Something That's Not Death

Harry

Ever since it happened, he hasn�t been able to stop thinking about it. The fact that it happened makes it real, but sometimes, like in the early hours of morning, he still has trouble coming to terms with it. The fact that the other side of the bed isn�t cold, isn�t empty, is still hard to get used to. The fact that there are coffee stains on his bed sheets and tampons in his bathroom is curious, yet oddly pleasing.

Yes, his �space� has been invaded. Yes, he has gone against his principles of having his own path, his own life, free of anyone else�s demands. But hers are demands he doesn�t mind catering too.

He watches � hears her tap her nails against her worktop. She�s frustrated and it resonates within him like the sound of her exasperation in the car. Too much traffic. We woke up late again. And the only one that�s ever true: We really need to learn some self-control.

They have none.

She�s told him he�s the only one she�s ever wanted so much, constantly, and that she�s scared of it sometimes. He doesn�t know if she was honest, doesn�t know how much of that he actually believes, but knows he feels it too, so that�s alright. At least neither is alone in their fear.

His heart beats the hypnotic rhythm of her tapping fingers and he needs to readjust his trousers. He can�t stop wanting her until she tells him she is sore and even then, he only tries to keep himself from acting upon his desire. He still feels it, anyway. He knows she likes to tease, likes to play. But he also knows to respect her need for �space�.

It�s only with the lights out that he can see her bruises. They�re not there physically, but he can imagine them. She�s told him about them. One from her first boyfriend who was too insistent and too inexperienced; one from the married professor who dumped her for an even younger mistress; two from the wannabe-Travolta with his posh car and insistence that she should get breast implants� Some men are hard to please. Some women too and he�s had his share of those.

He thinks together at least, they know when to cling to one another and when to push away. He�s yet to complain and she is in his house, his life, constantly. She�s there and yet not. He thinks she�s part of him, rather than part of the familiar things around him and that�s what makes her special � different � from all the others.

That�s what makes him special from her others.

That, and the way he can look straight into her eyes even through the blackness between them. There�s no light, but they need no light. He can trace her curves with his fingertips, he can remember her taste on his lips and if he only reaches forward, his hand can touch what�s his.

Between the darkness and complaining lab techs, he feels � rather than sees � her stand and walk over to his side of the desk. He�s not imagining her fingers intertwine with his and pull him from his chair; she well and truly is smiling above him, all blonde hair and harsh breath, like some fallen angel. An angel he made fall and still does, every night.

Before, he never would have thought her to be one to take charge� never would have thought he was one to let someone else lead. But things change and he has bruises of his own to remind him how wrong he�s been in the past.

He�s out of balance for a second, unused to the sharp edges of things and the way distances change in the dark, but it�s okay. She�s not one for bruising and her steps � so silent on the linoleum floor for the absence of high heels � lead him to safety, to plush leather couches and, unsurprisingly, to tea.

He hadn�t even realised he was tired and he knows she couldn�t have seen the dark circles under his eyes, but he accepts the mug thankfully and smiles when he feels her bare foot in his lap.



Nikki

She sits in the square leather armchair, thinking of how he might see her in the dark, of what he might see when there�s nothing to see. It�s of interest to her how he can always read her reactions, without even needing to gauge her expression. It�s proved to be a very handy quality at times, when she can�t control anything but the nonsensical repetition of his name.

All she can see of his is a faint outline, a shape full of strong shoulders and magical hands kneading away at her resistance. His touch has never sent more mixed emotions through her than it does now. She never would have thought herself to be so easily enticed by the possibility of getting caught, nor about reducing the senses, yet she feels giddy for some odd reason and when he sweeps his fingers up her bare calf to her knee, she shudders appreciatively.

�I wish we were home,� she tells him, hesitating ever so slightly about using that word to designate his house. They still each have their own separate nest, but it�s been a while since either has spent the night apart from the other. �How much longer do you think this�ll last?� she asks, hoping there will be no sad surprise for her when she finds out he has a fear of commitment, or some such other nonsense she�s already heard.

She doesn�t really think so, since he�s the one telling her to bring her clothes to his place already � after all, he�s made room in the cupboard and all � but she�s given up on taking things for granted. Refusal is something unexpected and trying to predict how a relationship is going has never been her strongest suit.

