Chapter 23

I sensed before even opening my eyes that James was gone. Beside me on the bed was an empty space. Panic rose inside me when I saw that James' clothes was gone from the floor as well. I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard James' voice from the kitchen, obviously talking on the phone. He had probably put his clothes on so he could go get his phone out of the car. It was nearly eleven, and I stretched and yawned knowing that I hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep, and that I wasn't getting out of bed just yet. I heard James ending the conversation and his footsteps making his way back to the bedroom.

"Hello," he smiled as I saw that I was awake.

"Hey, you..." I said groggily and returned a sleepy smile. Then I stretched my arms out to him like a needy toddler. "Come back to bed." Not being hard to ask, James instantly crawled in under my duvet, still fully clothed, and snuggled up to me.

"I just talked to Hammond," he mumbled against my skin.

"Are you fired yet?" I asked cheekily.

"No..!" I heard the smirk in his voice and felt him poke me in the ribs teasingly. I curled up into a ball, terrified he was going to tickle me more, but he didn't and I relaxed. "Richard has talked to everyone, just told them I had some personal things to deal with. He said he wanted to leave it up to me how much I would want to tell everyone. The whole crew has been let loose in Cardiff, just having a fun day."

"Well, this whole thing is pretty.. personal, I guess he wanted to give you a chance to protect your privacy," I pointed out.

"Mm. But I should be back there tomorrow morning, they've just postponed filming until then. Unless you don't want me to, because then I won't go and they'll just have to make do without me," he added stubbornly, squeezing me tightly.

"No, no... You should go, it's your job. A lot of people are depending on you."

"You're too considerate," he muttered, a part of him had wanted me to not give him permission to go. "Come with me?"

"I would love to, but I have work tomorrow. It's my last day, so... How long are you filming for?"

"Just for a day. That was the plan anyway, so hopefully I'll be back by tomorrow night. But I'll have to leave tonight. Or very, very early in the morning."

"Okay," I mumbled and kissed the top of his head, sad to know he had to leave so soon. More than anything we needed time, time to be together and find each other again. But I wanted him to do his job, he loved working with Top Gear and this had already ruined enough. It was just for one day - I had been away from him for a month and a half, I could deal with one more day. "What are you going to tell everyone?" I asked out of genuine curiosity, but instantly regretted it. It could've sounded like I was out for an argument or wanted to test him.

"The truth," he said and propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at me. "That I realised I needed to go back to London to beg on my knees and apologise to a woman I love, that I had to try and get my girlfriend back before she disappeared out of my life. No more secrets, I don't want that. I've found someone, someone amazing that I'm absolutely mad about and I want everyone to know about it."

"You are awfully cute when you're gushing," I said when I regained the ability to speak. "Especially when you're gushing about me."

"I can gush about you for hours," he smirked and gave me a quick kiss, that turned into another, and then another. When we broke apart I ran my fingertips over his cheek.

"Sweetie, if I'm going to keep kissing you, you need to go have a shave! As sexy as the scruff is, if we keep this up my face is going to be rubbed raw."

"I didn't bring anything with me, and definitely not any razors," James said apologetically.

"I have a razor?"

"Which you use under your arms and between your legs!" He pointed out, frowning.

"Well..." I said with a shrug and a sly smile. "As far as I can remember, you've had your face between my legs plenty of times...?" He opened his mouth, but was stunned into silence. "Oh relax, I'm kidding. There's a brand new one in the bathroom. Now go on," I said and poked him in the chest. He sighed and rolled his yes, then scrambled out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom. I watched him go, then got to my feet and padded into the kitchen to pour myself something to drink. On my way through the living room I noticed the grey t-shirt lying on my sofa, and I snatched it up and pulled it on as I headed back to bed. When James emerged from the bathroom he looked like a new man, fresh and rosy-cheeked, it was amazing what a shave could do. The stubbles had been sexy, but this was even better.

"God, I need a haircut," he mumbled and ruffled his hair.

"No, don't, I like it that way," I smiled as he came towards me.

"Hey, I thought you gave that t-shirt back!" He said with a smirk when he spotted what I was wearing, and I just laughed. "Better?" He asked, sitting down on the edge of my bed, supporting himself on his arms as he leaned over me.

"I don't know, I have to feel for myself," I said with a smirk as I sat up. Wrapping my arms around him and weaving my fingers into his hair I pulled him in for a kiss, and gave a satisfied hum at the feel of his newly shaven skin. "Mmmmuch better," I mumbled against his lips. "Now come here." I pulled him down with me onto the bed and we nuzzled and kissed, getting used to being close again. My head rested against James' shoulder and I felt his hand run lazily up and down my back. Having had way too little sleep I felt how I relaxed more and more into him and in the end I began to blink heavily, nodding off.

"Hey, hey, hey, no sleeping," James said softly and kissed my mouth to stir me awake again.

"Muh? No?" I mumbled, disappointed.

"You and I are going out for breakfast. Lunch. Dinner? Whatever it is. Food!" He said excitedly. The prospect of having to go outside into chilly London-streets didn't seem much appealing at first, and I grumbled my disapproval. But when James crawled out of bed, taking his arms and his warmth with him, I quickly changed my mind and got up.

"I need a shower first," I mumbled and wobbled into the bathroom.  After a quick shower I got dressed quickly as we were both starving. Leaving it up to me to decide James trailed after me as I marched to my favourite local cafe, where we both ordered huge sandwiches with tonnes of chips. For a while we were far too busy tucking into food to keep up a conversation, but every now and then we looked at each other lovingly across the table, and my heart skipped a beat. Some part of me was still in shock, and that part of me also refused to relax and let go of fear and scepticism. Some mortally offended little goblin in the back of my brain kept hissing something about having been too easy on him, that I had let him back into my life too easily, what if he got scared again? I could barely comprehend that he was really here, that he was back with me. I didn't doubt or regret that I had forgiven him. But I had spent the last six weeks trying to come to terms with us being over, that I wouldn't be with him anymore. My brain just needed time to catch up with my heart. My phone made a noise that tore me out of my thoughts, and I quickly read the text I had received.

"Hammond just wanted to make sure I still hadn't killed you," I said with a half-smile as I put the phone down.

"... Did you tell him you were going to when he came to see you?" James looked a little worried, but there was something else behind the question as well, some sort of scepticism or maybe even a hint of jealousy.

"No, I didn't. I may have mentioned, however, something about wanting to punch you in the gentleman's area... Repeatedly... A bit," I shrugged apologetically, and James grimaced at the thought of it. "I don't have that urge anymore," I assured him, but he still swallowed nervously and eyed me suspiciously. "It probably seemed strange to you that Richard came to talk to me?"

"Yeah, I was a bit... surprised," he admitted, prodding a chip with his fork.

 "I was, too, when he showed up at my door. I didn't even know he knew where I lived! He told me he felt like he was going behind your back, talking to me. But he was just really... worried about you, trying to figure out what was going on. He thought maybe you were having a depression or it was something caused by hitting your head. He just wanted to help, and thought maybe I would... know something or be able to talk to you. You can't blame him, he had no way of knowing about what was going on between you and me, he just thought we were good mates and that maybe I could reach you when he couldn't."

"I don't blame him..." James said, looking awkward and unhappy. "I know I've been awful to be around lately. I've been horrible to Richard, and to Jezza, every time they asked how I was or asked me flat-out what was bothering me, I just... snapped at them, brushed them off. Mostly because I was ashamed and couldn't bring myself to tell them what a cock I'd been to you. Even I didn't sympathise with me, so why should they?"
"A mate isn't always supposed to sympathise. Sometimes he has do the opposite and give you a good, hard kick up the arse." I pointed out. "You know, except for Richard I never talked to anyone about us."

"Why didn't you?"

"I felt ashamed too, just for different reasons. I felt.. tricked, like I had been incredibly naive for letting myself get so... carried away, getting so attached. I felt stupid and embarrassed. I'm not quite sure why I told Richard, it probably wasn't the best person to talk to because it ended up putting him in the middle of all of this. I just couldn't carry it around on my own anymore, and suddenly he was there, talking about you. I thought maybe what happened between us could explain what was going on with you. And I wanted him to know why I couldn't help. They're good mates, James, and they really care about you." James looked at me thoughtfully, nodding slightly.

"Emily, why did you return that t-shirt?" He asked suddenly.

"I had two very different reasons for wanting to. At first I thought I returned it because I just wanted you, and anything that could remind me of you, out of my life. But maybe I did because I hoped it would coax some sort of response in you. That t-shirt was somehow my last connection to you, and by returning it and cutting that last thread, maybe you'd... change your mind. Or at least I'd hear something from you."

"Well, it worked," James said and reached over the table for my hand. He kissed it tenderly and raised it to his own cheek, closing his eyes at the feel of my palm.

"I guess I never entirely gave up on you ," I smiled.

"You have no idea how grateful I am that you didn't," he sighed, gave my hand another kiss and let it go. "I'm sorry making you feel... naive and ashamed. And for all the other bad things I made you feel."

"I know," I said mildly. We finished our food and headed back out into the cold London-streets, the winds were picking up again causing it to drizzle sideways. At a street corner we had to wait for a green light to cross a busy street. While waiting James hand found mine and he came closer, leaning in for a kiss. Startled I put a hand on his chest to stop him and looked around pointedly. We were out in the middle of London, in a crowded street on a Friday afternoon, a lot of people would see us.

"I don't care if someone sees us. I meant it when I said I want everyone to know about us," he said determinedly, and closed the remaining gap between us. The traffic lights started beeping while we kissed, telling the world it was safe to cross the street, but we ignored it. A gang of rowdy blokes in their early twenties passed us and cheered loudly: "you go Captain Slow!"  and we to burst into a fit of giggles. Blushing I hid my face against James jacket and he wrapped his arms around my neck to shield me. I looked up at him, still giggling.

"Thank you," I smiled and James gave me another quick kiss. We managed to hurry across the street before the light turned red again, heading back to my apartment.

"Have you decided if you're driving back tonight or tomorrow morning?" I said I took off my jacket in the hallway. James made a grimace.

"I think maybe tonight. Otherwise I'd have to leave at like.. 5am and wouldn't be able to drive back here at the end of the day," he sighed.

"Maybe you should have a nap before you leave? We didn't get that much sleep last night."

"Mm," he mumbled, hanging his own jacket on a hook on the wall, then pulled me in for a hug. "Have a nap with me?" I nodded and we crawled into bed, cold from having been outside. "I just wish I hadn't forgotten my iPod, music would at least keep me somewhat entertained," he mumbled when we'd settled against each other.

"Borrow mine? Should be something on there you can bear to listen to?"

"Can I? That would be great, thanks." I set my alarm and we were soon asleep. James grumbled and swore when I tried to drag him out of bed a few hours later. I had tried to go gentle on him but he refused to be woken up by kisses and gentle prods, in the end I had to resort to mercilessly tearing the duvet off him. I gave him coffee and plenty of kisses to make up for it, and bit by bit he returned to a somewhat human state. "Leaving you is the last thing in the world I want to do right now," he said unhappily as he stood in my hallway, jacket and shoes on. I stuffed my iPod and a car-charger into his pocket. He pulled me close and leaned his forehead against mine, rubbing my sides.

