Under the Grey II
Spoilers: Anything before Beautiful Little Fool.
Disclaimer: Obviously not.
All day he'd been absent minded. In a meeting, his paralegal had asked him the same question four times before he could formulate the answer everyone had wanted to hear. He knew it wasn't just the lack of sleep, it was his continuous ruminations of her. He'd thought about her in the few years since his departure, wondering how she was, who she was with, if she'd managed to find anyone that made her stop looking so hard for answers for the dead. Selfishly, he hoped she was still the same, still pristine and alone.
He'd managed to move away without looking back, managed to tell her he didn't regret it in their last conversation. Truth was, he didn't regret the relationship. He regretted sitting across from her and looking into tear-darkening eyes and finalising things between them. He'd felt bitter then, the events of the night before still heavy in his mind. She'd given him up over a random who left his wife and family to show up at her door at one in the morning. Her eyes were grey when he sat down and looked at her, absorbed her apology; blue with unshed tears when he left her sitting at the table. He'd held her pale, cold fingertips and, avoiding her eyes so he didn't fall into the crystalline depths of them, told her he didn't want to live like that. He didn't want to have the small part of her that wasn't married to the job then; hadn't known he'd miss so much the part he was giving up.
Tripping up the stairs after a day that had started to early and ended too late even reminded him of her; the way she'd leave in the morning before him, the way he'd practically have to steal her away at night. He fumbled the key in the lock, wondering what she was doing, if she was still out somewhere in the dark.
He paused as he came through the door. Surely she hadn't hijacked his reality as well as his dreaming world; he was sure he could hear her voice. It sounded slightly blurred, as if she'd consumed too much alcohol.
Kite crossed over to his answering machine and listened. It was the first time he'd heard her talk since he left, other than several frantic calls he'd made to her after news of her showdown with George Marks. A few sleepless nights had passed; which was when his memories of Lil had started to settle and sear in his mind, until she left a short message on his answering machine that she was fine, and she appreciated his concern. She'd been polite and distant; back to grey with him. He'd kept the message, regardless, and replayed it whenever he felt like hearing her voice.
Tonight's message was different; even with the alcohol impeding her tone, he could hear the helplessness in it, the lack of control.
There was a sharp intake of breath, and the sudden dial tone telling him that she'd hung up. Kite swore, dialled her number as fast as she could. It rang out to her voice mail so he dialled again. The third time he called back, her service operator gave him the computer-generated message that the person he was trying to call was unavailable. Kite swore again, threw the phone down, ran a hand through his hair. She'd called him, on the very day when he could think of nothing else. She'd been vulnerable, on the edge of tears, pledging change. If this was fate, it was dealing a cruel hand. Three aces and a lonely two of hearts.
He pressed the button on his answering machine and it purred to life, the start of her message that he'd missed coming out of small speakers.
"Kite. Lilly Rush." As if he'd forget who she was. "Well, you're working late, I bet. Look, I wanna say something, and… I know the ship has sailed with us, so that's not why I'm calling. I, uh… I'm just going to say it. Look, I know it's on me how we ended things." He wasn't sure whose version of events she was running on. It had been the middle-of-the-night guy that had disturbed him, but he could… should have accepted her apology. "I got flipped out. I just… I just want to not end up like my Mom, you know." Until now, she hadn't breathed a word about her mother other than telling him she wasn't into family Christmases. He'd been making plans, back then, to invite her to his parents house, show her off to them. "But I don't want to end up like this, either. So I'm done." For a moment, his stomach sank down to rest with his toes. He entertained images from the case he'd overseen for an ADA today; a woman suicided in her office, one of few witnesses in a rape case from her childhood years ago. "I'm done with having to walk home alone." His stomach realigned in the correct part of his body, and he breathed a little easier. "She can do it, but I can't. I can change-." It was at that point he'd broken into her self-deprecating soliloquy and prompted her to, probably, flip out again. At the very least to flip her phone closed and firmly shut him out. Kite sat down in the chair at his desk, rubbed his eyes, stretched out so he was sitting back. He was suddenly so weary, so sick of it all. He'd taken this job with hopes of furthering his career; but to what end? At least Lilly was helping people. She was finally giving people a little bit of closure. All Kite was doing these days, it seemed, was chase his own tail. Sure, he got the bad ones put away but only until they won an appeal, which was eventual. The only reason district attorneys seemed to exist these days was so that mayors and other politically ambitious individuals could figurehead him as a damper on the ever growing crime statistics. And he hated to admit it, but he'd grown tired of victims. Of their endless questions, their quietly hopeful eyes, their clinging hands. These days, he didn't want to go to work, but there was no fun staying at home in an empty apartment.
Kite dialled Lilly's home number, knowing she wouldn't be there yet, ready to leave his own answering machine message. Her voice on the recording was brighter, less hazy than the one she'd left him. He waited until the beep, imagining her cats in the dark apartment. Even with one eye, Olivia had always managed to make it look evil. His presence in the house usually meant the cats were relegated to the lounge room.
"Lilly, it's Kite. Give me a call when you get this. I'm…" He didn't want to say concerned, didn't want to act like a father figure towards her. He knew she'd find it patronising, and even harder to call him back. He knew he'd witnessed a tiny chink in her armour, a slip of the control she clung to so fiercely. Knew her pride would reappear, keep her from calling if she thought there was any pity in his tone.
"I'm here on my own, too. I'll be up most of tonight… 'Night." He slowly put the receiver down, resisting the urge to try and call her back again, try and get her on the phone while she was still feeling vulnerable so he could convince her he would be happy to be with her, even if she didn't want to change once there was no alcohol in her system.
Kite turned up the ring on his phone and carried it with him while he reheated some old pizza and washed up. He made his shower quick, and cleaned his teeth with the intention of spitting at any minute if the phone was to ring. It remained painfully mute and, as he crawled into bed and switched the light out, the silent phone beside him, he closed his eyes to imagine her. Blonde, grey and so sadly fallen from the fuchsia he liked to remember.
So this is still Kite. Some people have told me they'd like a Lilly perspective and I think I'll put that next chapter. I've only recently watched Beautiful Little Fool, and I wanted to tie this fic in to that timeline, and to use the drunk dial constructively! Obviously Joseph has never happened, and there may be liberties taken later with an alternative story line. Let me know what you think!