Lam took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before rapping sharply on the wooden door before her. She\'d been back in Oberon four days and was still finding everything a little strange to adjust to. She\'d started back at work more or less straight away and every conversation she\'d had with Freddy had been work related... until now.
She was on her way home, having just finished her shift as the sun began to sink more determinedly towards the horizon - after a short day gracing a wintry sky - and she was looking forward to being inside and eating another one of Matthew\'s dinners. As far as she knew, Kysis would be spending the night at his home with Rico and his sister and she was loathe to disturb him, finding Alia\'s imminent death both horrific and humbling. It had shaken them both up and things were... difficult between them, though they weren\'t fighting.
It was just that she didn\'t quite know what to say or do to comfort him - especially since he needed no comfort yet - and he had no idea of how to let her.
Since she had the time to spare, she supposed she might as well do the thing she dreaded most and start telling people other than her aunt and uncle that she was going to marry Kysis. They\'d been sworn to secrecy for the time being and she wasn\'t wearing her engagement ring in public, so no-one had figured it out - especially with she and Kysis spending time apart because he didn\'t want to leave Alia\'s side. Still, that would eventually change because Matthew and Rico also knew and, with even the best of intentions, these things eventually started to slip.
So there she stood, before the private residence of Lieutenant John Frederickson, swallowing her nerves and trying to keep herself steady, knowing what she was about to face wouldn\'t be pleasant (still, it would be easier than seeing Dagger again, so she\'d opted to \'warm herself up\', as it were, on a friendlier face first). He deserved to hear it from her first - and it was likely she\'d lead in like that.
"Who is it?" Freddy\'s muffled voice came to her from the other side of the door, sounding sleepy and wary.
"Wilson," she answered curtly.
The door opened before he spoke again, grinning his usual friendly grin. He was wearing long johns underwear, no shoe, no shirt - though there was one grasped in his left hand, she noted as she looked him over - and his blonde hair was thoroughly mussed. "I won\'t worry about putting this on, then," he said happily enough, ushering her in and closing the door behind her. He lived in a small flat with no servants; there were two bedrooms, a kitchen and a greeting room to the whole place. "I was in bed," he told her with a yawn, scratching the fair hairs upon his muscular chest. "I\'m going back," he declared and spun on his heel to do just that.
Her wry expression was lost on his broad back as she took off her work cloak and hung it on a hook in the entryway, before following after him. She knew where his bedroom was well enough; she\'d shared the bed numerous times before. "I thought you would\'ve had enough sleep by now, you\'ve had all day," she chided as she walked into his bedroom, pausing to toe her boots off before laying on the bed beside him.
He\'d dumped his shirt and now snuggled in under his covers blearily, grunting indignantly at her but not bothering to tell her what a rough night he\'d had and how he hadn\'t been able to get to sleep immediately, when returning home at dawn. She\'d heard about the arrests made the night before in the office that morning, though, so it didn\'t surprise her he was still sleeping now. She also knew he didn\'t have to work again until the next day, like her.
"I wanted to talk to you," she began, after the silence between them stretched into what she felt was uncomfortable territory. She was laying on her left side facing him, her head supported on her hand as she watched him. She could see only his face over the covers and she was glad when his eyes opened.
"Naturally."
She gave him a reproving look. "I have something to talk to you about," she corrected.
He resisted the urge to be sarcastic again, knowing it wouldn\'t make things any better. He was pretty sure he knew why she was there - though he was hoping for good news - and it made him nervous. His tongue tended to get away with him, in such cases, so he held it firmly in check. "Go on," was all he said, not airing his suspicions but rather letting her speak freely. His gaze roved her face intently while he listened.
Wilson cleared her throat, her heart fluttering there as if it wanted to choke her. It didn\'t work; the fluttering remained and so she took a breath next, her mind scrambling. "It\'s about Kysis and me," she warned, to which he did nothing but blink. "He... asked me to marry him. In Greece. And I said yes."
Freddy said nothing still, but after a few moments, he rolled onto his back, the bed shifting with his movements. His left arm emerged from beneath the covers as he stared sightlessly at the ceiling, the hand resting on the pillow above his head while he seemed to be digesting this information. His thumb trailed thoughtfully back and forth over his forehead.
"I... thought you should know... first," Lam said tentatively, her voice husky with nerves. He was damn quiet! She hadn\'t anticipated that. Anger, yes. Tears, yes. But not just... nothing.
"Yeah," he answered flatly, his heart a hollow in his chest. He was doing his best not to cry, or yell, telling himself that he\'d seen it coming, that he shouldn\'t be all that surprised or hurt. That she\'d never really been his anyway, despite the times he\'d tried to make it so. He\'d always known he was humiliating himself by hoping for her and waiting until she realised she had no better option than him was just downright stupid but... if it had got him what he wanted, he wouldn\'t have minded. Now he saw that there was no hope at all and he was overwhelmed with the loss.
She watched him for as long as she could stand it, her emotions going haywire as he barely reacted. She shuffled closer, pressing herself up against him, her forehead to the blankets that covered his shoulder. "I\'m sorry," she whispered miserably, tears gathering and her nose beginning to run.
He restrained himself from holding her, chose instead to cup the round of her head in the palm of his large left hand, shushing her quietly. Hearing her upset only made him upset and when he spoke next, his voice was raw with pain. "Don\'t be... if he makes you happy?"
"He does," she admitted, sounding anything but. "I\'m in love with him."
He swore beneath his breath and let her head go, not wanting to touch her any more, not wanting to hear those words. It was too much. His hand covered his closed eyes instead and he revelled in the darkness and the thought that he was alone, even though he was intensely aware of her laying against him.
"I\'m sorry," she said again, lifting her head to watch him in the darkness.
He said nothing, though when the bed began to shake, she crawled up to hold him. He turned and pressed his face into her lap, arms around her, sobbing as she brushed his hair tenderly, bent over him and in much the same state as he.
Saying goodbye had never been harder.
