Disclaimer: I don't own anything here (except for Al) and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.
Tim stood at the front door, preparing to open it and see what sort of destruction his stupidity had create this time. It was late evening, but he could see lights on in the house, so he knew Al was still awake. He took a deep breath and opened the door, staggering backwards when Bruno charged out, Helicopter Tail going like crazy.
Tim called Al's name, but there was no response. From the loud German pop music coming from the back of the house, Tim guessed she was painting in her office. Bruno and George bounded into the house, where they wrestled and chased around the coffee table until Tim ushered them out to the backyard.
The hours in the car had given him time to think, maybe too much time. All he could do now was hope that she'd give him a chance and listen to him.
He walked back to her office and paused in the hallway, leaning against the wall. Al had the easel set up so her back was to the door. He could see her painting -- a storm rolling in over a stark, grassy plain. He couldn't see her face but knew it was wrinkled in concentration, her eyes focused intently as she tried to recreate the images in her head.
Not wanting to startle her by suddenly announcing his presence, he took out is cell phone and called her. She fumbled around with her paint brush and palette, until she was able to reach in her pocket and pull out her phone. She looked at the display and then answered while leaning over to turn down the volume on the stereo.
"Timmy?"
He kept his voice whisper-quiet. "Al."
"Where are you?"
"Turn around," he said as he disconnected the call and tucked the phone in his pocket.
Al spun around and approached him with such purpose, he thought she might actually deck him. Not that he didn't deserve it, he knew. She pulled up short at the doorway and stared for a long minute, then sighed
"I don't know whether to hit you or hug you," she said, jamming her hands in her pockets, like she didn't trust herself to resist taking a swing at him.
"I think you know my preference on that one." He expected angry words, yelling, mean names. He didn't expect this sort of flat calm and wondered what it meant.
"Actually, I don't. It wouldn't be the first time you went looking for a fight because of your father."
"Please, Al.....I just want to make things right again."
She took a step forward and put her hand on his chest. Tim's heart jumped and for the first time in a week, he could breath again. He looked down at her hand, frowning at the cuts on her knuckles and the yellow-green bruises.
Tim gently took her hand, holding it in both of his.
"That looks painful."
She shrugged. "I'll live."
"Billy told me what happened."
Al took a step back. "Come on into my office. We've got a lot to talk about."
She turned and pulled him into the room, then let go of his hand. Tim sat down at one end of the couch and she sat on the other, facing toward him but pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs. Like she was bracing for some sort of impact. The middle of the couch stretched between them.
"Tim, I'm sorry. I know Billy told you what happened and maybe what you told him was right. Maybe I should have talked to you first. But I was just trying to protect you." Her husky voice wavered as she spoke quickly, like she wanted to get all of the words out before he walked away again.
"I know you were."
More silence followed. She wasn't one for pouring words into the empty space between them. He always appreciated her patience, the way she'd wait until he was ready to talk.
Tim leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands in front of him. He looked back at Al and took a deep breath.
"I know I hurt you....I just..... hope you can give me a chance to explain." His voice cracked and he sat up, leaning into the corner of the couch so he could face her, his arm stretched out along the back of the couch.
Al nodded.
"If I could change anything, it would be the night of Mindy's party. After my dad showed up here. Maybe everything would have been different if I'd just talked to you then." Tim looked down, aware of Al's eyes on him.
"Why didn't you?" she asked quietly. Tim was relieved to have a question to answer.
"I guess I was just scared that if you knew what kind of man he was, you'd think less of me....like I might have a good chance of turning out like him." Tim felt Al move a little closer and put her hand on top of his.
"Timmy, you know I studied genetics in graduate school and I can promise you, no one has proven that being an asshole is a genetically determined characteristic," she said with the faint hint of a smile in her voice.
Tim took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry I stayed gone so long. I'm sorry I didn't call you. Look, I'm not good at talking, not when it's something like this, and the phone was just going to make it worse. But I should have known that you were going to worry."
"That was the worst part of it – not knowing if you were okay. And knowing if you weren't okay, it was because of me."
If there was one thing Tim understood, it was having good intentions and then watching everything go wrong. He shook his head. "It wouldn't have been your fault."
"But keeping my plan from you, maybe I could have handled that better. I was just hoping by secretly dealing with him, I could make it all go away."
"And I thought that by not ever talking about him, I could make it go away. Or at least pretend that he'd gone away."
"So we were both kinda stupid here, then," said Al, picking his hand up and bringing it down to her lap. She looked up at Tim and he could see the way back, but knew there was one more thing he had to talk about.
"Al, I have to tell you one more thing." He looked down, unable to meet her eyes.
"I....well...I kinda sorta a little bit cheated on you, I guess you could say." He felt his cheeks start to burn.
"You want to define 'kinda sorta a little bit' for me, because I'm not sure what that means." Her words were measured, her tone neutral, but Tim could feel the tension building.
"I kissed this girl."
"Just one?"
"Just one."
"And that was all?"
"Yeah."
"Tyra warned me about you. And she spent the last week ranting about rally girls, six packs, and fifths of Jack, but I told her you'd change. That you'd grown up."
Tim kept his head down, not wanting to see the hurt and disappointment he was sure was etched on Al's face. She reached over and put her hand on his cheek, turning his head and making him look at her. It was childish, but his first instinct was to keep his eyes closed so he wouldn't have to look.
What he saw surprised him. No anger, no disappointment. Just an open honesty and heart-felt concern. She was just Al, his Al, the same as she'd always been.
"You have grown up, so much. I know I didn't know you then, but you're not the guy Tyra told me about. You're not."
He tried to look away, but the pressure of her hand was gently insistent.
"It would have been so easy for you not to tell me that. How was I ever going to find out? But you took a risk to do the right thing, which tells me everything I need to know."
"I'm sorry." It was all he could think to say.
"Well, you know, first one's free. Look, Timmy, we can't change what happened, we can only learn and move on from here."
"So...you're not mad at me?"
She considered the question long enough that he started to worry.
"No," she said finally. "I'm not mad at you. I'm still hurt, but mostly I'm just relieved that you're home. Are you mad at me?"
He shook his head. "I was the first night, but it wore off sometime in the last week.....Al, I know I don't say it enough.....I love you."
"I know you do. And I love you too. You have such good heart – it kills me when you can't see it."
Al climbed into Tim's lap, put her arms around him and buried her face in the crook of his neck. Tim held her close and finally understood what people meant when they said that being with someone was like coming home.
The CD on the stereo came to the last song and automatically restarted. It was one of the few German songs Tim could recognize and understand. When he'd first heard it, something about the singer's voice, the emotion in it, was so compelling that he'd asked Al what the song was about. She told him it was sort of about surfing, about waiting your whole life for the perfect wave, nearly giving up on it, and then, when you finally get it, not thinking too much and just going along with it.
Tim turned Al around so she could lean against his chest. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the weight of her pressing into him, the way her hair tickled his neck, the way she twined her fingers into his and pulled his arms more tightly around her.
"So, you're still going to marry me," he said.
"Damn straight I'm still going to marry you. You're stuck with me."
"I think I can live with that." He smiled and shifted her so she was leaning into his arm, then leaned around and kissed her.
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Author's Note: Almost done, just one more chapter to go. I found this one the most difficult to write – it's hard to write Tim talking that much about himself and his feelings. :)