Timeless4Life: I'm still a jellybean of dom, huh? As opposed to dooooom? I'm disappointed in you, I must say. And if you kill me with the large poking stick, I shall take away Orlando's, if you catch my drift. And Kurtis says 'thanks for everything' but he thinks he'll settle down now. (not mentioning names, but shift your eyes north slightly...) lolx-thanx 4 reviewing, jellybean!
jacob love: Cheers, mate. And about Mr Trent being Kurtis-you'd think, wouldn't you? More on Cecelia in some point later on. lolx-thanx 4 reviewing
Sweet Christabel: Uh, yes! 42 is extremely relevant...(coughs) And Zip appreciated his hug, and says that if he wasn't gay, he'd have been plaguing you with come-ons right about now. Leave it up to you decide if that's a good thing or not. lolx-thanx 4 reviewing
BLACKCAT1393: Yay, new reviewer! Well, you know the deal-new reviewer, extra chocolates!
Team-chaser: Took you long enough-but I'll forgive you, because you've given me some great ideas! And I'm not exactly fastest updater so we'll call it even, yes? Yes? Good! lolx-thanx 4 reviewing
thenightwithin: First off, love your name too! Second, no you didn't review last time, but the aliens stole your computer, so you couldn't really, could you? lolx-thanx 4 reviewing! (btw, I had nothing to do with those aliens!)
A/N Haha! It's finally here! I am so sorry it took so long! I won't do the spiel cos I've done it since the start. Also, because of your patience-aliens for all!!!!
Author's POV
They drove home in silence. Well, not so much drove as were towed. Thanks to Zip's prank with the car, a branch had somehow caught up in the engine when he'd knocked the tree over and obviously, the engine wouldn't start. It took all Alister's control not to seize him and shake him and try to strangle him!
When they got back to the house, they went their separate ways-Alister to the kitchen, Zip to his computers. 'Checking my e-mails,' he'd told Alister, but Alister knew it was a lie. Zip just wanted to be alone. Alister knew the feeling-after Marina's 'prank' on him, he'd not gone near anyone for days. He'd remained cooped up in the library…not that they really noticed the difference.
It was soon a full house again as Lara was discharged from hospital a few days after. They celebrated with a specially cooked meal from Zip, but no-one really felt particularly festive-and Lara's stomach couldn't cope with that sort of food so soon after her operation. Most of it was wasted and thrown away.
New York City
Since the words 'yes, you can move in', this horrible feeling-the sort bad premonitions are made of-had enveloped its way into her stomach. She was never going to have turned him down-even though she had been in the middle of interviewing prospective roommates at the time, and one had been present-she owed him too much. And he was her friend…she just wished he wasn't quite so annoying sometimes!
Mind you, she had her moments. He'd never say anything-mainly because she often had a heavy object in reach of her at the time!-because he was too sweet. And because it was technically her apartment. He wasn't exactly a freeloader, he did contribute to the rent, but she probably had a much harder time keeping up than if she'd taken on an actual adult! She didn't complain, though, which sometimes surprised him. It was the little things that irked her usually-the big crises she could just sail through. And she did have to laugh at some of his antics, despite herself. Him searching and knocking on everyone in her entire building because he couldn't find her buzzer was just a classic! He'd claimed it was because he thought her last name would be 'Rutland' and that he was so confused! She wanted to point out if she did rely on her father, her apartment would be on Fifth and way bigger than this one, but she didn't have the heart. Seeing his goofy yet pleased-to-see-you face just made her smile.
They had been living together for a few weeks now. It wasn't exactly much to go by, to judge, but they found it was working okay, despite he didn't have a steady job and she was studying at NYU. Although she never admitted it, James did help her out with her student fees occasionally-only when it was really scraping, though. Kurtis marvelled at her financial handling sometimes, being of course blissfully unaware of the help she sometimes received.
She was currently preparing for a field trip-it sounded so high school! she thought-that would involve excavating on a genuine archaeological dig site. It was to take place in Mexico, amongst Mayan ruins. Most of their work would involve analysis-not the actual digging-but it would serve very useful for her dissertation in two years.
There was another thing that lingered on both their minds, though…something they never spoke of. For Kurtis, it was constant contemplation of his very hasty and sudden departure, and he was still unsure as to whether he'd made the right decision or not…
For Lily, it was what had taken place at the funeral in Bolivia, hoping that it wasn't Lara trying to let her down gently, and that maybe she'd call…and cursing herself for being too much of a coward to pick the damn phone up and dial herself.
Three months later, November 5
Lara's POV
It was such a ceremony! I actually felt rather proud, seeing him up there, finally being awarded his dissertation. It's a pity they don't do speeches-I would love to have seen him fluster over his words because he was so excited.
Naturally, we went out that night-we gave Winston the night off from preparing a gourmet meal and invited him along. He tried to protest, but Alister pointed out that it was very difficult to concentrate and study in a messy library or bedroom. He does try very hard to flatter, you can't deny him that. Winston actually blushed a little bit, bless him, and then graciously accepted our invitation. We all tried to ignore the fact that when he came down in his suit he still looked like the butler. I suppose it's my fault for not dressing him down with uniform.
It's rather fitting, that it was yesterday actually. It gives Zip yet another excuse to show off his fireworks 'skills'. This year he doesn't have to just claim it's tradition (mainly because I've always bested him by saying it's an English tradition, and as he was American, he shouldn't care-he does it anyway, of course. I suppose we should just be thankful he doesn't want to do it at American Thanksgiving as well), he can claim it's for Alister, who 'finally grew up'. I don't what Alister would have done if he'd have heard him, but he's been positively unflappable lately, so he'd probably take it in good spirits.
