thelongdormantcop | and after the bombs subside

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grace faraday

and after the bombs subside

For a long time, Jerry has considered himself lucky. It isn't like his life has been as easy as all that — if anything, it's the exact opposite — but that, he thinks, is all the more reason to. He's made it through shit a lot of people haven't, before and during and after the war, a childhood spent barely knowing if there'd even be enough to eat and time overseas marked by too many close calls to count, things he tries to bury as much as possible. Even then, he's a lot better off than others. He knows too many guys who got killed over there, even more still who came home and ate their guns, or who went looking for trouble just so somebody else would end it, or who spent even more time looking for answers at the bottom of bottles than he did, drinking to try to forget it all instead of just to cope. Besides, it isn't just the war that set him off; it was what he came back to. Too many others never came back at all, either physically or mentally.

Showing up here has given him a good deal of distance from all of that, anyway. At least, that's what he thought, that he'd never be rid of it but that it was farther away, not just the past but history. Besides, he's learned to deal with it. Maybe his way of doing so involves a hell of a lot of not dealing, but it beats most of the other alternatives. The same goes for the other war, the one he'd walked away from fighting the night he showed up here. Though aspects of it are always present, it's easier to keep all of that pushed aside, to focus on the fact that, from here, he won. He's safe and so is Grace, and there's no one here who would do him any harm. If that means not letting himself think about Keeler or Jack or Connie O'Mara or all the innocent lives lost when they got something wrong, everything that went to hell that last night, then he's alright with that. There's enough else here that needs his attention anyway. Dwelling on the past would accomplish nothing.

That is, maybe, all the more reason why, when he walks right into it, it catches him by surprise. Heading through the park on his way back to his apartment, wrapped in a heavy coat to combat the snow, he hears it first, the faint sound of explosions making him more uneasy than he cares to admit to. There could be any number of reasons for it, but it could be trouble, too, which is, maybe, why he heads in that direction, aware of his gun in his holster, though he doesn't reach for it. He isn't on duty, but shit like this is why he stays armed anyway, so he'll be ready if he needs to be.

It isn't any sort of trouble he finds, though, but a festival of some sort, booths crowded with people who look plenty happy to be there. He doesn't really see them, though. His gaze fixes instead on the red paper lanterns strung overhead, a too-familiar sight even with the snow coating the ground, and with the sound of firecrackers ringing in his ears, he finds that it makes his head spin, his chest tighten. It's all he can do not to pull his gun out after all, though he knows there's nothing happening here. He can still see it, the bodies littering the ground because they walked into a setup, because he wasn't there in time to stop it, because they failed.

He doesn't know how long it takes to get back to his apartment; he doesn't really remember walking there at all until he's by his door, fumbling for a key so he can get the door unlocked, letting it slam shut again behind him. There's nothing happening and none of that's followed him here, but he feels like he's still back in Chinatown anyway, hands shaking as he lights himself a cigarette. It doesn't calm his nerves like he wishes it would, making him no less unsteady when he goes to the kitchen to pour himself a much-needed drink. They're the only ways he's got to battle this, an old habit founded mostly in the days when he first got back from the Pacific, more fucked in the head than he wanted to tell anyone, something that's just as true now. He just needs to remember how to breathe again and he'll be just fine, even if just a couple sips of scotch leave him doubled over his kitchen sink, thinking he's about to be sick. At least he isn't, though, the one thing this has over the last war he was left with memories of being in. It isn't much of a reassurance.

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Grace laughs, shaking her head at him. "Well, when you were so charming," she teases, "how could I resist?" It was his attitude more than anything he said that got to her, the audacity of his approaching her at all, the sort of presumptuousness with which he carried himself. He must have known there was every chance in the world she'd turn him down, but he still came over like it was no big deal. It would have been hard not to get swept away by that, especially when she'd been treated with so little kindness of late. It's the last thing she wants to talk to him about, though, those days before she knew him. They're over now, and she's done with it.

