And suddenly it was over. The last thing Tom remembered was his confrontation with Alex, and the searing pain of a bullet ripping through his neck. He remembered falling to the ground, thrashing, and then nothing
( ... )
Eileen snapped out of her self-imposed trance, where she had been staring blankly out into the street, and rose from the couch. Doubtless it was Frank trying to goad her into having dinner with him. He was such a dear, sweet man - a father figure to her, really, after her own had passed away while she was in college.
He made no secret of the fact that he was worried about her. Immediately after Walter’s attack she was coping well, but became a veritable recluse when she returned from World’s End. Eileen couldn’t tell him the real reason why she rarely emerged from her apartment these days. He’d just purse his lips and sadly shake his head. It made her feel crazy.
As she pulled the door to, she addressed the man she thought was waiting on the other side. “Frank, I already told you I’m thawing out-“ The words died on her lips when it was Tom Hanniger staring her in the face instead. Eileen couldn’t move or speak, but her heart beat so hard within her chest that she was sure he could hear it. “Tom…?”
Tom let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, looking just as shocked as she. He couldn't move at first, opening his mouth to say something, but what? He hadn't actually...planned this far ahead, and scrambled for words.
"Eileen." He finally managed, it coming out almost as a whisper before he cleared his throat and tried again - his expression mixing as he tried to play it cool when it so obviously wasn't.
"Hey." Delivered with a light, albeit awkward, shrug and a small smile.
Encouraged and emboldened by the notion that he tracked her all the way to South Ashfield Heights, Eileen threw her arms around him and buried her face into his shoulder. Breathing him in - the scent of pine and fresh earth from his house’s close proximity to the forest - she was assured that this wasn’t a dream. World’s End had cut him loose and they were together again.
“Hey back,” she replied tearfully. Normally, she hated crying in front of others, but it was like a padlock had been broken and freed her pent-up emotions. Her fingers curled into the cottony fabric of Tom's hoodie and she drew him closer. She just couldn’t hang on tight enough. “I never thought-- how?”
"I don't know." He answered, holding her just as tight - fingers instinctively running over the back of her hair. She was just as pretty as he remembered. Gentle face framed so well under lark lashes and a spray of freckles.
"I didn't think you'd be here.." Tom into the top of her head, still trying to keep it together. On top of everything else, this was proof what he remembered had actually happened, and not been a long and extremely exhausting hallucination.
Eileen pulled away then, smiling and wiping the hot tears from her face. She probably looked like hell. Lack of sunshine and a good night’s sleep left her paler than usual, but she felt wide awake for the first time in weeks the moment she laid eyes on Tom, like he shook her out of a dream state into the real world.
“Plans changed. The super was nice enough to let me stay here, though. Uh,” she looked up at him through her hair, gesturing inside with a thumb, “d’you wanna come in? I can get you a drink or something.”
"Yeah, okay." With a small nod he followed her in.
It wasn't exactly what he had meant by her being there, but it didn't really matter. Tom closed the door behind him, standing awkwardly in the hall. He could barely believe this was really happening. Of course he wanted it to be, but something the back of his head had been nagging the whole here. This is a dream. You'll see. You'll get there and she won't exist. But that voice was wrong, and he couldn't be happier.
"Have you heard from anyone else? Alex or Claire?" It hurt to say their names, but he had to know.
Eileen offered him a seat on the couch before stepping into the kitchen. She retrieved two glasses from the cupboard and filled them a little more than halfway with water for him and diet soda for her. Then she sank into a cushion beside Tom and presented him with his drink.
She shook her head no, sadly, in response to his question. “Claire and I promised to track each other down if we ever came back from World’s End. I took a flight to Colorado Springs, but her apartment was empty. I haven’t heard anything from Alex.” Eileen watched him sympathetically. She knew he and Alex had a close, intense friendship. “I’m sorry it’s not good news.”
He took the glass with a nod of thanks, then frowned lightly when he heard the news. "If her apartment was there, then at least we know she could come back. I know you two were close."
As for Alex, well, it was probably for the best. They'd had a massive falling out, to put it lightly.
"I haven't heard anything either. From anyone." He added, taking a sip from his glass.