Of course, you need to understand, by fireworks, I don't just mean the stupidly overpriced mini rockets you find in corner shops-oh no, he comes back with entire boxes of them! Every year I've had to hire a professional to stop Zip from frying himself!
Oh dear lord, he's really overdone it this time…
"Zip, what the hell is that?!" I gasp as he comes through the door, pushing a trolley.
"It's a cart-I got it from the supermarket. It was hard to fit in the car, I gotta tell you," he replies cheerfully, parking it.
"More the point, Zip-why the hell do you have it?"
"Cos their bags are weak and they don't do boxes," he explains, like it's perfectly normal to steal trolleys from your local Tesco! "Don't be mad-this is for our special guy! Would you really ruin his special night?"
"His special night was yesterday," I point out. "We went out for dinner, remember?"
"That's what you do when you turn twelve!" he scoffs. "This is a big thing, Lara-after fifteen years, he's finally a man."
"So, then, by your definition-in that he needs a PhD to 'be a man'-what does that make you? You barely scraped your high school SATs." With this he dramatically puts his hands on his hips, frowning.
"Whoa, whoa! First of all…I didn't know that you knew that." I snigger. "And second…this is England!"
"So?" I scoff.
"So the rules are different. I'm cool-that makes me a man here!"
"Okay…" I mutter, trying to figure it out, but honestly, could you? "So, Alister finally getting his PhD-that makes him cool now?"
"You know what, I shoulda known I couldn't explain this to you!" He starts pushing the trolley forward again.
"Why, because I'm making you see how ridiculous it is?" I call after him. I hear him huff, and mutter 'women!' but other than that he ignores me. That man just gets stranger and stranger.
It is only then I notice where he is headed…
"Zip, watch out for the ste-!" Too late. A loud clattering and clanging echoes through the hall as what sounds like a trolley full of fireworks crashes down the stone steps through the door. I check to see if Zip fell with them.
"I'm okay-I'll just get the cart!" he calls. I sigh loudly and close the door on him. It's a wonder how he's been living here for God knows how many years, and yet every time, he always manages to drop the fireworks down those steps. I suppose we should be grateful he remembers in time to stop himself-thankfully, that all stopped after year five.
"Is everything all right, Lady Croft?" Winston asks me in a huskier-than-usual voice.
"I'm fine, Winston-where's the Yellow Pages?"
"I believe they are under the coffee table-why do you ask?"
"It's November 5, Winston," I remind him, stooping.
"Oh, of course," he realises. "Which company are you going to try this time?"
"Well, after last year's escapade, it'll probably have to be a Welsh one," I mutter, finally rifling it out. I rise and pick up the cordless on the table. You won't believe it, seriously. The poor man didn't stand a chance! He was just trying to do his job and then Zip-in true plonker style-decided to 'help him out'. I'm not going to go into the gory details, but let's just say the poor sod ended up in hospital with third-degree burns and was in a wheelchair for four months! Not to mention his wife would never bear another child, if you see what I mean.
"Why, are they naïve to company gossip?"
"No, just naïve to the English language," I mutter. "Now how do you say 'hello' in Welsh?" He raises his eyebrows as I place the phone to my ear. I know what he means-of all the languages I know, my Welsh is slightly shaky at times. I once tried to say thank you and ended up offering the man my services for prostitution. I just know we'll end up with a goldfish seller!
"Did anybody order a fish?" Winston calls much later, sounding confused yet very, very amused at the same time. What did I tell you?
"Cool, we're getting a fish?" Zip exclaims excitedly, going to the door. "What is it?"
"A goldfish, a goldfish, a goldfish," I whisper under my breath.
"I would say by the colouring-and the label-that it's a goldfish…not exactly what you were after, was it, Lady Croft?" he asks me, raising his eyebrows again.
"I told you Zip should have made the call!" I protest, laughing. Zip doesn't hear me, though-he's too busy pruning after the poor fish. Winston mutters a quick thank-you to the man at the door (who is also laughing by now) and takes the bowl with the fish in it. "Did he really come from Wales?" I gasp in disbelief.
"No-by good fortune, the company had a contact who worked in the local pet shop," Winston replies. "They were a little confused by your request for a goldfish, but then, that is their old trade."
"Seriously?"
"Yes-they switched because they thought it was a dying business, so they were quite heartened to see that are still some of them out there." I snort, and burst out laughing.
"I'm gonna call him Rex," Zip mutters, taking the bowl. "Can I keep him, Lara-please?!"
"Yes, Zip, you can have the fish," I sigh. I look over at Winston and can't suppress another laugh.
"What's the joke?" Alister asks from the entrance to the kitchen.
"Lady Croft just put through an order…only it went slightly awry," Winston smirks. Alister frowns in confusion, but then notices Zip, who's still craning his neck to get a better look.
"Is that-is that a fish?" he says disbelievingly. Zip nods vigorously.
"His name's Rex!" he tells him proudly. "And Lara says I can keep him!" Alister looks over at me.
"Zip, why don't you take…Rex to your room?" God, I sound like his mother! Like a child, though, he bounds (careful of the bowl) off.
"Is someone going to explain…no wait, don't tell me, it's November 5!" Alister bursts out, then looks confused. "Did you get him the fish to distract him?"
"No," I admit embarrassedly. "I was trying to order a professional fireworks displayer-"
"And yet you ended up with a fish?" Alister says sceptically.
