Come you back to Mandalay, part IV and epilogue
Master Post
IV TONY
now
Tony closed his eyes and let himself relax into his seat. He remembered the way Gibbs driving killed his stomach and he really didn’t need it right now, but he knew that Gibbs needed the reassurance of being the one in charge and so he kept his mouth shut and just let him drive.
Tony didn’t need to turn his head and look at Gibbs to see lips stretched tight and thin in concentration to hold back his urge to headslap him. Tony chuckled quietly. He imagined Gibbs knuckles had turned white from his tight grip on the steering wheel.
That really wasn’t funny. Wasn’t funny at all.
Tony sighed. He knew Gibbs wasn't angry with him. He'd always guessed Gibbs really didn’t like to be in the dark and now, Tony knew it for sure. Gibbs felt as if Tony deliberately did that to him. He had a point. Tony had deliberately kept Gibbs in the dark. Just like Gibbs had done all the time. They were even now.
“I know, but I don’t have to like it.”
Tony jerked and smacked his head against the window. He saw Gibbs smirk in the corner of his eye and scowled, then sobered instantly. He hadn't realized he'd said it out loud.
Tony sighed and rubbed his face with both hands. “My only secret was that I wasn’t the Tony DiNozzo you’ve been told about. But I was Tony DiNozzo.” At least in the name he added to himself.
Gibbs kept silent.
Tony tried to say something else, but there weren't words to tell that something he himself wasn’t exactly sure of. He closed his eyes again and pretended to doze off.
He must’ve fallen into a real doze because an abrupt stop jerked him out of it, wide-eyed and ready to move if needed. He didn’t though get the chance to. Gibbs was on him in an instant, trapping Tony with an elbow on his throat.
“Did you ever think to tell me?”
“Whoa…here…” Tony swallowed heavily, trying to find something to say that would sound not so… and settled on truth. “I… not sure. Probably not.” They stared at each for another heartbeat and Gibbs let him go.
“You’d just slip out in the night.” Gibbs huffed and brought his hands down on the steering wheel hard. “Not as spectacular as you did the last time, but just as effective.” He fell silent. He didn’t gas the car again and he, didn’t relax. He just sat there gazing into the beaming sunlight. The air outside was heavy with summer heat and traffic fumes. Tony’d gave a lot to feel a wind on his face, to feel air hugging him while he soared down waiting for the perfect moment to open his parachute.
If he had thought of it, really given it a thought, he’d have realized that the first person in DC, Jay would go to see - the only person - would be Gibbs. It didn’t matter that they didn’t know each other, save for their one ten-minute conversation two years ago. Jay had been on him lately for being stubborn and not letting Gibbs know he’s okay. Tony could admit to being stubborn, but only to himself. Actually it was more being stuck with the decisions he’d made before and it being so long, so - being stubborn.
Tony looked at Gibbs - Gibbs, for fucks sake, sitting here in the ward, as if it was the most ordinary thing on the fucking earth -and looked, and looked. On the way here, he suspected that Jay would call Gibbs, but it’s one thing - to think it, and a whole other thing to see with his own eyes. He looked and desperately tried to come up with what to say.
He had never imagined the meeting with Gibbs would be that … strange. The older man was quiet, tired, and small. He looked at Tony briefly and then tried; it seemed, to disappear somehow. Tony didn’t know what to think. He felt stronger, more himself than ever before and wanted to let Gibbs get to know him as that other self. But, and it frightened him a bit, he also needed Gibbs to be the stronger one, the mightier one.
Like before.
He felt like he was slipping into his worn out ‘Tony DiNozzo’ persona and it wasn’t good.
And then he saw the man on the bed. Damn! That was no good at all. He knew for sure Chase was damn good at his job and if he was caught out like that then headquarter was leaking like the fucking colander.
For a second Tony was torn - he wanted to talk to Gibbs, he needed to talk to Gibbs, to look him in the eyes, to feel that heat focused on him. Tony shivered. ‘You’re professional, damn it, so do this as a professional.’ It was his job and he was really good at it, so he blocked the other things and concentrated on the most important matter at hand.
He was surprised when he found Gibbs trying to sneak out on him. He'd never known the man to be the one to leave things unsaid and it hurt that Gibbs didn’t want to talk to him. He’d have let him walk away if not for Jay. Tony felt a sharp jab in his side and Jay hissed something unintelligible in his ear - “No, Gibbs, stay with me.”
