A Hand to Hold [3/7] [Sabrina, 1954]
A Hand to Hold
Chapter 3: Parting
Another afternoon had come and gone in Paris, hours spent in the sunshine of the streets and parks. Sabrina's cheeks were tinted pink now, and Linus had insisted on coming inside for the day. Dinner, another pleasant moment in another joyous day, had been taken and enjoyed, and now they sat in the living room of his suite, rarely speaking, only breathing and feeling one another's presence.
Without the routine of his office, the days blended into each other for Linus; after the first week and a half, he had ceased to count birth and death of each day as he had religiously numbered them in the beginning. Now, he just watched the sun, its rising and falling, through the morning to the afternoon and too soon into the night, and he had lost track entirely. But the uncertainty no longer concerned him, only what was certain: the young woman resting against his shoulder, his arm around her now as she dozed.
It could not last, this wonderful dream, whether broken by practicality or reality. The documents from his office were more and more difficult to address, needing his immediate attention, not a glance thirty minutes or a day and a half later. To leave...it was inevitable.
Motionless for another second, his own eyes closed for a moment. How...Linus drew his arm from around her shoulder, reaching into the pocket of his coat for the cigarettes and silver lighter concealed there. The movement woke her from the light sleep, and Sabrina blinked as she lifted her face.
"Good evening," Linus said quietly, drawing one from the package and lighting it in a practiced motion before sliding both away again. Each breath out he directed up, forming a gray haze over his head a in a few silent minutes. His free arm now lay between them, and again, neither of them moved.
"What are you thinking about?" Her question broke the lingering calm after a minute.
"Why would you worry about that?" He didn't doubt she truly wanted an answer; she spoke her mind, only pausing when she required time to find the proper words. But the words for the answer, they escaped him, just when he required them most.
"Because you're not here right now. You're somewhere else."
"It's not for you to-"
"But I want to know."
Denial was useless. "Sabrina," he began quietly, slowly, "I need to...I-have to leave, for just a short while. And soon." She frowned, but then nodded. "I'm sorry," he went on, "but there's no other way. There's only so much that can really be done just with cables and letters across the ocean."
"I know. How long?" She pulled away and slumped back into the soda cushion, the expected disappointment still a weight.
He paused to draw on his cigarette again, unable to look her in the eye for a moment. "Just a few days. Enough to make sure that my father and brother haven't run the family business into the ground."
The frown broke a bit, as he had hoped. "It can't be that bad."
"Oh, you could be surprised."
"Perhaps."
Her voice soothed him, like a reassurance that the ache he already felt from the impending separation would eventually vanish. He still marveled at it, how common words from her became a lullaby for him alone. "If you'd like, I'll book a ticket for you as well-"
"No." The word was abrupt. "I-I'll stay here. If I see my father, I may never leave again." His presence was the only improvement on Paris she could imagine. "I don't think I'm ready to go back, yet."
"As you wish." Another puff of smoke. But her unspoken question still hung in the air-the real reason for her decision?-and he smashed the still burning cigarette into the ash tray at his side. "Sabrina."
"Yes?"
"I know what you want to ask. And the answer is yes."
"Yes what?"
"I will be coming back."
"I didn't-"
"And I don't blame you for wondering." How much pain had she already endured because of him? Remembering all of it was enough reason for her fear. "But can I find someone...really special?" He had said that to her, deepening the ruse of his trip to Paris, and now Linus knew the answer to that question. The only response in kind was why he had taken so damn long to see her?
It would have to be said eventually-an apology of sorts that he had already given and she had already accepted, in every way but the spoken word. They both understood the reason, but it was not enough. Not now, though. After the farewells were given and the greetings of return exchanged, perhaps, but he needed her, and the words could wait as he caressed her cheeks.
The kiss was gentle at first, tender, but Linus was already addicted to the taste of her mouth, the smell of her skin, and he refused to let her go. He had to learn it all, to memorize her or he felt he might go mad with the distance between them. Already, the pressure of her body on his as he drew her tighter was intoxicating, sweeping the world aside to leave only them.
How long until he learned every tiny curve of her body, each muscle and imperfection? He longed for it, burned for it, despite all reasoning to the contrary. He desired her in every way his brother ever had, and he needed even more. Life without Sabrina was unfathomable. A low sound rose from her throat and the earth began to spin again, like a spell had been shattered; he pushed her shoulders away, the moment broken as she found a gasp for air.
