve."
"I gathered that," she tried not to sound unkind.
He sighed. "I like living here. I love it. But…" He looked inside his cup as if the tea leaves could help him.
Eve got up and walked around the counter, stopped a few feet from him and looked up at him expectantly. I will push him until he just comes out with it.
He sighed, "I can't pretend you don't mean anything to me. I've been trying," he set the cup down and looked directly at her so she could read his face.
Evey did read it. The unspoken words were in his eyes. Something is eating him up. "We have been through Hell together," she said gently, "that does mean something. We are closer than some married people."
Dominic stared at her for a moment before replying. "That's it. I want you to marry me. I know it is useless to ask you. You will not. I already know it." He hung his head. "But living here with you is killing me. Seeing you, but not touching you. Hearing you, but not laughing with you. Your scent torments me for hours after you have left the room. I can't bear it." He looked away then lifted his empty cup and banged it firmly against the counter.
Evey felt a wave of pity for him. She knew what it was like to want someone and not be able to have him in her arms. She frowned, thinking of the best way to answer. Dominic was looking back at her now, expecting an answer. And he deserves one. How do I feel about him? She blinked a few times, sorting her feelings. She liked having him around. Not because he was competent and could pull out a pistol almost as fast as V could whip out a knife. No. She did not feel afraid. She did not need a protector, a body guard anymore. She cocked her head, looking at up him, examining his face. He is a good conversationalist. He has stories to tell, insights into psychology, and experiences that continue to astound me. He is an excellent judge of character and an astute and shrewd observer. He is kind. He has no serious personality quirks. He is tall and strong and healthy, handsome even. He loves me. She searched her mind for a reason to reject him. There was only one. He is not V.
He moved closer and leaned over her. His eyes said that he wanted to kiss her. He rested his hand on her shoulder. He is watching me, waiting for permission to kiss me. He inhaled softly and whispered to her, "I can't live here and not have you, Eve. You have to decide. I'll go back to my Mum's until I can find a flat. I can move out Friday if you want me to."
"I don't want you to move out," she responded immediately. That was easy to say. She knew she didn't want him to go. The thought of her house without him in it gave her a chilly, empty feeling she could not identify. But I do not love him. Her mouth turned down with the sadness of that realization. He saw her face drop and moved in, taking her in his arms, bending her back and pressing his lips against hers. She felt a surge of fury. No one kisses me! She pushed him back and without thinking drew her arm back and smacked him across the face as hard as she could.
She was immediately sorry. He put a hand to his cheek, his eyes big and surprised, then hurt. She realized how he had mistaken her words. He thought that because she wanted him to stay it meant she wanted him. The hand he held to his cheek was ravaged with scars; they reminded her of why she could not love him. Her regret vanished with that thought. V. He is my only love. There will never be another. How dare he kiss me! Like I am his! She narrowed her eyes, fierce again with anger. She pointed a finger at him. "I am not yours!" she shouted, trying to lay him low with her words. "I will never be yours! I am his. And if he were here he would gut you with his knives for stealing that kiss!" He staggered to the counter and used it to hold him up. When he turned back to her his eyes were no longer hurt or surprised. Angry. He was furious.
Evey took a step back. Dominic had never looked at her that way. His face flushed red and he struck the counter with his fist hard enough to make the teapot bounce. She stepped back again, her initial shock swept away by the intensity of his glare. His voice, when he spoke, was tight and controlled. "So that is how it is." He gathered the next volley of words. "You will be his and no other's. Not mine. Not anyone's."
She nodded, not sure she could trust herself to speak to the storm she saw in his face.
He continued. "Then we are through, Eve. There is nothing for me here. I did my duty. I am finished. He is yours. Keep him. And may his memory keep you warm at night. God knows I won't." He pushed past her to the kitchen table and yanked his Mac so hard he sent the chair crashing to the floor. "Send me pictures of the baby on his birthday," he thundered. "You can't take that from me. Those memories are mine, now. You can take the baby from me, but not my memories of him, nor the way I feel about him." He turned his back on her headed for the door.
"No you don't!" She knew just how loud she could shout to keep from waking the baby. "You don't get the last word!" She leapt around him and blocked his way to the door. She held her hand up and he stopped; his dark eyes intense. He was not avoiding her eyes at all. In fact, she realized he was pummeling her with a stare. She glared back. "It is not so simple as that. You don't understand anything!"
"He is dead." Dominic kept his voice down, but the venom in the tone was just as potent as if he had screamed the words at her. "I understand that." She sagged back against the wall, shocked that he would stab at her this way. Dominic has always been my champion, my protector, my supporter. To see his strength turned on her brought her back down. Righteous indignation. That's what I feel. He shouldn't be able to control me like this. No one does.