“You did that on purpose or… I dunno, on the spur of the moment?” The sound of Gibbs’ voice jolted Tony out of his reverie. He glanced over and shrugged.
“That'd be a trick even for me - to conjure a military vehicle out of thin air. No. It was planned.” He stumbled on the words not sure how to express how tired he had been, how inadequate he had felt, how much like a square peg in a round hole, and how hurt he was… “I got bored.” ‘Tony DiNozzo’ said instead of him.
Gibbs seemed to hold his breath and then hissed. “Why on hell did you get in with NCIS in the first place? On a whim?” They looked in each other eyes for what felt like hours before Gibbs himself shook his head. “No. You’re not that shallow. It was an undercover operation.” He said it with such certainty that Tony burst out laughing. He tried to say something, but he could only hiccup.
“Okay, it wasn’t uncomplicated, but not that complicated. It’s just… my tech guy is a real genius in smoke screening. I need to introduce him to Abby; she’d be delighted to hear some of his stories.” Tony smiled, but quickly straightened under Gibbs’ stern gaze. It was like the old days. He nodded to himself and turned more towards the older man.
“Our operation half a year before went bad. We… okay, it’s not important where, but the opt was pretty simple - go there, retrieve the … packet and go back. The problem was - it turned out that our informant turned changed sides. We didn’t have the slightest reason to suspect him. That was the real complication.” Tony laughed mirthlessly.
“You know, it really changes your perspective when after several years being the golden boy, the best team for patching up others’ fuck-ups and so on, you find yourself with the corpse of you oldest and trusted friend in your arms, your subordinates bearing various injuries and yourfuckingself with broken legs, and I mean it - both legs broken, as well as numerous minor cuts. Just don’t ask me how the hell we got out of there. I. Don’t. Fucking. Know. Let’s just say - I’m here.”
Tony stopped. He was lucky he didn’t remember a thing, he thought. Even his nightmares were faceless and placeless. He had survived it. The others were more or less lucky, but they didn’t talk about it. He felt Gibbs' knowing gaze on him and shivered.
“I had three commissions and each one insisted I was still not ready to be out in the field yet and I thought - so, bastards, fuck you, I’ll find a way to let you know I’m ready - and I found it.” He grinned and gestured widely around. “Though let me say - NCIS was a bit unexpected. But nice.”
Tony fell silent not sure what else to say. There were so many things to talk about - how he managed to return to the active duty after the plague, why he hadn't ever called, what the situation was with his man found that morning… The only thing he didn’t need to talk about was his time with Gibbs, however important it was for them. Gibbs already knew all about it.
“Yeah, your tech guy is something. You really need to introduce him to Abby.” Gibbs had that amused look like he got every time somebody on the team managed to pull something good out of a not-so-good situation.
“Yea. He was good, I wasn’t bad myself and you got a solid second for yourself out of it. Huh?”
“Huh! And then you just had to kick up and leave me without my ‘six’.”
“I always had your six, Gibbs, always! Who do you think volunteered to fetch you out of those damn jungles?!”
Tony watched as Gibbs twitched and stilled. He… Oh, fuck, Tony didn’t notice the fist that flew towards him. All he saw were Gibbs' eyes. Hard and uncertain at the same time, steely blue, tired, and with those deep smile lines at the corners…
“We might have to jump…” Tony could’ve swore he heard the echo of his own words that he'd said almost a week ago, in the South American jungles. He could’ve swore that Gibbs heard it too as the understanding clouded his clear, always oh so competent, eyes.
Tony watched as a crooked, hesitant smile changed the line of Gibbs’ lips and answered his own grin.
“Go, Marine, go, go…”
There was something else beneath. Tony just couldn’t grasp it.
“Go, Marine, go, go…”
Gibbs’ face, all sharp angles and shadows, suddenly glinting like silver under direct sunlight. Tony had seen him like that once - sharp lines of a haunted face glistening with moisture under the harsh, unyielding southern sun. And sand, sand everywhere, skin itching under the dirty uniform.
That stubborn Marine was trying to count the living on the run. Tony shouted again, “Go, go,” and flashed him an easy grin as he pushed to get the guy inside the copter.