"I know, sweetheart," I sighed. "I don't want you to go either. But it's just for a day. I'll see you tomorrow night?"

"Okay," he sighed, still unhappy.

"Call me if you get tired, yeah?"

"Can I call you anyway?" He said, looking up at me.

"Of course," I smiled and gave him a lingering kiss. "Say hi to the guys from me. And drive safe."

"I love you," he said.

"Love you, too." Before our period apart we had never said that to each other, even if I had wanted to say it many times. My fear had made me hold back, scared such a big sentiment would chase him away. Saying it now was easy, because now I knew that I had always loved him, that I hadn't stopped loving him even when I hated him. 

Chapter 22

Something tore me out of my slumber, and I dropped the remote control on my floor. I'd been snoozing on my sofa, trying to watch telly. I sat bolt upright, looking around and listening intently for what might have woken me up. Just when I had been about to relax again, thinking it might've just been a dream or a loud noise in the street, there was a knock on my door, slow but incessant. Frowning I checked my clock, it was half past midnight and I wondered sleepily who was knocking at this hour. Then there was another knock.

"Emily...? Are you there?" The sound of that voice caused a violent reaction in me, making me feel nauseous, cold, terrified and angry all at once. Weeks and weeks worth of pain came rushing over me. Stupidly I shut the telly off, in a vain effort to pretend I wasn't in. If he could hear it, he would've heard it a long time ago. The voice had frozen me in to place, rendering me unable to think straight. Why was he here? He was supposed to be in Cardiff with the others, what the hell was he doing here? "Emily, please..." The voice coming through the door was rough, pleading, so unlike him, but still undeniably... him. Not really in control of my own feet I gravitated towards the front door, and stopped a few feet from it. I held my breath, not knowing what I wanted more - to hear his footsteps as he left, or his voice calling out my name again. "Emily, please..." From a distance I heard my own voice answering him.

"James, go away." Silence.

"Emily, I just want to-"
"No." I said, more loudly, cutting him off.

"Please, Emily, I have to talk to you, I'm... I don't know what to do here."

"I said. Go. Away." I spat loudly between gritted teeth. "Go back to Cardiff."

"No." The voice coming through the door was defiant. "I'm not leaving until you talk to me."

"I don't have to talk to you!" I shouted at the door.

"I know you don't have to, Emily, but... Open the door, please..."

"James, you have no right showing up like this!" I said loudly, desperately trying to hang on to whatever composure I had left. "Now fuck off, go away!"

"I can stay out here all night until you talk to me." The defiance in his voice was gone, all that was left was just blind desperation. My frustration had been gradually building and I didn't have trouble deciding anymore, all I wanted was for him to leave me alone.

"Why? You ended this, you wanted out, and I gave you the easiest fucking way out. You threw me out of your life! Not a word in weeks, you've been hiding away like the fucking coward you are, so why the hell should you talk now? Can't you just go away and leave me alone?!" I was shouting now, waving my arms at the door.

"Emily, I--"

"NO! I don't care about anything you have to say, I'm beyond caring. You didn't care, you bastard, so why the fuck should I?" I screamed and slammed my fist at the door, no longer aware of what I was saying. "Couldn't you have just stayed the fuck away?! Fuck you, James! You don't get to do this to me one more time, I'm not letting you, ever! Go away and leave me alone! LEAVE!" I couldn't see for tears anymore, and my voice was horribly distorted from screaming and crying at the same time.

"I'm not leaving, I can't.. I can't leave..." James voice cracked. Was he crying?

"LEAVE! James, leave or I'll call the fucking cops and have them drag your sorry ass out of here. LEAVE! LEAVE! JUST FUCKING LEAVE, PLEASE....!" I screamed at the top of my voice and then collapsed in a heap in the corner of my little hallway, sobbing grossly, giving myself over to a kind of soul-crushing crying-fit that was so intense it could strain you to the point of exploding. All my pain, my anger and my grief was threatening to smother me and I couldn't breathe, or move.

            Slowly my hysterics subsided, even if the pain didn't. Feeling drained I remained in my corner of the hallway, sobbing ever more quietly, steadily regaining the ability to breathe. James voice was gone, the corridor beyond my door had been silent for a long time now. With a long, audible sigh I wiped my face and sniffed. I startled when the voice returned. It spoke softly.

"Emily, I'm still here... I haven't left, because I can't. Scream and rage at me all you want, you've deserved that, but please... just open the door." Disbelievingly I stared at the door. How was he still here? How? Clumsily I got to my feet, stiff from having been curled up on the floor for god knows how long, knowing that I was losing, that I had already given in. I didn't have any more rage that could shield me from him and shut him out any longer. With a sigh I unlocked the door and opened it, frightened of what I might find on the other side. The door slid open. James had his back against the corridor wall, leaning against it, one arm folded across his chest. His head was down and resting in his free hand, his unruly hair hiding his face. At the sound of the door opening he straightened up and looked sideways at me, his hand still by his face. James was pale and drawn, almost see-through, as if he was worn too thin. It was like a ghost was looking back at me with cold, empty eyes, a look that would forever haunt me. His hair was overgrown and his face was covered in stubbles. Now that he had straightened up I could see that he was clutching the t-shirt I had wanted to return. Unable to bring myself to speak I just left the door open for him and walked back into my flat. Like a zombie I sat down on the sofa, as far away from the door as I could, pulling my knees up to my body and clutching a big pillow. Shielding myself. Slow footsteps came through my door and I heard it close shut. I had to will myself to look up at him. Seeing me like this, tense and curled up seemed to startle him. He remained by the door but looked at me searchingly as if he was trying to work out if I was hiding because I was scared of him, or putting up a defensive wall against him.

"Hello..." He said softly, his eyes searching for mine. I didn't answer but looked at him quickly, then averted my eyes again. Warily he took a few steps into my living room,  walking slowly as if a sudden move could startle me into hysterics or spark my rage again. "Thank you. For opening the door," he said quietly. Encouraged by my silence he slowly walked over to the sofa and sat down on the other end of it. He leaned his elbows on his knees and held the grey t-shirt with both hands, looking down at it. "I... thought if you kept this, there was the smallest chance that..." His voice trailed off and he hung his head, burying his face in the t-shirt and his hands. I looked sideways to see his shoulders shaking as he started to sob, the sound was so heartbreaking it gave me a fleeting impulse to wrap my arm around him. But I fought it back, steeled myself. How much had I not cried for him in exactly the same way? Eventually his sobs died down, and he heaved a deep breath, trying to regain some control over himself.  "Emily, I... God, I don't know where to begin," he huffed, exasperatedly. "I finally get to talk to you and I can't even.." Another silence. "For what it's worth.. I'm sorry, Emily. You have no idea how sorry I am. I know that doesn't mean shit to you right now, but I need to say it. God, it sounds so pathetic." Privately I couldn't help but agree with him. "Walking away from you... It wasn't the mature thing to do at all. I ran away because I was scared, rather than face it and.. try to work it out like a grown up. And I cowardly pretended to be protecting you, and thought I was protecting myself. Instead I just... ruined everything. The things you said to me before you left... At first I was just mad, because you were mad, and I thought you were unfair. Then I realised that you have every right to be as angry and upset with me as you had been. The silence you left behind... I thought it was going to kill me, I missed you the minute you were out the door. I was so sure that I had just... fucked up everything beyond repair. So I tried to settle for that, that no matter what I said or did you would never... Ever love me again, or even want to look at me. But not a day went by when I didn't think about calling you, or coming here, or.. I wrote you letters, I wrote texts, but I never sent them." I kept quiet, not knowing what to say. He kept staring at his hands as he talked, fiddling nervously with the t-shirt. He had wanted to talk, so I let him, and leaned my forehead against the pillow as I listened to him.  

"I never thought that we weren't... serious. It was more that everything felt too serious, not because you made it out to be, but because of everything I felt for you.. What I felt for you... I'd never felt anything like it before. Emily, before I met you, I.. I thought I'd figured most of it out. Who I was, where I wanted to be, what I wanted in life, what I didn't want. And then you came along and... somehow you changed everything. Suddenly I was thinking about... wanting to live my whole life with you, maybe even get married, and about children, and things I was so sure I would never want. It scared the hell out of me. Suddenly I wasn't sure about anything anymore. And what scared me even more was the thought that you didn't feel.. as much as me. What I said to you... I don't care about the age difference. Without you I feel like I'm dead. And about being in different places in life... Without you I'm nowhere anyway, and the only place I want to be is wherever you are. I am a coward, you were right about that. I worried about how other people would react, which is pathetic. And it isn't who I want to be, someone who lets what other people might think dictate how I live my life. Frankly, I was just so... scared that one day, a month or a year or ten years in the future, you'd wake up and think "what am I doing, throwing away my life on this old sod?" Then you would've figured out that you didn't have to do that anymore, and you'd.. leave me. And I'd die alone and heartbroken. But the stupid thing is... Now I know that I'd much rather have that month, or that year, or those ten years with you, and risk you leaving me... Instead of just having caused you pain and misery." James fell silent, having run out of things to say. I sat up and let go of the pillow, then opened my mouth to speak, but I had been silent for so long not a word came out. The sound of me clearing my throat caused James to turn towards me, and we looked at each other for the first time in what felt like years.

"You left me." I said coldly. They were such simple words, but they contained everything I needed to say; the hurt, the disappointment, the bitterness, the anger, the sadness. And they instantly made me cry again.

"Emily, I know... I wish I could undo it, but I can't, you can't imagine how much I wish that I could. I regret it, I'm sorry about it, I... But none of that helps you. I promise that I will never, ever leave you again."

"I... I have lost the most important people in my life, time and again," I began, still tearful. "I've found myself alone, and lonely, completely shattered. And I've had to rebuild my life, and I've had to work so hard to try and find any meaning in it again. I went through the same thing when you... I don't have another fucking loss in me, James." I looked into his eyes, as painful as it was. James sank down on the floor by my feet, putting a hand on my knee. I squirmed under his touch but he refused to let go.

"Emily, I... I've been so fucking lost without you, I still am. I don't know what to do, or what to say to fix it."
"Nothing you say will fix this. You ran away from me, you disappeared."

"But I'm here now. And I'm done running." His bottom lip was trembling and his voice was cracking. "Which was why I didn't leave. Fear made me fuck this up, and fear kept me from trying to fix it for far too long. I'm not letting the fear get the better of me ever again." He was pleading now, still clutching at my knee, frail and crying.

"You broke me, James..."

"Please give me the chance to try and..?"

"No, you can't...!" I said loudly and looked away, unable to bear his desperate eyes. Quickly I tried to wipe my face dry from tears, but they just kept coming.

"Emily, I need you. You're the only thing that makes sense."

"I don't want you in my life," I said flatly, still not looking at him, trying to conjure up some last remnants of anger to defend myself.

"You don't mean that..." he sobbed.

"I fucked someone else," I said savagely, a last desperate attempt to push him away.

"I don't believe that, and even if it was true I wouldn't care!"

"I don't have any feelings for you... anymore.." I said, barely able to get the words out through my sobs.

"You do, otherwise you wouldn't be crying," he argued, also crying.

"I don't..."I sobbed, not even knowing what I was trying to say anymore.

