Lorelei Wentworth 🍦 Alice Longbottom (harmonize) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2019-04-10 23:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, * jeanne, * terri, c: foster wentworth, c: lorelei wentworth |
WHO: Alice "Still Smoldering But Slightly Less Ablaze Dumpster Fire" Fortescue & Frank "Goodness Personified" Longbottom
WHEN: December 1973. (The day after the events in this log as well as this narrative.)
WHERE: DMLE offices, Frank's flat.
SUMMARY: Part Two of Two. After Alice ruins All The Things, she tries to make at least some of them right again.
WARNINGS: Swearing, references to sex.
SPRINGO: Prompt: An Apology
After, Frank was certain that he could never unknow those moments. He tried to keep his heart out of it was much as possible, but failed rather spectacularly, even though he hadn’t said as much to her. He’d known it before, but it wasn’t until those moments when she was curled at his side with his arm thrown around her waist and his face buried in her hair, breathing the perfume of her into his lungs, that he could admit it to himself. He loved her. She tried to keep him at a distance for reasons that he didn’t understand, but this was the closest they’d ever been and for once… she seemed fully present. She settled in next to him comfortably and he felt hope spark in his chest to a flame. He had tightened his arm around her a little and fallen asleep finally, the events of the day and his exhaustion finally catching up to him. It wasn’t yet light out when he began to wake, but he was a stubbornly early riser and his body knew exactly what time he needed to wake in order to make it into the Ministry for training. He breathed in and still smelled her there on his pillow - almonds and honey and spice. A small smile quirked his lips, and he stretched out his arm to reach for her. He found nothing except cool sheets and frowned, the grogginess vanishing from his head quickly as he sat up. For a moment, he sat there and listened as though maybe he might hear his shower running or find that she was rummaging in his kitchen for some breakfast. Ignoring the sinking of his heart, Frank climbed out of bed and slowly walked the path from his bedroom through the rest of his flat. Of the clothes that they had strewn the night before, only his remained where they had fallen. There was nothing… not a scrap of her left in his flat except the ghost of her memory. She had left without a word, and he wondered if she regretted it or if she was somehow ashamed. He found that he wasn’t even all that surprised. Just… disappointed The hope that he’d felt the night before was snuffed out, having burned itself into cooling embers. The one thing that he was certain of was that it was over. For him, there could be nothing else. Not if this was what awaited him on the other side. You better bloody well tell me now, Frank Longbottom, so I can figure out how to stop caring about you before it's too late. She should have given him the same courtesy. She should have warned him… months ago. A year ago. He hadn’t figured it out on his own. As he pulled on his clothes for the day of training, Frank found that the hollowness in his chest wasn’t from the spell he’d been hit with the previous afternoon. No… that was something that only she had managed to accomplish, and that insidious little voice in his head sighed an I told you so, but it didn’t matter. She had claimed a vital piece of him, whether she knew it or not, and he would carry that wound with whatever dignity he could manage. Frank shuffled into the DMLE an hour before most of the other trainees, which wasn’t particularly unusual for him. He would get started on his tasks early. He wouldn’t get to leave early, but it gave him an edge over his peers. He pored over the notes fluttering at his desk, trying to put yesterday in the past where it belonged. -- Though Alice had left Frank's flat in the middle of the night, she hadn't gotten a single minute of sleep once she'd gone home. Instead she'd lay awake in her own bed, staring at the ceiling and reliving every minute of the last day, over and over again. There were so many things she'd change, if she could really live it over again. With each re-playing in her mind, Alice found yet another mistake, another misstep, another phrase regrettably spoken or more regretfully unsaid. ~~ She wasn't due to report to the DMLE today- first and second year trainees had been called off- so there was really no reason for Alice to be there at all. Except to see Frank. She walked the familiar corridor to his desk, a pastry box and a warm mug in her hands. Letting herself in, she set both items on Frank's desk, and then perched herself there on the edge, as well. "English Breakfast tea with a spot of milk, and an almond maple scone," Alice explained, then, "Good morning." -- He was bent over some notes, pouring all of his focus and energy into the report in front of him. The details were gone over, amended, consolidated, and would eventually be re-written, neat and tidy, for the case file. His win over Montgomery the previous day was still being talked about. Several people had stopped by Frank’s desk to congratulate him as they filtered in for the day if they hadn’t seen him the day before, but he had barely managed a few words of thanks. It wasn’t until a pastry box and mug of tea were settled onto his desk that he was pulled away from his task. As she slipped onto the edge of his desk, some mixture of anger and hopelessness settled into his chest. He hadn’t even looked up, but tension ran through his