A Tom Hiddleston AU
Tom lives at the lake in the mountains where the memory of his parents is the strongest - the place where they went on their honeymoon, and took their children each summer, and would have lived out their retirement. His sister ke...
Tori glowers at her brother via the screen of his device. Video calls are great for support, but also great for preventing one's sister from being able to assault them. He called her to stall further – no, no that was her accusation. He called her to prove that he wasn't useless, was a decent human being, and terrified of getting out of his truck to walk up to the cold stone structure before him. Not terrified, really, but nervous about what it means. He didn't do well before when he tried the city life. The pace of it didn't suit him, at any rate. He's here now because...
"Get out!." Tori all but shouts at him, the video of her wobbling as she scoops up her phone and walks across the office space once used by their father. "I swear if you don't get out of that truck this instant. So help me..."
He scowls and refolds his arms, wiggling to settle himself further into the driver's seat. "I'm here, aren't I? Give me a minute."
She huffs and looks down her nose at him, "We've been on the phone for at least half an hour. Should've been timing it. And how long did you just sit there before calling me?"
Long enough, but she doesn't need to know that.
He's here because... because neither she nor Gordon would allow him to reread the water-stained letter from Ryan again without actually doing something. One day torturing himself was all he'd been allowed before they intervened. One day. One damn day. One. One and only one day spent reading, rereading, and reading it again, guilt swelling within him. The pair of them had banded together to put a stop to it. Wouldn't even let him go appraise the property, probably because they knew he'd try to use needed improvements as a way to delay what came next.
What came next, which was: this. Sitting out in the parking lot before her office building, trying to work up enough nerve to eat his words, apologize for his behavior, and visually confirm her now-low opinion of him.
To his credit, though he brought it with him, he hasn't yet shimmied the papers out of the envelope to face them once more. It's taking effort to keep his eyes on his sister's image, keep himself from letting his gaze dart over to the passenger's seat – to the envelope and the slightly warped pages held within.
The water stained aspect of Ryan's letter is all Tori's fault. If she hadn't pushed him into the water... Tori and Gordon's fault. Cause Gordon had tossed the envelope at him. Course he'd then refused to open the envelope and read the letter... his pride keeping him from snatching it up immediately. Thankfully the deed to Charlie Mann's place – though now technically it belongs to Ryan – had been unharmed from the adventure. Not that there wouldn't have been duplicates made, but still.
The deed is why he's here, sitting out in the parking lot in front of the building where Ryan is employed. He's facing the job that he always feared would take her from him. Talented man that he is, he managed that feat all on his own. Yep. The deed is why he's here. Not guilt. And certainly not a desperation to find the reset button, anything to undo what had happened, take back what had sent Ryan packing.
His avoidance regarding Tori's question is answer enough for his sister. She nods, squinting one eye at him. "Exactly what I thought. Stop it." She blinks and settles a look far too familiar to him, calling to mind their mother, and urges him on with a slight shrug and a swivel of her head, "Get out. Fix it."
Tom swallows, leaning forward in his seat to try to get a clearer view of the building, letting his eyes wander up as he counts the floors. He knows the name of the company where she works and can figure out what floor from there. But. Will she see him? Will she want to hear what he has to say?
She'd called out for him that night at the old Johnson place. The night he had turned his back on her. He honestly can't remember if she'd tried to follow or if she'd just stood there, a half dozen paces from the edge of the porch. Frozen.
He'd deserve it if she refuses to speak to him.
"I'm hanging up now. If you don't show up for dinner I'll call and get building security to check on..."
"Love you too, sis." Tom rolls his eyes, ending the call before tossing the phone aside out of habit, the device bouncing and landing with a plop halfway onto the pristine white envelope. There goes that method of delaying what's to come.
The new envelope's got her letter, but also the deed to her house, the latter folded upon itself separately so he won't have to fumble it loose from the former. Should've left the letter at home, really. To keep his hands free he'll... he'll tuck it securely against his back at his waistband or shove it into his back pocket. The deed to her place is his in, if he freezes in trying to introduce himself. If he gets stopped and asked why he's hanging around. Nodding to himself, he tries talking himself through it mentally. Important document she left at the rental place that he can't just leave with anybody. Needs to give it to her. Just to her. Her specifically.
Wherever she is in there...
His eyes flick from focusing on the building to looking at himself in the rearview mirror, and he scowls. "Be over sooner if you just get outta the car, Tom." His reflection offers no better view, or advice, or sympathy.
Tom sits back again, pursing his lips. Might hurt sooner, too, but at least he'll be able to start recovering. Not that he's great about moving forward. But he can't just leave things as they are. First of all – Tori'll never allow it, and secondly – he refuses to allow Ryan to just donate the property to their care. Right now they can't buy it off her, either. They're solvent but there's no telling what might come at them over the next few months, what the winter will bring, never mind what needs to be done to the place itself to get it up to rental standards.
If she wants in on the business, she's got to have a hand in getting the property ready for guests.
No shortcuts.
He finds himself muttering that last bit along with the thought. Thrumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he lightly nods at his reflection. That's what he's got to do. Not just give her back the deed to her house but stop trying to do things halfway. If he wants her in his life – and he does – he can't just show her pieces and parts of himself. She's got to know the whole of him. Maybe she'll still decide to wash her hands of him, and the community she seemed to so enjoy, but at least she'll know the answer to the last question she asked him.
Who does he become when he isn't as open with her? He becomes the man that after the conclusion of his parent's funeral went out on the deck, leaned against the railing for support and screamed at the lake, at the world, for continuing to spin right on without two of the people he held most dear. He becomes the man that can't drive on a certain section of road, who would rather travel hours out of his way than drive past the place their car went off the road rather than become the third car in a multi-car pileup. He becomes the man who would rather chase someone away, ruin the chance for something more, all to avoid seeing even an ounce of pity in her eyes.
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