Tony shook his head but there were still two Gibbs before him - then-Gibbs and now-Gibbs and he wondered how he hadn't seen it before. He felt Gibbs’ eyes on him, uncertain once again and waiting. Waiting for his world to tilt and change track.
It was painful to see Gibbs this unsure, as if waiting to be rejected, admonished for taking the swing. Tony tried to say something, but his throat felt raw and sandy. He reached for Gibbs feeling like a sailor who saw the shore first time in so many months. Or a warrior who came seeking battle and found a home instead.
Tony felt Gibbs’ fingers lightly touch his cheek, his forehead, and his jaw. He leaned into it, pushing words, any words, out of his throat.
"Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!"
"… come you back to Mandalay!"
"… come you back…!"
Epilogue
When he was a kid, he was a skinny little thing, always scruffy and somewhat bruised. Nevertheless, his mother tried so hard to make him look at least somewhat presentable, but he never was up to anyone’s standards. Later, when his mother died there was no one to look after him. At least he looked presentable enough in his school uniform, if only because nobody looked good in it.
He grew up pretty quickly and his limbs gave him a lot of grievances through the years - he was ungraceful and stumbled a lot, though he was good in some sports like basketball where his height gave him an advantage and ‘jump’n’throw’ suited him just fine as long as he didn’t have to run much or watch other players.
He became better later when his body filled out and he acquired a certain poise. Still he didn’t think much of himself in the appearance department, though he was very good in faking it. Then he saw that leaflet - plain, not extremely fancy advertisement - “Join the Marines”. He didn’t even read past that first line…
***
When he was a kid, he was a fighter, a damn good fighter, and a good shooter with a slingshot. He knew he wanted to be a Marine since he was six, maybe even earlier. He wasn’t sure now. He didn’t remember where he saw his first Marines- in the cinema or in the magazine, but ever since he had read every bit of information he could get his hands on.
He knew he wanted to be a sniper and began to shoot in the local shooting range at nine, when his father's friend, Mr. Doddley, who was the owner, decided that he was strong enough to raise a rifle. He was a good sniper by the time his friends began to date.
He almost never dated. He waited for the only date he needed at that time - the day when he could join the Marines. He almost never dated later too. Just Shannon. The others were a part of sniper training - one good shot and you can gather the fruitage.
Until now…
***
The two men carefully wound their way down to the beach. Each of them had a big and apparently heavy box in his arms. They found a flat grey stone, big enough for them both to sit on and put down their boxes.
Anyone who could see them would tell they were military - there was that air of confidence around them and a feeling of strong, unyielding personalities. Though they didn’t wear uniforms, they didn’t need it to have a look of authority.
The younger one - an easy smiling, dark-haired beauty - put his box down and took the other one from his friends’ arms. They sat, still and silent. The older one opened the box and took out a little toy ship. It was a beautifully crafted wooden ship, complete with the masts, steering wheel, and a figurehead vaguely resembling a man with an easy smile and wide-open eyes. The only thing it lacked was sails.
The younger one said something lost in the wind and fished out a pail of papers from the other box. He cut one sheet into four parts and expertly made sails for the ship. They smiled at each other, strangely tender little smiles and put the ship on the water. She wavered for some minutes near them, then the wave picked it up and the little floating boat happily darted away into the ocean.
The men settled in rigging up the little ships and putting them in the water. Soon enough quite a big fleet of miniature boats sailed down the Chesapeake Bay to the ocean.
If someone could hear what they were talking about they’d be confused by the romantic sap.
“It sounds silly, but it was like if I made enough ships they would somehow find their way to you and you’d know it’s me.” The older, grey-haired man with warm blue eyes smiled suddenly and looked ten years younger. “As I told you, silly of me.”
“But they found me eventually.”
“That they did.”
They sat in companionable silence for some time.
“How many of them were there really?” The younger man gestured to the almost empty boxes.
“About eight hundred. One for each day I didn't see you and as many as I managed to make on your birthdays.”
“You remembered my birthdays?”
“Always.”
The younger man took his companion's hand and kissed the palm. They sat there for a while, content with themselves and the world around. They shifted closer together, brushing their shoulders, and watched the sun set, their ships drifting away and vanishing from their sight.
They got up when it was almost dark and went to the car parked on the side of the road.
If someone peered into the car they might finally see them kissing before they started it. However, we won’t do that. We’ll just watch as they drive away.