"The company was Welsh, and my Welsh is a bit shaky-but in my defence, they are an old goldfish trading company, so what I asked for wasn't completely unrelated!"
"Only if the displayer sends his pet fish ahead of him!" Alister snorts. "I can't believe you did that, Lara."
"Yes, well, you can stop laughing because you may have made a very interesting point."
"And what's that?"
"Well, with 'Rex' to distract him, I don't need the firework people-saved me a hell of a lot of money!" I lie back on the sofa, feeling strangely triumphant. Well, I may not have got exactly what I set out for, but if they offer the same service of not allowing Zip to fry himself, I'd say I clinched quite a good deal.
Winston's POV
November 5…it always used to be such a quiet day. Amelia Croft was a very festive woman-she would often have fireworks on hers and Lara's birthdays, but not Richard. He hated the things. I will admit, most of us thought he was just a bit of a miser about celebrations in general, but then we realised it set off his epilepsy. It never affected him except when fireworks were near him.
He would condone them, for Amelia's sake, but he himself would always remain inside. It was a pity really-were it not for his condition, I believe he may have enjoyed them immensely. Lara always loved them. She would have chased them, if her mother let her! I suppose you could say she loved danger even then. It was probably just childish innocence, though, that we thought she would grow out of…well, we were very wrong about that, as you can well see.
After Amelia's 'passing' however, it all stopped. Richard could apparently bear them for his wife but not for his daughter. We thought it was because it would be too painful, and would remind him of Amelia. Our instincts weren't too good, though-he was just being a miser in that case. Still, it was his estate, his rules, and we had to respect them-even Lara.
I won't deny that they were missed, come Bonfire Night and New Year's Eve. The drama, the chaos…and then those wondrous displays of light and colours that made it all seem worth it. Especially the look on Lara's face when they started. Amelia herself said it made all the hassle worth it, just seeing the face of her little girl light up like that.
Now, however, it's just drama and chaos. Lara does still enjoy them, but there's something very unlike anything other that a child can capture in their expression-that innocence mixed with sheer joy and excitement. Of course, after the first year, she's had to be on her toes. I know Zip-I wish I knew his real name!-means well but he is a bit of a disaster area at times. What once was a day I cherished and looked forward to upon the turn of the month has now become so it is a chore-hiring the professional, keeping Zip from 'trying to help'-that poor man last year! Oh, it was dreadful!-and just generally trying to keep him alive! I have numerous times offered to help, to save Lara the trouble, but she always turns me down. She says I go far beyond my duties already. It would be no trouble, I keep trying to tell her, but still she refuses. She doesn't want to see the old man hurt, I suppose.
"Yo, Winston!" the aforementioned Zip calls to me. "Whatcha think?" He points to something on the ground, and I see his first rocket, at a very questionable angle.
"I'm not entirely certain that's the best position for it," I tell him. Don't tell Lara-before the professional arrives, I always go outside against her wishes, simply to keep Zip from setting himself-or the house-alight with a stray firework. If you knew the story of year three, you would understand.
It was ghastly at the time, although now I think you will find it rather funny.
Zip, after having placed the rocket on the ground almost identically to the one he just has-at such an angle it would slip along the grass as opposed to flying into the air-completely ignored my advice about changing it, and in the end, I simply surrendered. That year, being one of the earlier years before the incident, Lara had asked me to assist him, as we seemed to be 'getting on so well'. Well, the man did amuse me with his quirks and he took an interest in my war days, so I suppose we were friends, and it was all I could do to at least try to stop him from hitting the house.
At first, it all went rather successfully. Even her guest, Dr Warrington, dared to venture out. The display was nicely choreographed for one who had had no experience in the area and all had gone well…until the bloody fool lit the rocket at the questionable angle. Needless to say, his idea of having it fly just above the hedges neatly failed. Instead-as I had predicted-it began to fly much lower…across the ground.
By this time, Lara and Warrington had retreated back inside, ignorant of the last firework. And it did seem to be behaving docilely enough, just heading for the bushes until it decided to turn around. That's presumably when the excited smile of Zip's finally left his face.
There I was on the terrace, minding my own business, when I suddenly this dark figure run by me on the grass, as if being chased. It turned out he was-by a firework. Every S-turn he did, I swear on my life the firework followed him!
"Winston!" he'd called for me. "Do you think you could help me out here?" I wasn't exactly certain how, but if I'd just left them to it, no doubt it would have caught him up eventually and chosen then to explode, which wouldn't have been very good. It was all I could do to suggest that he simply took cover. I half-expected a sarcastic remark from him, but it turned out he'd actually not considered that before…how he's not dead yet, one can only wonder. It's a good thing they want brains for army recruits these days or he'd probably be a fallen soldier on the training day! It's not that really he lacks brains, he is a computer genius, but he doesn't seem to have a lot of common sense!
Anyhow, after being chased by the rogue firework for a few more minutes, he finally took cover…into the fountain. The man actually dove into it, and cried; "Eew, this is wet!" after. By that point, I wouldn't have been surprised if the firework jumped in after him.
But then Lara put an end to its liberty with a very well aimed shot at it, causing it to explode. Zip had had enough sense to crawl to the other side of the fountain then-a good thing probably, or he would have fallen victim to the little cupid atop the fountain. It was too small to have done damage, although it may have knocked some sense into him, I suppose.
It was after that incident Lara began hiring professionals, but I don't know what she's going to do about this year. No English company will do business with her and the only Welsh one in her book sold her a fish. No one with any dignity would call back.