"I love you, Emily. Please, please love me back." We looked into each other tear-filled eyes, and with that I realised that I had forgiven him. Not because he was crying, or pleading at my feet, not because he had begged for forgiveness, and not because of what he had said to me. I had forgiven him because looking into those eyes I saw that he was just as broken as me, and that we were the only ones who could fix each other. And because no matter how much he'd hurt me and let me down, I still loved him with all my heart. I lifted my hand and ran it shakily over his bushy hair. My hand came to rest at his neck and I pulled his head into my lap, then leaned forward and slid my arms around his head and shoulders. He buried his face in my lap, still shaking with sobs, his arms clutching at my sides. I ran my hand across his hair, over and over, desperately wanting to soothe his crying. Needing to hold him I straightened up and tugged at his arms, pulling him upwards, heaving him up off the floor. Blindly he crawled onto the sofa and into my arms, burying his wet face against my shoulder and neck.

"Sssshh," I soothed as I cradled him in my arms while rocking him, running my hand over his head and back. Slowly his sobs died down, but he still clung on to me. Finally he took a deep breath and sighed, then straightened up slightly. Red, blood-shot eyes looked searchingly at me, there were still sadness in them, but now they also had a bleak ray of hope in them. Gingerly, as if he was unsure he had permission to, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in for a proper hug, and I nuzzled my face against the side of his neck for a moment, taking in the familiar smell of him. His arms loosened their grip on me, but only so he could lean back into me and rest his head on my shoulder. We sat there in silence, arms wrapped around each other. It was enough, we didn't have any need for more words. It was words that had started all this, and we'd both had enough of them. Silence was safer. Just holding him, getting used to feeling his body against mine again, being able to hold him and caress him, and feel him caress me back, was far more healing than anything  we ever could have said to each other. "James?" I said casually, breaking the silence of the night.

"Mm?" His voice was still rough, but he sounded calmer now, relaxed, more like himself.

"Weren't you in Cardiff, filming Top Gear?" I asked, running my hand over his head and kissing his forehead lightly. His head remained rested against my shoulder as he spoke.

"I was, but then this amazingly stubborn woman blankly refused to talk to me. So I was forced to drive all the way to London, in a car that isn't even mine I might add, so I could convince her to listen to me."

"Aha, I see..." I said, chuckling a little. "What car was it?"

"Masterati Gran Turismo."
"Ooh, sexy..!" I said longingly, and it was James' turn to chuckle. "Doesn't that kind of.. ruin filming, though? Missing a presenter? And a car?"

"Yes, a bit. But this was infinitely more important than a plucky motoring show. So frankly, I couldn't care less." I sighed and withdrew my arm from James, then got to my feet. When I did he looked up at me with a startled expression, as if he was worried that I was angry again, or going to throw him out.

"I'm just getting some water." I smiled kindly at him, wanting to reassure him that everything was still okay.

"Oh, okay." I felt his eyes following me as I padded out into the kitchen and filled a tall glass of water, had a drink then filled it again and brought it back to James. Wordlessly I handed it to him without sitting down and he drank deeply. When he set the glass down on the table I reached out my hand to him.

"Come on," I said softly, he took my hand and got up from the sofa. I lead him into my dark bedroom and flicked on a small lamp by my bed. He held me back as I was about to climb into bed, looking at me questioningly, his eyes asking if he was really allowed. Without answering I crawled into it, not letting go of his hand, pulling him after me. Almost shyly he followed and sank down on the bed, but further away from me than I would've wanted. Lying on his side he just peered at me, looking utterly lost and lonely. I inched closer to him and placed a gentle hand on the side of his neck, caressing his cheek with my thumb. I wanted him to wrap his arm around me, but he didn't and I wondered if he thought I wouldn't want him to. I decided to give him time, realising he needed time to forgive himself even if I already had. In the dim light we just looked into each other's eyes. Whole conversations passed unspoken between us in the night, James' eyes told me of his remorse, fear and guilt, but also of his hope and love.

"You know... I didn't really sleep with anyone else," I admitted quietly, suddenly remembering my pathetic attempt to hurt him.

"Good." He gave a sigh of relief. "I would have cared, you know. An awful lot."

"Good," I echoed, and gave him a little smile which he returned. "How long would you have stayed out there in my hallway?"

"Days. Weeks. I considered kicking in your door but I was worried I would hurt my arthritic hip," he muttered dryly. At this I burst out laughing. He had balls for daring to make age-related jokes already. My laughter made James break out into a quick little smile which chased all traces of sadness from his eyes for as long as it lasted. It also gave him the courage to wrap his arm around me. I fell silent again, content to just be able to have James with me and have him hold me. He was broken and battered, but slowly I rediscovered the face of the man I had once fallen in love with, not that long ago. But it felt like a lifetime had passed since then. As the quiet stretched on, I could see how James' eyes became unfocused, somehow gazing inward. He had obviously fallen deep in thought, and I let him be for a while, giving him time to process. But I grew impatient, wanting him back, wanting to pull him back from that abyss he seemed to be staring into.

"James?" My voice brought him back and his eyes snapped into focus, looking at me. "Where were you just now?" I asked mildly. He averted his eyes for a moment, his hand fiddling nervously with the hair at the back of my neck.

"Do you think..." He began, but his voice broke. He cleared his throat and continued. "Do you think... you could ever... forgive me?" The man looking at me in that moment me was bare, completely vulnerable, stripped down to nothing but his fears and insecurities.

"I already have."

"I don't deserve that..." he said quietly, looking down.

"Maybe you don't right now. And maybe you don't deserve me loving you, either, but I do all the same." At this he startled and his eyes shot upward and met mine.

"What?"

"I love you, you daft sod, " I said with feeling. James' face completely transformed when he broke out into a wide grin, it was like the light and life returned to his eyes. His arms closed tighter around me and he leaned in hurriedly like he couldn't wait to kiss me. But he froze in mid-motion, inches from my face, looking insecure. It was as if he suddenly remembered that things were perhaps different now and he couldn't just kiss me because he had an overwhelming urge to. "It's okay," I said softly, caressing the side of his neck. Urged on by this he closed the remaining gap between us and awkwardly, like he had never kissed anyone before, pressed his lips against mine. Instantly falling into an old habit I tangled my fingers into his hair as I kissed him back, desperate to reassure him that this really was okay. His kisses went from timid and nervous to deep and intense as his confidence grew. He had told me about his feelings with his words, and his eyes, and now he was telling me with his lips, and his hands. It made me feel that familiar jolt of glowing joy his kisses had always given me. When he eventually broke the kiss, he did it reluctantly, and kept his face close to mine. I couldn't help but break out into a wide, manic grin, the same way I had the first time he kissed me.

"God, I've missed that," he sighed.

"Me too," I smiled. He leaned his forehead against mine.

"I've missed you so... so fucking much. Your laughter, your smile, sleeping next to you ... The thought that I'd never get to kiss you again... " His voice trailed off and the sadness crept back into his eyes.

"Hey," I said firmly, forcing him to look into my eyes. "Let go of that thought, because you can kiss me all you want. Like... right now would be good." He smiled slightly and ran his hand over my hair before leaning into kiss me again. When we broke apart we just looked at one another, just happy to be able to see some happiness in each other's faces again. "Did you tell anyone you were going before you left? Have you talked to any of them?" I asked.

"Um, no, I didn't, actually, and I haven't." James frowned, looking like he had just remembered that other people existed in the world.

"I was thinking they could be worried about you."

"Yeah, they might be... They've probably tried to get hold of me, I don't know, I left my phone in the car."

"Maybe I should send Hammond a text or something, let them know you're okay?" I asked, and James nodded his consent. "My phone is in the living room, I'll be right back." I scrambled to my feet and retrieved my phone from under the pillow on the sofa, then went back to the bed room and sat down on the edge of the bed. "By the way, would you like to know how many times you called me earlier, you stubborn git?" I smirked, looking at the screen.

"Go on," he said, bracing himself.

"41 missed calls," I smirked, and he made a grimace. Besides from all the calls from James, Richard had called a few times, and sent a text.

"We can't find James, and a car is missing. Just wanted to let you know." That was three hours ago. Quickly I typed in a response, not wanting to call him this late.

"Hi Hamster. James is here with me. He's okay. Don't worry, I won't kill him :) Hope you get some sleep." After having sent the text I put the phone down on the nightstand.

"Right. I told him you're here, and that I'm not going to kill you."

"Good, thank you," James said, looking up at me from where he was still lying on my bed. I ran a hand over his arm and squeezed his hand.

"God, you're ice cold!" I said when I felt the temperature of his skin.

"Yeah, I feel a bit... well, cold," he shrugged, and shivered a bit. I could guess why he was - he was exhausted, physically as well as emotionally.

"Poor sweetie," I said, running my warm hand over his cold arm. Then I stood up from the bed and tore off my shirt.

"What are you doing?" James wondered, propping himself up on his elbows and looking at me wide-eyed while I stripped down to my underwear.

"I'm going to try and get some warmth back into you," I explained as I sat down on the bed and started taking off his jumper and t-shirt. "And the best thing is body heat. Plus, I've missed your skin."James obligingly sat up and raised his hands over his head. Naked from the waist up he laid back down and let me take off his jeans. I crawled into bed and inched up to him, slipped an arm under his neck and wrapped it around his back. With my free hand I pulled my duvet over both of us and wrapped that arm around him too. He felt small and thin in my arms, tense and frozen, like the cold was radiating from somewhere inside him. He sighed heavily and buried his face against the side of my neck, clinging on to me in search for more warmth. I kept running my hands over his back, wanting to cocoon him with my body. His body shivered slightly and he hummed against my neck.

"This might be the best feeling I have ever had..." he mumbled. Nestled under the duvet and in my arms the warmth slowly trickled back into his body, and I felt how he thawed and relaxed against me.

"Feeling better? Warmer?" I asked, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, I feel.... like I want to stay like this forever," he sighed and squeezed me tightly. I looked down, into eyes with a shade of blue I never could get enough of. "Emily, I love you." He spoke so quietly it was almost a whisper, as if he hardly dared say it.

"And I love you." I ran a hand down the side of his face. Then we kissed, slowly and tenderly, like we were learning to kiss each other all over again. James rested back against my shoulder, and I kept running my hand over his back, I couldn't get enough of his skin under my fingertips. In the past six weeks we had drifted so far apart and I had done all I could to detach myself from him, convinced that I would never even see him again. Now that he was here I never wanted to let him go from my arms ever again. I could hear how James' breathing became slow and deep, and how his arm got a little heavier where it was draped around me as he drifted off to sleep. Gently I kissed his forehead and allowed myself to join him in his slumber, calmed by James' breaths and his weight and warmth against me.

Chapter 21

One Thursday evening there was a gentle knock on my door. I checked my phone, wondering of someone had sent me a text to warn me of their imminent arrival, really not having any opinions as to whom that might be. Cathy maybe, all though that would be very unlike her. She had returned from her holiday, tanned and healthy and fallen in love with her hubby all over again, I didn't have the heart to ruin her high with my tragedies, and had kept everything to myself. Frowning I padded over to the door and had a look through my peephole. What I saw through it made me tear the door open in sheer surprise.