muscles, hardening him to stone. She wasn’t supposed to be there. He should have had a day, at least, to himself before he had to face her. Not that a day was long enough for him to recover, but maybe he wouldn’t feel so… flayed open. He breathed in deeply to try to calm himself. Almonds and honey and spice. She explained what she’d brought for him… maybe a peace offering for having run. Again. Frank quickly squashed any notion of hope because that traitorous emotion had betrayed him already, “I’m not hungry, but thanks for the tea.” His voice was flat and impassive. He didn’t look up from the notes. One scurried across his desk and made a circle around a portion of his report before flattening itself against the parchment. -- The scone would keep, of course, even if Alice had to bite back her own (admittedly minor) disappointment at his nonchalance. He didn't look up at her, and he didn't reach for the tea, even after he'd thanked her. She stayed quiet for a few moments more, watching his quill work expertly across the parchment. Finally, Alice eased back to her feet, but she didn't step away from his desk entirely. "Training room seven is open. Come with me?" All things told, it wouldn't have been an unusual request for her to make of him… before yesterday, anyway. Now she wasn't so sure. -- For a moment, when she stood from his desk, he felt relief. Then, her request for him to go to the training room with her put him right back at that edge. A week ago - even yesterday - Frank would have followed her without hesitation. He’d been complicit… willing. He had all but handed his heart over to her on a silver platter. He didn’t think that he deserved her love just because he’d developed feelings for her. However, he did feel that her disappearance for the third time in one bloody day reasonably explained his coolness towards her now. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me thrice… I’m a goddamn fool. “I’m busy, Alice,” he kept his eyes down on his report, marking through some unnecessary wording. If he went with her and she tried to kiss him, he’d just end up hurting the both of them even more. -- She should have expected the refusal, perhaps, but the cool detachment in his voice was so far from what had been their normal that Alice felt her chest constrict unpleasantly. But, for the moment, she stood her ground. Another mistake, another misstep, another phrase regrettably spoken or more regretfully unsaid. "I want to talk, Frank." Even that admission felt raw, the invitation to allow him in past the walls he'd expertly dismantled again and again. "Please?" -- It wasn’t until then that Frank paused his quill and looked up at her from where he was still sitting at his desk. The please tugged at the sensible part of him, but he was hurting. Even hearing the rawness in her own voice, he didn’t let himself relent. “Why?” the word was past his lips before he could think better of it, and more followed, “What’s the point in talking? You left.” The words ripped him open, emotion trembling there in his voice even though he didn’t let himself crumble as he wanted to. He was thankful that at the moment no one else was around or seemed keen to pay attention to either of them. His gaze burned as he looked up at her, “It’s not happening again. None of it. I’m… done.” He wished, in the end, that he didn’t sound so defeated. -- None of his accusations were untrue, of course. Alice was fully, dismally aware of the choices she'd made. She deserved his ire, but knowing that didn't make it any easier to bear. But when Alice opened her mouth, it was, once again, regrettably combative words that came out. "If staying the night was a prerequisite to getting a second shag, it would have been nice if you'd mentioned it before now, Frank." -- Her words stirred his anger, though she had made him no promises. All he really had were the tattered wishes that he'd held onto for far too long. When she said she had cared and then later, that she had found what she was looking for in him, Frank had let himself believe that her feelings might mirror his own. “The prerequisite for getting a second shag is priced a lot steeper than just staying the night. Obviously, since that's so distasteful to you, you really wouldn't want to hear the rest of what I have to say.” Frank kept his voice low, but he didn't break his gaze away from her as he spoke. He never should have slept with her. It had made everything worse. -- Alice took a deep breath, biting back phrase after phrase that nearly made it past her lips. Finally, with little more than a frustrated groan, she pressed her palms to her eyes and turned to walk out of his office. Do you think instead you could talk to me like a reasonable human being? I should go. I'm gonna go. What’s the point in talking? You left. Alice stopped in the doorway, hands braced at either side of the frame. Without looking back, she spoke evenly and (surprisingly) calmly. "I'm going to training room seven. If you want to talk, Frank, that's where I'll be." -- He watched her, expecting it when she turned to walk away. He'd practically driven her to it this time, but that's what needed to happen. Whatever she could say, it likely would just hurt him worse. He couldn't still just be friends. He had to cut her out of him, and the hold that she had was anything but tenuous. She paused and let him know where she would be, but Frank didn't want to talk. Not now. Maybe not ever. He remained silent until she finally left, and for a long time, he stared at his empty doorway. He never did eat the scone that she