So guess who was on the phone attempting to speak Welsh in (though for reasons I can't fathom, sounding very Scottish) on their mobile? No, no, not me! Alister-I don't think he quite knew what he was letting himself in for when she asked for the favour, but to reject her after saying you'd do it has resulted in many disputes in her past, and no one doubted intra-house relations would be different. Except there may be less guns involved.
I must admit, I did have a chuckle to myself as I heard him flustering in Welsh before I came out to check on Zip.
Alister's POV
"This isn't working, Lara," I mutter angrily as I've been put on hold for the sixth time!
"Maybe your accent's wrong and they can't understand you," she suggests through smirking lips.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I accuse, glaring at her. "I've finally got a PhD, something I can be proud of, and now you're just finding ways to make me feel like a prat! This is a conspiracy between you and Zip, isn't it?" I cry, pointing my finger accusingly. And I notice she hasn't stood up the entire time-laughing too much I suppose, I wouldn't know. I haven't been looking at her…I get really uncomfortable when someone looks at me when I'm on the phone, especially when it's a different bloody language!
Why does no-one in Wales speak English?!
"Oh, come off it, you sound as ridiculous as Zip!" she laughs.
"No, I do not…Zip probably doesn't know what conspiracy means," I mumble, to which she agrees, laughing again.
"Oh, yes, hello? Is-I mean-ydy rhywun 'na?" (1) Thank God for my Welsh relatives-well, they're not strictly Welsh, but they lived in Wales for all their married life and if you wanted to talk to them, you had to speak Welsh as well. I'm not fluent, but I know enough to tell the difference between a firework and a goldfish!
"Da ddiwrnod, syr, fel chyfnerthwn 'ch?" (2)
"Do, Carwn at chyfloga n' 'firework' arlunydd, blesio." (3)
"Carech at chyfloga 'fireworks', syr?" (4)
"Na, 'n broffesiynol 'firework' arlunydd," (5) I correct, sighing. None of them understand what I want!
"Fi m 'n chwith, syr, gwisga t ddeal."(6)
"Areithi Saesneg?" (7) I try in a desperate attempt.
"Yes," the woman answers in a strong Welsh accent. As she says this, I look over at Lara questioningly. Well she doesn't seem to be laughing at some very funny practical joke of hers by making me speak Welsh…
"One moment, please," I mutter into the receiver, and then lower it from my ear, cupping the mouth piece. "Lara?" She looks up, looking perfectly ignorant to my next question. "Did you ever actually ask them if they spoke English?"
Her eyes widen at my words. "Ask them if they spoke English?" she scoffs. I look at her sceptically and her face reddens as an embarrassed smile lights it up. She clears her throat. "No, I never actually got round to that bit."
"So you mean to tell me you ordered a goldfish, then recruited me to have a very awkward conversation in Welsh…because you never thought to ask if they spoke English?" This is something Zip would do!
"Well, if it helps, you sounded very fluent," she adds, smiling hopefully at me. I raise my eyebrows and press the receiver to my ear again. I was wrong before-not Zip…not Zip, just Lara, complicating things. There'd be no challenge otherwise.
Lara's POV
Do you know, I always had myself down as one for having common sense. You know, knowing to say 'no' to drugs and underage sex and…just about everything, according to my father's rules.
But what I did earlier…God, that was something Zip would have done! He's the sort to jump in and order a goldfish as long as the conversation was in Welsh rather than simply asking if someone spoke English! Had it been any other language, it would have been no problem! French, Spanish, Japanese…so after all that, it seems a bit unfair I should struggle with what is supposedly a dead language. Mind you, it didn't stop me with Latin and God-knows how many other ancient languages.
I suppose it just never occurred to me to ask. When my father had me tutored in all of these different languages, you would have sounded more stupid asking if they spoke English than if you'd just started saying some rather ridiculous things in the native language. Actually, in most countries, it would have been considered rude to ask if they spoke English.
Nowadays, though, it's a second language to them. I've seen plenty of Europeans babble away in their first language to one another, their phone rings and then they start talking in English, just like that. It just never occurred to me, is all.
But anyway, thanks to Alister's common sense, we finally got the professional. For once, Zip actually took it in good spirits. He usually goes off in a little huff, muttering about how we don't trust him and think him incompetent. But apparently I've made up for it this year by getting him Rex. I didn't have the heart to tell him Rex was an accident. I can just imagine the argument that would ensue;
"Right, so you mean to tell me that Rex, my little buddy who I love, was an accident?!"
"You've had him for five minutes, Zip!"
"That doesn't mean he hasn't got feelings! I mean, for the love of God, at least wait until he's old enough to understand!"
By which point I would probably hit him over the head with his favourite firework, setting off yet more 'moral debates'. Believe me, it just wasn't worth it.
No, maybe I'm being unfair. Then again…it seems, with the really big things, that actually matter-like when your best friend gets rushed to hospital for almost drowning-he can take it in his stride. He can act mature, give you a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold. You couldn't ask for a more devoted friend then. But with the small things-like Rex being an accident-he would just blow it out of proportion. I don't know if he does it deliberately in a feeble attempt to amuse us or himself or if he really doesn't know that he's being ridiculous. I gave up on him a long time ago (or at least I told myself that) but there are still times he amazes me so much I just have to snap out of my indifference and contradict him. It's not only me, though-Winston despairs of him sometimes, as well, only he's much more disciplined in simply letting Zip get on with it. I guess being in the services for nearly two generations of the Croft family teaches you those little things. Especially with my father around…after mother…
I've sought refuge on the balcony this evening. Zip gets out of control and over-excited with a professional around at the best of times. One who speaks very little English and with the strongest Welsh accent I've heard is just plain suicide to remain in the garden. And coming from me, that is very rich!