There are any number of reasons why she could or should have. Though Jerry would like to believe that his charm really was that irresistible, his history's proven otherwise, and she had a hell of a lot better reason to want to turn him down. For most girls, after all, it wouldn't have been putting their lives on the line to go to bed with him. Even so, he isn't sure he needs to know whatever the real reason was she agreed. The important part is that she did, they they both got something so good out of it, that he managed to keep her safe in spite of the risks, no matter how close a call it was. "Don't ask me," he says, as close to teasing as he can get. "I hadn't really thought as far ahead as what I'd do if you tried."

Grace laughs, brow raising at him. "Now why doesn't that surprise me?" she asks, fondly teasing. "You just assumed I'd hear your story about the sharks and go swooning like the other girls?" She assumes, certainly, that there were other girls, and probably plenty of them, before she came along. For all she knows, there were others after they met. Despite the flare of jealousy such an idea provokes, she knows she couldn't really blame him if that were the case, though she doesn't think it was. The thing is, after all, that she's not like the other girls, if only to him.

"Hey, what are you trying to suggest?" Jerry asks, a clear protest, though he's laughing as he says it, knowing full well he can't deny it. Plenty of girls have gone swooning at that story. He doesn't even know if they believed it or not, though he knows he can sell it, but they certainly played along like they did, and that was what mattered. With Grace, knowing that she'd been on the arm of someone else, he had no real reason to expect that she'd fall for it, but then, it still hadn't mattered much. Aside from the risk in approaching her at all, there hadn't been anything to lose, not really. Either she'd have been interested or she wouldn't, and after weeks, one night being rejected wouldn't have made that much of a difference. That she reacted the way she did, though — he would never have expected it, but he's sure now that it's got to be the best thing that ever happened to him. "I don't think that's entirely fair."

"And why not?" Grace asks, leaning back against the couch as she laughs. "You can't expect me to believe I'm the only girl you've tried that on." Of course, it worked, but that had a lot less to do with the story and much more to do with him. Granted, there was also the novelty of being approached by a man for the first time since word got round she was with Mickey, but more than that, there was something unassuming yet charming about him she liked. She wouldn't have risked all that for the first guy to walk her way, except it turned out the first one was something special.

"I didn't say that," Jerry says, shrugging. He's hardly going to outright confirm as much, but there's no sense in denying it, either, when he knows she'd just peg him as a liar. Besides, there's no reason it should really matter when none of those girls meant anything, when it had been weeks since he'd managed to get laid in the first place. She was meant to change that, nothing more. Instead, he got a hell of a lot more than he bargained for, and he still hasn't stopped being grateful for that. "But you just jump right to that, wow."

"I just call it as I see it," Grace says with a smug smile, tapping a finger against his nose. She's not a fool, not entirely. Flirtation, at least, is one thing she understands well, and she could see from the start he was hardly a beginner. She can't exactly begrudge him that, though, when she was the one seeing someone else, and when all his experience has done so well by her.

"You know, I'm still not quite sure what you're saying about me," Jerry says, mock-thoughtful, though he doesn't really succeed in sounding anything other than teasing. He doesn't mind that, though. It's not like there's any real game to play here, and with as upset as he was earlier — and when he can still feel it hanging just overhead, his fingers itching for another drink or cigarette or both — he'll take whatever break from that he can get. Besides, it's not the way things were before that matters, he thinks. Sure, he took plenty of girls home, and tried his luck with even more, but it's not really like she's got any ground on which to criticize him on that front. What matters is the way things are now, that there's been no one since her, that he doesn't think there could be, now. "Should I be offended?"

Grace laughs, a low, rumbling purr of a sound as she shifts closer to him, arms winding around his neck. "Not in the least," she says, kissing him. If he tried all those lines on other girls before, she doesn't care, not so long as he doesn't try them on someone else now. She might not shy away from the occasional act of hypocrisy, but she knows better than to fault him for getting around when she's slept with her fair share of men. (Not, of course, that she's about to say as much. Jerry is awfully tolerant of her having been with someone else, all things considered; she hardly needs to remind him of that, or that Mickey was hardly her first.)

