Chapter Text
“Loneliness is like starvation: you don't realize how hungry you are until you begin to eat.”
―
This must be a dream. It couldn’t be anything else.
She tries to look normal as Magnum pours her a champagne glass but she can’t stop looking at him. The words that doctor Ogawa said in that therapy session keep buzzing around her brain, tormenting her. Does she really have feelings for her partner? Like, multiple feelings? More than one? More than mild annoyance at his antics?
He has black shades, covering his eyes, so she can’t truly see him.
“Congratulations Higgy!” he says cheerily, passing her the flute.
She takes it confused.
“Congratulations on what?”
Her mind searches for something, but all she finds are more thoughts about him. Why is he inside her brain so much? She tries to remember something extremely annoying about him, like the time he...disregarded her direct request, -which ended up saving her life.
No, that won’t work. How about the time he pestered her to be his partner for weeks? Well, now that she was, she wouldn’t have it any other way.
She sighs, annoyed with herself and searches again. Oh, yes, the time he wanted them to marry for her green card...to help her stay in the country. He...he did that, was willing to do that for her. And all with a smile on his face, for the entire time. He called her his family.
“On a successful case, of course.” he appears to give her a condescending smile, and she clings to that.
“Of course, which you probably solved with my help and my expertise and my...”
“You know I wouldn’t be able to do this without you.”
She stops, and lifts her gaze to his. He pulls his shades off, his lovely brown eyes staring at her in that way that he usually does. The way he did when he asked her to ‘let him help her’ or to ‘convince her’ that she was out of harm’s way.
That way that made her feel...things. For him.
She did; have feelings for her partner. Intense, confusing, both wonderful and terrifying feelings, that made no sense for her. But they were still there.
She could feel them now, churning in her stomach, making her heart flip in her chest, tugging at her lips to form a small smile.
“I wouldn’t want to, actually.” he continues, sipping a bit from his champagne.
She does the same, enjoying the way the bubbles feel on her tongue.
“Why not?” she hears herself saying.
Why did she ask that? She doesn’t want to know that.
Liar.
He laughs a little and takes a step closer to her, the wind blowing both of their clothes in different directions; her dress looks like it wants to wrap him into her. His white crisp shirt, has an unfolded corner that keeps flapping. She lifts her gaze to his face again.
He is even closer. A couple of breaths away, apart.
“Because you are the reason I...do what I do. Or, at least the main reason.”
She frowns and tries to take a step back. That couldn’t be right.
“The reason that at the end of the day I don’t sink back in the darkness that is my mind, sometimes. The reason for my joy...”
She puts her glass on the table, afraid she’ll drop it if she hears the rest.
“And for the lightness in my life.”
She sighs and tries to bring them back to safer ground.
“Thomas, what are you...”
“I love it when you do that.”
“Do what? Interrupt you?” her tone is clipped.
“When you call me by my name. Say that again.”
She raises her eyebrow but remembers his tone when he met her by the car, that night the MI6 gave her her mission. “We’ll discuss this now.”
She both likes that side of him, and hates herself for liking it so much. So, she complies, saying it slower this time.
“Thomas.”
He smiles and closes his eyes, as if to savor the feeling. She tries very hard not to stare at the way his neck muscles move, while he swallows the rest of the champagne. Rubbing her arms, to keep the biting coldness of the wind, she says:
“It looks like a storm is coming.” Because she doesn’t know what else to say.
“Shall we go downstairs?”
She stumbles a bit over her words, but nods regardless. Where would she go anyway? She was stuck on this yacht, with him. It felt appropriate, she also felt stuck in her feelings for him.
Where would she go with those? Why have them in the first place?
He has a girlfriend, her mind supplies.
Exactly. He already has a partner. She is just...she is...she’s just her. She doesn’t matter in the picture of his life.
And I don’t want to matter anyway.
Liar.
Downstairs is cramped and there is, of course, only one, -very small, bed. She sighs again, trying not to pinch herself.
This dream should be over by now.
Scratching at her brow, she tries changing the subject again:
“How, a how are things with detective Kaleo going?”
He closes the door, after taking all the precautions in case of a storm, and turns suddenly.
“What are you talking about?”
She rolls her eyes, massaging her aching neck.
“Your girlfriend? The pretty brunette woman, that’s also a cop? Doesn’t ring any bell?”
He smiles but appears to be still a little confused.
“Lia and I broke up after Christmas. Doesn’t that ring a bell?”
She stops and shakes her head, embarrassed.
“I’m sorry, I...” she doesn’t remember why she is, or if she even is sorry in the first place. “Forgot.”
“You forgot?”
“Mmmmhhh, it would appear so.”
He comes closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, a couple of inches away from her. She holds her breath.
“Did you also forget me telling you why?”
She nods. But she already knows. Because she wants to hear it, needs it.
He seems to like the game they are currently playing, the one she doesn’t know the rules to.
“I broke up with her because I am in love with you, of course.”
She exhales a little, just thinking at the notion and mumbling a bit, asks:
“And we...are we...did we...”
“We sure are and we sure did.” He laughs at her stunned face and presses a quick kiss on her nose. She freezes.
“You are a terrible girlfriend, did you know that?” he jests, and sits up, seemingly wanting to leave.
She catches his arm, with her small palm, and turns him around her again. He frowns.
“If this is a dream, then I better take all the advantages that I can.”
Sitting she pulls him towards her, kissing his confused and surprised face, her lips gliding slowly, but decidedly over his. His hands come around her waist automatically, his fingers moving upwards towards her neck, caressing the revealed skin here and playing with her dress’s ribbon.
She can’t help tearing up, getting the wet droppings stain both of their cheeks as their kiss becomes more consuming, the fire in her belly turning into a powerful blaze. She takes the opportunity to taste him, because it feels like this would probably be her only chance, and almost moans at the contact.
He tastes like all her dreams combined and feels like heaven. Not only that, but their bodies fit around each other perfectly, like two missing pieces of a lost, scattered puzzle.
When she pulls at his shirt more, to try and embrace him even tighter, her illusion breaks, the artifice of it falling around it, leaving her lonely and out of breath.
She tries to contain the ache in her chest, and lick her lips to try feeling him one more time. One last time.
She only feels a deep longing, one she never experienced before.
After brushing her teeth and splashing cold water over cheeks, she puts the kettle on, hoping that maybe a gallon of coffee would save her from the memory of her...vivid dream.
She still has tingles all over her body.
This is absolutely insane.
When she opens the door to grab her mail, she stops in her tracks at the sight of a woman hurriedly feeing from the guest house. Her hair appears to be all over the place, and her shirt is buttoned the wrong way, but she smiles, pecking at the lips of her partner, and pushing him jokingly back inside.
She tries to swallow the knot in her throat, but after a minute, it’s still there.
This is clearly bothering you.
She shuts the door, with enough force to scatter a few artifacts on the wall, but puts a fake smile on her face, when she spies Kumu arriving.
It’s nothing. It’ll pass. I’m sure of it.
“Good morning Kumu.” she says over cheerily.
“Morning Juliet, how did you sleep?”
She tries not to laugh, but can’t stop the wrinkle of her nose. If the older woman notices, she says nothing.
“Great, actually. Pretty great.”
When Kumu begins weaving one of her stories, and turns her back on her, Juliet’s smile fades.
It might stay though. I might...want it to stay. I might want the dream to be real.