"Get out of my way," he growled. She stood fast. "Goddamn, it, Eve, get out of my way or so help me I will move you myself. He threw his Mac over his shoulder and reached for her arms with both hands. She let him seize her shoulders, part of her curious as to how far he would go, the other part stubborn, refusing to be cowed into obedience. I am not finished with this conversation. He cannot leave like this. His strong hands shook her, just enough to make a point. He is bigger. So what. I am stronger than his hands. She lifted her chin to keep their eyes locked as he picked her up and moved her to the side. He set her down gently. Too gently. Evey had him flayed and she knew it. Now for the killing blow. She drew in her breath to tell him that he could never be loved as she had been loved. That he will never compare to what she had before. She felt the thoughts like sharp knives in her brain. I can throw them now. I can tell him that he will never melt me with a word, thrill me with his mouth, and electrify me with his ideas. I can tell him this and kill him dead right here in my hall. Right now. He is vulnerable, he is weak. I can destroy him. It will be so easy. His love for me makes him weak.
She opened her mouth. He was waiting. He was giving her one more chance to speak before he blew through the front door into the storm. She couldn't do it. She realized she did not want to kill him dead. She did not want to destroy him. Why? All he had ever done was love her. Tears came to her instead of vicious words. He saw the tears. He didn't care. He pushed her back against the wall to clear the path to the door and went out with a slam.
She stood there as the wall shook with the force of his fury. I don't love him. I don't care that he's gone. She waited for that thought to comfort her. It didn't. V would be proud that I stood up to Dominic, that I resisted his advances. That I stayed true to his memory. She waited for that thought to bring her peace. It didn't. V would not have let him touch me. V would have killed him. She waited to see how that thought made her feel. It made her feel nauseous.
She stood there, leaning against the wall. She realized slowly that she was wrong. V had deliberately not killed Dominic three times. Three times V had let him live. He could have killed him in the Tower the first time Dom had pulled a gun on him. He could have killed him in the Mausoleum, if he had wanted him dead. And the last time, in the tunnel. Eve remembered V's agony as he worried that he had actually had killed Dominic. How he had sunk to the floor, moaning with remorse, thinking he had crushed the detective's skull. Eve felt the tears roll own her cheeks. She remembered V bringing Dominic in to the cell, carrying him so gently, laying him on the cot so carefully, telling her to set his fingers, making her feed him and care for him. She remembered how she felt the first time she had to put Dominic in the tub and bathed him. She remembered that. I felt so responsible, so sorry for him. She had soaped his chest and shoulders and he looked at her with his dark eyes then like he looked at her this morning before he left for the office. He has loved me since that bath.
She put a hand to her forehead. The words in V's letter came to mind now. He had wanted Dominic for me, for the baby, he was picking out my family for me a year ago. God. V didn't want him dead. He wanted a daddy for his baby. A "good man", he had said. He had brought me a good man. It was too late. He is gone. They are both gone. That chilly, empty feeling returned. She remembered it now. It was the same feeling the Gallery got when V went out at night.
Upstairs she heard the baby wail.
The pub was warm and dark. He let his Mac slide off his shoulders and hung it with his hat on the clothes tree beside the door. The sound of his name bounced around the pub.
"Stone."
"Detective."
"Stone."
"Stone."
"Dominic."
He nodded to the men nearest him; he nodded in the general direction of the back where it was too dark and smoky to really see who had greeted him. Molly at the bar pointed at his old table in the back near the corner. It is empty. He made his way around the maze of chairs and tables to the familiar booth. He sat down in his old place, looking at the walls, the display of old photographs of patrons, antique shot glasses, aged wooden cigar boxes...his old life looked back at him. Everything is different now. Molly appeared at his table almost immediately, a black and tan foaming over her thumb, her smile a warm welcome on a cold night.
"'ere ya go, Luv. Y' been gone a long while. We missed y'."
Dominic stared at the foaming pint, watched the creamy froth spill over and puddle on the table's glossy surface. He reached for it with his right hand, his long fingers spread open, ready to grasp the curved glass. Then he caught the sight of the scars shining white in the half light from the flickering candles. He let go of the glass and turned his hand slowly against the candles, looking at the healed wounds. The thick scars looked like roadways on a map, snaking out and over his knuckles. He withdrew his hand and spoke, his voice tight. "Molly, I…I don't want a pint tonight. Not a pint…please bring me…bring me Scotch. No ice."
