The Bimbo in Limbo

Precious Things

Thanks for tolerating this piece. I enjoyed writing it, even though I'm genuinely not a Timothy/Jude shipper. It was something that needed to be done, and I also hope it is something that will help you all forgive me for my next major project. Also don't hate me for my propensity toward crossovers. Blame Ryan Murphy.

Missy and Val left. Sensing perhaps that something intense and private was unfolding, they'd taken their leave gracefully, shaking hands with Max on their way out. Timothy was sad to see them go, honestly. They couldn't have left him with a more awkward situation. He wanted nothing more than to barge into the bedroom and assess Jude, but he put his trust in Eunice implicitly. She would do what was right, and was possibly better equipped to comfort the woman than himself.

However, a small part of him bristled at that thought. Was it not Timothy who had held Jude through these last days of grief? Washed her hair? Spooned soup into her mouth? Carried her prone form to bed when she'd cried herself into unconsciousness? Who was he to judge anyone better than himself at loving Jude?

He was cross when he sat back to the table. It was vexing.

"Seems you've made some fine friends here, Mr. Howell." Max was content to light a cigar, oblivious to recent events.

"Yes. Valerie is possibly the best friend I've ever known."

Max pointed at him. "And that is progress, sir."

He chuckled ruefully. "Thank you, Mr. Boardman."

"And it seems you and Jude have made quite a bit of progress, as well."

He was proud he didn't blush this time. "We've managed to mend our relationship admirably, yes."

"So I suppose now with Mr. Hathaway's generous inheritance..." Max paused, watching the smoke rise from his cigar. "You can do right by her, at last."

"If you're implying that I should marry Jude, then yes, that is my intention." And it was. It had been crystal clear as soon as he'd seen the ring. "If she will have me."

"Oh, I'm sure she can be encouraged." Max smiled. His eyes closed in pleasure. "It's always pleasant to see things falling into their proper places."

"Proper places?" Timothy shifted in his chair. "What do you mean by that?"

The bedroom door opened before the solicitor could reply. "Well, Sister?" Max stood, beginning to gather his things. "Is all well?"

"All is well, Max. She was...in agreement to the assignment." Eunice shuffled tiredly to the table and sat. "I think I need a drink."

Max chuckled. "Maybe Mr. Howell here can offer you something." He turned to the nun. "How was it?"

"Exhausting." Eunice rubbed her hands together. "But successful. I think she'll impress us."

"What are you talking about?" Timothy despised being left out of the loop. "What have you done? Where is Jude? What assignment? Is she -"

"Mr. Howell." Max's hand shushed him. Timothy shook it numbly. "I'm afraid I've a rather busy schedule. I'm going to leave Mary Eunice here to make things crystal clear for you."

"Bye, Max!" Eunice chirped over Timothy's confused stutterings.

"I'll see myself out." Max made his way briskly to the door.

"Eunice."

She turned to Timothy. "Are you going to offer me a drink?"

"Do you drink?"

"I think I do now." She blew a tired breath. "Something strong."

He rose, forehead a mass of creases, and pulled down the bourbon. "How is Jude? And what is it you were discussing with Mr. Boardman?" He poured her a finger.