Just in Time (A Tom Hiddleston Fan Fic)

Chapter 25: Goodbyes and Hellos

I manage to find a flight for the next afternoon. The next 24 hours drag and race by at the same time. At times I barely notice it, walking around in a fog and acting like a robot in my actions and my feelings. Other times, I'm an emotional, bawling, snotty mess. I try to keep from doing this in front of Tom, at which I've been pretty successful. Part of the reason for my success is he hasn't spent much time around since our discussion and, when he is here, he's holed up in his office or bedroom. Right now, I am alone in the house.

I shove the things I've bought since coming to London in the bag I also bought. I shiver at the deja vu I feel right now because this reminds me of when I was a kid, moving back and forth between Aunt Sylvie's and Mom's. Not for the first time in 24 hours I begin to cry. So much for the robot phase.

I moved to the guest room for my last night in London, though I might as well stayed up since I did not sleep. I remained mostly in the room, but I could hear Tom periodically rummaging around in the house like a ghost trying not to let the living inhabitants know of his existence.

After packing, I shower quickly and dress, shoving my hair in a bun and foregoing makeup. As I carry my single bag to the living room, I see that Tom has returned. He's standing there, hands in his pockets, staring off into space. For a moment I think of just leaving without a word. After all, I know there's nothing more to say.

"So, you're all packed," he says quietly.

"Yes."

"Do you need a ride to the airport?"

"No. I called a taxi."

We stand in awkward silence once again. Not able to bear it any longer, I pick up my bag and walk to the door.

"Kendall..."

I stop and turn towards Tom. His look says it all - love, desire that transcends physical, hope, and the kind of deep pain one feels in the marrow of their bones.

"You don't have to do this. We can figure it out."

I look at him for a long time. My sweet, sweet Tom. How easy it would be to run to him and take him into my arms. How easy now but how messy later when our talk turns again to family and children.

"I don't think so. We want different things, you and I. And as much as we'd try to work it out, we'd only hurt each other. In the end, one of us would get what we want and the other would have to live with the consequences."

I hear a horn honk briefly, and I know my taxi is here. I pick up my bag again but drop it. Instead of walking straight out the door, I turn and run to Tom. He has his arms open, waiting for me by the time we crash together. We kiss like it is the last kiss of our lives. In reality for me, it just might be.

I pull away and look into his blue, blue eyes now rimmed with tears. I turn before I lose all resolve, pick up my bag, and walk out the door.

As I stow my bag in the boot, buckle up in the back seat and say "Heathrow" to the driver, I let my guard down and cry as if the world is ending. And for me, it has.

Two weeks later...

I'm back in LA, with its glorious sunshine, its beautiful people, and its fucking traffic. God, how I didn't miss the traffic!