brought him. The tea sat in the mug and grew colder by the hour. Someone brought lunch by his desk and Frank had picked at it, his appetite nowhere to be found. Time passed, and though he focused on his work, Frank couldn't get her voice out of his head. I want to talk, Frank. Please. Please. Please. Most of the Department was empty by the time Frank finally made his way to training room seven. He entered the room silently, and closed the door without so much as a whisper of sound even as he leaned against it, “OK.” He was probably going to regret this, but here they were. His voice was brittle, “Talk.” -- She wasn't sure which terrified her more- that he'd follow her there, and take her up on that offer, that promise to talk… or that he wouldn't. Alice had let go of any semblance of control. Whatever came next, if anything at all, was in Frank's hands. She'd sat in that training room for hours. Without the first and second years in the office today, the DMLE was much quieter, and- mercifully- no one came by to question her presence there. At some point, Alice slept- long overdue, head rested on her folded arms on the table, neck bent at an uncomfortable angle. Maybe she'd be there all night. Wouldn't that serve her just perfectly? Alice heard the door open, and she damned the instant flicker of delight that kindled behind her ribs at the sight of Frank standing there. He looked far less eager to see her, so she didn't approach him, but rather just turned in her chair toward him. Hands on her own knees in an effort to keep herself from fidgeting. "I'm sorry." She exhaled the words with a heavy relief behind them, having been desperate to speak that apology for far too long. "For leaving you last night." Which time? "At… at your flat." Alice swallowed, but didn't avert her gaze. "I'm fucking terrified, Frank. I know that doesn't excuse… anything that I've done, but… you should know it. Nothing- none of this- has been because I've wanted to hurt you, even though I'm apparently better at that than most anything else." -- Her apology came as a surprise. Frank tried to hide it, but the shock was plainly displayed in his eyes for a long moment. She clarified about which time she had left, though he wished it hadn't been necessary. He doubted from the sincerity in her voice that it was the only time she regretted leaving, but perhaps it was the one she regretted the most. He was hurt and she wasn't wrong in that, but now that he was here and she had apologized, he could feel his anger beginning to fade. The more reasonable part of him was willing to listen, “I need to know what you want from me, Alice. From this. I know what I want...what I can accept.” He sighed, leaning against the door and rubbing his hands harshly over his face, as though the pressure might meld the pieces of him back together again, “I don't know if I can help you through the fear or not, but I definitely can't if you won't let me.” -- I need to know what you want from me, Alice. He'd said, that morning, that he was done. And maybe he still was- certainly he had every right to be. But if he was still willing to listen, then- terrified or not- Alice would make herself talk. "I've shut everything and everyone out since I was sixteen years old, Frank. I've built walls around my heart because I have seen first-hand what caring about people can do to someone. I know how it breaks you down, how it slips its claws into you and leaves you helpless to do anything except let it take you." Love you, A. You know that, right? Yeah, dad. I know. "Caring about you makes me a liability, Frank. To you, to every other auror here. Because even if I get through this training, if we're out in the field together I don't know if I could honestly say that I'd still go after an enemy if you were down. I know the lessons. I know the detachment they drill into us. You can tell Moody that I've failed. It's probably better he knows it now, anyway." Better to drop the program before she even finished than to let her heart be a danger to anyone else. "You make me vulnerable, and no shield charm will help it. And it's worse, facing that vulnerability from you than from an enemy. You keep breaking past my armor quicker than I can rebuild it, Frank. When I saw you carried in here yesterday, I wanted to claw out Montgomery's eyes with my bare hands. I screamed my throat so raw for so long that I nearly wore down my own silencing charm." A deep breath, her fingers pressed to the tops of her thighs, but not looking away from him. "Lying in that bed with you last night, the only thing running through my head was how fucking easy it would be to let myself fall in love with you, Frank, and I'd never felt more terrified in my life." -- Though Frank didn't know what had happened to her parents, he knew that had to be what she was referring to. He remembered the whispers when they'd returned to school, for his seventh year and her sixth. Frank hadn't really known Alice back then, aside from being a fellow Gryffindor. He had, however, spent his evenings polishing silver for a full week after he hexed a gaggle of sixth years for whispering behind Alice's back when she walked through those halls, the weight of the world on her shoulders. He listened as the words poured from her, and it was more than he could have anticipated, but it chipped away at the ice that he had built around his heart since waking alone that morning. There was a small part of him that felt guilty for not coming in here sooner, but maybe if he'd been so quick to forgive, they wouldn't be having this conversation. “Do