Be the air that I breathe (Thomas, Lavinia and Mary)
Thomas is forty-one.
Of his forty-one years, he has spent nearly 15 of them dead. The reasons why he has died twice and is alive yet again are many and confusing and sometimes Thomas wishes that people could have let sleeping dogs lie, or dead Thomases in peace. Yet even with all the pain and all the complications, his life is full of love and except for those few moments of weakness, he is glad to be here. He is glad to celebrate his forty-first birthday with his family, instead of watching them mark the passing of the day with grim faces and smiles pasted on for strangers.
His birthday has been spent simply in the wake of Deirdre's wedding disaster. Thomas' dear husband is with Deirdre and so Thomas spends the day with his children and he wouldn't honestly have it any other way. He is visited by his siblings for hours at a time, and Abby's visit, which overlaps Joe and Julian's visit is extra delightful because Abby inadvertently makes a joke which has them all laughing for the next hour. Thomas is reminded that even in the wake of such pain, his pain and Deirdre's pain, he can still laugh with the people he loves.
Now it is night and his children are in bed. Spectre still hasn't arrived home and that's alright. Seeing his siblings has brought Thomas peace, and he doesn't dwell on the things he suffered from Paige Winterbourne. Instead he reads, listening to the music of his husband quietly in the background. And then the door opens and Thomas is greeted by the very welcome sight of one of his favourite people in the world. "Mums."
Lavinia, Thomas' mother, smiles at her youngest son and she closes the door behind her with a soft click. "I'm late," she says in greeting.
"You're perfect," Thomas replies. He is off the sofa in an instant, ready to be hugged. Lavinia is a champion hugger, and he is not disappointed. Lavinia wraps her arms around him and Thomas feels warmed from inside. He knows how very much he is loved when Lavinia is with him. It is impossible not to.
"Look who's talking," Lavinia laughs when she lets him go. As he turns to take a seat again, she smacks him quickly on the arse and she takes a seat herself. It is the Lavinia way. "Were you spoiled for your birthday?"
"Spectre made me breakfast in bed," Thomas says, his eyes lighting up when he mentions his husband as they do every single time he does so. "And James and Katya helped. And Marie mostly stole as much as she could because her favourite word is 'mine'. I think I spent five hours running around the yard like a lunatic. I might have pulled something."
"Oh yes, because forty-one is so old," Lavinia winks at him. She is nearly seventy-seven and she still goes jogging every day. Lavinia Van Assen is a picture of health. She looks a decade younger than she is. Thomas does as well, but for entirely different reasons. Lavinia never had to die for her youth.
"Sometimes I feel...not forty-one," Thomas admits. He hasn't explained the incident with Paige to his mother yet, but he has no doubt Joe or Abby or Spectre has. That is how it works with the Littletons and Thomas doesn't mind at all.
"Are you still having nightmares?"
Thomas nods. The nightmares haven't stopped, they have gotten worse. "But today helped a lot. It was a good birthday. Peter called and we talked for a long time too." Thomas' best friend can always be counted on to know exactly the right things to say. "I'll be able to sleep tonight, even if Spectre isn't here."
"Oh, I don't doubt that, though you will probably be awake for a while yet." Lavinia's grin is wicked, and even though Lavinia is not a subtle or censoring person, Thomas is slightly confused by her words.
"Uhm...what?"
Lavinia's lips lift into a pleased grin. "I got you a wonderful present."
"Oh, Mums, please tell me you didn't get me some kind of terrifying sex toy. Again."
Lavinia laughs loudly and she swats Thomas' arm which just makes him more confused. Before Thomas died for the first time, he was a monk. Lavinia, who never had much time for religion, now revels in the fact that her son isn't a prude. And she shows it in very strange ways. "No! I got you something else. And I should probably go get it because she's probably feeling a bit awkward just sitting in your driveway. Just a moment!"