"... Hammond?" I gasped.

"Oh! Hi, Emily! Thank god, right door." He waved, talking fast and shifting restlessly in the hallway, seeming nervous. "Listen, this might seem a bit....- Oh, by the way, am I disturbing you? If this is a bad time I can..." He gestured to the stairs and the exit.

"No, no, it's fine, I'm not doing anything..." I said slowly, looking at him sideways, still surprised.

"Oh good. Right, I know this might seem odd, but... Can I talk to you for a minute? I don't know who else to talk to." My first instinct had been that James had sent him, or at least that this was about him. But Richard seemed so genuinely distressed about something that sheer curiosity got the better of me.

"Yeah, sure.. Come in," I said and took a step back, letting Richard into my apartment. "I was just making tea, want a cuppa?"

"Yes, please, that would be lovely," he said politely, having a quick look around my apartment.

"Sit down," I waved as I headed for the kitchen. "Water is hot, I'll be out in a jiffy." A few moments later I returned and handed him a mug of steaming tea, then sat down on the other half of the corner sofa, looking at him.

"Thank you, Emily," he said sincerely, wrapping his hands around the mug to warm his hands. It was mid-march outside, but London had been rainy and a chilly wind was sweeping through. A silence fell as I patiently waited for him to reveal why he'd suddenly showed up at my door, having never been here before. "Listen, as I said earlier, this might seem very strange, me turning up on your doorstep like this out of nowhere. I realise we don't know each other that well, but to me you just seem like... someone you can talk to, and you're a nurse, and..." His voice trailed off as he considered how to continue. "In short, I like you, I feel like I can talk to you and I trust you." I studied him, frowning. What the hell was going on? If he had turned up here with some embarrassing genital warts I was going to punch him. In the groin. I wondered vaguely if it was something with his kids, something he wanted to talk to a health worker about before daring to mention it to his wife. Or perhaps this was about his marriage?

"Wow, now I'm really...  curious," I admitted and sipped my tea. "So what's up?"

"I'm worried. About James," he said shortly, with a sigh of admittance. My heart sank down into my stomach and I felt that icy cold chill spread through me, but I did my best to seem unperturbed.  So this was about James, after all. Part of me was curious as to what was worrisome about James, part of me genuinely wanted to help Richard as he seemed distressed. I struggled to keep my face neutral when I replied.

"About James? Why?"

"He's... I don't know what's going on with him, he's just not right. Lately he's been sort of... distant, somehow, moody and tetchy and... slow. Slower than usual. When we go out drinking, like while on a shoot or something, he downs alcohol like there's no tomorrow and gets absolutely smashed, but he never seems to have fun, he just turns into a right prick, really. He looks tired and drawn. I tried talking to him once but he just completely bit my head off and after that I've hardly dared talk to him. I'm just... concerned about him, he's just been so unstable lately. He never showed up for that New Year's Eve party, and has never told us why. Sometimes I even wonder if this is some late side-effect of when he hit his head down in Syria, it's not like him to be unstable like this. I think maybe... could he be depressed?" At this Richard looked at me, eyebrows raised, searching for confirmation. Quickly I decided to give my standard health-worker answer, mostly to give myself time to think it over.

"Well, problems concentrating, slow speech or movements, mood-swings, anger, tendency to isolate yourself... those can all be signs of depression. Or other things, it's hard to tell. I really don't think this has anything to do when he hit his head, that would've showed up much sooner and gotten better in that case, not gotten worse. This isn't anything like what you had, Hamster." Richard didn't seem much relieved by this, and I hadn't really meant to soothe him either, I had just told him what I knew to be true.

"Honestly I feel like a bit of a douche going behind James' back like this, but..." Richard squirmed apologetically. "We're good mates and we can talk about serious things sometimes, but now... I can't seem to reach him. Even Jezza has noticed it and he's worried too. He also tried talking to him but he's even worse with emotional things than I am. He didn't do brilliantly."

"I guess manly blokes don't talk about their inner feelings much?" I said dryly. He looked up at me unhappily.

"Such a stereotype, but true in this case. I don't mean to ask you to break any confidences here, but you and James... You've seemed pretty... close."

"Close?" I needed him to clarify what he meant by that. How much did Richard know, or how much had he understood or guessed?

"Yeah, I mean... You seem like pretty good mates, you know, spending time together... Have you noticed anything different about him?" I looked at Richard for a long time, trying to make up my mind about how to reply. The easy answer would just be to pretend like I hadn't seen him much lately, just say that I didn't hear from him anymore and didn't know what was going on. But I was tired of hiding the truth, I felt like I had been hiding the truth and hiding myself along with it. I sighed deeply and looked at Richard, fiddling absentmindedly with my mug.

"To be honest, Richard... I haven't seen or talked to him in over.. five weeks now." At this Richard just stared at me, blinking confusedly for a minute.

"What? Really? I mean, why...? It might not be any of my business, but... I thought you were..." He stuttered, not knowing if he had a right to ask questions. Nervously I fiddled with my mug, staring into the dredges of my tea, thinking over one last time whether or not to tell him everything. After a silence I sighed and straightened up, readying myself to tell someone for the first time.

"About that New Year's Party he never showed up to..." I began.

"Yeah?" Richard nodded, but not impatiently.

"He didn't come because he went to Norway. To see me." I gave these words time to register with Richard. "He... I was restless, and miserable, and let slip mostly by accident that I was missing him when we talked on the phone. So he jumped on a plane, showed up out of nowhere, at midnight. He kissed me." I paused again, trying to fight off vivid memories from that night.

"...James did that?" Richard asked incredulously.

"I know right? Anyway, I came back to London with him the next day. We went for a five day road-trip around England, I wanted to see more of England and we just wanted to be with each other, away from everyone else. We wanted to keep it to ourselves, it was all sudden and new and exciting, you know..." Richard nodded knowingly, urging me on. "So we kept it to ourselves. We had some... fantastic, intense weeks, spending all our free time together when we were off work, I practically lived there." I had to swallow hard. Up until now I had tried to keep detached, but emotions were catching up with me, making it harder to keep talking. Thinking about what to say next, I mobilised some anger again, wanting it to chase away that painful lump in my throat.

"Then what happened?" he urged, already looking concerned, as if he could only imagine what I was about to say.

"But then, he... He started talking about our age difference. He said that we're in different places in life, that it would've never worked out and told me he wanted to end it before it became... too serious." That last word took a lot of effort to repeat. "So I screamed and raged at him and stormed out of there. That was five weeks ago." A long silence fell as I gave Richard time to let it sink in, I could tell he needed it by the startled and confused expression on his face. "So I'm sorry, Richard, but I don't think I'll be able to help you much with this. You managed to pick probably the worst person in the world to talk to about James' problems right now." I said the last bit with a sad smile of irony.

"Oh, Emily, I'm... I'm really sorry," he said, looking at me sympathetically. After another silence he continued. "You have no idea how much of a twat I feel like for coming to talk to you about this, now." He screwed his eyes up in embarrassment and I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Bollocks to that, Richard, you had no way of knowing about any of this. That was sort of the point, that no one was supposed to know. Don't feel bad about it." I shrugged. "As for what is bothering James... I don't know. Maybe he's wallowing in self-pity. Maybe he suddenly found himself alone and feels sorry for himself. Maybe he's just bored," I said savagely. At this Richard shot me a look, as if he thought I was being a bit harsh, but then his expression softened when he realised I had every right to be.

"I don't know either. But if he's is feeling sorry for himself or lonely, he can thank himself for that by the sounds of it," Richard muttered sourly. I took some sort of primitive pleasure in hearing Richard say this, in siding with me, however slightly. Then I instantly felt bad.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to badmouth James or anything," I said. "I'm not trying to turn you against him or anything, you've known James for donkey's years. I just... I haven't told anyone any of this before, and frankly I'm not even sure why I told you. Maybe I just needed to. I wanted you to know why I can't help you. No matter how angry and disappointed I've been with him, how hurt I've felt... That's between me and him. I didn't tell you because I wanted to get back at him, or talk shit about him."

"Oh come on, Emily, I know that wasn't what you..." He waved, brushing it off. He understood. "Seriously, have you not heard anything from him since?"

"No. Well, he's called a few times, but always late at night. I figured he was probably drunk so I didn't pick up. He always called once, and never the next day. So I just... reckoned it couldn't have been that important."

"He might've been drunk, actually, we've done a few Top Gear shoots lately and had a few late night binges...," Richard sighed. "Listen, Emily, if you feel like... you need to get away for a bit, sometime, get out of London, you're welcome to come up to ours for a few days? See the animals, go for walks with the dogs, I know you're a dog person. Play with the kids. Or even better, come play with me, we could go quad-biking in the mud!" He looked at me with child-like eagerness at the prospect of muddy quad-biking and nodded encouragingly.

"Aw, thank you Richard, that's so nice of you. I really appreciate that," I said, and I meant it. "I would've loved to, but I'm leaving London in little over three weeks."

"...What?" Richard said darkly, looking surprised again.

"Yeah, I'm..." I looked down at the floor, feeling a little ashamed. "I'm doing the cowardly thing here, Richard... Running away. That course I came here to take, I had my exam at the end of January so I'm done with that. I really like my job here, but there are hospitals and patients in Norway as well, I could find something similar there. I've signed up for a new stint abroad with a few organisations, too. It might happen tomorrow, or in two months, or not at all. But this place, Richard, this city... It's all just James now, you know?" Suddenly my eyes were brimming with tears and my voice cracked. "I mean, James help me build all this furniture, for god's sake. It's just too much of a reminder, staying here." I realised I was crying for real now, causing Richard to shuffle over and put his arm around me consolingly. "I mean, I... I still love London, I've felt so much at home here, I always have since way before I moved here. And I adore England... but I need to get away. It might not make anything any easier, but I'm hoping it might. I just need some distance."

" I know what you mean, Emily. And I can't blame you for wanting to get leave, really," he said and gave me another little squeeze. "I totally get why you want to. But I'll be sad to see you go."

"Thank you," I sniffed and smiled at him through the tears. Then I straightened up and wiped my face dry. "I'm sorry, you came here for help and end up having me dump all this on you and cry on your shoulder... I'll be fine, I have to finish my contract, which ends next week. My flat contract runs out in two weeks, then I'm out of here."

"You have to come down and see us before you leave, though. Mindy would like seeing you again too."

"Yeah, I'd like that. Maybe best if James don't know about it if I do, don't want him to think I'm moving in on his mates. You guys are his mates, and you are really important to him. He's lucky to have you, Richard, to have mates that care. He just doesn't know it."

"Well I care about you too!" Richard said loudly. "So if you want to come visit, that's up to me and not to him. And right now I'm not sure I feel like being such a mate to him," he added sulkily.

"Whatever James is struggling with right now... It's now he needs his mates. Even if you don't agree with what he said or did. And this might not even have anything to do with me at all, it might be about something totally different."

"Well whatever it is, he doesn't even seem to want any help or support," Richard fretted.

"Maybe he doesn't know he needs help. Or wants to believe that he doesn't need it. You just have to keep trying."

"I can't understand how you can be this mature and good about it," Richard said, shaking his head.

"Secretly I have a need to punch him repeatedly in the nuts," I admitted and Richard laughed loudly.

