Mail - (rp for sand_andwater)

[fey_fire]

Most days Rory Stone opened his apartment mailbox to find the usual pedestrian pile of paper: bills and junk mail, with the occasional card or note from friends or family or maybe a package containing something he'd ordered online. Not much in the way of fan mail, not here. While Breaker Street had been playing the clubs, those fans who were inclined toward gifts or handwritten letters of praise usually just dropped them off wherever their next gig was scheduled, or brought them in person. Now arrangements were underway to have the band's mail received and screened by a discreet PA at Serptichore Records, though likely that person wouldn't have too much to do at first. So the typical daily accumulation of mail for an up-and-coming rocker was pretty boring, all told. Most days.

Today, however, he'd pulled a package out of his box, one with colorful Italian stamps and a postmark that read VENEZIA. He'd known who it was from before he spotted Pippa's name on the return address.

Once back in his apartment, he sat down at the dining room table and set the rest of the mail aside to turn the package over and over in his fingers. Any communication from his ex-lover carried with it the promise of pain, even if it was only the stinging memory of loss. After long minutes he popped open the tape and unwrapped the small box. Inside lay a men's bracelet in silver and black, tasteful and stylish, clearly the sort of thing Pippa would choose. Under the gift rested a handwritten letter. He read it through twice, taking in Pippa's words of encouragement, pride and best wishes, for Breaker Street and especially for him. After the second read-through, he stared at her closing salutation and wondered if he should ask Junie to translate the Italian.

You were supposed to be here. He sighed and fastened the bracelet around his left wrist, catching bits of his reflection in the polished silver rectangles adorning the piece. She would have been here were it not for the bastard who'd tortured her very nearly to death. Rory and his family had saved Pippa's life and healed her body, but they'd been unable to reclaim their relationship from the emotional wreckage, the trauma they'd both suffered.

He could write her a return letter, keep everything safe and non-confrontational. No more bruises that way. And yet ... he had said he'd call her sometime, and what better reason was he likely to get?

Staring at his eyes reflected in the silver, Rory pulled out his cell phone and called up his contact list.

Comments

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

"And you think they haven't?" She managed to laugh as well, sobering up quickly because his words really did touch her. Regardless of who she'd known longer, Rory knew her better. "Thank you, Ro. It's nice to know someone is in my corner instead of trying to force me out of it."

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

Rory's eyes close briefly as he listens to the note of laughter in Pippa's voice. Yes. "I've never left your corner, Pippa," he says after swallowing down the sudden tightness in his throat. "And I never will. I believe in you, too."

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

So much for getting through this call without tears. His words and the pause between them are enough to bring that familiar sting to the backs of her eyes and then the hot tears spilling down her cheeks. "Oh, Ro...I lo--" She chocked up, cut herself off. Telling him that she loved him wasn't going to do anything but make this hurt all the worse.

"I think you're one of the few."

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

The words that Pippa does not allow into the air nonetheless rang in Rory's skull. What was a lover supposed to do when love could not heal all wounds?

If he was a creature of belief, he'd have to make belief suffice. Believe, and let time heal what love could not. Maybe eventually it would heal the ache in his heart.

Until then ... "You'll do it, Pippa. I know you will. And you'll let me know when you have, hm? I'll come see it." Somehow.

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

She hadn't even been thinking of Rory in Venice. Not him coming there to her place of sanctuary, no matter how much she'd longed for him to do just that. No, she'd convinced herself that he would never come to her City of Bridges. It was easier that way. When she imagined showing him her work, for some reason the floor of an art gallery was where it would take place. And in Manhattan.

It was one of those ideas that had taken root without her consciously realizing it until too late. For the first time in her life, Pippa was thinking about making her glass a career.

"Of course I will." She reached for his guitar pick necklace and played with the small piece of acrylic. "Only, my luck will have it that you're in the middle of a fan frenzy or a concert tour and won't be able to make it. I'll have to have Marcello take photographs for you."

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

He's just a friend, for God's sake. An inner twitch at the mention of the photographer's name has Rory silently reprimanding himself. Friend or no, such choices are Pippa's to make. Always have been.

"That would be great, thank you." He manages to make the words sound considerably easier than he feels. "But still ... I'd want to find a way to see it in person as soon as possible. There's nothing quite like experiencing art first hand, after all."

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

"Well, that will be a long time in coming, I can tell you that much. The perfectionist in me has taken over and I won't let anyone see it until it is exactly the way I want it to be." The way she needs it to be. And there is an audience of one that it has to be perfect for. Him.

Pippa finds herself smiling then, his determination to see something she's created makes the gaffer feel nearly giddy. There's still something of her that he is genuinely interested in, invested in. That's wonderful. "And I expect you to give me nothing but your honest opinion when you do see it, Ro."

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

"I wouldn't insult you with anything less." The warmth in Pippa's voice draws an answering smile from Rory. For a time he tries to set aside all the what-ifs and might-have-beens, to stop worrying about what could/would/should happen and just ... talk.

"And I fully understand about the inner perfectionist," he added. "The muse demands what the muse demands, after all."

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

"Of course you do...I've seen you in the middle of the creative process before." And she misses that sight, they way he'd sit at his desk, keyboard in front of him and guitar nearby, pen in hand...

As for her muse, this particular one was nearly as demanding as the artist he inspired. "This piece, it's all I can think about. It's all I want to do and the only thing I want to be with. Nothing else really matters. If I weren't so exhausted tonight, I'd probably still be working." She turns her head as she hears the tell tale approach of that cat again. "As it is, I'm being stalked by a furry menace that wants my pillow and my blood. Cats are vile, nasty little beasts, aren't they?"