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(lead me from)
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Eric didn't like the interview. He had wanted me to disappear for a couple of weeks, not be on repeat broadcast for the whole of bloody England to hear. He wanted me to keep writing if I insisted, but only if I kept the discussion on the parties under the grey twilight of vague generalities rather than dropping names like uncovered mines every other sentence. He wanted me to be safe.
It was very touching, after the yelling session that never went above a strained voice. I tried to explain, without much hope; to his credit, Eric tried to understand, without any more hope than me. In the end, he sent Dominic to see me out. A truce.
"Only the suppressed word is dangerous," I told Dominic at the door. He didn't appreciate the sentiment any more than his partner did.
"But of all times, Evey," he sighed instead, and pulled me out on the street with him. He took me by the hand and we plunged against the current of the lunchtime crowd like two lovers against the world. An alley a couple of blocks away offered relative seclusion: we turned in.
"I understand what you want to do," Dominic started immediately. "But for god's sake, just for the next five weeks—can't you just tone it down a little? You're this close to the edge, Evey, this close. There's no point winning the goddamn battle but losing the—"
He went on for a bit. I watched London pass by the alley's entrance over his shoulder, all dark suits and respectable hats. A couple with linked hands weaved through, both equally in love, as couples should be. I fancied their trailing merged shadows made for a stylized tree.
"—and you know- Evey, are you even listening to me?"
"You know I'm not," I said calmly. Dominic's eyes were dark and wild; I could almost see myself in them. I tried again, reason in my tone, "Someone has to say something, Dominic, and I am not so irreplaceable…"
"You are to me," he said brusquely. For a moment, I was afraid he was going to say something I couldn't answer yet.
"Do you believe in ghosts, Dominic?" I said hastily. "I think I'm starting to."
Dominic stared at me. "I think you need to sleep more," he said. I offered a weak smile, and my fingers found his. A moment's resistance - and then he relented and leant his forehead against mine, so close that our breaths merged and we made our own confessional of darkness between us. He was so tense. Something hollow ached in my chest, and I moved closer —
"You don't even believe in England that much," he muttered. Shock stole my words: part guilt, part anger. Dominic wouldn't meet my eyes.
"I'll take you home," he said. Home, I thought, where the heart is. He didn't know the way. I followed anyway.
Only the suppressed word is dangerous. - Ludwig Börne
A/N: Am going to work on 'loosely connected' and shorter lengths more. Hopefully. Just thought to warn you. Big thanks for all your feedback :D