"We all have that need!" He agreed.

"I haven't been mature or good about this, Richard. I've cried and screamed like a baby throwing a hissy fit, I've been so angry I felt like I could kill him. And now I'm just running away, like a coward. And I'm serious about wanting to punch him in the nuts."

"Personally I think he was the coward," Richard said simply. I didn't know what to answer, so I just clapped my arms around him in a quick, grateful hug.

"Listen, I better get going," Richard said, looking at his watch. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," I smiled reassuringly. "I've made it through the past five weeks, so.. I'll be fine. Eventually."

"Good." He got up with a sigh and I followed him.

"Hey, Richard, are you going to see James anytime soon?"

"Yeah, tomorrow in fact. Why?" He said guardedly. "If you are plotting to have him assassinated I'm not telling you when or where." I laughed and quickly popped into the bedroom to pick up a little plastic bag.

"I wanted to return this...It's his t-shirt, I borrowed it once-- oh, it doesn't matter. Could you give it to him? I don't care how, if you just... give it to him or slip it into his bag or.. something, I don't care if he knows I've told you. It's washed and everything." Richard accepted the bag, looking incredulous.

"You washed it? God, you were too good for him," he said with feeling. "Take care of yourself now, okay? And I'll see you before you leave, yeah?"

"I will. And yes, I promise I won't just disappear," I smiled. Richard pulled me in for a lingering hug.

"Emily? I love hugging you, you make me feel tall!" He said, arms still around me, and we both chuckled. Then he let go, said goodbye and was out the door. It had been a strange conversation, and I couldn't quite decide how I felt about having told Richard everything. On the one hand I felt lighter now that I had finally told someone, gotten it off my chest and received some sympathy and comfort. On the other hand Richard was probably one of the last people I should've told, he was James co-worker, and more importantly his best mate. Feeling another stab of bitter and vindictive anger I decided I didn't care, in the end. I'd be gone in a few weeks.

About a week later, as I was packing up some of my stuff to ship back home, my phone lit up. I went ice cold inside when I saw James' name on the screen. Cursing him and what I suspected to be another drunken call, I turned the sound off and let it ring, then went back to my packing. Coming to London I had only brought two huge suitcases with me, but I was amazed at the amount of things I had managed to accumulate over the past 8 months in this city and realised that the suitcases wouldn't do on the return journey. So I'd gotten hold of a huge shipping crate into which I was now stuffing books, summer clothes and all the bits and bobs I knew I wouldn't need for another two weeks in London. To my surprise the phone started buzzing and lit up again shortly after the first call had ended. James again. And it kept calling, over and over. Had he passed out against his redial button? Stubbornly I kept on packing, and kept on ignoring, wishing he'd just give it up. Him calling me always rattled me, just by knowing I could hear his voice by the press of a button. Eventually the buzzing of the phones vibration stopped. Then it buzzed just once, making me look over at it again. A text?

"Emily, please... I need to talk to you. Please pick up."

That was the first words I'd gotten from James in over six weeks. I snorted derisively, thinking that I didn't give a rats ass about what James needed. Then the ringing started up again, and it kept ringing for another hour.

"Oh for godssake!" I shouted at it, finally having run out of patience. As soon as the ringing seized I found Richard's name in my contact list and dialled.

"Yello?"

"Richard? It's me, Emily."

"Emily, hello!" He sounded pleasantly surprised. "What's up?"

"Listen, is James anywhere near you?" I cut to the chase, wanting to get to the point.

"Um, no, he isn't.." he said, sounding nonplussed. "Well, he's in the same building, somewhere, we're doing on a shoot around Cardiff right now, but it's a huge hotel. We do have separate rooms. Why?"

"Because he's been calling me for about two hours now, on and off. He's even sent me a text, saying he needs to talk to me, it's driving me up the wall. Would you know anything about this?"

"Oh.. Ah. I might.. have something to do with that, actually," he began timidly. I sighed audibly before I asked in a resigned voice:

"What did you do?"

"Well, I..." He sounded hesitant. "I went over to return that t-shirt you gave me."
"And? Just tell me everything, ok?"

"Yeah, all right, all right, I will.. Well, I handed him the bag and he asked where I'd gotten it. And then what I'd been doing at your flat in the first place, like he thought I was over there shagging you or something! Anyway, I told him honestly that I'd gone to your place to talk about him because I'd been worried about him, because he'd been such a miserable bastard and everything. And how you told me about what happened between you two. Adding that you talked about him in much nicer terms than I frankly thought he deserved. And I told him I thought he was a massive cock for ever breaking it off with you."

"Harsh, Richard." I muttered.

"Yeah, I know... for a second there I was sure he was going to punch me right in the face, but then he..." Richard's voice trailed off.

"He what?" I urged.

"He... just cracked, right in front of me. He started crying and shouting "don't you think I know that I fucked up the best thing I had in my life?" Complete breakdown. I've never seen him cry before, Emily, it was pretty... awful."

"Oh... okay.." I said stupidly, trying to gauge how I felt about this, my emotions being contradictory and chaotic. I felt a stab of vindictive pleasure about him breaking down, that he was hurting. And it made me confused, and surprised, because this meant he was feeling something. I'd spent the weeks ever since storming out of his house convincing myself that he didn't care and didn't feel, which had made it easier to be angry with him, an emotion I much preferred to disappointment and hurt. Vaguely I wondered if he really had thought Richard and I was having an affair, and if he had - what the hell else was he thinking about me? I felt bad for having put Richard in the middle of this, and regretted asking him to return the t-shirt.  "Was he drunk?"

"No, not at all, we'd just come in from filming."

"Was that it?"
"Um, no.. When he'd calmed down a bit he... asked about you, how you were doing. I decided to be honest and told him "she's leaving, James, that's how she's doing. She's quit her job, she's moving back to Norway. Unless she gets offered to go to Sudan or some such first. She's trying to get as far away from you and the memories of you as possible." Then I told him that if he was ever going to get you back he better stop crying and get a fucking move on, because you'd be gone in a few weeks."

"Oh, Richard.. You shouldn't have-" I began, but he cut me off.

"Listen, Emily, you were the one who told me to go and be his mate. So that's what I did, I decided to be his mate, and as his mate I think he was the biggest twat alive for throwing away what he had with you, and that he should get off his arse and do everything humanly possible to get you back. So that's what I told him to do."

"Okay," I sighed resignedly. "Fair enough. Oh for.. he's calling again." I heard the distant beep notifying me that I had another incoming call.
"Are you ever going to pick up on him?"

"Honestly, I don't know."

"Want me to tell him to stop calling?" Richard asked helpfully.

"I don't.. know..." I repeated, feeling myself being close to tears again.

"All right, Emily. I get it." He sounded understanding, comforting, and again I hated myself for having put him in the middle.

"I should go. Try to.. figure this out," I said weakly. "Thank you, Richard. You're a good mate. To him. And to me." I hung up. James was still calling, and I just stared at the phone. The reason I didn't pick up wasn't anger anymore, or a wish to not talk to him, I was just paralyzed, completely unable to make a choice. So I avoided making one, and stuffed the phone under a pillow on my sofa, where I couldn't see its light or hear its buzzing, and went on packing.

Chapter 20

"I think Hammond and Jezza might be suspecting something."

"Hm?" James had spoken so suddenly, breaking the silence of what had been a very quiet afternoon on the sofa. James was watching telly, I was reading a book with my feet in his lap.

"Hamster and Jezza. I think they know something is up."

"With what, with you?"

"Yeah, that I'm seeing someone."

"What? Are you seeing someone?" I smirked and poked him gently in the stomach with my foot. He obviously wasn't up for a joke, and remained serious.

"I don't know, they... That whole thing with the New Year's party, all the texts I'm getting... They said I always seem to be in a rush home, and they're wondering why."

"I haven't sent you that many texts, have I?"

"Not really, but I rarely got any before. And you always manage to send them when they're around."

"Oh, sorry..." I mumbled, feeling somehow ashamed. "I can stop sending you texts, if you want. And you can put your phone on silent..?"

"It's not the texts, Emily," he said, sounding annoyed and shifted restlessly in his seat.
"What, then?" I sat up and moved my feet out of his lap.

"I don't know, I..." He sighed some more, as if he was hesitating to say what was on his mind. It gave me a bad feeling.

"Would it be so bad if they found out, though? If we told them?" I wondered. "I mean, we've been.. this has been going on for what, six weeks now? I don't mean we have to go all public, but we could tell our friends...? Keeping this to ourselves was nice, in the beginning, getting to know each other and everything, but..." My voice trailed off as I didn't get much of a response from James, he just stared stiffly into nothingness. After a long, tense silence he cleared his throat and sighed heavily.

"Emily, I... I'm old," he said simply, and looked at me for a fraction of a second, then looked away again.

"...what?" Was all I managed to say, completely perplexed. I had no idea what was going on, but I had never seen James like this. Something was happening, something I couldn't control, understand or predict. All I sensed was that this was something that scared me senseless.

"I mean, I'm 49, you're 27... The age-gap between us is... huge. I could've been your dad, for crying out loud. We... come from different generations, we're... in different places in life, you've basically just started out, and I've.. been at it a while." He spoke slowly, searching for words as he went, wanting to get it right. My mind was reeling, this was escalating far too quickly for me to keep up with and my first response was ridiculous and feeble.

"I know we've been teasing each other a bit about age now and then, but... I really never meant anything by it..."

"Nevertheless it's true, it won't change. Our age-difference will always be there." He said it with such a finality in his voice, like that was the end of the matter and nothing I could ever say would change it. Annoyance flared up in me.

"And you obviously have a problem with this?"

"Yeah. I guess I do have a problem with it." That finality in his voice again. His answer had made me go cold inside, it wasn't just a sense of foreboding anymore, an anxious doubt in the pit of my stomach, this was a train wreck happening right in front of me, and I had no way of stopping it.

"So what do you want to do?" I heard myself asking, not really wanting an answer because I knew any answer I would get would be one I didn't want.

"I think... I should be sensible, mature person here and just... stop this. Walk away before it gets too serious." I didn't know what hurt me more, that he'd said he wanted to stop it, or that he didn't think of us as being serious.

"Stop this?" Was all I managed, still trying to get my head around these two words.

"Yeah, I.. Do you really think this could've ever worked out? With this much of an age difference? I don't. It's just, better this way, that we just... walk away, and stop seeing each other."

"Like... end it? Break it off?" I asked incredulously. I needed this in letters ten feet high if I was going to believe what he was saying.

"Yes, I think that... would be the best. For both of us."

My breath was shallow and ragged from all the emotions I was feeling, my hands were ice cold, but inside an explosion was going on in slow-motion, gradually building in intensity. Maybe it was my heart going to pieces. Gratefully I sensed that anger was coming to my defence in an effort to shield me from the pain I was feeling.

