Chapter Text
“You could have just asked for help.”
Lix glanced behind her to find the looming figure of Randall in the doorway. Amusement clouded his expression, lips half-quirked as a grin formed. Rolling her eyes, she frowned. “Instead of standing there sniggering at me, you could help, Randall, dear.”
He finally released a soft laugh, coming over to lift the heavy box of files from her arms. It was effortless and she marveled at his strength for a moment before wiping the bewilderment from her expression and sighing. “Thank you.”
“Why are you up here in the file room in the first place, Lix?”
She swiped her dusty hands across her trouser legs, a plume of dust rising like smoke in the air. The pair coughed for a moment before she answered him. “I needed to be sure of something. Call it a hunch.”
An eyebrow rose. “Cryptic as always,” he replied dryly.
“I think perhaps this might be a situation where the pot is calling the kettle black,” she explained. “However, I could ask you the very same thing. Why are you up here on the third floor?”
He set the cardboard box down by the doorway, dusting his hands off as well. “I heard you were off on a quest, and I rightly assumed you might require a bit of assistance, so I’m glad I came.”
She fought the urge to bristle at his words. “Ever the white knight. I thank you.”
He tilted his head at her, eyes softening in a way that reminded her far too much of Spain. “Should I have sent Mr. Madden, instead?”
“Heavens, no,” she laughed. “He never would have let me live this down. I’m covered in dust. I’m sure I look like a wreck.”
They were both amused. Randall gave her a once-over that, much to her own astonishment, made heat rise to her cheeks. “You look alright to me,” he said. “You haven’t been exploring the jungles of South America, so I’d say you’re perfectly safe.”
“That sounds like it comes from experience,” came her retort as she bent down to inspect another box of photographs and articles. He watched her, chuckling low.
“You know, that’s perhaps one of the only places I haven’t visited.”
Lix glanced up at him from her position. “I’ve followed your illustrious career, you know,” she revealed. “In case you were ever curious.”
He was dumbstruck for a moment, expression open and sincere. “Have you?”
“Please, don’t look so surprised,” she quipped. “I wanted to make sure you were alive. We’ve had rough lives, you and me. The Second World War ravaged the entire planet. I saw your articles, your photos… I knew your whereabouts. It came as a comfort, I suppose.”
He was stunned, absolutely shellshocked, and it showed on his face. The look alone prompted her to add, “Oh, please, I’m not heartless, Randall.”
Shaking his head, Randall cleared his throat. “I never said you were.”
“You didn’t have to.” She stood up again, eyeing him. “Did you follow my work?”
He shifted around uncomfortably, eyes unable to meet hers. “And if I did?”
She almost harrumphed. “If you did, I’d likely say you weren’t heartless, either. Perhaps we should both think better of each other.”
It was the first time, really, that they had discussed the in-between time, after Spain but before here. He was still just as shocked as before. If anything, he rather thought he would have been the one to mention it, not her.
“Look, I just… I just thought you should know,” she added, uncharacteristically fumbling. A hand dropped to her side, and she huffed a sound of aggravation. “You deserved to know.”
Careful fingers reached out to brush the sleeve of her top, his knuckles bumping her elbow or thereabouts. The touch surprised her, and she cast her eyes downward to follow the movement.
“Thank you,” he said sincerely. For telling me.
She blinked rapidly, her heart ready to beat right out of her chest. He looked just as stricken as her, head tilted to watch the expressions chase her face. “I never…” She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
“I know,” he replied. “I never stopped caring about you, either.”
How could he possibly have known she was going to say that? This bit of magic between them had obviously never faded, and it left her flummoxed. Her mind was a whirlwind.
The weight of this moment was almost heavier than holding him as he fell to pieces in his office after the news of their daughter came to light. It was poignant in a different way. And suddenly it was like they were standing on the threshold to his one-room flat in Madrid again and she was asking him a question, one which didn’t require an answer so much as a kiss in reply.
Holding his breath now, he watched her. Maybe he was afraid that she would shrug him off and tote her box away towards the lifts. As tempted as she was, because she fancied herself a coward when it came to matters of the heart, she ignored the urge.
“You came to London to find our daughter,” she said softly. “And yet you’re still here.”
His eyebrows arched in surprise and he hummed. “So I am. There’s no denying it. You’re right, I haven’t left.”
“No, you haven’t,” she hedged. “Why is that, I wonder?”
Obviously uncomfortable, he bent to retrieve the box at the door. “It’s best not to ask questions if you aren’t interested in rather revealing answers, Lix.”
She watched him, taking in every inch of his tall, lithe frame, noticing the way he shuffled on his feet and the sad expression on his handsome face. He looked heartbroken. Unable to handle the look he wore, she went back to her work and bent down on one knee.
“Oh, Randall. Who are you to say that I wouldn’t want the answer?” Her courage left her bewildered. Her dark eyes met his, bravely holding his gaze, and she chuckled. “You think you know me so well, but you really don’t. Not anymore. We’ve both changed.”
He swallowed thickly. “Lix, don’t,” he warned. “It’s fine, okay?”
Allowing him to escape, her head hung for a moment. Fucking arsehole. He started the conversation by coming up here to the third floor, but he couldn’t just be honest with her.