Looking Glass (reposted)

Chapter Fifteen


Vivian, a particularly zealous nurse, told Noah exactly where he could go if she ever caught him bringing fast food into her hospital for one of her patients again.
Deirdre, in turn, heard it from Noah. He wasn’t too pleased that he had been accused of the crime she had committed. Deirdre thought everyone was taking this a bit too seriously.

After his outraged tirade had been exhausted, Noah looked to Deirdre for a response. She definitely owed him an apology.

She blinked. The silence stretched as Noah’s face grew even redder.

“Why didn’t you just point out that she couldn’t have actually caught you, if you were gone by the time she found the pizza?”

Noah glared at her, unwilling to tell her that he had been afraid that the Nurse Nazi would go Kristallnacht on him by the vending machine. He settled for making a disgusted sound and turned back to his desk.

“Why did you come here, Deirdre? What do you want?”

He sounded weary, she noted, and assumed that lay on her shoulders, too. She felt tired herself—so tired. She couldn’t bring herself to think this small transgression mattered when the unforgivable already lay at her door.

“I wanted to see—“ she began, but was unsure how to continue.

“Little late for that, isn’t it?” She thought for a moment he was sniping at her again, but there was a note of sadness in his voice along with the irony.

“Just a phrase. I guess I wanted to find out if I could do it. I wanted to prove that I could. Show your father that somewhere in me is the person he wanted me to be.” She smiled falsely, straightened her spine, and offered him a drink. She took her time in the kitchen, washing her hands then pouring the Coke into a heavy tumbler, her thumb slightly inside the lip so that when the liquid hit it, she would know the glass was full. She took a deep breath and headed back out to the living room.

She should have asked Leon. He would have helped her move, no doubt. His fiancée would have happy to assist, too. But no, when she had decided that it would be a good idea to temporarily move to Thomas’s apartment while she attempted to sculpt, she had called Noah. It had seemed so logical at the time. After all, he knew where the place was and wouldn’t need directions to drive her there. He had keys to the apartment and knew his way around the place, and of course was more than capable of moving her heavy boxes. All Deirdre had to worry about was the leather bag that had replaced the Shopko bag. Noah had given it to her for her first mother’s day after Elspet was born. Said if she carried around a diaper bag and a Shopko bag, people would think he wasn’t taking good care of her, especially since she still didn’t like to wear shoes. Plus, with a zipper, she wouldn’t have to worry about losing things. It was the most thoughtful gift she had ever received: a nod to her insecurities, but a step toward permanent commitment, too. Well, the bag had lasted, anyway.

“What’s with all the mirrors?“ Noah asked when she returned with his drink. They glittered from every direction, reflections upon reflected reflections. Like a very classy fun house, he thought, and shivered. It made him feel like the whole world limited to this one limitless room. He turned his attention back to his hostess and wondered how she could shrug when her back was so stiff.

“Irony." She paused, then continued, "And sometimes the sunlight catches them and I can see the reflection.“

“Want me to pack any of them up?“

The question surprised her, and she didn’t know quite how to answer. Finally, she said, “There is one in the closet that my decorator decided he didn’t like anymore. That would be nice, if we...if you could figure out where to hang it.“

“Sure. No problem. Lead the way.“ Deirdre led him to her bedroom. It was a pretty room of pearly whites and golds. Not like the Deirdre he remembered at all. How many times did he need to be reminded that this wasn’t the same woman, he wondered angrily. He yanked open the closet door. Its contents were meticulously organized: color-coded, he saw, and tied to each hanger was a tag with braille on it. He wondered if she used the tags to help her match outfits in the morning. How did she know what matched to begin with? Was shopping difficult or embarrassing? It wasn’t his business, and she wouldn’t appreciate his curiosity.

“In the back, if I remember correctly,“ Deirdre supplied.

“And of course you do remember correctly,“ Noah grumbled. As he pulled the mirror out, the corner of its frame caught on the carpet. When he moved to free it, he grazed something sharp. Cursing, he snatched his hand back.

“What the hell was that?“ he cried.

“Damned if I know,“ Deirdre said dryly.