�The power will come back any minute now and then we can leave,� he assures her, his voice soft, his hands never leaving her skin. It�s innocent, almost chaste in nature, but she feels her mouth stretch into a stupid smile every time and decides there must be more to the way he�s touching her than that.

Awkwardly setting her cup back onto the table with a click, she berates herself for breaking the moment. His fingers still, for an instant and then he�s pushing her knee down to the floor, to her shoe. It�s as clear a sign as any and she knows playtime is over. Harry has always been easy enough to read, for her, even in the dark.

And anyway, they both have work to get back to, stacks of papers and cases and reports to be written. People don�t stop dying because there�s a power cut, she tells herself, despite the deceiving silence and festering regret. She sighs a little loudly as she tries to put her shoes back on, but it�s okay. She�s had her fun and with Harry, she really can�t complain.

�Come here,� he tells her, hands trying to settle on her arms, missing and finding her cheeks, her breasts.

�Why?� she asks, swatting his prying fingers away. As much as she may enjoy the danger, she�s too afraid to be caught in an indecent position. She doesn�t want another relationship of hers to become public gossip.

�Come here,� he repeats, still jokingly, still tying to pull her close. Finding purchase, his fingers tangle in the fabric of her shirt and ticklish as she is, she cannot resist him.

It was only a matter of time anyway, until the entire lab found out about them. If they hadn�t known already, she thinks, her giggling fit has certainly clued them in by now.

�Harry, please,� she begs and does it because it always makes him listen. He�s malleable like that, she�s learned. Or maybe just concerned. Whatever the reason, she repeats it until his fingers still and though they�re both laughing, she�s afraid they�re only a step away from becoming office breaking news once the lights come on.

�Harry,� she tries again, barely managing to keep her voice down, �I�m not going to shag you in the office,� she tells him and feels like an idiot the moment he actually stops and registers what she�s just said.

�What?� he asks and she can feel her cheeks burn red. At least he can�t see that, the same way she can�t see the amusement in his eyes.

�Let me go,� she whimpers, embarrassed at having misread his intentions. He can always do that to her, even in bed. But there all his mixed signals materialize, because he�s not one to toy with her emotions. It�s not her fault that he has such an effect on her. He robs her of her control, he leaves her scattered� �Let me go, Harry,� she asks when his arms close around her waist and she collapses next to his strong, warm shape on the couch.

He�s dark and exciting, but she feels too much like an idiot to revel in the way he�s studying her face, or the way his fingers brush through her hair. A hand cups her chin and she looks up, defiant.

�Well, since that�s out of the question,� he says and she can feel the smile tugging at the corners of his lips, �how about I ask you something else and you say yes?�

�Ask me what?� She frowns, remembering mystery is something that usually lasts an average of thirty seconds at home.

�Ask you to marry me,� he dead-pans and she reels back, annoyed for the first time that she can�t see his expression. Is he joking?

�Are you joking?� she asks, wondering when foot-rub turned into innuendo turned into a proposal and where she had been during that transformation.

He shakes his head and she can feel his warm breath on her lips.

�We�re almost like married anyway,� he explains, �we live together, well� almost. We sleep together, we�re in love.� It�s tentative, in the way he says it and she knows this it the closest they�ve come to a declaration outside of the bedroom yet. Sure, words have been exchanged beneath the sheets, but they�ve both learned that the heat of the moment isn�t the time for avowals.

�We�re very good friends, so we�ll never been in need of counselling,� Harry goes on, his fingers never leaving her skin. �We�re� physically well matched so if we ever turn to domestic violence you�ll always be able to put me in hospital� We�re both intelligent people so we�ll have no need for other Scrabble partners� We�re��

She doesn�t let him finish.



Leo

He can hear them through the open office door. They�re� giggling like children and he feels old � too old � compared to them. Such juvenile behaviour is beyond him, though he supposes he would have learned to appreciate it had his daughter lived to bring her friends home for slumber parties.

He doesn�t think about how he might have dealt when she would, eventually, have become interested in boys. He worries for Nikki enough already, and he trusts her to live her own life and make the right decisions. He even worries for Harry, but only when he sees him put his foot in his mouth and knows Nikki�s having a bad day.

He never worries when he sees them happy and right now he can hear them laugh, which is enough.