you think that it doesn't make me vulnerable, too?” his words were quiet, but they carried across the room. He took several measured steps forward and let himself collapse into the seat next to her, though he didn't reach out to touch her, “I wouldn't leave you either, if something were to happen. I don't give a shit what Moody says. That's not weakness. It's having a heart. Both of us are damn good Aurors, or close enough, once the training finishes. Lessons be damned.” He paused a moment, biting the inside of his cheek, “I'm sorry that you had to see me like that. I'm sorry that my getting hurt put you in that position, but the same would have been true for me if the roles had been reversed, and I probably would have failed to keep my composure.” He shook his head softly, weighing his words and whether or not he should say the deepest of his truths. She had trusted him with hers, but would she even want to know? “Falling for someone should be easy, if terrifying. It was for me… when I fell for you. It's still terrifying. Your leaving broke me far more effectively than Montgomery's curse, and giving someone that power… especially someone that may not want it…” -- Frank stepped forward, and Alice watched his movements, unsure if she was relieved or not. She probably should have been, because even the hint of something resembling forgiveness was far more than she likely deserved. He sat beside her, but they were still markedly apart from one another. Alice didn't try to breach that distance. It was for me… when I fell for you. A choked cry caught in her throat, and Alice pressed a hand over her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut over the tears that suddenly sprang up. She shook her head, "I don't want it, Frank," she insisted, voice desperate and raw. "How could I? I could never want to make you vulnerable or delight in being able to hurt you in the ways that I already have, that I keep doing. No one deserves that sort of power." -- Frank was unable to keep himself from flinching when she said she didn't want that power. Her tears tugged at his heart and Frank wanted nothing more than to make them stop…to give her comfort. They were a mess, and that much was clear. Part of him wondered if it would still be kinder to both of them if he just walked away, but when they were together…when they were good, they were unbeatable. “I don't think anyone who really loves someone delights in being able to hurt the person they're closest to, but sometimes it happens anyway. Vulnerability comes with the territory. You can't put stipulations on love. You can't choose to only halfway mean something to someone because in the end, that hurts worse. If you love someone fully, you're bound to do idiotic things for them or because of them.” He knew that might not be what she wanted to hear, but it was the absolute, messy truth of the human condition. “What is this fucking life worth without love, Alice? What would the point of it be, if we kept our hearts so sheltered that no one ever got in? That's a lonely life, and it's not what I want.” Frank shook his head softly and squeezed his hands a little too tightly together, but he didn't move to pace even though he wanted to, “Part of loving someone, Alice…is giving them that power and trusting them not to destroy you with it. It's not about deserving it. It's about trust.” -- Alice determinedly wiped the tears from her eyes, setting her hands back down on the table where her fingers intertwined, fidgeting a bit as her mind worked in overdrive. "If I do something that hurts me, then that's... my own thing to deal with. But," Alice swallowed, heavily, "but how do I let myself be okay loving someone, Frank, even if it means hurting them or hurting others because of how strongly I feel? I..." Of course, she'd been doing it, already, and they both knew it. She'd tried to keep herself sheltered, and even if she hadn't deliberately let him in, he'd found his way and taken up residence all the same. "I'm less worried about you destroying me," she finally continued, more quietly, "and more about you destroying yourself." She was quiet for several moments more, her gaze dropping to the table. Hands splayed out against it, fingers spread and then together again with each breath. Alice knew that she had to explain where all of this came from. It's about trust. "Mum contracted vanishing sickness just after Christmas, fifth year. She was never going to get better, and dad and I both knew it. That summer, two weeks before I came back to school, he dropped me off in Diagon Alley with my grandfather. Gave me a hug and told me he loved me." She turned her hands over, studying the lines of her palms. "He broke into the quarantined ward. Had to stun the healers to do it, but he at least made sure that none of them got near mum. None of them caught it. But dad just crawled into her bed, knowing that he'd catch it, knowing that it would kill him surely as it was killing her. They were both dead within a week." It hadn't been that long ago, all things considered. And even if Alice didn't talk about what had happened, she knew well enough that the effects of it lingered on to this day. "Right or wrong, love made him choose that over anything," anyone, "else. And you can say whatever you want to about the choice he made, Frank, because whatever you think, I promise it's nothing I haven't already thought myself a dozen times over." -- Frank didn’t have all the answers. He certainly couldn’t tell Alice how she should personally process such acceptance...just that finding a way