He glanced up at her when she did not respond. Her smile had disappeared into her wrinkles, her eyes were sad. She picked up the black and tan with one hand and deftly wiped the foam from the table with her ever-present towel. She whispered low to him, "Aye. If that's what ye'll be havin' tonight…Inspector."
Eve opened the door to the Fox and Hound. Inside it was warm and dark and welcoming. The air inside smelled comfortably of cigars and beer and whiskey, a masculine combination that always made her remember her grandfather. She was greeted with "What'll ye have?" by the bartender.
"No, thank you," she answered quickly, "I'm looking for someone."
Evey scanned the room, trying not to be too obvious. She moved carefully down the main aisle towards the back. That's were I would go. The darkest corner. And that's where she found him, hunched in a booth, his hand curled around a short glass. Empty.
"Dominic."
He looked up, startled. His eyes were big behind his hair. The storm had whipped the long bangs into wet strings and he had not bothered to comb them back. I need to buy him a hat. She watched him recognize her, then slump inside his suit like a man who's been gut-shot. Evey sat down across from him. She shivered a little in the warm room. The look he had given her was like ice.
"Dominic. I've come to take you home."
"No, y' won't."
She was relieved his words were only slightly slurred, but he had lost some of his university correctness and was drifting heavily into dialect. He's not so far gone. I got here in time. "I have and I will. I am sorry. I'm sorry I shouted. I'm sorry I slapped you. That was wrong. It was so very wrong." She reached across the table and tried to take his hand, but he snatched it away and put it under the table. "Dom, please. Let me take you home. You can sleep. We can talk in the morning, or after work. I can't go to sleep knowing you are out here. I won't be able to sleep until you are safe in bed."
"How?" He sat up straight and looked around the pub like he had just awakened from a bad dream, then turned his eyes on her, alarmed. "Edmund? Y' didn't leave him alone? Evey?"
Evey smiled. "No. Of course not. Your Mum is with him."
He swayed against the paneled wall, looked ill. "My Mum. You called me Mum? You play dirty, Eve." She saw him set his teeth. He finished with a snarl, "You shouldn't have done that."
Evey cringed at the venom in his voice. "I rung her up," she said carefully, "To ask her which pub was your pub."
"Aye, an' she told y'," his eyes were dangerous now.
Clearly he was agitated. Time for a different approach. Eve got up and moved to his side of the table, blocking him in against the wall and forcing him to touch her. She tried to take his hand again, when that failed she snaked her arm around his back and held him around his waist. You will listen to me. "I rung her up and while I was on the phone the baby started to cry. She asked me if he was my baby, Dominic. Then she asked me if he was her grandbaby."
"Oh God. Mum…God. What d'y tell her?" His voice broke.
Evey sighed. The danger had passed. "I told her that he would be her grandson if she would please tell me where to find you. She told me right away. She said, 'You'll find him at the Fox and Hound.'" Evey smiled, remembering the eagerness in his mum's voice. Mrs. Stone had arrived at her townhouse within the hour. She was a small woman, neat and well-dressed. She wore a pearl necklace and had her gray hair styled up off her neck, even this late in the evening. Evey had recognized Dominic in his mother's eyes when the woman had smiled at the baby. Dominic doesn't smile enough. I will make him smile. It is time he smiled. Mrs. Stone will be a good grandma. She knew it the moment she laid little Edmond in Mrs. Stone's arms. Tears had welled up in the older woman's eyes as she smiled down at the baby. And Eric will be a good grandfather, but now it is time to go and get the daddy.
Dominic sighed. "Betrayed by me own Mum." He hung his head; his hair fell over his eyes again.
Evey hugged him harder. "Come home and go to sleep. Let me put you to bed." He didn't answer, and she let him think about it some more. "We will talk about it when you get home from work tomorrow. You need to sleep, Dom. I need to sleep. I can't sleep without you in the house. I tried. I can't. The house is cold without you. We can talk tomorrow." The waitress appeared at her other elbow. Evey looked up at the woman's weathered face.
The waitress nodded, "You'll be wantin' something?" Then she thrust her chin at Dominic, "And you, Luv? Another Scotch?"
Evey opened her bag and pulled out her card. "No, thank you. I'll take care of the tab. We are leaving." Dominic protested then, shrugged her away from him and fumbled for his wallet. Evey leaned her shoulder against Dom to make it hard for him to move his elbow. "Please…hurry." Evey held up her thumb. The waitress smiled and pushed the thumbpad toward her. Evey swiped her card and pressed her thumb to the pad before Dominic could get his arm free.
"You take care of him," the older woman said as she leaned over the table to pick up his glass.
"I will," Evey promised.