"I-I'm sorry, Sabrina."
"It doesn't matter." She still had yet to move, but took another deep breath. "When will you leave?"
"The day after tomorrow...I hope."
"For how long?"
"No more than five days." Less than a week, but in his mind, the time stretched out into an eternity, the distance soon to form between them dwarfing the space that scientists' telescopes confirmed between the earth and the stars once so close. He had only just found her, and now he was forced to leave her.
"That's nearly a week. A lot can change in a week."
"Not this." Again, he touched her, but this time he refused anything more than a brief, nearly chaste, kiss. If he allowed himself anything more...Well, it would only prove all the gossip true. "I'll have a ticket for you if-"
"No, Linus," she answered again, the words firm while she just touched his face as he had hers a minute ago. "I know you'll come back." The flight across the Atlantic was mercifully uneventful and he passed it in a light slumber, only woken briefly by a bit of turbulence. The ride in the taxi to his office was...odd. Not that he had never riden in a New York cab, though it had long been an unusual experience thanks to Fairchild's dependability. When he now considered taxis, he thought of Paris and rain and damp chestnut trees, their sweet smell wafting through just cracked windows for both himself and the woman beside him.
And when Linus sat again at his desk, intercom at the ready, buttons and gadgets all at his side, it seemed a strange place to be. Joyless in the silence, empty and hollow. Miss McCardle immediately handed him a thick stack of letters and enormous pile of papers, and even presented a few cables from earlier in the day. He had hardly arrived at the airport by the east coast afternoon and he worked late into the night, until his eyelids were too heavy to lift, his vision too clouded to peer at the paperwork. But the thoughts had vanished, and it was enough for the moment, to forget what he had left behind.
He collapsed into the bedroom adjacent to his office, not even bothering to remove his bow tie and shoes, just remembering to unbutton his suit coat. When sleep finally enveloped him, conquering consciousness with greedy fingers, the rest was fitful, mechanical, and dark, its only kindness the absence of dreams. And now, Linus knew: he was captured, a willing hostage, broken and tamed.
Without her, he was no longer whole.
Chapter 3: Parting
Another afternoon had come and gone in Paris, hours spent in the sunshine of the streets and parks. Sabrina's cheeks were tinted pink now, and Linus had insisted on coming inside for the day. Dinner, another pleasant moment in another joyous day, had been taken and enjoyed, and now they sat in the living room of his suite, rarely speaking, only breathing and feeling one another's presence.
Without the routine of his office, the days blended into each other for Linus; after the first week and a half, he had ceased to count birth and death of each day as he had religiously numbered them in the beginning. Now, he just watched the sun, its rising and falling, through the morning to the afternoon and too soon into the night, and he had lost track entirely. But the uncertainty no longer concerned him, only what was certain: the young woman resting against his shoulder, his arm around her now as she dozed.
It could not last, this wonderful dream, whether broken by practicality or reality. The documents from his office were more and more difficult to address, needing his immediate attention, not a glance thirty minutes or a day and a half later. To leave...it was inevitable.
Motionless for another second, his own eyes closed for a moment. How...Linus drew his arm from around her shoulder, reaching into the pocket of his coat for the cigarettes and silver lighter concealed there. The movement woke her from the light sleep, and Sabrina blinked as she lifted her face.
"Good evening," Linus said quietly, drawing one from the package and lighting it in a practiced motion before sliding both away again. Each breath out he directed up, forming a gray haze over his head a in a few silent minutes. His free arm now lay between them, and again, neither of them moved.
"What are you thinking about?" Her question broke the lingering calm after a minute.
"Why would you worry about that?" He didn't doubt she truly wanted an answer; she spoke her mind, only pausing when she required time to find the proper words. But the words for the answer, they escaped him, just when he required them most.
"Because you're not here right now. You're somewhere else."
"It's not for you to-"
"But I want to know."
Denial was useless. "Sabrina," he began quietly, slowly, "I need to...I-have to leave, for just a short while. And soon." She frowned, but then nodded. "I'm sorry," he went on, "but there's no other way. There's only so much that can really be done just with cables and letters across the ocean."
"I know. How long?" She pulled away and slumped back into the soda cushion, the expected disappointment still a weight.
