Fic: Five Elevens
[I don't even know about the tone of this fic. It just happened that way.]
November 11, 2011
It had been months. Months of dancing, literally and figuratively. Dancing around each other. Dancing around their feelings. Dancing around hidden and not so hidden truths. And dancing around Peter, who saw it all and didn't know what to do, Natasha, who saw it all and kept it to herself, and Luke, who saw nothing.
Months of coffee dates, movie nights, playground visits, and talks that sometimes went on for hours. They lived in the pleasant fiction of innocence the great majority of the time. By some measures, it was true. If one or the other or both were less concerned with doing the right thing it may not have mattered what measure was used. In another life they were together, in this one, they danced.
11/11/11 was Veteran's Day. James flew to Washington DC in the early morning, with Steve and Sharon and Natasha, and they spent the day standing at attention, bowing their heads, and speaking in hushed tones about honor. Steve did most of the talking, James wasn't one for long speeches. In the evening there was a formal gathering but James was even less one for networking with politicians. When he wasn't bored, he was uncomfortable.
Jessica stayed in New York, with Carol and Peter. Luke was off with the Thunderbolts, who were in theory on call while the main teams were "representing their country". Jess could have gone with him, but Carol had begged her to stay and keep Tony from forcing her into the spotlight as the token military officer. Normally she'd be all over it but in her third trimester she just wanted to be left alone. Jess muttered something about poetic justice but acquiesced. She didn't really want to leave her kid to hang out with criminals anyway.
Jessica and James' love story, if you could call it that, started as a crime drama and morphed into a screwball comedy with a strange period drama slash science fiction element to it. Tonight it was most like a romantic dramedy. It was a holiday meaningful to our hero and a date special to our heroine. Conflict appeared in the form of physical separation. Here was James, looking at his watch, shuffling his feet, watching the crowd. There was Jessica, waving to Carol and Peter as they left for Boston, kissing Dani good night, fidgeting in the big empty house. Luke was gone on his mission. Natasha was leaving on hers. It would take 50 minutes to fly from DC to NYC. Would it be enough time? Should he try? Would he try? The music pauses to capture the decision.
None of this went through James' mind, or Jessica's. We are all characters in the movies of our lives but very few of us act that way. James was bored and uncomfortable and tired after a long day and left the party because he wanted to be home. Jessica was alone and jumpy and equally tired after an equally long day but stayed up because she couldn't turn her mind off.
He stepped off the plane and she picked up her coffee. He considered if a cab was worth it and she wondered why she'd decided coffee was a good idea this late. He looked at his watch and she glanced at the TV clock. 11:11. 11:11 11/11/11.
Twenty minutes later, he walked through the door. She was waiting.
"Did you make a wish?"
He nodded.
"Do I get to know what it is?"
He watched her a quiet moment, turned and walked toward his room, taking off his jacket as he went. She followed. "Wishes don't come true if you tell them, right?"
"I don't know."
He hung up his jacket before turning to tease. "You don't know? But you're my wish expert."
"If I say you're right you won't tell me and I really want to know," she explained with twinkling eyes.
"Maybe I don't want the wish to come true."
She flashed her crooked smile in confusion. "Why would you make it if you didn't want it to come true? Today of all days!"
He took a breath before answering. "I'm conflicted. Today of all days."
Silence grew as the moment lingered. Someone in a movie once said life is made up of moments. But it's not true. Movies are made up of moments but life is made up of choices. The moment could linger forever, for months, for years, all the way until it was 11:11 11/11/11 again. It had been months of moments and no choices, except the one to ignore all the moments, ignore them and celebrate them at the same time. The moments and the feelings and the truths about it all.
"It will only be today for another three minutes."
He nodded as if this was important, as if it meant something. "How do you wish to spend them?"
The answer was clear in her eyes, in the step she took toward him as if she didn't know how not to. It was clear in his arrival and in her vigil and in the big empty house conspiring. The answer and the choice was clear and in the moment the choice was all that mattered. And choice made, the moment was all that mattered.
