We'll Meet Again

Chapter Twelve: So Doggone Lonesome

The days left until Vox's train ride home dashed by in a blur. Vox spent the nights in Alastor's bed, sometimes kissing, sometimes talking, but for the most part, just being held. Alastor seemed very fond of it and Vox was more than happy to oblige him. They never really talked about that first night they shared a bed. They both thought if they named what was happening it would break some of the magic. So they just spent as much of the remaining time together as possible. Alastor had his radio shifts covered for the day before Vox left and the day of his departure. The day before he left they only left the bed to take meals. Alastor turned the radio downstairs on at breakfast and they lay together in bed listening the whole day. The spaces between meals felt like a fugue state for both of them. Vox remembered thinking at one point that he would never sleep that night with all the lazing around, but he did. As soon as dinner was eaten with the light out and Alastor's arms around him he was out. The jangling discordance of the alarm was a harsh call back to reality the next morning. For a time, neither of them moved, willing the alarm to be a product of a cruel dream. But, it rang on, and eventually, Alastor rolled to silence it. They had just enough time to dress and gather Vox's bags before they had to catch the street car to the train station. They stood in the chill morning air waiting alone on the platform. When the train whistle could be heard signaling its imminent arrival at the station Alastor made a show of looking around the platform. Vox turned to ask what he was doing but it seemed at that moment he satisfied whatever curiosity had taken him. Alastor lunged, wrapping both arms around Vox in a painfully tight hug. Vox returned the hug and after a moment Alastor created just enough space to lean down slightly and kiss him on the lips. Vox was both painfully aware of how open and exposed they were and reluctant to object. He returned the kiss but didn't linger long before moving away gently. Alastor looked a little embarrassed at the outburst of affection. Vox liked a blush on him, he tried to commit it to memory. They both searched for words but came up short. The train pulled into the station and came to a screeching halt. Vox glanced at the car he was to enter then back at Alastor as the few passengers departed. Vox found words first.

"This was amazing, and I have you to thank for that Alastor. I will be back to visit, I promise."

Alastor looked into his eyes and buried what looked like genuine grief behind a smile that almost passed for real.

"I am glad I met you Vox. I can not wait to see you again. Next time you are in town just knock on my door, you are always welcome."

Vox smiled at that and nodded.

"Alright, I'll hold you to that."

Alastor wrapped him in another hug, this one a little more friendly than affectionate.

"I hope that you will. Safe travels, now go before they leave without you."

Vox nodded and took up his bags. Of all of the tough things he had done, he found turning away and stepping onto that train car to be the hardest. By a lot, if he was honest. He stowed his bags and took his seat. The conductor came down the row and he handed up his ticket. He had a brief fantasy, the conductor looking at the ticket. The mustachioed stranger saying something like. "I'm sorry sir, there is a mistake, you can't be on this train." It fell apart when the man just marked his ticket with a click that felt far too loud and moved on down the row. He looked out the window to see Alastor standing there looking at him. Vox started listening for the pattering of rain on the steel passenger car roof. It must be raining, surely those weren't tears. He felt himself start to stand as the doors of the train rattled shut. Alastor waved from his stop on the platform, wearing a broad smile. The rising sun lighting his face from a cloudless sky. The train pulled away, carrying Vox back to that same old place. His sweet home, Chicago.

Vox collapses back into his seat. The entire fortnight he had been in New Orleans already felt like a dream. He desperately wished he hadn't slept then maybe he could drift off and forget for a little bit. Instead, he sat, feeling broken, wishing he could have stayed. Knowing full well that it was not only impossible but would have been monumentally foolish of him. He was surprised when he buried his face in his hands only to find his cheeks wet with tears. He tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and dried his face. He pondered over his life so far. The home and job that waited for him at the other end of this twenty-hour ride. He co-owned the business with a bank manager he was chummy with. They had taken the place from a fairly new idea to a blossoming powerhouse. He did love his work, but he found he hadn't missed it much in his time away. He had assumed when he left that this vacation was going to bore him to tears. He realized now, however, that this was the first time he had considered work since Alastor asked him about it. His thoughts careened wildly off the rails, even thinking about him hurt. Vox collected himself and flagged down one of the train staff. He asked if they might have a notepad he could use. After a few minutes, they returned with a fresh pad and a pencil. He started making notes losing himself in the task at hand. When next he looked at a clock, hours had passed. He looked over the notes and tore the couple of pages he had used off the pad. When someone checked to see if he needed anything he returned the pad and pencil and deeply wished he could have ordered a strong drink. He leaned back and stared at the empty seat in front of him. He realized he may well have lied to Alastor. He wasn't sure he would visit again. He decided at that moment he was never taking this slow train to Chicago again.

Alastor watched the train until it disappeared into the distance. He wiped at something tickling his face only to find it wet with tears. He had assumed, when Vox left properly that some of this feeling would go away. But it was so much worse. He turned from the empty tracks feeling numb. His legs carried him, with very little conscious thought, to the street car. He very nearly missed his stop, hopping off at the last second. On the sidewalk, he realized his incoherent wandering had carried him not home, but to the studio. He considered walking home then realized the house would be empty. He went inside, his secretary greeted him. He barely heard her and made only a cursory effort to return the greeting. He went into his office feeling like the walking dead. He slumped into his chair and put his head down on the desk. The music and the background hum of activity from the office helped, but not much. He wasn't sure what it would take to make this feeling go away but he knew he would do it regardless. He picked up the phone and asked the operator for Mimzy's number. She answered on the first ring. In truth, she had been waiting by the phone all morning.

"Hello Alastor, I figured I'd be hearing from you this morning."

He tried to come up with a clever replay but came up short.

"Hi, Mimzy."

She sighed a little heartbroken herself at how crushed he sounded.

"Alastor, I want you to leave wherever you are. I want you to pick us up some food, and I want you to come here."

He was honestly grateful just to know what to do.

"Alright Mimzy, I will be there soon."