It was hard not getting her hopes up. Eileen prayed, however futilely, that World’s End would have its fill of everyone and set them all free, even though showing up in the city was a blessing to some people. It was sobering to think that their homes were far worse than monster-laden streets and vivid, monthly nightmares.
For all the grief it caused her, Eileen would choose South Ashfield Heights over the alternative any day, as long as her friends could be with her; and Tom was a very good start, she thought, smiling at him over the rim of her glass. He looked more drawn since the last time she saw him, but he was still the gentle soul she’d always known.
“Maybe it takes a while,” she said, more for her sake than his. “Anyway, how’ve you been getting along?”
"Fine." Tom answered, shrugging a little bit. This still felt like a dream. In truth, though, he wasn't fine at all. It probably showed, too, try as he might to shrug it off. His dreams were still plagued with the last month of his life, and that single searing pain of a bullet in his throat.
He wasn't sure if he'd lost a memory, either. Everything seemed to be in place, but he wouldn't know the difference, right? Then again, people didn't usually go home when they...
When they died.
The healing wasn't the same, either. A raw scar against his trachea was proof of that. Tom had spent a long time inspecting it, fingers tracing over the fading lines of sickness. A physical testimony to Harry Warden. He was marked now, for the world to see. His own scarlet letter.
She set her glass aside and twisted in her seat to face him better, one leg tucked under the other.
“It… hasn’t been as simple as it looks,” Eileen explained, her eyes straying to an empty corner of the room. First, she had to endure the living nightmare of deciding what to throw away after the attack. Blood soiled most of her furniture and it sickened her to think of all the nights she’d spent curled up, watching her favorite comedy shows, never imagining in a million years she’d be thrown about the living room like a rag doll.
Suffice it to say, she could carry all of her possessions in two slightly large suitcases. She had yet to go shopping to replace the clothes that were completely shredded or submitted as evidence to the police. In a way, she was consciously putting it off until her mind didn’t feel so jumbled, and living in a sparsely decorated apartment helped her think clearly.
“I’m glad you’re here, Tom.” The words came out in an exhale; quiet, reverent. “I can’t tell you how worried I was that I’d never see you again.”
He could understand how weird it was to be back. In a way, it almost wasn't fair to be plopped right back in the place they were with only a few days missing. Truth be told, he was still a little shell shocked. Going with so little for so long made you resourceful, and little things like the ability to just get up and take a shower or pop across the street to get a bite to eat felt almost...wrong
( ... )
The corner of Eileen’s lips turned up into a pained smile. Sometimes being around Tom made her want to weep. He was endlessly sweet and she always felt an overwhelming urge to comfort him in some way, with a hand on his shoulder or folded over his own. This time, she tucked it into the crook of his arm, scooting closer to him. Maybe she needed reassurance that he was real, too.
“What I mean to say,” Eileen began, licking her lips as they had suddenly gone dry, “is that I’d never get a chance to tell you how I felt-- feel about you.” Her bright green eyes engaged his then, searching for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. By some miracle, Tom was sitting on her couch in Ashfield, and she didn’t want to ruin this moment by scaring him off with a loaded confession. “Know what I mean?”
Concern welled up inside her and she bent her head to keep their eyes locked.
“Sick?” Eileen squeezed his arm sympathetically. He looked thin, sallow. Then again, so did she. Traveling to meet her from wherever he initially woke up probably took a lot out of him. Hell, retrieving her mail sometimes felt like an Olympian feat, and she didn’t have to climb the stairs anymore. “Have you seen a doctor?”
Reply
He made no secret of the fact that he was worried about her. Immediately after Walter’s attack she was coping well, but became a veritable recluse when she returned from World’s End. Eileen couldn’t tell him the real reason why she rarely emerged from her apartment these days. He’d just purse his lips and sadly shake his head. It made her feel crazy.
As she pulled the door to, she addressed the man she thought was waiting on the other side. “Frank, I already told you I’m thawing out-“ The words died on her lips when it was Tom Hanniger staring her in the face instead. Eileen couldn’t move or speak, but her heart beat so hard within her chest that she was sure he could hear it. “Tom…?”