And let them be.
IV TONY
now
Tony closed his eyes and let himself relax into his seat. He remembered the way Gibbs driving killed his stomach and he really didn’t need it right now, but he knew that Gibbs needed the reassurance of being the one in charge and so he kept his mouth shut and just let him drive.
Tony didn’t need to turn his head and look at Gibbs to see lips stretched tight and thin in concentration to hold back his urge to headslap him. Tony chuckled quietly. He imagined Gibbs knuckles had turned white from his tight grip on the steering wheel.
That really wasn’t funny. Wasn’t funny at all.
Tony sighed. He knew Gibbs wasn't angry with him. He'd always guessed Gibbs really didn’t like to be in the dark and now, Tony knew it for sure. Gibbs felt as if Tony deliberately did that to him. He had a point. Tony had deliberately kept Gibbs in the dark. Just like Gibbs had done all the time. They were even now.
“I know, but I don’t have to like it.”
Tony jerked and smacked his head against the window. He saw Gibbs smirk in the corner of his eye and scowled, then sobered instantly. He hadn't realized he'd said it out loud.
Tony sighed and rubbed his face with both hands. “My only secret was that I wasn’t the Tony DiNozzo you’ve been told about. But I was Tony DiNozzo.” At least in the name he added to himself.
Gibbs kept silent.
Tony tried to say something else, but there weren't words to tell that something he himself wasn’t exactly sure of. He closed his eyes again and pretended to doze off.
He must’ve fallen into a real doze because an abrupt stop jerked him out of it, wide-eyed and ready to move if needed. He didn’t though get the chance to. Gibbs was on him in an instant, trapping Tony with an elbow on his throat.
“Did you ever think to tell me?”
“Whoa…here…” Tony swallowed heavily, trying to find something to say that would sound not so… and settled on truth. “I… not sure. Probably not.” They stared at each for another heartbeat and Gibbs let him go.
“You’d just slip out in the night.” Gibbs huffed and brought his hands down on the steering wheel hard. “Not as spectacular as you did the last time, but just as effective.” He fell silent. He didn’t gas the car again and he, didn’t relax. He just sat there gazing into the beaming sunlight. The air outside was heavy with summer heat and traffic fumes. Tony’d gave a lot to feel a wind on his face, to feel air hugging him while he soared down waiting for the perfect moment to open his parachute.
If he had thought of it, really given it a thought, he’d have realized that the first person in DC, Jay would go to see - the only person - would be Gibbs. It didn’t matter that they didn’t know each other, save for their one ten-minute conversation two years ago. Jay had been on him lately for being stubborn and not letting Gibbs know he’s okay. Tony could admit to being stubborn, but only to himself. Actually it was more being stuck with the decisions he’d made before and it being so long, so - being stubborn.
Tony looked at Gibbs - Gibbs, for fucks sake, sitting here in the ward, as if it was the most ordinary thing on the fucking earth -and looked, and looked. On the way here, he suspected that Jay would call Gibbs, but it’s one thing - to think it, and a whole other thing to see with his own eyes. He looked and desperately tried to come up with what to say.
He had never imagined the meeting with Gibbs would be that … strange. The older man was quiet, tired, and small. He looked at Tony briefly and then tried; it seemed, to disappear somehow. Tony didn’t know what to think. He felt stronger, more himself than ever before and wanted to let Gibbs get to know him as that other self. But, and it frightened him a bit, he also needed Gibbs to be the stronger one, the mightier one.
Like before.
He felt like he was slipping into his worn out ‘Tony DiNozzo’ persona and it wasn’t good.
And then he saw the man on the bed. Damn! That was no good at all. He knew for sure Chase was damn good at his job and if he was caught out like that then headquarter was leaking like the fucking colander.
For a second Tony was torn - he wanted to talk to Gibbs, he needed to talk to Gibbs, to look him in the eyes, to feel that heat focused on him. Tony shivered. ‘You’re professional, damn it, so do this as a professional.’ It was his job and he was really good at it, so he blocked the other things and concentrated on the most important matter at hand.
He was surprised when he found Gibbs trying to sneak out on him. He'd never known the man to be the one to leave things unsaid and it hurt that Gibbs didn’t want to talk to him. He’d have let him walk away if not for Jay. Tony felt a sharp jab in his side and Jay hissed something unintelligible in his ear - “No, Gibbs, stay with me.”