"So this... This age-difference, it never occurred to you before? You never thought about that until now?" James didn't reply, and still wasn't looking at me. His apathy, his cowardice, his lack of an answer, his refusal to look at me, everything just sparked more anger in me. "So what was this all about then? What was all this to you?" I gestured wildly to the space between us. "Just a fling with a pretty young thing? Was I just a rebound from your previous girlfriend? Did you need to feel more manly, like you still "had" it?" He threw a quick glance at me, looking like a shameful dog that was being told off for being bad. The guilt in that look made me completely lose it. "Let me tell you, mate, if all you wanted was some young, dumb bint to play around with you could've done so much better than me! You probably have bimbo's making passes at you all the time, because you're rich and on the telly, bitches love that kind of thing, don't they!? Couldn't you have chosen one of them to fuck around with? Some blonde, spray-tanned whore who didn't actually care about you?" I heaved for breath, trying desperately to hang on to my anger and not give in to the lump I felt growing in my throat. "You... you know me, I've told you about everything, what I've gone through, what I've lost in my life! Not because I wanted any pity from you, I don't want any pity from anyone, ever! But I was trying to warn you. Do you have any idea how scared I am of caring about another human ever again? How terrifying it is for me every time I feel a connection to someone? How fucking frightening it is to let someone in? Yes, you do, you fucking should, because I've told you about all of that." Without even realising it I had gotten up from the sofa and started pacing while shouting at him. "When I met you, I... You were the one who gave me your phone number. You offered to come build my furniture. You came and nearly broke through my door, insisting to take care of me when I was sick. Knowing all the things you know about me, everything I've gone through, you came all the way to fucking Norway to see me, to... What? Tell me you missed me? And for what? To..." This was where I lost it, my voice cracked horribly and my eyes exploded in tears. "... To fuck around with me for a while and then throw me away when it threatened to get serious? Fuck's sake, James-" Suddenly all my anger gave way to all the other horrible emotions in me; hurt, disappointment, shame, fear. It took all my courage with it and left me with nothing but an instinct to run. Get away. Blinded by tears I snatched my handbag off a nearby chair and headed for the door. While I was frantically putting on my shoes I was hoping more than expecting to hear his voice, or his steps as he came running after me, but there was nothing but the sound of my own, gross sobs. I tore my jacket off the hanger and stumbled out into the dusk of the early evening. Quickly I scrambled into my jacket and pulled the hood up, desperately trying to compose myself enough to stop crying, I couldn't cry hysterically on the tube home. Somehow I managed to take a few deep breaths and will myself to stop the flow of tears. Keeping it in all the way home took a tremendous amount of effort, it was like holding my breath for hours.

I closed the door behind me in my own apartment fully expecting to break down entirely in a crying fit that would last for hours. Curiously enough I didn't. I just felt numb, empty, as if I was floating in a vacuum. Maybe I was just in denial, refusing to believe what had just happened. Paradoxically I ended up sinking down on my own sofa and turning on the telly. Though not really seeing, just staring into space, zombie-like. I expected as much as I dreaded a phone call, or a text, but the phone remained stubbornly silent. I felt completely beside myself, as if I was having an out-of-body-experience. The part who was sitting on the outside of me, calmly assessing the situation, realised that I would be in no shape to work the next day and I called in sick. When I hung up I didn't even remember what I had said on the phone. My reaction came when I hobbled into my bathroom, thinking numbly that I should probably get to bed. Not sleep, I didn't believe I would be able to, but at least just lie down. Hanging over the edge of my hamper was my favourite of James' t-shirts, a grey one with "Dad's Army" and "Don't Panic!" on it. I'd borrowed it off him once while at his house and just worn it home, thinking I'd wash it and return it. Seeing it brought me forcefully back to the night I had borrowed it, and somehow to every night I had spent with him, every time I'd kissed him or laughed with him, and I collapsed in a heap on the bathroom floor, stupidly clutching at his t-shirt. How long I was on that floor I will never know, I only got up when the pain of lying on a tile floor got bad enough to make a dent in my sorrow and tell me that I should get up. I dragged myself to my bed and landed on it heavily, still clutching that damn shirt.

            I woke up feeling miserable and it took a while for my mind to catch up with my body. Why was I here, in my own bed? Alone? And why was I feeling so awful? Then it hit me, and the pain shot through me as sharp and real as it had the day before. It really felt like grief, as awful and desperately painful as when someone died. Some moments I even wondered if this was worse, because James hadn't died, he was still alive. He'd just chosen not to be with me anymore. The ones who had died at least didn't have much choice in the matter.

            Over the next few days I went through all the stages - denial, anger, disappointment, depression, bottomless grief. Meticulously I went through all the aspects of a million thoughts, I turned every instinct and feeling in and out, analysed and wondered to the point when I believed I was going mad. By the end of it I felt so drained and exhausted I didn't think I had anymore to give. Then the cycle started all over again, and all I could do is just hang on to the rollercoaster as it sped up and out of my control. I refused to give myself more than two sick-days. Out of experience it was okay, even necessary, to give grief space for a little while, delve into it and try to work through it. But eventually, if you gave it too much room, it would consume you, I had let it consume me for many years in the past. I needed a distraction, something that would occupy my mind and let me shift focus when a new wave of loneliness and pain hit me. So I went back to work, and decided to delve into that as deeply as I had into my sorrow, hoping it would somehow outweigh it, drown it out and relieve me of it. With ferocious intensity I threw myself into my work, taking on double shifts and extra shifts as much as I could, grateful to be so exhausted at night that I passed out without too much thought. James' shirt was lying under my bed, buried in a heap of laundry I never had time to do anymore. The phone remained silent for days, and then weeks, without a sound from James. And I kept to myself, not talking to anyone about James by choice. My friend Cathy, who was really my only option to talk to in London was away on her annual trip with her husband, they went away for about a month every year to some exotic place, this year it was Galapagos and I had no idea how to reach her. In moments of desperation I thought about calling Hammond, even if only to ask to talk to Mindy, as I liked her and she seemed to have understood far more about me and James than anyone else had. I thought about calling my sister, the only one at home I could've imagined talking to, but she was so busy with family life. And frankly, it felt like such a failure, having lost him. Like I had somehow done something wrong and ruined a potentially good thing. I couldn't bear the thought of having to tell her that, I felt shameful over it. Or maybe I was just ashamed at how naive I'd been, that despite all my fears and worries had let my heart run away with me that quickly, and that badly. That I'd let myself become so emotionally attached to and dependent on a man who thought so little of our relationship. Or whatever it had been. During some of my darkest and most desperate nights I revisited some old habits in thinking about life, and death. Mostly death. Life felt hollow and pointless. And it always amazed me how ruthlessly life just just.. ploughed on, like nothing had happened, like my heart had been broken. It brought back memories of a period in my life, many years ago, when I had been completely and dangerously suicidal, busy plotting the details of how I was going to end it all. I found a strange comfort in knowing that I was far, far from getting to that point. I kept thinking of my favourite lyric lines - "it's too late to die young now". I had made it through losing my mum, and losing my soul brother. I wasn't going to let a bloody boyfriend be the reason I committed suicide. He was the coward, the one who took the easy way out. I wasn't.

            Somehow, without understanding or knowing how I had gotten there, I felt like I had some control. What had felt like all-encompassing emotional chaos was now reduced to bitterness and self-blame. Which in turn fuelled some sort of cold determination. It still hurt, but somehow I could control it now, own it and shove it to the back of my mind. 

Chapter 19

"Ok, I think I might have a suggestion." I was staring intently at the map on my laptop while James cleared up plates. Most of the meal had gone by with me being deeply immersed in my research for our road trip, the only interruptions had been when James patiently reminded me not to forget to eat. He seemed mildly amused at my sudden, fervent planning and childish excitement.

"Okay, let's have a look," he said and sat down next to me by the kitchen table.

"Well, obviously, London first," I said, pointing at the screen. "We leave relatively early tomorrow morning, and drive to Cambridge and all the way up to York, we can stay the first night there right? Have a meander around York the next morning, it's such an old city, if memory serves I think Norwegian Vikings kind of captured it a bit at some point. Anyway, after York we can go up to Newcastle? Stay the second night there." I trailed my finger along the route as I explained. "See a bit of Newcastle the next day, whatever that is, must be something to see, then drive over to Carlisle in the afternoon, get into bed bright and early. Pray for good weather and spend the next day driving through the Lake District, been dying to go there, seems so pretty. I thought we could head for Liverpool along the coast.."

"Liverpool? What's in Liverpool?" He protested.

"Beatles!" I shouted.

"Oh god, don't tell me you're dragging me on a Beatlemania tour, are you?" He despaired.

"Just a little bit?" I begged, batting my eyelashes at him. "I can go on my own, we can install you at a pub or a museum or something-" I began.

"All right, fine, Liverpool it is." He rolled his eyes at me, but was smiling all the same.

"Thank you." I gave him a peck on the nose. "After that I'm a bit unsure, really. We could go down to Cardiff but that would mean going straight through Hereford... "

"I think we can manage to sneak through Hereford without Hammond spotting us," James laughed, understanding what I was worried about

"I knoooow, I know, but.. " I sighed.

"What's the alternative?" James urged.

"Maybe go to Birmingham, stop by Stratford-Upon-Avon, you know, Shakespeare and everything-"

"I am aware of Shakespeare, yes," James nodded.

".. And then Oxford, through the Cotswolds and back to London?" I finished, looking at him with nervous hopefulness.

"Jezza lives in the Cotswolds," he pointed out, and my shoulders sagged. "I'm joking! How about, when we get to Liverpool, we just see what we feel like? Maybe we'll go down to Cardiff, or we can go just straight down to Birmingham. We don't have to decide right now?"

"I reckoned that you'd refuse to go anywhere unless we had everything meticulously planned down to who was driving which stretches of road," I smirked.

"Emily, I might have OCD on a lot of things, but road-trips isn't one of them. If I had, I'd never be able to do Top Gear, I'd go mental!"

"Hmm, I see what you mean." I agreed. "Okay, let's just... Decide when we're there."

"Now that we've decided where we're going - what car do you want to take?" I stared at him, eyes widening as I realised what I potentially had to chose from.

"Bloody hell, I haven't even thought about that! I... I have no idea. How about you choose? They are after all your cars, and I chose where we're going."

"I think... Ferrari. I think going on a road-trip warrants a good car."

"Really? I'm going to hate myself for arguing but, in winter England?"

"It'll be fine, we're not off-roading through the Lake District? Mostly motorways and normal dual carriageways, it can handle that. You should've seen the roads I had to drive on with a Lamborghini Gallardo in Romania!"

"I did, I saw that episode, poor supercar! And you crashed it!" I laughed.

"I didn't! The other bloke crashed it, I was just driving!" He argued stupidly.

"M-hmm," I nodded, pretending to believe him. "Another thing, isn't that 458 rear-engined? We might need a bit of boot space?"

"It has got some in the front, actually, if we pack light it'll be fine. But bless you for knowing that," he added and kissed my forehead. "Speaking of packing, I better get started." He gave me a quick kiss on the forehead then disappeared upstairs to pack while I finished clearing up the kitchen. When I was finished I let Fusker in from the back garden and went upstairs.

"Did you pack long underwear?" I asked as I threw myself on the bit of the bed not covered in neat piles of clothes.
"What?" James head appeared from the closet.

"You know, thermals! Wool clothes!"

"Am I going to need that?" He looked at me wide-eyed and horrified.

"I don't know, maybe? If we're doing a ten mile hike somewhere I thought it might be a good idea?"