Fingers slipping into his hair, she smiles. At least he seems to be feeling better, and that's all she can really wants.

It's not as if Jerry would have expected her to say otherwise, but he appreciates it even so. He's just too preoccupied to tell her as much, hands coming to rest on her waist as he leans into the kiss, drawing her closer. A little joking around helped, but this helps even more, which doesn't come as a surprise. It's been true in the past, after all, though he knew then that he couldn't really let that be the case. Now, it's different. He can get lost in Grace without worrying about the consequences, and he does, all too easily, fingers curling in the fabric of her dress and eyes slipping shut before he has time to realize it. This is where the real relief is, he thinks. With Grace warm and close to him, it doesn't matter how many girls might have come before her, and it doesn't matter that he couldn't get to Chinatown to stop the others from walking into a trap that left innocent people dead. He's with her now, and whatever he did, it was enough that she came out alright.

Edited 2013-04-25 16:42 (UTC)

Grace smiles, a contented chuckle in her throat as she kisses him. It never gets old, being here with him, knowing she can stay as long as she likes, that it doesn't matter if anyone saw her arrive or if anyone sees her leave. There's nowhere she feels as good as she does here like this, nowhere as safe. "See?" she murmurs against his mouth, hands slipping down to his back. "We don't need to go anywhere." It's wonderful to be able to date him properly, but for all the thrill of being in public together, she still likes this better than anything else, just being alone with him. There may be times she longs for the glamour of places like Slapsy Maxie's, but she doesn't miss those days like she would once have expected to. She's happier here anyway; there isn't anywhere else she feels this way, stripped down to nothing but herself.

Jerry nods in agreement, too unwilling to do much else right about now. It's true, anyway. Ready as he'd been to insist before that it was fine, that they could still go out as planned, regardless of what happened to him, he much prefers being shut in here with her for the time being, not having to worry about anyone or anything else, losing himself in her instead. This is the only real way to put all of that mess from his mind and he knows it, and he wouldn't have it any other way. "Yeah," he says, still close against her mouth in turn, holding on to her more desperately than he intends to. He's half-tempted to just tug her into his lap, get her as close as he can, but he manages to hold off, if only for now, leaning in to kiss her again before he continues. "You were right."

"Oh, you admit it," Grace says, grinning. Despite the levity in her voice, the way he holds her is enough to leave her feeling unexpectedly urgent. Kissing him again, she carefully nudges off her heels, letting them drop one at a time to the floor. Shifting closer, she drapes her legs over his lap just to bring herself that much nearer to him, her heart thundering in her chest. She loves it when she's pressed up against him so tight it's hard to tell which pulse is hers, which his, her hand slipping lower to unfasten the first button on his shirt. She remembers too clearly that morning after the hit on Mickey's casino, the way Jerry looked telling her about that kid, and what he'd needed after, how much that seemed to have helped. It's hardly selfless, but if this is what is going to make him feel better now, then she'll get as close as she possibly can.

Focused more on the way she shifts towards him than anything else, Jerry draws in a sharp breath, letting out a soft sound against her mouth after. Though he wouldn't want to ask her for any of this, wouldn't even want to seem like he was, he can't deny that there's a kind of comfort in this, just the press of her body able to keep his mind off everything that happened earlier, more so than any conversation has, though she's the best person for that, too. For the moment, at least, he doesn't do anything but hold on to her, not wanting to seem too presumptuous, even when she's already undone a button on his shirt, but he leans a little more desperately into the kiss, not about to pull away until he has to or let go of her for a second.

If getting wrapped up in her is what it takes to lighten his load, Grace is forever happy to oblige, to be the focus of all his attention. She craves it as it is, and if it helps him in the process, then so much the better when she would do anything to make him happy. Fingers stroking idly through his hair, she responds eagerly to his kiss, ready to follow his lead. This may have helped before, after all, but she can't predict what he needs now, and in this, at least, she can take direction well. "I don't care about going places anyway," she says. "I want to be with you, that's all."