“You did that on purpose or… I dunno, on the spur of the moment?” The sound of Gibbs’ voice jolted Tony out of his reverie. He glanced over and shrugged.
“That'd be a trick even for me - to conjure a military vehicle out of thin air. No. It was planned.” He stumbled on the words not sure how to express how tired he had been, how inadequate he had felt, how much like a square peg in a round hole, and how hurt he was… “I got bored.” ‘Tony DiNozzo’ said instead of him.
Gibbs seemed to hold his breath and then hissed. “Why on hell did you get in with NCIS in the first place? On a whim?” They looked in each other eyes for what felt like hours before Gibbs himself shook his head. “No. You’re not that shallow. It was an undercover operation.” He said it with such certainty that Tony burst out laughing. He tried to say something, but he could only hiccup.
“Okay, it wasn’t uncomplicated, but not that complicated. It’s just… my tech guy is a real genius in smoke screening. I need to introduce him to Abby; she’d be delighted to hear some of his stories.” Tony smiled, but quickly straightened under Gibbs’ stern gaze. It was like the old days. He nodded to himself and turned more towards the older man.
“Our operation half a year before went bad. We… okay, it’s not important where, but the opt was pretty simple - go there, retrieve the … packet and go back. The problem was - it turned out that our informant turned changed sides. We didn’t have the slightest reason to suspect him. That was the real complication.” Tony laughed mirthlessly.
“You know, it really changes your perspective when after several years being the golden boy, the best team for patching up others’ fuck-ups and so on, you find yourself with the corpse of you oldest and trusted friend in your arms, your subordinates bearing various injuries and yourfuckingself with broken legs, and I mean it - both legs broken, as well as numerous minor cuts. Just don’t ask me how the hell we got out of there. I. Don’t. Fucking. Know. Let’s just say - I’m here.”
Tony stopped. He was lucky he didn’t remember a thing, he thought. Even his nightmares were faceless and placeless. He had survived it. The others were more or less lucky, but they didn’t talk about it. He felt Gibbs' knowing gaze on him and shivered.
“I had three commissions and each one insisted I was still not ready to be out in the field yet and I thought - so, bastards, fuck you, I’ll find a way to let you know I’m ready - and I found it.” He grinned and gestured widely around. “Though let me say - NCIS was a bit unexpected. But nice.”
Tony fell silent not sure what else to say. There were so many things to talk about - how he managed to return to the active duty after the plague, why he hadn't ever called, what the situation was with his man found that morning… The only thing he didn’t need to talk about was his time with Gibbs, however important it was for them. Gibbs already knew all about it.
“Yeah, your tech guy is something. You really need to introduce him to Abby.” Gibbs had that amused look like he got every time somebody on the team managed to pull something good out of a not-so-good situation.
“Yea. He was good, I wasn’t bad myself and you got a solid second for yourself out of it. Huh?”
“Huh! And then you just had to kick up and leave me without my ‘six’.”
“I always had your six, Gibbs, always! Who do you think volunteered to fetch you out of those damn jungles?!”
Tony watched as Gibbs twitched and stilled. He… Oh, fuck, Tony didn’t notice the fist that flew towards him. All he saw were Gibbs' eyes. Hard and uncertain at the same time, steely blue, tired, and with those deep smile lines at the corners…
“We might have to jump…” Tony could’ve swore he heard the echo of his own words that he'd said almost a week ago, in the South American jungles. He could’ve swore that Gibbs heard it too as the understanding clouded his clear, always oh so competent, eyes.
Tony watched as a crooked, hesitant smile changed the line of Gibbs’ lips and answered his own grin.
“Go, Marine, go, go…”
There was something else beneath. Tony just couldn’t grasp it.
“Go, Marine, go, go…”
Gibbs’ face, all sharp angles and shadows, suddenly glinting like silver under direct sunlight. Tony had seen him like that once - sharp lines of a haunted face glistening with moisture under the harsh, unyielding southern sun. And sand, sand everywhere, skin itching under the dirty uniform.
That stubborn Marine was trying to count the living on the run. Tony shouted again, “Go, go,” and flashed him an easy grin as he pushed to get the guy inside the copter.