�Leo?� he hears Nikki call out and in the darkness of their lab, sees them walk awkwardly through the door.

�Don�t break anything,� he warns, fatherly and� old in his concerns.

�Don�t fret,� answers Harry and his outline advances wrapped around Nikki�s slender form. They�re a black mass of too many legs and too many hands and amusement that Leo can�t partake in.

He wants to say he�s not fretting about them scratching his furniture, nor breaking any vases, but rather their own arms and legs. He refrains from it, because it�s not his place and anyway, he trusts them.

He hears Nikki reach out for a chair and clumsily sit down as their laughter subsides and he decides this isn�t going to be a request for him to let them leave sooner, tempted though he was to suggest it.

�Leo, we wanted to talk to you about something,� she tells him, leaning slightly forward on her elbows. He imagines she looks the same way she does before speaking to bereaved relatives, though he can�t really see it.

He nods before he realises they can�t seem him any better than he can see them. �Yeah?� he adds quickly, encouraging.

�Erm, well�� she sounds unsure and Harry takes a seat beside her in sign of support, �we�ve both been working here for a long time now.� It�s as strange a conversation starter as any he could have imagined and he feels no less in the dark � both literally and figuratively � than before.

�Is this a resignation?� he asks, firmly believing that if that be the case, better get it over with. They�re young, in love, with the world at their feet � or so they think, argues the cynic inside him � and owe him nothing. If they want to leave, he won�t be trying to stop them.

�No!� they cry in unison and he feels the frown ease off his brow and a stone lift off his heart. He won�t admit it, but he feels relief.

�No, Leo, we�re not going anywhere!� Nikki vehemently affirms and he can almost see her incredulous expression. �Well, we are going somewhere, just not� professionally.� She coughs, trying to organize her scattered thoughts and he smiles in the dark, guessing where this might be leading.

�I proposed,� Harry cuts in, straight and to the point, dropping the bombshell right onto Leo�s desk.

Fatherly pride spreads through him before he remembers he�s only their boss � and sometimes friend � and his effusive joy turns professional, reserved. �Well, congratulations�� he starts, reaching over clumsily to shake what he assumes is Harry�s hand.

�No, wait,� intervenes Nikki, something in her voice very pronounced, almost forced. If she had been his daughter, now would have been the time for him to wait for an explanation. Young lady, what have you got to say for yourself?

He thinks he sees the two of them share a look, but he can�t be sure, and anyway, what could be the use of eye-contact when the entire lab around them is plunged in darkness.

�I refused him,� Nikki informs him and he�s surprised to find no trace of guilt or regret, or even sadness in her tone. What were they doing giggling and hugging like teenagers, if she has just refused to marry him? Is he really so old that he can�t understand the way relationships work anymore, or are these two just that much stranger?

�Oh,� is the only thing he can think of to say. What do you say to such an announcement anyway? In the darkness of the room, he can�t even read their expressions.

�That is to say,� she adds, �I�ve refused Harry until tonight, when he�ll propose again properly.� It takes a moment for her words to register and he�s never felt more relieved when they do.

�What?� he asks, incredulous that reasonable, logical Nikki would have such flights of fancy in romance. He�s almost sad not to be able to see Harry�s face, though he can imagine the smile he would find there.

�Well, I�ve never been asked to marry anyone before and if he wants me to say yes, he�ll better do it properly, like�� Nikki is dear to him and dearer when she rambles, and for a moment his heart aches that she is not his daughter and that his daughter is not still around.

�Anyway,� he hears Harry interrupt her chatter, �we wanted to ask for your blessing.�

Leo frowns. �Do you need my blessing?� he asks, wondering just why they should value his opinion so.

It�s Nikki who tells him they do, though he thinks he sees Harry nod as well. And he can barely contain his affection and pride when he tells them to get to it, then. He�s sure they�ll listen, because he�s their boss and they�re disciplined like that, but they�re also very much in love and he doesn�t, for a minute, doubt that even his possible disapproval would have kept them from being together.

He hears them go, their soft words mingling together with sighs and he can�t help but wonder if they�re a dying breed, these young lovers.

No.

They�re something unstoppable, something that�s not death � or taxes, should he only think in clich�s � something that gives him hope.

Something, that materializes into light.



THE END

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