Besides, I'll probably get a better view up here. All I've ever been able to see when I've been in the garden was a few showers of sparks, too high up to really appreciate it.
"Mind if I join you?" a voice asks from behind me. I don't even need to turn to know it's Alister.
"Be my guest," I reply, turning around to smile at him. I quickly shift back, though-there are some smirks you just can't suppress.
In that small glimpse I had of him before turning back to face where the fireworks would at any moment be, I saw that not only did he have on the sort of coat that only a polar expedition could justify, but also wearing a big woolly hat, what look like Winston's leather gloves and a rather dashing scarf. He is going to boil in that! It's a surprisingly warm November, with a temperature of maybe 20 degrees?
I swear he goes as overboard about winter clothing as Zip does with fireworks!
"What's with all the layers, Alister?" I ask innocently as he stops to stand beside me. "You look like a trifle."
"Well excuse me for dressing sensibly!" he retorts, shivering. How can he be shivering?! "I have a little more sense than you, Lara. As I recall, you once went to the Tibetan Himalayas wearing only a bomber jacket to keep you warm!" I smile at the memory. It was rather cold, I must admit. I certainly didn't make the same mistake when I went to Nepal! But in my defence, I was in a race against Italian mafia so didn't really have time to pop home for a quick trouser change. I had to make do.
"One of the drawbacks of adventuring," I admit. "You never can know when you're going to be forced from an Offshore Rig in the Persian Gulf to Tibet. It doesn't really leave you much time to pack a spare pair of trousers."
"I still think you're mad."
"Well I think you're petty."
"What, for pointing out the truth?" he protests, accompanying it with a dramatic gesture. I sigh. This is such a stupid argument!
"Why are you here, Alister?" I ask quietly. He shrugs.
"To keep you company, I suppose."
"Yeah?" He shrugs again. Still as loquacious in front of women as ever.
"Why not?" he mumbles somewhat uncomfortably, looking away from me shiftily. "Anyway, it's either you or hearing Zip raving on about how he'd 'like to help' the nice firework man."
"Oh my God, he isn't, is he?" I gasp, laughing at the memory of last year. I shouldn't really…but the idea of it is quite funny. "I knew I should have got a leash for him."
"Wouldn't have worked," Alister mutters. "He'd have probably got the fish to gnaw at it for him." I snort at this. "I'm surprised he hasn't got it down there with him to enjoy it as well."
"No," I contradict. "He has enough of a brain to know Rex would struggle to breathe outside the bowl and enough fondness of him to miss him if a firework was misaimed." I sigh deeply. It's been one hell of a year! And it's still not over…I know only two months is left but a lot can go wrong in two months-for God's sake, a lot went wrong in two hours once!
I look over at Alister, a pang punching at my heart as I take him in. He's still got those orange glasses. Do you know, I don't think I've seen him take them off once! At least…apart from when he's in bed, of course. But even when he comes down to breakfast, he always has them on! I actually tried them on once, and know they're not just oddly shaded spectacles-they're just for pleasure. Whatever floats your boat, I suppose.
I…I still miss him sometimes. I know, I know, it was my own stupid fault for having no control of my bloody emotions but I miss him! He was really good for me…he cared. He…I…I don't know what I'm saying. I don't think I've ever felt this way before. I think of him, and I start to smile…but then it fades as I realise he's not there for me anymore. At least not in such a way I would have a boyfriend shoulder to cry on. It was nice, having that. I think, for the first time in my life, I actually felt…I felt real guilt. It's a strange thing to want to feel, but there have been times when I've thought I must be completely heartless and soulless. It was almost a reality check to know I could actually feel anything except anger, resentment and determination to achieve the impossible.
I felt affection, I felt connected to him…there's only been one other man I've felt that for, hasn't there? It's just so-unfair-that they had to clash with each other.
I've never been much of a believer of fate or God, but I do sometimes get the feeling that something up there is having a right laugh and a lot of fun putting me in all these predicaments! I always thought people were exaggerating when they said relationships were so hard they would rather…battle a dragon than go through with it, say. But now, give me a trap-filled temple any day.
I feel Alister place his jacket over me, and have only just noticed I'm bloody freezing!
"Thanks, Alister," I smile gratefully, though half-tempted to give it back. I didn't even feel the cold, what do I need it for?
"Can't have you freezing to death, can we?"
"I assure you, I've felt worse."
"Maybe, but we don't want to send you back to hospital with pneumonia because of your being a little stubborn, do we?" Why's he talking like this? I'm not three!
I simply shrug though, my breath steaming in front of me. When did it get so cold?
See, this is exactly what I'm talking about! I didn't feel it! I never feel it…
"Alister?" I begin quietly, timidly. He turns to me, looking expectant, smiling encouragingly. I'm glad someone's feeling confident…I don't know even know what I'm saying-
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
"What for?" he smiles confusedly. Feeling myself start to shiver again-but not through cold-I look up at him, and into his eyes (as best as I can through his glasses anyway), his warm, inviting chocolate brown eyes.
How can he be so…fine around me? After what I did? Do men just not like to linger around that sort of thing? Is Alister unique or does he just…not care anymore? Maybe he's moved on…well, that should make this next bit easier.
After a long pause, I finally take a deep breath and say clearly; "For Kurtis."
Alister's POV
"For Kurtis," she finally whispers. Kurtis…I haven't thought about that prick in a long time. Well, I haven't had reason to, have I? I mean, I thought my girlfriend was pregnant…and then discovered she wasn't. Bitch.
