For the Love (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

Chapter 24

A/N: I'm seriously blown away by the 12,000 reads on this story.  I really can't even begin to understand that.  Thank you all so, so much.  How can I ever say thanks enough?!  And thank you for taking the time to comment.  Here is a new, somewhat short chapter.  I hope you understand why I am including it. Whatever happens in this chapter is entirely the fault of RedWritingHood09 and Bluebell84.  So blame them. ;)  J/K They are the absolute best and have inspired some great things in my writing... But let's just say there's been a lot of Tom Angst today, Hah!  Thanks for reading, everyone!

Emie moved slowly through the dark.  It was cool outside, and her head felt a bit fuzzy, as if she couldn’t quite shake away a foggy feeling.  She was wearing her black bikini, and it still felt a bit damp and uncomfortable from the ocean water.  Her hair was also damp, and hung in salty knots near her face.  She walked across the bare wooden planks, making her way to the bungalow.  She hadn’t been there before, but she had an idea of where she was going.  The bright, silver white moonlight led the way.  She could see the warm, amber glow coming from inside the thatched roof hut.  It sat low over the flat, blue lagoon water.   Emie kept walking, feeling the rough wood under her bare feet.
       She wasn’t sure what time it was.  It was completely quiet outside, without even a breeze to rustle through nearby trees and plants.  She moved silently.  Walking up to the door of the room, she was surprised to find it slightly ajar.  She put her hand out, pushing slowly against the wooden door.  It swung open easily.
       When she stepped into the room, she was surprised at how messy it was inside.  The room was similar to hers, but just larger.  There was a couch, with a large flat screen television.  To the side there was a small kitchen and an eating area.  Out past the television, she could make out a big deck that overlooked the lagoon.  The bungalows were just as nice as her own room, except this bungalow was rather messy.
       There were bottles of half empty alcohol lying around.  Most of them looked like some kind of vodka, but she also recognized some whiskey bottles.  Expensive Jameson.  Those bottles were empty.  She paused, holding her breath.  She shook her head, feeling the fuzzy feeling coming back.  The room seemed to warp slightly, and she felt her body sway.  She kept walking, stepping over shoes and clothes. 
       Farther into the room, she saw empty food containers and trash all over the tables.  There were also clothes on the floor.  She recognized the trainers and the zip up hoodie he wore running.  Cigarettes and empty wrappers lay in an ashtray on the coffee table.  She stopped and stared for a moment when she saw a familiar cover underneath the overfilled ashtray.  Her book.  There was a coffee stain on the cover, and some gray ash from the overflowing glass dish.  She blinked, and then turned.  She felt nothing.  She felt something only mildly like panic start to course through her.
       Making her way toward the back of the suite, Emie felt her mouth go dry.  Now she felt it.  The panic, like a seething hot shot straight to her blood stream.  She felt it rush through her veins, filling her to the brim.  Her heart started beating fast, so fast that she could feel it pounding in her chest.  Thump. Thump thump. Thump. Thump thump.  She managed to make her way down a small hallway and found herself at another door.
       She stood for a minute outside the door.  It was slightly ajar as well.  She couldn’t make out anything on the other side, but she could hear soft noises.  The television, maybe? Emie felt her palms start to sweat, and she wrapped her arms around her middle.  In just her bikini, she felt totally exposed.   The room seemed to fade in and out again, and she steadied herself against the door jam.  Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door.
       At first she wasn’t sure what she was seeing.  A figure sitting on the bed? There was a light on in the room, but it was dim.  Her eyes adjusted quickly to the ashy, cold gray light.  She quickly realized that it wasn’t just one person on the bed.  It was two. 
       A woman was lying on her back, her dark hair fanned out around her head.  Her eyes were closed, and her mouth was open wide.  She was making high pitched, shrill moaning noises. Loud, grotesque, perverse.  It only took Emie a second to recognize her.  Vicky.  Her naked body was writhing on the bed, glistening with sweat.  Vicky’s big, fake breasts were thrust in the air as she moved from side to side.  Emie felt sick, like she was going to be violently ill.  Her heart slammed against her ribs.
       Between Vicky’s opened legs was another figure.  His back was to her, but Emie would have recognized him anywhere.  She could see the lean, slender muscles in his back.  Those familiar, broad shoulders.  He was knelt between her legs, his face hidden by her thighs.  Emie could make out his wavy blondish brown hair.  She could see his long, strong fingers on Vicky’s thighs, holding her knees open.  Her mouth went dry, flashing back to when he had touched her that way. It seemed forever ago at this point.  Another lifetime.
       Emie backed up quickly, bumping hard into the door frame as she stumbled backward.
       Both Vicky and Tom looked toward her, hearing her clumsy attempt at an escape.  Vicky turned her head, her eyelids heavy with lust.  She didn’t quite react, as if she had known Emie had been there the whole time.  Tom looked surprised at first, but then, his surprise slowly changed into something else.  Slow like honey, his shock turned into a wide, pleased grin.
       “Tom…” Emie said his name, but nothing came out of her mouth.  Her voice seemed stuck in her throat.  He smiled, leaning up and wiping his mouth against the back of his hand.  Emie felt bile in the back of her throat. Her chest hurt.  It was hard to breathe.  Her stomach dropped down to her feet. She could feel sweat running down the back of her neck.  She wanted to run, but she felt as if her feet were in buckets of concrete. 
       Tom watched her, not moving.
       “Darling, come on now.  You didn’t think I could wait forever, did you?  It’s not as if you and I were anything to write home about.” He chuckled softly at Emie and then looked at Vicky in a conspiratorial way.  He sat up, his broad chest slick with sweat.  Emie stumbled backward, out of the doorway and into the hallway to the room. 
       “Tom, let her be.  What a waste.” Vicky said, her voice high. It hurt Emie’s ears.  “Come here, baby.” She said, holding her hands out to Tom. Emie shook her head, feeling her eyes fill with tears.
       “What a waste.” Tom said with a chuckle, and then leaned toward Vicky, gathering her in his arms. Emie crashed backwards, bumping into furniture and stumbling over trash as she fought to find a way out of the room.  She felt herself tangle in something, but she kept moving.  The room swayed and seemed to quiver before her eyes.
       “No. No. NO!” She said, trying to scream, but still nothing came out of her mouth.  She heard Vicky laughing from the other room.  And then she heard Tom laughing.  Feeling her feet caught up under her, Emie wailed, feeling the strain in her throat even as no sound came out.  She fell backward, but she didn’t hit the ground.  She just kept falling, and falling and falling.