might be necessary if she was to let anyone in. He let her talk herself through it, listening as she began explaining her fears. He’d never known what had transpired that summer...just that when she came back to school, the rumor mill about her parents had run wild and Frank had done his best to stop it while dutifully not listening to the gossip. Vanishing sickness was rare and...incurable. He knew without her saying it how contagious it was, and that they must have caught it somewhat early for Alice herself not to have caught it as well. As she went on, his stomach turned a little. She lost both of her parents at once...one from a condition that she couldn’t help and the other by a desperately wrong choice. He was quiet for a long moment even after she fell silent after inviting him to say what he pleased. It was still complicated, and he knew that he likely didn’t know all the ins and outs of those moments, but there was a part of him that was suddenly furious with her father. Frank knew that he shouldn’t think ill of someone that was gone from this world, but...the pain that it had caused Alice - that it was still causing her - was palpable. “It was selfish,” Frank shook his head softly and curled his fingers inward towards his palms to keep himself from reaching out to her, “I get that he must have been desperate, Alice, but you needed him. I’m sorry that he did that to you...to himself.” Frank’s jaw clenched, and he took a slow, even breath, “We aren’t your parents, you know. The path that we walk is of our own making. And yeah...we are embarking on a stupidly dangerous career path, Al, but we both came to that decision independently and for our own reasons.” He leaned forward a little, “I can’t just be...one foot in and one foot out in this. I could ignore the truth when we were just snogging, but I can’t...revert back to that now. I understand if that’s too much to ask, but it’s all I’ve got to offer, Alice.” -- Calling it selfish and desperate was, perhaps, a kindness. But Alice wouldn't push for Frank to say anything more vehement than that. He knew the truth now, either way, and that was what mattered. Right? It's about trust. "I know we're not," Alice nodded. "And maybe you'd never make a decision like he did, even with our mutually stupid career aspirations." There was… very nearly a smile on her face, if only for a brief moment. "I just… haven't trusted myself enough to let anyone else see these parts of me, before." A beat. "Before you." It's not happening again. None of it. I'm… done. "I don't want you to be done, Frank," she offered, finally. I need to know what you want from me, Alice. From this. I know what I want… what I can accept. "I want to find that same surety in love that seems to fuel you so strongly. I don't want to be something you regret. And I… I want to earn your trust again, Frank." -- Frank mirrored her small smile, but his heart still felt heavier than it had yesterday before all of this had transpired between them. It was a positive step that she was willing to start trusting both him and herself. He knew that it was no small thing that she was allowing him these insights, but was it enough? He'd been so ready to just…close that door and chain it shut for forever. But she didn't want him to be finished or to give up on her. If she was willing to really try, didn't he owe it both to himself and to her to see what this could be if they gave a real effort? She had come to him terrified and regretful for leaving, and she'd shared more with him than he could have expected. His suggestion started slow, almost hesitant, “Why don't we start with dinner? Tonight. Let me actually take you out somewhere, Alice.” -- To whatever small credit she could still earn, Alice didn't hesitate when Frank posed his question. A nod, "Yes. Anywhere." Probably not to that muggle bar they'd met up in last night, but she didn't need to say as much aloud. "If you give me thirty minutes, I can make myself presentable- or at least hopefully not looking like this mess," she gestured to herself, shaking her head. It wasn't a ploy for a compliment. Worrying at her lower lip for a moment, Alice debated her next words- but then silently reminded herself that it was not talking to him that had gotten her so tangled up and nearly ruined everything in the first place. (Or maybe it still would.) "I know it's going to take time, Frank. That we can't just jump back in to what we've had this last year- or last night." She didn't begrudge him that. She'd left, over and over again. "But if you… but if you want to take me back to your flat, after dinner, I think I would very much like it if you just held me all night long. Nothing else." -- Frank didn’t really think she looked like a mess, but he also could have used the time to gather his own composure. It would likely do him well to splash some water in his face, anyway. It would give him a little bit of time to process all of this, too. He’d shut out the possibility of this just earlier that morning, and he was still a little surprised when she actually agreed to the date, “How about Italian? Puccini’s. If you...want to meet me at my place, we can go from there.” He had never been to hers before, and maybe it was easier on her that he hadn’t been yet. Despite the fact that some healing had definitely transpired over the course of this conversation, she wasn’t wrong. It was going to take a little time before he could trust that she wasn’t going to run, or that she really wanted this. There was no time frame, exactly, but actions would be the measure. The offer