Tony shook his head but there were still two Gibbs before him - then-Gibbs and now-Gibbs and he wondered how he hadn't seen it before. He felt Gibbs’ eyes on him, uncertain once again and waiting. Waiting for his world to tilt and change track.
It was painful to see Gibbs this unsure, as if waiting to be rejected, admonished for taking the swing. Tony tried to say something, but his throat felt raw and sandy. He reached for Gibbs feeling like a sailor who saw the shore first time in so many months. Or a warrior who came seeking battle and found a home instead.
Tony felt Gibbs’ fingers lightly touch his cheek, his forehead, and his jaw. He leaned into it, pushing words, any words, out of his throat.
"Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!"
"… come you back to Mandalay!"
"… come you back…!"
Epilogue
When he was a kid, he was a skinny little thing, always scruffy and somewhat bruised. Nevertheless, his mother tried so hard to make him look at least somewhat presentable, but he never was up to anyone’s standards. Later, when his mother died there was no one to look after him. At least he looked presentable enough in his school uniform, if only because nobody looked good in it.
He grew up pretty quickly and his limbs gave him a lot of grievances through the years - he was ungraceful and stumbled a lot, though he was good in some sports like basketball where his height gave him an advantage and ‘jump’n’throw’ suited him just fine as long as he didn’t have to run much or watch other players.
He became better later when his body filled out and he acquired a certain poise. Still he didn’t think much of himself in the appearance department, though he was very good in faking it. Then he saw that leaflet - plain, not extremely fancy advertisement - “Join the Marines”. He didn’t even read past that first line…
***
When he was a kid, he was a fighter, a damn good fighter, and a good shooter with a slingshot. He knew he wanted to be a Marine since he was six, maybe even earlier. He wasn’t sure now. He didn’t remember where he saw his first Marines- in the cinema or in the magazine, but ever since he had read every bit of information he could get his hands on.
He knew he wanted to be a sniper and began to shoot in the local shooting range at nine, when his father's friend, Mr. Doddley, who was the owner, decided that he was strong enough to raise a rifle. He was a good sniper by the time his friends began to date.
He almost never dated. He waited for the only date he needed at that time - the day when he could join the Marines. He almost never dated later too. Just Shannon. The others were a part of sniper training - one good shot and you can gather the fruitage.
Until now…
***
The two men carefully wound their way down to the beach. Each of them had a big and apparently heavy box in his arms. They found a flat grey stone, big enough for them both to sit on and put down their boxes.
Anyone who could see them would tell they were military - there was that air of confidence around them and a feeling of strong, unyielding personalities. Though they didn’t wear uniforms, they didn’t need it to have a look of authority.
The younger one - an easy smiling, dark-haired beauty - put his box down and took the other one from his friends’ arms. They sat, still and silent. The older one opened the box and took out a little toy ship. It was a beautifully crafted wooden ship, complete with the masts, steering wheel, and a figurehead vaguely resembling a man with an easy smile and wide-open eyes. The only thing it lacked was sails.
The younger one said something lost in the wind and fished out a pail of papers from the other box. He cut one sheet into four parts and expertly made sails for the ship. They smiled at each other, strangely tender little smiles and put the ship on the water. She wavered for some minutes near them, then the wave picked it up and the little floating boat happily darted away into the ocean.
The men settled in rigging up the little ships and putting them in the water. Soon enough quite a big fleet of miniature boats sailed down the Chesapeake Bay to the ocean.
If someone could hear what they were talking about they’d be confused by the romantic sap.
“It sounds silly, but it was like if I made enough ships they would somehow find their way to you and you’d know it’s me.” The older, grey-haired man with warm blue eyes smiled suddenly and looked ten years younger. “As I told you, silly of me.”
“But they found me eventually.”
“That they did.”
They sat in companionable silence for some time.
“How many of them were there really?” The younger man gestured to the almost empty boxes.
“About eight hundred. One for each day I didn't see you and as many as I managed to make on your birthdays.”
“You remembered my birthdays?”
“Always.”
The younger man took his companion's hand and kissed the palm. They sat there for a while, content with themselves and the world around. They shifted closer together, brushing their shoulders, and watched the sun set, their ships drifting away and vanishing from their sight.
They got up when it was almost dark and went to the car parked on the side of the road.
If someone peered into the car they might finally see them kissing before they started it. However, we won’t do that. We’ll just watch as they drive away.
And let them be.
