Pity may represent little more than the impersonal concern which prompts the mailing of a check, but true sympathy is the personal concern which demands the giving of one's soul. - Martin Luther King, Jr.
He feels like crying but the tears won't come. Heather's crying for both of them, holding on as tightly to him as he is to her. She lifts her head to look at him, there are tears pooled under her lower lids that shimmer and her eyes are pools of aquamarine. Tommy thinks to himself that he's never seen anything as beautiful as her in that moment. She's making herself completely vulnerable to him, opening herself up to be hurt if he chooses to reject her by walking out.
Heather leans forward and brushes her lips against his, she doesn't close her eyes and neither does he. She's trying to sense where he's at in the way that he feels about her now as if her past might diminish her in some way to him. She isn't lessened in his eyes in any way because of what she's been through; if anything he marvels at how she's come through the fire and emerged even stronger. He might have the physique to make people think otherwise but she's the tougher of the two of them.
Tommy kisses her back lightly, not wanting to seem forceful in this moment even though he wants to crush her to him, to show how just how desirable and beautiful she is to him. Her sigh speaks volumes and she traces a finger lightly down the side of his face; breaking the kiss as she rests her head against his shoulder and looks up at him.
"You don't have to be a rock for me Tommy, you don't have to pretend to be anything you're not. If you're mad, be mad and let me see it. Smile with me if you feel like it and fall in love me with me if you feel it's right. But don't ever close yourself off from me. You and I, we can be strong together, for each other. We may end up with each other in the long run; I can't promise you anything but this moment. But for now, for me, this seems right. I felt it the first time I laid eyes on you."
"How can you be okay with so much uncertainty?" Tommy asks, feeling an emptiness he can't name.
"How do we really have a choice? We have so little control over life in the big scheme of things. We can plan all we want to but something is always around the corner that can come stomping down like a boot on an anthill. What good does it do to worry about the future or rail against the past? Trying to fight things beyond our control is pointless, we're only wasting precious time that could be spent enjoying what's right in our lives at that moment."
The minutes tick by in silence but neither Tommy nor Heather make any motion to move. He moves his hand to her neck and feels the her pulse surging underneath his fingers. Again, the balance between brutality and fragility strikes him. The hands that he's used all his life to fight viciously aren't so calloused that they can't detect something as precious as the beating of her heart. And what a heart it is.
"Tommy, don't take this the wrong way, but I want you to come to bed with me. I want to sleep with you. And I mean that literally. I'm exhausted and I know you must be too. Tomorrow, one way or another, we have to make arrangements to bury your friend."
"I don't think you want me in the bed beside you, Heather. I have nightmares and I wake up panicked. You won't get any sleep." Tommy admits all this to her while forcing himself to look in her eyes. She wants the truth and he means to give her every detail.
"Tonight you won't Tommy, because I'll be there. All these things that hide in the back of your mind until you dream, they won't come tonight because they'll have to fight us both. Come to bed with me. We'll change the sheets together and we'll get some rest."
Tommy doesn't argue, he grabs onto her hand as she stands and follows her into the bedroom. He feels ashamed as the smell hits him, the remnants of his wild night of drinking and the resulting sickness linger in the air. The sheets are tangled and mussed as if he rolled continuously while sleeping. Heather opens the sliding door to her closet and pulls out a light violet colored set of sheets. Together they strip the bed and replace the dirty linens with clean ones.
It's such a normal thing for a man his age to be doing but it feels bizarre. He's never laid in bed next to a woman in his adult life. All his drunken fumbles with anonymous women had been in hotels and the back seats of cars; he'd never lain all night next to someone and woken up with her the next morning. Shame and regret had always had him fleeing as soon as the act was done.
Fluffing the pillows and placing them against the headboard, Heather turns to him and starts to remove her shirt. He looks away; the wall, the floor, the ceiling, everywhere but at her.
"Tommy, let's just get this over now. I've picked the scab by telling you my story but I don't want the shock of seeing the proof of it to come later. It's best you see now." Pulling her shirt all the way off and then unhooking her bra, she lets it all fall to the floor. Even in the low light of the bedroom he can see that there are some scars on her sides but nothing like she seemed to be preparing him for. Slowly, she turns her back to him and he can't help the sharp intake of breath.
Her back is a crisscrossed map of what look like whip marks with smatterings of crater-like scars. He can tell that they're old, they're faded to a light pink and shiny.
"Pretty bad, huh? I'm glad they're on my back so that I don't have to see them all the time."
Walking around the bed he feels obligated to get a closer look. Amongst the remnants of abuse there are surgical scars; the precise, straight, and thin lines of them betray their nature. This must have been from where her back had been broken. As if she can read his mind she speaks softly, "They had to put steel rods in there to strengthen my spine. It doesn't bother me much these days but they warn me that as I age it could aggravate me and turn into some pretty painful arthritis. It's hideous to look at but it's a part of me Tommy. I know it's hard to feel anything but pity but please don't feel sorry for me…"
He stops her words by kissing the northern most scar on her back. She shivers as his lips trail down to the next line.