And besides, we've had a lot of work to do! What sort of professional would I be if I dwelt on the past? I'm an archaeologist, it's not my job to dwell on the past...well, not so recent a past anyway. It's stuff like ancient scrolls and artefacts and civilizations and languages possibly related to said ancient scrolls I've had to focus on.
"What about it?" I ask boredly. I must admit, I wish she'd get over it. She's said she's sorry a million times! I've let it go-I let it go ages ago! I had to, what with Marina…and all that work. It doesn't mean I've forgiven her, or would ever consider taking her back! I mean, me and her together, we didn't exactly make sense, did we? From the start I said that.
"I…well, what I did was wrong, it was horrible, you didn't deserve it, I-"
"Lara, for God's sake," I sigh irritably, but she ignores me.
"I can't get it out of my mind sometimes, I lie awake, I-"
"Well, don't," I tell her. "Stop obsessing over it-I have!" No, wait, that was wrong, wasn't it? "Not that I ever obsessed in the first place," I add hastily. "But the point is-get over it. You don't need to keep apologising, I don't want you to keep apologising-"
"But-" she tries to interrupt, raising her fisted hand slightly, as if it will shut me up. This isn't the telly, sweetheart.
"No, no buts!" I tell her fiercely. "Just stop it, Lara, all right, it was four months ago! Count them, four! I don't want to discuss it, I don't want to reminisce, I don't even want to think about it!"
"I'm just trying-"
"Well, don't! If you really want to 'just try', you'd stop mentioning it!" I sigh. She looks a bit hurt at my comments and has turned away from me, looking down at the floor uncomfortably. Oh Jesus. Wrap it up, Dr Fletcher-I love saying that!-or it could get nasty!
"Hey," I say in a more gentle tone, lifting her chin up with my fingers so her amber eyes meet mine. "I know you're just doing what you think is right, but honestly, you've done enough. You've apologised so often it could fill a bible. And I don't want you to be lying awake at night feeling guilty, because I'm not. I've moved on, Lara-I think you should, too. Yeah?" For a long while, she doesn't say anything, but wraps her arms around me.
Down below, I can hear the banter of the displayer setting up; of Winston attempting to distract Zip and vainly succeeding in refraining him from 'helping'; of Zip exclaiming at some of the doubtlessly more impressive rockets. Despite all that, they all seem to be having a great time down there.
And then there's us…Lara and I…me and Lara…it was never going to be quite the same again, was it? Even if we hadn't ended on such horrible terms, once you cross that line from friends to lovers, it is impossible to go back to exactly how it was. I know we can both act nonchalant and cool and casual in front of each other, with each other, but frankly, I think we deserve Oscars for our performances!
I mean, I am over it…I suppose you could say I've gone so far as to forgive her for it, but things will never be the same. We've…we've kissed passionately, we've seen each other naked, we've had sex…you just can't feel the same about someone again after such a relationship. It's not just me, it's…universal. Once you've been in that sort of relationship, it's hard because when all you can ever do is hug and kiss platonically, sometimes, you can't help but think back to when you were able to touch them so much deeper, emotionally and physically.
God, listen to me ramble on! I am so sorry…Jesus, you'd think I still have…feelings for her…
Well…some things are hard to let go of.
"I suppose you're right," Lara whispers from what seems like miles away. Snapping back, my eyes once again focus on hers. I'm right…what am I right about?
"I'm sorry, what?"
"I suppose you're right," she repeats, moving from the hug. "I should move on. I mean, you clearly have." She shrugs her shoulders and wraps her arms around herself, shivering.
"Lara, it's not that cold," I point out, watching her. She only shrugs and untangles herself. Have I really made her so uncomfortable? This will sound unbelievably shallow and vain, but I did not know I had it in me! "But, hey," she begins, catching my eye. "I think it's great you've moved on. I'm happy for you, you really…it's very mature of you."
"Well I am 38," I point out, smiling. She returns it, also laughing weakly.
"Even so," she continues in a bubbly voice. "You're in a great place right now! I'm really happy for you, you deserve it!" Okay…since when was I in such a 'great place'? "She must be due around February, March time," Lara adds. Ju? "When is it?"
"Ju?" I repeat confusedly. Who's 'Ju?'
"Marina," she clarifies, frowning and smiling in confusion at the same time. "The baby, remember?" Oh God…well now I do!
I never told anyone else. I probably wouldn't have told Zip-in fact, I'd definitely not have told Zip!-unless he caught me at a time where I was still really…where it was still fresh in my mind and when I allowed it to bother me. It never occurred to me to tell Lara…
Liar.
Well, all right it did, but honestly, the fuss that would have caused! She'd probably have had Marina assassinated (or done the honours herself!) Not that I wouldn't have enjoyed that, of course…that woman made me so angry, so furious I quite literally wished to see her lying in a ditch bleeding, screaming in pain, all hope lost! And I don't like that, I don't like that all! I don't like that I hated her so much! I don't like that she affected me so badly! You know me, I'm a relatively conventional guy (other than falling for the worst women, of course) but the thoughts and-dare I say-fantasies of that Cockney whore being dead or very badly injured aren't exactly conventional, are they? And I don't like that she tipped me over the edge!