He glared at her. Sticking his injured thumb in his mouth, he leaned back into the closet to see what had cut him. A shard of glass.

“What is it?“ Deirdre asked.

“Glass. Not from this mirror, though, from something else.“

“Ah. The cleaners must have missed it. Did you cut yourself?“ Assuming he had, she headed for the bathroom for a bandage.

“What happened?” Noah wondered, following her.

Deirdre smiled wryly. “All those mirrors you were admiring? They’re my second round. I got a little upset a while back and broke the first ones.”

Noah looked at her thoughtfully, only her blindness keeping her from seeing the shock openly displayed on his face. “What’s this? Deirdre, the human icicle, actually getting angry? Angry enough to break things? Maybe you haven’t changed as much as I thought.”

As if to prove him wrong, her eyes instantly cooled. She turned away, saying, “I’ve got an extra blanket you can wrap that mirror in. Here’s your band-aid.”

Noah grasped her outstretched hand, ignoring the damn band-aid. It was barely a scratch, anyway.

“Now, just a damn minute, Deirdre! You can’t just turn off like that and walk away from me.”

She grinned, reflexively malicious. “Watch me.”

She liked it, she realized, taunting him with tiny reminders that she couldn’t see. She could imagine the wince and the tightening of his mouth, and she hoped that it hurt him a fraction as much as it hurt her.

He knew she meant to rub it in his face. The way it was always in her face, he supposed. But he was damned if he was going to let her get away with it.

“No, Deirdre. I won’t watch you. I have a better idea—how about bonding over a shared experience?” And his mouth crashed down on hers. Her lips were cool; her shoulders were cool where he gripped them. She stood perfectly still, frozen in her outrage, like an ice sculpture. She looked like a woman, but she would give you frostbite with those eyes. Was there really no heat left in her? He kissed her harder, determined to ignite a spark in her.

And suddenly, it was there—everywhere, as her hands flew over him, pulling through his hair and raking over his back. Through the lips that were mashed against his, he could feel her teeth, like a beast barely fettered. Then she opened her mouth, opening the cage door, and she attacked him. He tasted blood and growled, fighting for dominance. He spun her around and slammed her against the wall of her prim bedroom, holding her head still for him to devour her. He bit her lip, hard, and the rusty taste of her blood joined his on his tongue. Her hands were between them, stuggling, but he ignored them. Just for a moment more, to have Deirdre, and then he’d let her go again—

She wasn’t struggling against him, however, but against the gray t-shirt he had worn to help her move. She ripped it over his head, and while his hands were momentarily trapped above him, scraped her nails down the inside of his arms. He could have finished right then, if he weren’t so unsettled that she remembered how sensitive that spot was to him. Instead, he hurled the shirt away and began on hers. She had on something white and ruffled. It had too many buttons, and he grinned in feral satisfaction when one pinged off the open closet door. If he was disappointed to see a practical flesh-toned underwire bra instead of a white sports bra, he hid it beneath his lips and tongue, which ravaged her through the material. Her cry of pain or pleasure and her hands at his belt drove him on, and he shoved her hands away—too slow—and undid his pants himself. She busied herself with her hands on his back and her teeth at his neck, and he suddenly thought of the TV show with the vampires she had liked so much. Then all thoughts fled before the violence of his onslaught. He yanked her skirt up and ripped her panties to the side and he was in her. As he pounded her into the wall, she brought her legs up around his waist, the one heel that still clung on stabbing his rear, and she fisted her hands in his hair and pulled, unsure if she hoped it would hurt or pleasure. A bit of both, she decided, and he pulled her over the edge. She sunk her teeth into his shoulder to keep from screaming as he roared.

They clung together for a moment, drained and sweaty and hurting. She hung limply in his arms, and Noah reveled in her need for him in that moment. As he fought to catch his breath, he clung to her too, burying his head in her shoulder. Their breaths mingled and their hearts slowed. Then she unwrapped her legs and calmly stepped away to adjust her skirt.

Noah was infuriated. After that, she could just step away and fix her clothes? For god’s sake, now, when her bra was shoved below her breasts and her shirt hung from one wrist? When her cheeks were raw from his Sunday stubble, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed with her release? He could only stare as she righted her clothes as best she could.