"You're beautiful," Tommy whispers between kisses, "These are a part of you and they're beautiful too." He kisses the next, this time licking it lightly and causing her shivering to increase to a tremble. "They tell your story Heather, don't ever be ashamed of them." He's on his knees now, pulling her shorts and underwear down until they drop to the floor. The scarring here is less severe but still visible and he doesn't skip a single mark. He can feel the goose bumps pop up on her skin as his lips make their way across her skin.
Tommy stands and takes her into his arms pulling her close to him. He doesn't ogle her nudity; he doesn't want to make her feel objectified. He only wants her to feel as beautiful as she is to him. He releases his hold on her and takes a step back. Looking into her eyes and nowhere else he slowly starts to take off his clothing. He stops at his boxer briefs and makes a motion to walk to the other side of the bed but Heather hooks a finger into the waistband of his underwear. When he turns to look at her she shakes her head and motions for him to drop them. He obliges.
"I don't want anything between us tonight."
As they climb into bed together Tommy lays on his back and opens his arms to her. She turns off the bedside lamp, casting the room into darkness and then snuggles her body against him. She throws her left leg and arm over him and snuggles her face into his shoulder and pulls the sheet up to cover them both. He feels the air conditioner kick on; the vent is positioned directly over them in the ceiling and an ice cold cascade pours over them through the thin sheet..
With sleep already evident in her voice she mumbles, "I hope you don't mind it a little chilly. I can't sleep if it's hot and I usually turn the thermostat down to sixty two at night."
Tommy smiles in the darkness at their shared love of an icy cold sleeping environment. He thinks to himself that even if he doesn't get any sleep tonight he's more than content to have the feel of her next to him. His fingers idly trace the scars on her back as he ponders how what she's been through could have broken her. Penny hadn't been through half the things that Heather had but what she'd endured had been enough to ruin her chances at happiness. He's not able to mourn the Penny that he found in the booth at Dale's. That was someone that he never knew. But in his heart, he mourns the girl he used to know, the one who was always there for him when he needed her, the one that he left behind.
If Penny had told him back then what was going on, would he have been able to do anything? Would he have tried to take her with him when he left? He had been in no shape to take care of anyone and it had only gotten worse for him when he'd had to watch his mother die. Who's to say what would have happened if she'd only opened her mouth and told someone before things got worse?
Tommy doesn't feel sleep creeping in like he normally does; he doesn't have a chance to fight it as it comes and takes him. The steady sound of Heather's breathing lulls him into slumber. He doesn't dream, he doesn't wake up screaming in the middle of the night and he doesn't move once. He keeps his arms around Heather and together they keep all his monsters at bay for a solid nine hours.
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Something warm, soft and smelling of strawberry shampoo is pressed against Tommy as he comes slowly into consciousness. He thinks he must be dreaming; finally a good dream instead of the nightmares. He feels something silky move against him and other parts of his body start to awaken with a vengeance; he's suddenly very aware that this isn't a dream. He hasn't been this hard since he was a horny teenager waking up in the morning. Soft kisses pepper his neck and face, leaving his skin tingling. He lets out a low growl and slowly opens his eyes. Heather is above him, straddling his belly. Her hair falls in a messy cascade around her shoulders as she leans in to kiss his mouth. Her breasts graze the skin on his chest and he can feel her nipples harden. He moves his hand to the back of her neck and pulls her into his kiss. He's not holding back this morning; he opens his lips and caresses her tongue with his own before moving his mouth down to her neck. She moans as he sucks on the sensitive skin there, the sound echoes through the bedroom.
He sits up using the muscles in his abdomen only and rolls her over onto her back. He uses one hand to hold both of hers above her head on the pillow and the other to trace the outline of her body. He slowly teases her right nipple with his tongue while using his free hand to trace lazily around the other. Heather arches her back and pushes into the sensation, urging him to go harder, faster. Tracing his fingers lower he finds the curve of her hip, the soft skin like satin against his fingers. He moves inward and finds the softest, most secret part of her. She sighs loudly and opens herself up to his touch.
He's never had a chance to actually explore or see a woman like this. He kisses a slow trail down her stomach and comes face to face with something that's been a mystery all these years. Suddenly he's more than just intimidated, he's scared. It's never mattered to him before whether he's doing something right or horribly wrong. He's never cared enough to worry whether he's giving someone pleasure or not. Tommy gently opens her with his fingers and does his best not to seem as inexperienced as he really is at this.