Now it was a few months ago, and I can examine it more clearly, I've worked out that it wasn't just Marina's…prank, for lack of a better word, getting to me, it was everything. You must remember this was only a couple of weeks after I split with Lara…you remember, because she cheated! Which, ironically, was cause for what Marina did to me in the first place! I've no-one but myself to blame. That's what my mother would have said;
'If you've got an 'angover, it ain't no-one's fault but yours, Alister, cos no-one forced them drinks down your throat t'night before, did they?' That was her metaphor for everything, which is a bit strange, as she wasn't really an alcoholic. She enjoyed the occasional drink (which is a very generous euphemism, trust me) but if I'm being brutally honest, drug abuse was her downfall…
"Uh, no, it's not March," I tell her, realising that nothing has been said for several minutes. "It's not at all."
"How do you mean?" Oh, Jesus, use your head, woman! You're supposed to be smart! "She didn't miscarry, did she?" she gasps. Miscarriage…why didn't I think of that? That's what I should have told Zip.
There was a reason I didn't want everyone knowing-first of all, there would been plots to punish Marina so ridiculous, terrorists wouldn't try them! Second, their overbearing sympathy, I think, may have just tipped me from my teetering position on the edge of the cliff, and when I finally landed, I would have ended up on the psychiatric ward! People are different, some relish the attention; some appreciate it but are indifferent either way; and then are those like me, who just wish the sympathy-givers would piss off and leave you to get on with it! If I need a shoulder to cry on, then please, be there, but otherwise, leave me alone.
I'm not going to lie to her-there's no point. It's not like I'm likely to see Marina again, is it?
"No, she didn't miscarry," I admit. "It's a bit hard to do when you were never pregnant in the first place." I kick the railing as I say this, and lean against it, back facing the garden. A bit of a risky hazard with Zip and fireworks outside, but never mind-hey, if I get hit and hospitalised, I might end up on Intensive Care where my lovely ex works! Oh no, she's in Surgery now, isn't she? Oh well, easy come, easy go. Of course if I actually was hit, chances are I'd need surgery so I'm sure an encounter would be inevitable, just to really brighten my day, you know?
"She knew, didn't she?" Lara's voice brings me back into real life. Mind you, with my thoughts lately, I'm not sure which is worse! "She knew about us, didn't she? She knew that you cheated, and then made up some cock-and-bull story to scare you for revenge." Wow…if that wasn't the truth, I'd say she was writing a plot line for Eastenders!
"Oh, there's more!" I announce half-jokingly. I turn to face her properly, taking my weight off the railing. She looks up at me interestedly as I continue; "You see, scaring me into thinking I would be a father wasn't enough for our Cockney friend. Oh no, she went one step further, didn't she?"
"Do tell, I'm intrigued," she prompts me.
"Well, it went like this. After hinting I should propose-she claimed she believed in old-fashioned, traditional family values-i.e. the kid couldn't be illegitimate-and muggins me actually gets a ring, goes back to the hospital and proposes!" As I tell my tale, she looks intrigued; scoffs; nods in understanding; smiles slightly and drops her mouth in utter surprise. Weren't expecting that, were you? I guess I'm not like the type of person to just spontaneously propose to my girlfriend of about six weeks! "Oh, and after loudly rejecting me in front of the entire intensive care staff-not to mention half the hospital-she screams at me about my infidelity and throws the ring box back in my face…it never occurred to the thieving little cunt to return the ring." Her eyebrows raise at the use of the word 'cunt' but doesn't comment. I think you'd get a little verbally violent after that, too, wouldn't you, Lara?
It's true she kept the ring, though; she told me-leaning down over me because I'd stooped-no shame, you see-to retrieve the ring box at this point-that it was the least I owed her, after what I did. Well, what about what she did to me?! Where's my compensation? Where's the 'least she owes me'?!
"Oh, Alister, I am so, so sorry!" she gushes, stretching a hand to stroke my shoulder and the other over her heart, like I knew she would. "When was all this?"
I shrug. "Months ago-back in July," I guess. Well it could have been. I don't like to keep an exact tag on when my heart gets stomped on for the second time in a month, oddly enough! "It's no big-" I try to begin, but don't have the chance to finish my sentence as she forcefully places her lips on mine in a sealing kiss.
Stunned, I make no reaction…and then she pulls away, sighing. She looks…relieved, like she's wanted to do that for a while.
"What was-?" I ask incredulously, a bit shaken and-honestly-flattered.
"I don't know-I just thought it was a good idea," she replies shiftily. She shakes her head, clenching her eyes shut. "No, I don't mean that-it just seemed…right. No, I don't mean that, either, I-"
"Lara," I interrupt, smirking, "you're babbling." She laughs, shrugging. Well if she thinks it's no big deal.
Before giving her a chance to say anything-or myself a chance to think about what I'm doing-I lean down and place my lips on hers once more, instantly gaining a response from her. God, this feels good…
Ignoring my arousal, I add pressure to the kiss, sandwiching our lips together. She gently glides her tongue across my lower lip and attempts to push it between them. Well why not?
I part my lips slightly and she darts in, exploring me. My hands move from her hips slowly up, gliding up her arms, rest on her shoulders briefly. I cup her cheeks, and add more pressure, and finally raise my hands into her hair, running them through it. It's so soft and silky…I've missed this hair…I've missed her…her lips, gazing into her eyes…
I slowly pull away from her, and make eye contact with her. Even with my glasses on, they're such a stunning sparkling brown, amber almost. I could look at those eyes for a long time and not get bored. There's so much mystery in them, so much beauty…so much to be solved.
"Just like old pros," she mutters quietly, somewhat coyly. I nod in agreement. Yes…just like old pros. You know, sometimes I'm not sure which is better…kissing someone for the first time, or…well, a kiss like that. After you've had a relationship with that person, to then kiss again like that…only this time, you know each other, what the other likes, what to do and how long for. Kissing someone for the first time, there's the build-up of adrenaline, which can be really off-putting. But this…this was just so relaxed, so comfortable, so right…
I lower my hands, so they're on her face again-her own are still around my waist. "Lara?" I whisper.