"I don't have long underwear," James said with disgust and extracted himself from his closet, then sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Lies. You went to the North Pole, James."

"In jeans. Besides, thermals like that, especially ones made of wool, it's awful, they're... itchy!" he whined.

"You're too sensitive, May," I scoffed and nudged him gently in the ribs with my foot. Before I had time to retract it he grabbed my foot and held it in a vice-like grip, threatening to tickle me. His face lit up in childish glee.

"Emily, I think we need to renegotiate the terms and conditions of this trip," he began, his finger inching closer to the sole of my foot. "Please tell me we're not going hiking?" I was already squirming and giggling hysterically just from the prospect of being tickled.

"No, no no no, we're not.. no hiking, I promise! Plea-hee-heeee-seeee, mercy!" I squealed, trying to wriggle free. Still chuckling at himself James let go.

"Didn't know you were that ticklish. Good to know." I was still giggling and trying to catch my breath. James went back to his closet and rummaged around.

"I wasn't being serious about hiking," I said, having calmed down from my laughing fit. "But the forecast is looking amazing, bright sunshine for days. If that actually holds up I thought maybe we could stop somewhere nice in the Lake District, have a picnic lunch? If we dress warm it might actually be nice."

"That sounds more like my sort of thing. All right, I'll pack one pair," he said, pointing at me with a pair of thermal long johns. "If I pack my sexy underwear, you better pack yours," he added as he tossed the thermals on top of the pile of clothes on the bed. I exploded in another fit of hysterics, rolling on the bed. James chose to ignore me, found a small suitcase and started to drop clothes into it.

"Oh fuck! I just realised I'll probably have to go to my apartment, need to repack into a smaller suitcase," I sighed as I once again had caught my breath. "The one I took to Norway was the biggest one I have, no way that'll fit into the Ferrari." I had been so busy planning the trip itself, excited at the prospect of driving wherever I wanted to, that I hadn't even considered my own packing. James was still piling things neatly into the suitcase.

"Want to go now or do it in the morning?"

"Preferably tomorrow. But we can't just drop by when we leave tomorrow because my gigantic suitcase will never fit in that car unless we strap it to the roof. So I should sort it tonight, really."

"Want me to drive you over there? Or you can just take the Fiat?" At this I looked up at him, surprised.

"Really?"

"Yeah, sure, if you think you can find your way. Or I can come with you?"

"No no, you don't have to do that," I said as I heaved myself up into a sitting position. "I'll just be in an out. If it's all right with you I'll go on my own, you finish packing." Suddenly feeling a bit stressed I gathered up clothes and things from here and there, stuffing it into the suitcase and began lugging it downstairs. I hadn't been mentally prepared for having to go outside, and I wasn't happy about it. But it was for a good thing, I was repacking so we could go on a road-trip and have fun, which made it easier.

"Sure you'll be okay?" James had followed me outside in just his t-shirt, and was shiver as he looked at me through the open car-door.

"I have sat-nav. And a phone. And a better sense of direction than you, sweetie," I smiled as I buckled in.

"Okay," he muttered, still not convinced, then leaned in for a quick kiss.

"Now fuck off, you're freezing," I smirked, and he hobbled off towards the door.

I was back a few hours later, and we spent a few hours scouting out hotels in the places we had decided to stay the night. Then we went to bed, talking ourselves to sleep about things we could do on our trip, and we fell asleep full of anticipation. The forecast turned out to be right, and we had bright sunshine from clear blue skies when we set out the next morning. I got my first amazing experience before we even left the street, as I suddenly found myself sitting in a Ferrari, and I squealed like an excited toddler at the sound of the engine. We quickly agreed on some basic rules for our road trip - the driver was driving, the passenger controlled the music. The person driving was not allowed to complain or otherwise about the music, and vice versa. This arrangement turned out to be quite educational for both of us, and at one point resulted in James unconsciously humming lyrics like "all the other kids with the pumped up kicks", causing me to roll around laughing. In York I spent all my time dragging James around between old Viking and medieval sites. And James had his payback ranting about bridge engineering in Newcastle as we meandered through the heart of the city. In Carlisle we hit upon a uncharacteristic compromise in going see Hadrian's wall and the Cathedral as well as an aviation museum. We headed early out of Carlisle and followed a scenic driving route through the lake district, made three times longer by having to stop all the time so I could jump out of the car and take photos. After a whole day of trekking from place to place in Beatles' footsteps in Liverpool we got absolutely plastered and was nearly caught shagging in a hotel elevator in the middle of the night. And spent the consequent day being very hung-over and not feeling up to much sightseeing of any kind, so we drove down to Birmingham very late in the day. In Birmingham James surprised me by having booked a suite in a ridiculously luxurious hotel, completely with balcony and huge bath tub. We never left that hotel room, and hence never got to see much of Birmingham. Our five days was up and we headed back to London. The days had sped past way too quickly, and I spent days after I came home just processing it, trying to land. But I couldn't. It always sounds like a cliché when someone claims it was the best day or week of their life, but to me it really had been. We'd talked and laughed, had intense discussions and argued amicably, and in short just gotten to know each other better. We'd seen beautiful cities and gorgeous landscapes, slept in soft hotel beds and had lots of good food. And masses of amazing sex. In short, we'd lived the good life, and coming back to London was a sudden and harsh change. I went back to work, and tried my best to focus on my upcoming exam in the end of January. And James went back to work, they had started to prepare and film bits for a new season of Top Gear. And he had his writing. But the transition to boring everyday life was tinted rose-red by being in love. The hours and sometimes days we had to spend apart I spent pining away, feeling very sorry for myself. And the time we spent together we cocooned ourselves into our own little world, having time for nothing and nobody else. Being with James was fun, and uncomplicated, being with him didn't take effort, I didn't have to think, just feel. And what I felt was in love.

Chapter 18

Two and a half hours later the front door opened. I had been curled up in a high-backed armchair, deeply immersed in my book and nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound. Quickly I calculated that the only way upstairs was blocked by whoever was at the front door. My only possible retreat was into James' office, out into the back garden or into his garage, if it was open.

"Emily!" James voice called, and I relaxed, thinking that his mum probably wasn't with him if he called after me like that.

"In here!" I said and got up to meet him. He walked determinedly over to me and wrapped one arm around my waist, pulled me close and gave me a long kiss. His face was cold from having been outside, and his lips gave away that he'd just had coffee. "For a second I thought your mum would be with you, I was preparing myself to dive into a hedge in the garden."
"We had separate cars, she went straight home. I'm don't know what I'm more sorry for, forgetting that I had lunch with mum or leaving you here alone."

"I'm just glad she didn't come half an hour earlier. That would have been just around the time we were busy coming," I smirked, and to my satisfaction James blushed like a bothered teenager.

"Oh god..." He mumbled, flinching at the thought.

"Yeah, I think that was what you said, too!" I screwed my face up in concentration, pretending to think back.

"Emily!" He laughed embarrassedly, and I laughed with him. "Here, I brought you this as a way of apology," he said as he held up the bag he had been holding.

"Aw, you didn't have to-- oh screw it, what did you bring?" I said and accepted the bag eagerly. Inside was a cardboard box.

"Cake! Chocolate cake!" I squealed happily and threw my free arm around him. "You perfect man! Thank you!"

"Go sit down, I'll get you a spoon," James laughed and disappeared into the kitchen. He handed me the spoon as he sat down on the sofa next to me.

"So how was lunch?" I mumbled through a mouthful of cake.

"Unexpected, mostly...! And long. She kept asking me about a new year's party I never went to, which always makes conversation a bit.. trying. I think she suspected something was up. Or maybe she really did believe I was still having the willies from drinking too much. I don't know," he sighed. " Food was good, though. Mum jabbered about dad, and her sister being poorly and all the usual things. It's only a few days since I saw her last, but still..." I leaned back against him, listening and eating my cake as James talked.

"You should've just told her you got so drunk you couldn't remember the party at all," I pointed out. He opened his mouth to retort, closed it and thought it over again.

"That wasn't such a bad idea, actually."

"Always the tone of surprise," I sighed, focusing on my cake.

"I feel bad, going out to eat. Did you make yourself some food?"

"Oh yeah, gourmet cheese toasties and tea. It was pretty good actually. But cake was much better," I smiled and offered him some cake off my spoon.

"Not bad," he agreed. We shared the rest of the cake and I made a deliberate mess of it, just so I could kiss it away again. Having finished the cake I slumped back against James again, feeling too full from rich, dark chocolate cake. But it was a pleasant kind of full. "Thanks for not... making a fuss today," he mumbled into my hair.

"A fuss? About what? You having to go out with your mum?"

"Yeah."

"What would be the point of that - it was just for a few hours, it wasn't the end of the world? I missed you though, as sappy as it sounds." I felt myself blushing as I admitted to it, but it was the truth. He hugged me tighter and kissed my cheek.

"So what did you get up to while I was out?"

"Nothing much. Had some food, watched telly. Tried to play piano but got frustrated. Read in a book. Basically pottering around, not doing anything."

"Would you mind spending the rest of the day pottering around with me?"

"Sounds perfect," I smiled. James made to get out of the sofa, but I refused to move, leaning heavily on him.

"Get up. I'm making tea. You can't potter properly without tea," he said matter- of-factly. I laughed and moved out of his way and he disappeared into the kitchen. While James was in the kitchen making tea I turned on the telly and switched between channels.

"What's this? "James asked interestedly as he place two cups on the table and sat down next to me.

"You're joking! This is one of my favourite TV-series ever! I was sure you would have seen this, aren't you into this sort of war.. stuff?

"I haven't seen this before, I think." He frowned at the screen, thinking.

" I think Spielberg was involved in it, somehow. It's called Band of Brothers, it's about the 2nd World War and the invasion of Europe."

"I can see it's 2nd world war, that's a C-47," he pointed out dryly, and I rolled my eyes. Of course he'd know that.

"Anyway, it's about this one company out of the 101st Airborne Division. It's interesting, each episode usually starts with some bits of interviews from some of the veterans who was in the actual company. This company saw so much action it's ridiculous, they went in on D-day, liberated Holland, was in Battle of the Bulge and took Hitler's eagle's nest.. What was that town called, up in the alps? Berchtesgaden?" After this little rant James just stared at me as if was someone he had never seen before. "...What?"

"Nothing, I just.. didn't peg your for a war-film kind of woman. At all," he added with feeling.

"If this is another one of those "because you're a girl"-deals then I will punch you," I growled. "For your information I like war-films. I'm not even sure why, really. Most of my favourite films are about war in some way. Even though I absolutely hate the idea of conflict and war, particularly after Syria. But I like history. And extraordinary events like war make for extraordinary stories. And even I  know that's a Sherman," I ended, pointing at the screen.

"Originally called an M4 tank. You know, we named it after an American Union General because - "
"All right, all right! You stare at the tanks, I stare at the handsome chaps in uniforms," I cut him off, not really interested in a long lecture on war tanks. James just chuckled and put his arm around me.