was still one that he wouldn’t pass up as long as she was offering it, “I’d like that, Alice.” He paused just a moment, though, not wanting to make her feel trapped by her decision if she grew to regret it, “If you change your mind about staying, just tell me before you go. That’s all.” -- "I love Italian food," Alice replied, easily, hedging into another almost-smile. And, well, if they weren't going to be snogging any time soon, then at least it wouldn't matter if she ordered something soaked in garlic. She hadn't been certain if he'd accept. It was a strange offer, perhaps. Something that would require more trust and its own sort of intimacy, different from everything else they'd done before. She nodded. His terms, such as they were, were more than fair. "I will." It's not happening again. None of it. I'm… done. "You deserve that, and I want to do that for you, Frank. Not… not the leaving, I mean. Just the… honesty and openness. You don't have to believe me now. But if you let me, I'm going to try my damndest to prove it." -- Frank remembered that she enjoyed Italian food, though they’d never eaten at such a restaurant together before. She’d sighed it one time around a bite of spaghetti on a much-needed lunch break in the Department’s break room. He didn’t know why he remembered, but he was full of little moments of her, “It’s really good, if you’ve never been.” “Honesty and openness is all I’m asking for,” he assured her. If anything was ever too much for her to handle or she felt the emotions that had made her run in the first place, Frank wanted her to be able to tell him rather than leaving the both of them nursing wounds. She’d claimed to care for him just the previous day, but Frank didn’t expect any grand declarations of love, “I want to believe you.” That, at least, was the truth. For a moment, he was quiet and then he assured her, “I forgive you, Alice, and I want to move past this. Together, if we can. I at least want to try.” -- "To Puccini’s? I haven't. But I look forward to going there with you." It was a simple thing, but it was the truth. Her breath caught when Frank offered those words of forgiveness. Though she'd hoped for them, hearing them now was better than expected. "I do, too. Keep… keep pulling. Pushing. Reminding me how damn good you are, and that I can be safe with you. And I'll have those words on repeat in my own head, too. My heart knows it, Frank. I just need to get my mind not to question it anymore." -- Frank wasn't a man who usually boasted of his own goodness. He didn't want to sound arrogant or righteous, as people from his house at school were often known for. He might joke about how wonderful he was, but Frank wanted to earn the respect of others. He did not want to just profess that it was so. Perhaps that's what made him actually good instead of a mockery of such sentiment. “I'll remind you as often as you need, but I think I prefer showing you than saying it, as much as that's possible,” he chanced a small smile, though it did not take up all of his features as it might have yesterday. It was still tight and a little unsure, though hopeful, “When you question it or need something from me, talk to me, Alice. We can work it out. It's going to take effort from both of us, but we make a good team.” -- Showing was good, too, of course. He'd shown her, and proved it to her, time and time again, over the last year- and before then, even. Different ways, different times, but that same core goodness that was heady and desirable in its own right. "We do, and I will," Alice agreed, easily. Snogging or shagging aside, she genuinely did enjoy Frank's company. Did she want all of the above? Of course. But it would take time and effort on her part, and no small amount of patience, too. With herself, most especially. "Puccini’s awaits," she said, finally, as she started to stand from the table. "Would you- would you hold my hand as we walk back down to the floos, Frank?" -- Frank definitely wasn't ruling out growing back into those things they'd enjoyed as recently as the wee hours of that morning. He didn't know how long it would take to build them back to that place. A few days. A few weeks? He told himself not to rush it, but not to be hesitant either. They both may suffer for it if they didn't allow themselves that connection. When Alice stood, he followed suit and joined her. When she posed her question, it was so innocently given that Frank paused just a second in his surprise. There probably wasn't anyone left in the department, but he didn't know if she would be comfortable with anyone else seeing or knowing yet. On that, he would follow her lead. He reached out his hand for hers and gently slid his fingers between hers. His grip wasn't too tight, but firm enough that their palms were together for the most part. He gave her hand a small squeeze, “Shall we, then?” -- They'd walk down to the floos together, and though they'd part there, it wouldn't be for long. Alice would be back at the door to Frank's flat in precisely twenty-three minutes, and they would hold hands as they walked from the apparition point to Puccini's, too. Conversation and bread would be shared, and Alice would finally let herself laugh when- somehow- Frank got marinara sauce all over his own nose. But she'd reach over with her napkin and help him clean it up, smiling all the while. That night, when the fears bubbled up, Alice would just tuck herself in closer to Frank's chest. His arms would hold her close, and she'd remind herself that, with him, falling in love didn't have to be terrifying at all. |