"Yes?"
"I-" This is difficult. I'm not even sure what I'm trying to say! "Will-I-"
BANG!
Jumping a mile in the air, I pull Lara into a protective embrace. Was that a gun?! How the hell did they get in?! I just remember the last mercenary shoot-out!
I look down at the figure in my arms, to check she's all right, and I feel her shaking…and she's laughing!
A bright flash of colour blasts to my right, and I see-out of the corner of my eye-hundreds of purple sparks…I turn to gaze beyond the balcony railing, and see the dying ends of what must have been a spectacular firework…you stupid, bloody prat, Alister!
"You should have seen your face!" Lara gasps between laughs. Seeing my upset face, she takes me in her arms, and says; "You big plonker, you!" I look into her smiling face, and out of nowhere, this huge urge to laughs envelops me. What a stupid bugger I am! "But you're an adorable plonker," she adds kindly. I smile at her, and-like in all the great, soppy romance movies-place an arm around her shoulders, and just stand, watching the fireworks.
Loud, excited shrieks from Zip ruin the ambience slightly, but that's the difference between films and real life-films are perfect…meanwhile, real life has a prat at the bottom, taking away the romantic atmosphere!
Wow, that was some display! As much as I love Zip's amateurism, that was so impressive! I swear some of the stuff was projected it was so intricate!
I think everyone thoroughly enjoyed it. And I can't help but feel slightly smug that it was my Welsh that got the man down here! They wouldn't be anywhere without Alister sometimes.
Since the man left, Zip has done nothing but drink beer. I keep shooting him looks, but he just offers me a can! And Lara just says to let him 'get on with it', and that we should be celebrating, and why am I being so cranky? Well I had a smart reply for that-! But then she gave me that look of hers, one that only I recognise…I'm sure you understand what I mean.
I'm not going to get my hopes up, though. Just because we-or at least, I think we are-going to 'sleep' in the same bed again tonight doesn't mean we're getting back together. Or at least, that's what I told Zip, who-after five minutes of jumping and down shouting 'oh my God, dude!' and patting me on the back-just told me to 'lighten up' and 'for the love of God, live! It's a wonder you're not still a virgin!' I try not to take it personally, mainly because he's pissed as a horse addicted to brandy!
Maybe he's right, I should just…'lighten up' and just let it take me for a change, you know, instead of worrying 'is this going somewhere?' or 'what does this mean?' My mother was always telling me the same in my youth, although not about relationships. Jesus Christ, after what my bastard of a dad did, I didn't dare bring up that subject! She would have tried to act understanding and 'listen' but I just know she would have reached for the bottle after…and I didn't want to be responsible for another drinking binge-
Listen to me babble on! I should be relaxing and drinking and-answering the door apparently!
I get up from my comfortable position with Lara on the couch and force my way to the door. Zip was building a fort out of the furniture earlier. There's chairs tipped on their sides in the middle, backed up by the tables with a bunch of bloody boxes to the sides! And even they were reinforced with cushions!
"What's with the fort, Zip?" I ask wearily.
"In case we're attacked by mercenaries," he replies like it's obvious from the fireplace, chugging a beer. Yes, because I'm sure cushions will protect us from their bullets! And let's face it, those chairs are just impregnable!
Sighing, I open the door, and for a moment I don't see anyone.
"Hello?" I call, glancing around, and spot a car. A white car, with a red line between it…a police car. Oh dear Lord…it wasn't because of the Welsh guy was it? I could have sworn there was no border control! Even with all these new Immigration laws, I'm sure I would have known!
The policeman-a tall, stout man in his uniform and luminous yellow jacket, looks up from his radio and approaches, removing his hat.
"Alister Fletcher?"
"Y-Yes?" I reply, stunned. Me? Oh God, it is about that Welsh guy! I'm about to get arrested!
"Are you any relation to Grace Madison?" Grace Madison…? What's-what's she got to do with all this? I slowly nod. "Your contact details were found at the institution," he explains, handing me a card. "Is this relevant to you?" Oh yes…it's relevant.
"I-I know it," I stutter. By now, behind me, everyone else has gathered. I half-expected Zip to remark 'are you getting arrested, dude?' but he is silent. I guess even under alcoholic influence he knows when to be.
"I'm very sorry, Mr Fletcher, but a loss of power and security occurred there tonight…and when it returned, Grace Madison was found dead."
For those of you who-like me-are not Welsh and/or can't speak it, here's some rough-ish translations
(1) 'ydy rhywun 'na?' Is someone there?
(2) 'Da ddiwrnod, syr, fel chyfnerthwn 'ch?' Good day, sir, how can I help you?
(3) 'Do, Carwn at chyfloga n' 'firework' arlunydd, blesio' Yes, I would like to hire a firework displayer, please ('arlunydd' literally translated as 'artist')
(4) 'Carech at chyfloga 'fireworks', syr?' You would like to hire some fireworks, sir?
(5) 'Na, 'n broffesiynol 'firework' arlunydd' No, a professional firework displayer
(6) 'Fi m 'n chwith, syr, gwisga t ddeal' I'm sorry, sir, I don't understand
(7) 'Areithi Saesneg?'
Well I would do the narrator's 'ooh, who's Grace' to try and get you to review, but you'll do that anyway, won't you, my pretties. Yes? Good, good. That's what 13BlacKAnGELs likes to hear. lolx