He paused to draw on his cigarette again, unable to look her in the eye for a moment. "Just a few days. Enough to make sure that my father and brother haven't run the family business into the ground."
The frown broke a bit, as he had hoped. "It can't be that bad."
"Oh, you could be surprised."
"Perhaps."
Her voice soothed him, like a reassurance that the ache he already felt from the impending separation would eventually vanish. He still marveled at it, how common words from her became a lullaby for him alone. "If you'd like, I'll book a ticket for you as well-"
"No." The word was abrupt. "I-I'll stay here. If I see my father, I may never leave again." His presence was the only improvement on Paris she could imagine. "I don't think I'm ready to go back, yet."
"As you wish." Another puff of smoke. But her unspoken question still hung in the air-the real reason for her decision?-and he smashed the still burning cigarette into the ash tray at his side. "Sabrina."
"Yes?"
"I know what you want to ask. And the answer is yes."
"Yes what?"
"I will be coming back."
"I didn't-"
"And I don't blame you for wondering." How much pain had she already endured because of him? Remembering all of it was enough reason for her fear. "But can I find someone...really special?" He had said that to her, deepening the ruse of his trip to Paris, and now Linus knew the answer to that question. The only response in kind was why he had taken so damn long to see her?
It would have to be said eventually-an apology of sorts that he had already given and she had already accepted, in every way but the spoken word. They both understood the reason, but it was not enough. Not now, though. After the farewells were given and the greetings of return exchanged, perhaps, but he needed her, and the words could wait as he caressed her cheeks.
The kiss was gentle at first, tender, but Linus was already addicted to the taste of her mouth, the smell of her skin, and he refused to let her go. He had to learn it all, to memorize her or he felt he might go mad with the distance between them. Already, the pressure of her body on his as he drew her tighter was intoxicating, sweeping the world aside to leave only them.
How long until he learned every tiny curve of her body, each muscle and imperfection? He longed for it, burned for it, despite all reasoning to the contrary. He desired her in every way his brother ever had, and he needed even more. Life without Sabrina was unfathomable. A low sound rose from her throat and the earth began to spin again, like a spell had been shattered; he pushed her shoulders away, the moment broken as she found a gasp for air.
"I-I'm sorry, Sabrina."
"It doesn't matter." She still had yet to move, but took another deep breath. "When will you leave?"
"The day after tomorrow...I hope."
"For how long?"
"No more than five days." Less than a week, but in his mind, the time stretched out into an eternity, the distance soon to form between them dwarfing the space that scientists' telescopes confirmed between the earth and the stars once so close. He had only just found her, and now he was forced to leave her.
"That's nearly a week. A lot can change in a week."
"Not this." Again, he touched her, but this time he refused anything more than a brief, nearly chaste, kiss. If he allowed himself anything more...Well, it would only prove all the gossip true. "I'll have a ticket for you if-"
"No, Linus," she answered again, the words firm while she just touched his face as he had hers a minute ago. "I know you'll come back." The flight across the Atlantic was mercifully uneventful and he passed it in a light slumber, only woken briefly by a bit of turbulence. The ride in the taxi to his office was...odd. Not that he had never riden in a New York cab, though it had long been an unusual experience thanks to Fairchild's dependability. When he now considered taxis, he thought of Paris and rain and damp chestnut trees, their sweet smell wafting through just cracked windows for both himself and the woman beside him.
And when Linus sat again at his desk, intercom at the ready, buttons and gadgets all at his side, it seemed a strange place to be. Joyless in the silence, empty and hollow. Miss McCardle immediately handed him a thick stack of letters and enormous pile of papers, and even presented a few cables from earlier in the day. He had hardly arrived at the airport by the east coast afternoon and he worked late into the night, until his eyelids were too heavy to lift, his vision too clouded to peer at the paperwork. But the thoughts had vanished, and it was enough for the moment, to forget what he had left behind.
He collapsed into the bedroom adjacent to his office, not even bothering to remove his bow tie and shoes, just remembering to unbutton his suit coat. When sleep finally enveloped him, conquering consciousness with greedy fingers, the rest was fitful, mechanical, and dark, its only kindness the absence of dreams. And now, Linus knew: he was captured, a willing hostage, broken and tamed.
Without her, he was no longer whole.