Thomas sits up straight as Lavinia jumps up from the sofa and makes her way out his front door. He feels his heart lift in hope. It has been many months since he has seen his wife, Mary. She is dead like he used to be, and the last time she had been brought back to help them all she had suffered unspeakable torment. She had asked Thomas for time and even though it broke his heart not to see her, Thomas had agreed. But maybe, just maybe Lavinia knew Thomas would need his wife now, after Paige. And maybe his wonderful wife was putting Thomas' needs ahead of her own.
Either that, or Lavinia had gotten Thomas a stripper, which he hopes is not the case. Most likely it will just be awkward.
In the end, Thomas didn't need to worry. When Lavinia returns, she is walking hand-in-hand with Mary, and Thomas is up from the sofa and across the room before they even get through the door. He lifts her up, which is easy because Mary is so very small, and he spins her around, feeling lighter than he has for a long time. "Mary," he whispers into her hair after he sets her back down. His voice is utterly joyful. "My Mary."
"I had to come for you, Thomas," Mary replies, and Thomas feels his knees grow weak just at the sound of her voice. That voice which he has missed with every beat of his heart since she last left him. That voice which causes his pulse to quicken and his blood to burn.
"Happy birthday," Lavinia says to him, already on her way back out the door. "Now you know why I was late."
"Thank you," Thomas says to her as she goes, deep gratitude conveyed through his words. And then he is spinning Mary around again.
"Happy birthday," Mary says, parroting Lavinia's words.
Thomas steps back to look at her. She is wearing a red dress, which is her signature. Her black hair shines and her eyes sparkle and her lips- Oh, her stunningly perfect lips. He can't help it. He reaches out and he pulls her to him again, his entire being calmed by the feel of her in his arms. Holding Mary is different than holding Spectre. Spectre is young and dynamic. He is fire and music and impulse. Mary is over four centuries old now. She has existed, in one form or another, for longer than Thomas can even imagine. She is air, calm and refreshing. He loves them equally, his spouses, but they are so very different. "I love you," he whispers to her, his face buried in her hair.
"And I love you, Thomas." His name on her lips is like fire in his belly and he doesn't hesitate. Her assurance of love after missing her for so long is the best thing he has ever heard. And as she laughs with joy, he pulls her towards his bedroom and closes the door behind them.
Of his forty-one years, he has spent nearly 15 of them dead. The reasons why he has died twice and is alive yet again are many and confusing and sometimes Thomas wishes that people could have let sleeping dogs lie, or dead Thomases in peace. Yet even with all the pain and all the complications, his life is full of love and except for those few moments of weakness, he is glad to be here. He is glad to celebrate his forty-first birthday with his family, instead of watching them mark the passing of the day with grim faces and smiles pasted on for strangers.
His birthday has been spent simply in the wake of Deirdre's wedding disaster. Thomas' dear husband is with Deirdre and so Thomas spends the day with his children and he wouldn't honestly have it any other way. He is visited by his siblings for hours at a time, and Abby's visit, which overlaps Joe and Julian's visit is extra delightful because Abby inadvertently makes a joke which has them all laughing for the next hour. Thomas is reminded that even in the wake of such pain, his pain and Deirdre's pain, he can still laugh with the people he loves.
Now it is night and his children are in bed. Spectre still hasn't arrived home and that's alright. Seeing his siblings has brought Thomas peace, and he doesn't dwell on the things he suffered from Paige Winterbourne. Instead he reads, listening to the music of his husband quietly in the background. And then the door opens and Thomas is greeted by the very welcome sight of one of his favourite people in the world. "Mums."
Lavinia, Thomas' mother, smiles at her youngest son and she closes the door behind her with a soft click. "I'm late," she says in greeting.
"You're perfect," Thomas replies. He is off the sofa in an instant, ready to be hugged. Lavinia is a champion hugger, and he is not disappointed. Lavinia wraps her arms around him and Thomas feels warmed from inside. He knows how very much he is loved when Lavinia is with him. It is impossible not to.
"Look who's talking," Lavinia laughs when she lets him go. As he turns to take a seat again, she smacks him quickly on the arse and she takes a seat herself. It is the Lavinia way. "Were you spoiled for your birthday?"