Running his tongue along the lines of her, he listens to the sounds that she's making, remembering what he's doing when he gets the most favorable sounding ones. He uses his lips and tongue to play her like an instrument, drawing a symphony of sighs and moans from her. He looks up at her and sees that she's propped up on her elbows watching him; her eyelids are heavy, her mouth is slightly open and shaped into a soft O. Watching her watching him as he tastes her is erotic beyond belief and he growls fiercly. Finding her center he pulls it into his mouth and uses his tongue to lash it and make circles all over it. Heather throws her head back, her breathing speeds up and she drops hard onto the bed. Her hands make their way to his head and her fingers grasp at his hair, pulling him into her. He knows she's close to a release and he increases the speed and pressure of his tongue. He loves the taste of her, the smell of her. He's not even thinking about his own growing needs; all he cares about is giving this beautiful creature pleasure.
Heather calls out his name and her hips jerk beneath him. He feels the nub in his mouth spasm in time with her body movements. He feels like he should stand up and beat on his chest like a goddamned ape; he's that proud of himself. Sitting up on his knee's he looks down at the fragile figure in front of him. Her limbs are askew, her hair is a mess and her face is flushed. She's fucking stunning…
Heather draws her knees up, opening herself up to him even further and pulls him down on top of her. "Tommy, I want you so bad, sooo bad… but let's be smart about this." She reaches into the bedside table and pulls out a foil packet. Opening it with her teeth she reaches between them and rolls the condom down his length. She looks up at him expectantly but he can't be sure what she's thinking.
Tommy hesitates for a second but she looks so sure of him, of this, that he can't refuse her. Lowering himself down gently he positions himself at her entrance. She moves his hand and takes him with her own, pulling him closer, urging him in. She envelopes him like a silk glove; the feel of her so amazing that it almost hurts. He can feel her stretch to accommodate him and the sound she makes once he's fully inside of her is music. He has to stop for a second to gather himself; he doesn't want this to end too quickly.
Tommy slowly pulls himself out, concentrating on the feel of her as he withdraws and then plunges in again. He keeps his pace slow, watching every movement she makes. She lifts her hips to meet his with every thrust, she keeps her eyes are closed and there's a crooked smirk on her lips. Her hands clutch at his arms and he can't help but to flex his biceps as she grabs at them. Speeding up slightly, he hears her breathing keeping pace with his. He's getting close to his own release but he wants to make sure she comes again. Sitting up on his knees and grasping the her legs, he finds he can thrust further inside of her positioned this way. He watches her face as he moves faster; she's grasping the headboard, her knuckles white with effort.
"Oh god… Tommy…" she gasps as she opens her eyes and looks up at him. Hearing her say his name and then look at him that way is too much and he comes undone, the intensity of his orgasm is blinding, the roar of his blood pressure in his ears deafening. He can feel her insides grasping at him prolonging the intense feeling of his release. He lays gently on top of her, thrusting one last time and sending her over the edge again. Heather claws at his back, trembling so hard that he's afraid she's in pain. He tries to sit up but she pulls him back, refusing to let go.
Moments pass, then from underneath him he hears her giggle and say, "Jesus Tommy, if I had known that you could do that thing you did with your tongue we wouldn't have gotten ANY sleep last night!"
Rolling over onto his side he faces her and smiles. Unused muscles in his face ache from the sheer width of it but Tommy doesn't care. He hasn't felt this good in a long time and if he can't share it with Heather, then who can he share it with.
"You've got the worst case of sex hair ever, Conlon," Heather says smiling and ruffling her fingers into his hair.
"I'd be careful slinging that shit at me, looks like a wolverine's been nesting in that mane of yours."
"Well I've been properly boinked if I'm looking that rough so I ain't gonna complain." Sitting up on the side of the bed she has her back to him. In the sunlight he can see better just how defined the scars are. Surprisingly he doesn't feel angry or upset, he accepts them. Looking at the clock on her bedside table he sees that it's almost eleven.
"Shit, I gotta call Colt…"
"Brendan took care of all that for you Tommy, he arranged for you to have the week off. Your boss totally understands…"
The realization of what he has to do today comes down on him hard and he feels the all too familiar flare of anger. He's going to have to talk to fuckin' Jeff Clarke again and it's the last thing he wants to do. Choking the ire back he rubs his face and flops back onto the pillow. He catches a whiff of sweat and lowers his arms to his sides.
"You want pancakes?" Heather asks as she stands and stretches.
"I could eat," Tommy mutters as his eyes trace the outline of her curves.
"Well, if you want this chick to cook for you, you'd better come earn it in the shower. Besides, you stink…" Heather looks back at him haughtily and pinches her nose between her fingers.
Leaping off the bed Tommy chases her into the bathroom as she squeals and laughs, forgetting, if only for a little while, about the task that lay before him.