Reply
"Eileen." He finally managed, it coming out almost as a whisper before he cleared his throat and tried again - his expression mixing as he tried to play it cool when it so obviously wasn't.
"Hey." Delivered with a light, albeit awkward, shrug and a small smile.
Reply
“Hey back,” she replied tearfully. Normally, she hated crying in front of others, but it was like a padlock had been broken and freed her pent-up emotions. Her fingers curled into the cottony fabric of Tom's hoodie and she drew him closer. She just couldn’t hang on tight enough. “I never thought-- how?”
Reply
"I didn't think you'd be here.." Tom into the top of her head, still trying to keep it together. On top of everything else, this was proof what he remembered had actually happened, and not been a long and extremely exhausting hallucination.
Reply
“Plans changed. The super was nice enough to let me stay here, though. Uh,” she looked up at him through her hair, gesturing inside with a thumb, “d’you wanna come in? I can get you a drink or something.”
Reply
It wasn't exactly what he had meant by her being there, but it didn't really matter. Tom closed the door behind him, standing awkwardly in the hall. He could barely believe this was really happening. Of course he wanted it to be, but something the back of his head had been nagging the whole here. This is a dream. You'll see. You'll get there and she won't exist. But that voice was wrong, and he couldn't be happier.
"Have you heard from anyone else? Alex or Claire?" It hurt to say their names, but he had to know.
Reply
She shook her head no, sadly, in response to his question. “Claire and I promised to track each other down if we ever came back from World’s End. I took a flight to Colorado Springs, but her apartment was empty. I haven’t heard anything from Alex.” Eileen watched him sympathetically. She knew he and Alex had a close, intense friendship. “I’m sorry it’s not good news.”
Reply
As for Alex, well, it was probably for the best. They'd had a massive falling out, to put it lightly.
"I haven't heard anything either. From anyone." He added, taking a sip from his glass.
Reply
For all the grief it caused her, Eileen would choose South Ashfield Heights over the alternative any day, as long as her friends could be with her; and Tom was a very good start, she thought, smiling at him over the rim of her glass. He looked more drawn since the last time she saw him, but he was still the gentle soul she’d always known.
“Maybe it takes a while,” she said, more for her sake than his. “Anyway, how’ve you been getting along?”
Reply
He wasn't sure if he'd lost a memory, either. Everything seemed to be in place, but he wouldn't know the difference, right? Then again, people didn't usually go home when they...
When they died.
The healing wasn't the same, either. A raw scar against his trachea was proof of that. Tom had spent a long time inspecting it, fingers tracing over the fading lines of sickness. A physical testimony to Harry Warden. He was marked now, for the world to see. His own scarlet letter.
"You're settling in back here?"
Reply
“It… hasn’t been as simple as it looks,” Eileen explained, her eyes straying to an empty corner of the room. First, she had to endure the living nightmare of deciding what to throw away after the attack. Blood soiled most of her furniture and it sickened her to think of all the nights she’d spent curled up, watching her favorite comedy shows, never imagining in a million years she’d be thrown about the living room like a rag doll.
Suffice it to say, she could carry all of her possessions in two slightly large suitcases. She had yet to go shopping to replace the clothes that were completely shredded or submitted as evidence to the police. In a way, she was consciously putting it off until her mind didn’t feel so jumbled, and living in a sparsely decorated apartment helped her think clearly.
“I’m glad you’re here, Tom.” The words came out in an exhale; quiet, reverent. “I can’t tell you how worried I was that I’d never see you again.”
Reply
Reply
“What I mean to say,” Eileen began, licking her lips as they had suddenly gone dry, “is that I’d never get a chance to tell you how I felt-- feel about you.” Her bright green eyes engaged his then, searching for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. By some miracle, Tom was sitting on her couch in Ashfield, and she didn’t want to ruin this moment by scaring him off with a loaded confession. “Know what I mean?”
Reply
Reply
“Sick?” Eileen squeezed his arm sympathetically. He looked thin, sallow. Then again, so did she. Traveling to meet her from wherever he initially woke up probably took a lot out of him. Hell, retrieving her mail sometimes felt like an Olympian feat, and she didn’t have to climb the stairs anymore. “Have you seen a doctor?”
Reply
Leave a comment