"Spectre made me breakfast in bed," Thomas says, his eyes lighting up when he mentions his husband as they do every single time he does so. "And James and Katya helped. And Marie mostly stole as much as she could because her favourite word is 'mine'. I think I spent five hours running around the yard like a lunatic. I might have pulled something."
"Oh yes, because forty-one is so old," Lavinia winks at him. She is nearly seventy-seven and she still goes jogging every day. Lavinia Van Assen is a picture of health. She looks a decade younger than she is. Thomas does as well, but for entirely different reasons. Lavinia never had to die for her youth.
"Sometimes I feel...not forty-one," Thomas admits. He hasn't explained the incident with Paige to his mother yet, but he has no doubt Joe or Abby or Spectre has. That is how it works with the Littletons and Thomas doesn't mind at all.
"Are you still having nightmares?"
Thomas nods. The nightmares haven't stopped, they have gotten worse. "But today helped a lot. It was a good birthday. Peter called and we talked for a long time too." Thomas' best friend can always be counted on to know exactly the right things to say. "I'll be able to sleep tonight, even if Spectre isn't here."
"Oh, I don't doubt that, though you will probably be awake for a while yet." Lavinia's grin is wicked, and even though Lavinia is not a subtle or censoring person, Thomas is slightly confused by her words.
"Uhm...what?"
Lavinia's lips lift into a pleased grin. "I got you a wonderful present."
"Oh, Mums, please tell me you didn't get me some kind of terrifying sex toy. Again."
Lavinia laughs loudly and she swats Thomas' arm which just makes him more confused. Before Thomas died for the first time, he was a monk. Lavinia, who never had much time for religion, now revels in the fact that her son isn't a prude. And she shows it in very strange ways. "No! I got you something else. And I should probably go get it because she's probably feeling a bit awkward just sitting in your driveway. Just a moment!"
Thomas sits up straight as Lavinia jumps up from the sofa and makes her way out his front door. He feels his heart lift in hope. It has been many months since he has seen his wife, Mary. She is dead like he used to be, and the last time she had been brought back to help them all she had suffered unspeakable torment. She had asked Thomas for time and even though it broke his heart not to see her, Thomas had agreed. But maybe, just maybe Lavinia knew Thomas would need his wife now, after Paige. And maybe his wonderful wife was putting Thomas' needs ahead of her own.
Either that, or Lavinia had gotten Thomas a stripper, which he hopes is not the case. Most likely it will just be awkward.
In the end, Thomas didn't need to worry. When Lavinia returns, she is walking hand-in-hand with Mary, and Thomas is up from the sofa and across the room before they even get through the door. He lifts her up, which is easy because Mary is so very small, and he spins her around, feeling lighter than he has for a long time. "Mary," he whispers into her hair after he sets her back down. His voice is utterly joyful. "My Mary."
"I had to come for you, Thomas," Mary replies, and Thomas feels his knees grow weak just at the sound of her voice. That voice which he has missed with every beat of his heart since she last left him. That voice which causes his pulse to quicken and his blood to burn.
"Happy birthday," Lavinia says to him, already on her way back out the door. "Now you know why I was late."
"Thank you," Thomas says to her as she goes, deep gratitude conveyed through his words. And then he is spinning Mary around again.
"Happy birthday," Mary says, parroting Lavinia's words.
Thomas steps back to look at her. She is wearing a red dress, which is her signature. Her black hair shines and her eyes sparkle and her lips- Oh, her stunningly perfect lips. He can't help it. He reaches out and he pulls her to him again, his entire being calmed by the feel of her in his arms. Holding Mary is different than holding Spectre. Spectre is young and dynamic. He is fire and music and impulse. Mary is over four centuries old now. She has existed, in one form or another, for longer than Thomas can even imagine. She is air, calm and refreshing. He loves them equally, his spouses, but they are so very different. "I love you," he whispers to her, his face buried in her hair.
"And I love you, Thomas." His name on her lips is like fire in his belly and he doesn't hesitate. Her assurance of love after missing her for so long is the best thing he has ever heard. And as she laughs with joy, he pulls her towards his bedroom and closes the door behind them.