“I had best get that blanket.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea.”

She was surprised that she could walk. The heels—once she had found the other one—made the task more difficult, but she didn’t feel she could go barefoot in his presence. Too casual, and God knew whatever it was that had just happened between them wasn’t casual. She knew he was angry—no, furious—at her right now, but she needed to reestablish some kind of veneer of composure while she retreated to discover what, exactly, he had just shattered within her.

“Only two weeks till Easter,” Noah reminded casually as he searched for his t-shirt. “Would you say this was better than that last Easter or not?”

She hated him. She deserved it, but she hated him.

************************************************************************

2000

Deirdre sighed contentedly as she traversed the toy aisles. Easter was so much more fun now. Elspet squealed delightedly amid the cacophony as her daddy pressed the “Try Me” button on every noise-making toy he could find.

“Noah, you do realize we’re here to get a stuffed rabbit, not a, ah, what exactly is that?”

“It’s a Furby, of course.” Noah looked at her like she was from the fourteenth century.

“Oh.” She frowned. “Didn’t they used to look different?”

“Yep,” Thomas chimed in loudly from the next aisle. “Think they got sued or something. Looked too much like a Gremlin.”

“A Gremlin? That movie is way scary; I still have nightmares. No Furbies for you, kiddo. Bunnies are nice and safe, and guaranteed not to pelt you with candy at the movie theater,” Deirdre said, unable to keep from touching her daughter’s downy hair. Noah had her today, a supporting hand on her back despite the baby carrier strapped to his chest. She looked up into Noah’s eyes and was unable to hold back a warm smile. Something about her big muscular man with a baby strapped to his front just brought it out in her.

“Speaking of holiday movies, doesn’t this look like the thing that kid wore in that movie ‘A Christmas Story’?” Thomas appeared from around the corner, waving pink pyjamas with rabbit ears attached.

“Oh god, I love it!” Noah said laughing. He turned to Deirdre with pleading eyes.

She chuckled. “Just as long as you don’t start calling her ‘Ralphie.’”

“Who’s Ralphie?” Thomas wanted to know.

“The kid! In that movie! You’re the one who brought it up, you know, so quit laughing at me, Thomas Winters.”

“Does ‘Gremlins’ really count as a Christmas movie? I mean, I know it takes place at Christmas time, but that seems rather coincidental. Or am I thinking of the sequel?” Noah muttered to whoever was listening.

A burble of laughter rose out of Deirdre’s throat. “I think these men are trying to drive Mama crazy, Elspet, what do you think?” She leaned close to adjust the baby’s hat once more.

“The thought of you in rabbit ears makes Daddy crazy,” Noah whispered hotly Deirdre’s ear. She burst out laughing.

“Oh, Noah. Bad timing. Bad, bad timing. Not when we’re surrounded by Matel products.”

He sighed dramatically. “A guy’s gotta try.”

Dierdre batted falsely innocent eyes at him. “But the Easter bunny doesn’t come for almost a week.”

“Dad!” he rasped, “can you take Elspet tonight for a couple of hours?” For Deirdre’s ears alone, he added, “You think so, huh? I bet I could make the bunny come today. Several times, in fact.”

Thomas was about to explain that he had an interview with a reporter that evening when he saw the look that passed between his son and the young woman he loved like a daughter—there was enough heat passing between them to incinerate a thousand Furbies. On second thought, it would be a good opportunity to show off his granddaughter.

“Fork her over,” he said simply, and held his arms out as Noah scrambled out of the carrier. “Now, you two get out of here. Baby and I will find a stuffed bunny for her.” Noah and Deirdre lost no time in kissing their daughter good-bye and hightailing it out of there. Thomas chuckled and wondered if they would actually make it inside their apartment before they started going at it like...

“Rabbits.” Elspet laughed, and he couldn’t help but join her.




A/N: I know it's been a loooong time since I've updated this story. I felt kind of lost, not in terms of plot, because I know where I'm going, but in terms of time commitments. I have a lot on my plate right now, so if I'm going to make this a priority, I'm going to need some support. So, this is me, shamelessly begging for reviews. Love and smooches!