Disclaimer: Yadda, yadda, not mine... yadda, yadda, please don't sue... yadda, yadda, Aaron's the king... yadda, yadda, send me feedback... (hey, t'was worth a shot...)
Summary: They were the only two lunatics to do a lot of things.
Author's Notes: To Lydia, without whom I would have had a total heart attack writing this. Because I love you, babe, and I can't imagine battling my muse (and other inner demons) with you not there to hold me up.
Hang a Shining Star
White Star 2
He looked over the end of the bridge. Black water, white foam. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye.
"Thanks," he finally said out of nowhere. Just like his call had been. "Where are you? I want to see you." She'd thought of letting her cell ring. She'd thought of telling him not to join her. She'd thought of walking the other way, toward his house, getting inside where it was warm.
She put her hand on top of the low wall and walked, letting her hand slide across its outer edge. The white stone was hurting her fingers, snowflakes covering her gloves. The wind beat against her wrist, a tiny patch of exposed skin. They must have been the only two lunatics out in this weather. They were the only two lunatics to do a lot of things.
"My father's staying here tonight," he said to her back. She felt the way he was opening up to her was out of place, she wasn't sure why. She'd missed him, these last few months. At least, that's what she'd been telling herself. "And he's in my apartment. And I couldn't sleep."
He used to call her at three in the morning. "I couldn't sleep and I thought of you."
"Toby," she said softly. Her face was down and it was windy. He didn't hear. He walked around her, feet dragging through the snow. She was starting to lose feeling in her fingers. She didn't care.
He moved closer and closer, she saw his feet right next to hers. After a while she couldn't stand it and looked up. Then his lips were on hers, his tongue in her mouth. She didn't object. He prolonged it, longer than she was comfortable with.
He turned his head away from hers but their bodies were still inches apart. It took him a few seconds, a few short breaths, to shake the shocked expression and turn around. His hand got to the back of his head before hers got to her lips.
It was just silence again after he retreated, and she went back to looking at the water. "Twice tonight," she thought and only when he asked, "what?" she realized she'd said it out loud.
"I got kissed by old flames for no other purpose than to make me remember twice tonight." It had been a better thought when it wasn't words and she searched for a better way to say it. She didn't even come close. And he didn't say a thing.
"Danny's back," she said. Maybe to explain, maybe to spite. Being mean kept her from thinking, at least it was supposed to. Still, she found herself trying to remember if there was ever a time when the words they'd said to one another were innocent, with no subtext.
He rubbed his forehead with the back of a black glove. The sleeve of his trenchcoat covered his eye. "About how things have--"
"No," she cut him off. "I don't want to talk about it."
"CJ," he started.
"Two months ago you didn't want to talk about it. Eight months ago you didn't want to talk about it." She was careful not to raise her voice too much, not to shout. This wasn't a point to be made while shouting. "If you can fall back on 'It's between me and Andi' or 'We both have more important things to worry about' then I get to at least say I just don't want to."
He conceded. She pulled her hat further down to cover her ears. His gloved fingers drummed on the stone, black dancing on white. She remembered his touch, her body yielding under it. Even with everything that had happened since, some days she still longed for it.
His whispered "okay," a little late and a little phased out, made her shudder. She looked at him, felt the chill slip in through four layers of clothes. She decided it was time to go inside.
* * *
As soon as he wasn't cold and she wasn't quite so detached, he started talking again about nothing and everything, and it sounds to her like bait. Most days she could tell how nervous he was by the rate of topics per minute he'd span, but this time she hardly paid attention. She thought of saying she'd like to spend tonight not arguing. She thought of fighting back. Instead she signaled to the waitress and ordered coffee.
She drummed her fingers on the table. "This is why we broke up," on the tip of her tongue. The memory of waking up next to him fresh in her mind. They hadn't had a chat that wasn't about work in a long time. This was why.
Then he stopped cold, in mid-sentence. She wondered if he'd noticed, if she was being too obvious about her discontent. A latte was pushed in front of her by the blonde waitress and a little bit of it spilled onto the saucer.
He'd never been mean about everything that had happened between them. She'd kept expecting throwaway comments from him. Maybe it was just that by the time anyone had known something had happened, Simon was already dead. But he'd never said anything hurtful, and that was what stopped her now from asking how Andi was doing in the most venomous voice she could muster.
"I never meant for it to turn out like this," he said. She sipped her coffee. "I'm just sorry about it."
"It's been nearly a year," she said. Two-thirds, she thought and saw he wanted to say it. "Now is a bit late to be sorry about any of it."
He was silent.
"You can't fix it anymore. Things are how they are." Maybe, she thought, if they could have been that calm back then they might have still been together.
Hidden speakers started playing Christmas carols again. They were silent through Carol of the Bells and Jingle Bells. He broke first.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be," she said, stunned to realize that she meant it. It was too late to change anything, and she might as well accept it. All the bitterness that was left was just because she'd still been missing him all this time.
"It was stupid," he added.
"It was eight months ago." She stirred some sugar into what remained of her coffee. She couldn't stand the bitter taste right now. She took another sip, but the feeling seemed to stay.
And it was silence until she finished her cup of coffee, just Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas in the background. "Next year, all our troubles will be miles away." She set the empty cup down and looked at him.
"Still," he said. "It's standing between us."
She shook her head. "It's not what's standing between us. It's past." She drew in a breath and added, "And neither is Andi. All that's standing between us is us." And saying it felt liberating somehow.
He dug his hand into his coat pocket - she hadn't noticed he was still wearing it - and pulled something out in his palm. "It's past, this is now." He stood up before he let go of what he'd set on the table. "Merry Christmas," he said and opened his hand.
It was the small pink ball he'd spent hours bouncing in his office, hours that she'd had to let Sam work in her office because Toby was thinking. By the time she looked up he was halfway to the door.
She picked up the ball and smiled to herself. Some song she didn't know about the season of friendship in the background, and she clenched her fist around it. And all the rest was past. This was now.