"Fair enough." We curled up on the sofa and watched the episode in silence. Every now and again I asked about something I was curious about, and James often knew the answer. He was miffed when the episode ended, wanting to watch more of it. I suggested we could download it, or we could get the DVD box. He decided on the latter and ran for his iPad, went online and ordered it. He fiddled around with the iPad for a while, reading newspapers and checking twitter, while I tried to find something new to watch. James nudged me suddenly. "Oh, by the way, Richard sent me an email a while ago with a few of the photos he took in Syria. I meant to show you this."

"Ooh, photos!" I said, turning down the telly and turning my attention to the iPad. He found the email and flicked through a few, landscapes and scenery, shots of the crew, your typical tourist snapshots. I recognised a few from around Damascus. James stopped at a photo, and I felt a jolt go through me. There we were, James and I, on the steps of a Syrian hospital. It was like looking back into a previous life, it immediately brought back so many memories. I remembered the smells of the city, the sounds from the minarets calling people to prayer, the dry, irritating sand and the searing heat of the sun. I was in my light green scrubs and worn-out sandals, my hijab pulled down and draped around my neck like a shawl - my hair slightly on end from having worn it. I looked tanned, and too hot, but was smiling widely. James was wearing a pair of bleached blue jeans and a crumpled, beige linen shirt. He was more tanned as well, had shorter hair and had a ridiculous head-bandage. He was standing close to me with his arm around me, also smiling. We looked comfortable with each other, like we'd known each other a long time.

"Aw look at that!" I exclaimed. "Look at us! Wow... I really did a hack job of that bandaging, didn't I? I'm sorry. Just be glad I wasn't the one sewing your head shut."

"I'd forgotten he even took this. It was a confusing couple of days..."

"I have barely looked at my photos from Syria, I went home and was so busy preparing to move to London, and... It seems like years ago, looking at that now."

"Here, there's more." The photo changed, and there we were again, same stairs, same clothes but now deep in conversation. We were smiling kindly at each other, looking into each other's eyes, obviously talking about something heartfelt and completely oblivious to anything around us. It was a beautiful photo, seen from a photographer's point of view, capturing a tiny moment perfectly. Richard had obviously been observant.

"What were we talking about? Saying goodbye?"

"Yeah, more or less. I remember you asked me to stay away from towropes and rocks," James said and I laughed, remembering.

"I was worried! God knows what you three could get yourselves into!"

"Here, one more." Again the photo changed, and now we were hugging. That goodbye hug. Even if I couldn't remember what we had talked about, I remembered that hug; the sensation of his arms around me, the smell of him, the way it had made me feel.

"That paparazzi!" I shouted. "That sneaking..." My voice trailed off, I wasn't even angry, because it was such a sweet photo. Not everyone had photos from the first time they'd met. I looked at James, he was studying my reactions. "I remember thinking I wanted you to hit your head again," I admitted.

"Is that your way of trying to tell me you didn't want me to go?" James chuckled.

"Yeah..." I squirmed, feeling awkward. "I... liked you. I wanted to get to know you better."

"Why do you think I gave you my phone number?" It was James' turn to look awkward.

"I just figured you'd hit your head pretty badly," I said sarcastically and giggled. Then I flicked a fingertip over the iPad, going back to the previous photo where we were looking at each other. "You know, we look kinda..." I tilted my head, studying the photo.

"Gushing and in love?"

"Yeah, kind of. Or at least like we are very, very interested in each other."

"Well, I was," James said pointedly, put the iPod away and closed his arms around me, pulling me closer.

"Remember you told me I was short?" James closed his eyes, sighed and hung his head in remorse.

"Yeah, I do remember saying that. I wanted to punch myself in the face when I said it, feeling like a blithering idiot."

"You think I haven't heard that a million times before, that I'm short?" I laughed and kissed his forehead to comfort him.

"You are. You are really, really... tiny," he teased and nibbled at my bottom lip.

"And you have really stupid hair," I shot and nibbled back.

"Yeah, but you..." I could see cogs whirring in James' brain.

"You can't think of anything, can you?" In an effort to hide that he'd been unable to come up with a retort, and to stop me from teasing him about it further, he wrapped his arms around me and sank backwards on the sofa, pulling me down with him. Initially he was unhurried and tender, kissing me just because he enjoyed it, enjoyed the closeness and the sensation of our lips against each other, not because he wanted to get something out of it. Even though I had probably kissed him hundreds of times in the time since he'd showed up in Norway, it still felt completely new and every bit as exciting as that first time. My stomach did a swoop and my heart was pounding in my chest every time. I ran my hand down side and his hip, then back up again over his crotch feeling through the denim the beginning of an erection. Slowly I rubbed my palm against it, causing friction and heat, and he hummed encouragingly. One-handed I undid his belt and jeans, then slipped my hand inside his boxers. James drew a deep, ragged breath as my fingers played with his head, and I could feel how his erection grew harder under my hand. As I closed my hand around his cock I trailed kisses across his cheek and down to his neck. He hummed again, louder this time.

"Fuck, that feels good..." he breathed, and I smiled against his skin, satisfied with the response. I maintained a slow, firm pace, kissing his neck for every thrust with my hand. His hand found my breast and kneaded it roughly through my shirt, the tension in him mounting. He made a movement as if to sit up and I scrambled up from where I had been lying against him. He sat up with his back leaned against the backrest, and with a sigh of anticipation pulled me into his lap, making me straddle him. Giving me a piecing look he lifted my shirt up over my head and discarded it absentmindedly, then reached around my back and undid my bra, tossing it to the side. Following his lead I tore his T-shirt off and shivered with delight as his warm arms wrapped around me and I could feel his skin against mine. He buried his face against my neck, causing me to erupt in goose-bumps when he kissed and licked his way down to my shoulder. My arms was wrapped around his neck and I was running my hands through his hair. Wanting him to kiss further down I straightened up and he leaned down, taking my nipple into his mouth. It was my turn to hum happily. Lazily his palms ran up and down my back and over my shoulders. "Stand up," he mumbled as his mouth let go of my nipple, it felt cold as the warmth disappeared. Wondering excitedly what was going to happen I climbed out of his lap and stood in front of him, naked from the waist up. He spread his legs slightly and put his hands on my hips, pulling me closer so he could nuzzle my stomach. Determined hands tugged at my trousers and slid them to the floor, along with my panties and once again I found myself naked in front of him. With his face still buried against my stomach his hands ran lazily over my hips and bum, I could feel the cold metal of his wristwatch against my skin. Lovingly I ran my hands through his hair and caressed his neck, and he looked up at me through bushy hair and smiled. Mesmerised by his eyes and his smile I didn't even notice him moving his hand, and I startled when a fingertip brushed over my clit. Open-mouthed I gasped at the sensation, and James' eyes glittered with satisfaction. I had to cling onto his neck just to keep upright when he rubbed his finger against my clit in firm, slow circles. It's incredible how hard it is to remain standing on your own two feet when someone is giving you intense pleasure. Unable to take it anymore I huffed at James.

"I'm going to fall over if you keep this up.." He smirked gleefully and sat up straighter, giving me room to straddle him again. I leaned over him and tugged at the pockets of his jeans, they were still undone and all I needed was a little help from him to pull them down. I didn't need them completely off, just out of the way. With a frustrated sigh I sank down onto his lap and kissed him hurriedly, his erection was pressed between us, enticingly warm and hard. He pulled back from me so he could look into my eyes, and cupped my face gently.

"I just can't get enough of you," he sighed, almost apologetically.

"Good," I smiled and felt his cock find its way into me when I raised my hips from him slightly. "Because I can't get enough of you either." We did our best to study each other's eyes when I started rocking my hips gently. His arms were tightly clasped around my waist, controlling the pace of my movements. Sitting like this, me straddling him on the sofa, enabled us to hug and cling on to each other, making me feel closer, more intimate with him than I ever had before. We hovered over each other's mouths, huffing and gasping, staring into each other's eyes. Every uncontrolled moan and grimace of pleasure from one pushed the other closer. Feeling I was close I wasn't able to keep looking into James' eyes, it was too much for my senses having to focus on his eyes and on this intense pleasure I was feeling at the same time. I clapped my arms tightly around his neck and hugged him, breathing heavily against his ear as our pace quickened. In an effort to muffle my own desperate moan as I came I buried my face against his shoulder.

"Keep going," James moaned and I had to concentrate to be able to keep up my hip movements when my orgasm had subsided. I was so sensitive now it was sweet torture having to continue moving, but I desperately wanted to please him. James licked and kissed my neck as I tilted my head back and gasped for some much needed air. From his sharp breaths and moans I knew he could come with every thrust. To my immense surprise I felt how a second orgasm suddenly rushed towards me like a steam train, building and peaking so fast I was barely able to register it.

"Oh, shit...!" I gasped just as much from surprise as from pleasure as I shook and trembled. Lost in my own climax I vaguely noticed that James groaned and seized up in his own orgasm. As the rush of pleasure subsided and my breath and ability to speak returned, I looked down at him with eyebrows raised, still trembling. "T-t-that second one, I wasn't quite prepared for that," I stuttered breathily.

"Yeah, you sounded a bit surprised!" James grinned, and I ran my hand across his face.

"Let's just say I'm not used to double whammies," I said softly. "So thank you."

"My pleasure. Believe me!" He assured. I climbed off him and sank back on the sofa, resting my head on a pillow propped up against the armrest.

"Come here," I beckoned, holding my arms out to him, feeling cold as I lay naked on his sofa, now removed from his warmth.

"I'll crush you," he said smiling, shaking his head.

"Oh stop it, I might be small, but I'm a Viking," I scoffed, grabbed him by the arms and pulled him down towards me. He came to rest on top of me with his head on my chest. I snatched the blanket that lay crumpled on the floor next to the sofa and with some effort managed to drape it over us. Then I draped my arms and one leg around him and sighed heavily.

"You all right? I'm not squashing you?" He asked, looking up at me with a worried expression.

"Not even slightly," I smiled and I felt how he relaxed against me once again. For a while we lay there, quietly enjoying our post-orgasmic buzz. I had just been about to nod off when James' voice pulled me back into consciousness.

"Emily?"

"Mm?" I mumbled lazily and ran my fingertips lightly over his back.

"Let's go away somewhere." By the way he asked, it sounded like this wasn't the first time he had the idea.

"Go? Where?" I opened my eyes and looked down at him.

"I don't know, just... Somewhere. Anywhere. Some place where my mother can't ring the doorbell. Didn't you say you wanted to see more of the UK?" He looked back up at me for a second, then rested back down.

"Yeah, I did say that," I nodded slowly.

"Then let's go. We can take turns driving, go wherever you want, have a road trip?"

"Are you suggesting we elope together?"

"Something like that," he chuckled. "I was just thinking... We have about a week until reality sets in again, until we're both back at work...  And I want to make the most of this time with you. I want to take you places, have fun, just..." His voice trailed off.

"Just be in our own little world?" I finished, and he nodded.

"Yeah. Just you and me, away from everything else."

"Okay," I nodded simply. "Let's go." He lifted his head off my chest again and looked at me, pleasantly surprised.
"Really?"

"Yes, really! Of course! I'd go anywhere with you, haven't you figured that out yet you silly sod?" I chuckled, and received a big, wet kiss from James.

"How about this; I'll cook dinner while you research where you want to go and plan a route? I didn't get to make breakfast, I can at least make you dinner."

"Deal."