November 11, 2011
It had been months. Months of dancing, literally and figuratively. Dancing around each other. Dancing around their feelings. Dancing around hidden and not so hidden truths. And dancing around Peter, who saw it all and didn't know what to do, Natasha, who saw it all and kept it to herself, and Luke, who saw nothing.
Months of coffee dates, movie nights, playground visits, and talks that sometimes went on for hours. They lived in the pleasant fiction of innocence the great majority of the time. By some measures, it was true. If one or the other or both were less concerned with doing the right thing it may not have mattered what measure was used. In another life they were together, in this one, they danced.
11/11/11 was Veteran's Day. James flew to Washington DC in the early morning, with Steve and Sharon and Natasha, and they spent the day standing at attention, bowing their heads, and speaking in hushed tones about honor. Steve did most of the talking, James wasn't one for long speeches. In the evening there was a formal gathering but James was even less one for networking with politicians. When he wasn't bored, he was uncomfortable.
Jessica stayed in New York, with Carol and Peter. Luke was off with the Thunderbolts, who were in theory on call while the main teams were "representing their country". Jess could have gone with him, but Carol had begged her to stay and keep Tony from forcing her into the spotlight as the token military officer. Normally she'd be all over it but in her third trimester she just wanted to be left alone. Jess muttered something about poetic justice but acquiesced. She didn't really want to leave her kid to hang out with criminals anyway.
Jessica and James' love story, if you could call it that, started as a crime drama and morphed into a screwball comedy with a strange period drama slash science fiction element to it. Tonight it was most like a romantic dramedy. It was a holiday meaningful to our hero and a date special to our heroine. Conflict appeared in the form of physical separation. Here was James, looking at his watch, shuffling his feet, watching the crowd. There was Jessica, waving to Carol and Peter as they left for Boston, kissing Dani good night, fidgeting in the big empty house. Luke was gone on his mission. Natasha was leaving on hers. It would take 50 minutes to fly from DC to NYC. Would it be enough time? Should he try? Would he try? The music pauses to capture the decision.
None of this went through James' mind, or Jessica's. We are all characters in the movies of our lives but very few of us act that way. James was bored and uncomfortable and tired after a long day and left the party because he wanted to be home. Jessica was alone and jumpy and equally tired after an equally long day but stayed up because she couldn't turn her mind off.
He stepped off the plane and she picked up her coffee. He considered if a cab was worth it and she wondered why she'd decided coffee was a good idea this late. He looked at his watch and she glanced at the TV clock. 11:11. 11:11 11/11/11.
Twenty minutes later, he walked through the door. She was waiting.
"Did you make a wish?"
He nodded.
"Do I get to know what it is?"
He watched her a quiet moment, turned and walked toward his room, taking off his jacket as he went. She followed. "Wishes don't come true if you tell them, right?"
"I don't know."
He hung up his jacket before turning to tease. "You don't know? But you're my wish expert."
"If I say you're right you won't tell me and I really want to know," she explained with twinkling eyes.
"Maybe I don't want the wish to come true."
She flashed her crooked smile in confusion. "Why would you make it if you didn't want it to come true? Today of all days!"
He took a breath before answering. "I'm conflicted. Today of all days."
Silence grew as the moment lingered. Someone in a movie once said life is made up of moments. But it's not true. Movies are made up of moments but life is made up of choices. The moment could linger forever, for months, for years, all the way until it was 11:11 11/11/11 again. It had been months of moments and no choices, except the one to ignore all the moments, ignore them and celebrate them at the same time. The moments and the feelings and the truths about it all.
"It will only be today for another three minutes."
He nodded as if this was important, as if it meant something. "How do you wish to spend them?"
The answer was clear in her eyes, in the step she took toward him as if she didn't know how not to. It was clear in his arrival and in her vigil and in the big empty house conspiring. The answer and the choice was clear and in the moment the choice was all that mattered. And choice made, the moment was all that mattered.