Though it matters to Jerry, the simple fact of being able to take her out at all after all that time spent otherwise meaning too much for him to just be able to let it go so easily, right now, he couldn't do anything but agree with her. She's the part that really matters, anyway, not where they go or what they do while they're there. As long as she doesn't mind, then there's no way he could, especially not when she kisses him like this, leaving him tempted to suggest they head to his bedroom now. He doesn't, though he leans in to her again, still holding her close. "Good," he says quietly, mouth against hers. "That's all I want, too."

Grace smiles, kissing him again, feeling like her heart's swelling in her chest. It isn't just about the company. He wants to be with her, and no matter how well she knows that, thinking of it is enough to make her happy sometimes. "Guess we both get what we want tonight," she murmurs, hands tracing lower again. Going out with him is fun, but this is what counts, knowing he's as crazy about her as she is about him. She's never had this before, nothing even close to it, and the feeling she gets thinking about it gets to her as much as his hands on her body.

What he wants isn't really that simple, Jerry thinks, when he'd much prefer going out with her as planned, none of this shit having happened in the first place. As it is, though, with the situation being like this, there's nothing he'd like more than just being here with her, and that's going to have to be what counts. He'll just make it up to her later, take her out somewhere really nice, bring her flowers. For the time being, all he can do is this, nodding in agreement before he kisses her hard. "Yeah," he says when he's drawn back, a little breathless. "Worked out alright after all."

There's nothing funny about it, but Grace laughs anyway, a little lightheaded. Awful as this started out — and she's still a bit worried about him, though it's buried under some other concerns now — being with him is still exhilarating. "Uh-huh," she breathes out, plucking at another button as she leans into him. Her worries are easy enough to set aside for the moment, focus driven from her mind, replaced with hazy hopes for more of this. It hasn't been about the sex with him for a long, long time, practically since the start, but that doesn't mean she's enjoyed that part any less or that the sex is unimportant. Every chance to be close to him has mattered from the start, and now's no different. "'s all that matters."

Arms wrapped tight around her, though he doesn't want to keep her from what she's doing, Jerry hums in absent agreement, leaning in for another kiss as he does. She's right, it's all that matter, that everything's alright now, and he means to do whatever he can to keep it that way. Right now, that just means this, his fingers catching in fabric that he's eager to do away with as he kisses her. Even so, he's torn between undressing her now or trying to drag this out, when there's no particular reason to hurry and just this feels so good. He's not so worried now about seeming presumptuous, but it's not like this is all he cares about.

As long as she can feel his hands on her, as long as he keeps kissing her, Grace doesn't care what else happens. To feel him hold her, the extent to which he loves her, it's all she really asks at the end of the day. In any case, it's the only demand that counts for anything. At moments like this, fleeting though her certainty is, she knows the rest of it doesn't matter at all, that she could be happy simply staying this way. With his shirt undone, she runs her hands back up his chest to his shoulder, letting him hold her that much closer. She may not always be the easiest person to deal with or the most compliant of girlfriends, but at a time like this, she'd happily do anything he asked, if she thought it would make him feel just a little better.

Doing his best to shrug his shirt farther off without putting any distance between them, Jerry makes a soft sound against her mouth, far past the point of being able to hide it. He wouldn't bother even if he could. Right now, there's no need, when the way he kisses her speaks pretty well for itself, and when she's the one who started undressing him in the first place, not the other way around. Sure as hell not about to complain about that, he gives in, a hand sliding along her back in search of the zipper he's sure has got to be on her dress somewhere. Even if he doesn't intend to hurry through this, concerned more with just keeping her close than anything they do, there's certainly no reason he can think of why she should have to stay fully dressed when he'd much rather have his hands on her skin.

Her hands leave his skin only so she can draw her hair over her shoulder, out of his way, a quick, quiet encouragement as she continues to kiss him. These are things Grace is good at, and they've become accustomed to each other, enough that she doesn't have to think to work in rhythm with him. She's thankful for that. Time and practice make it so much simpler to enjoy herself, to not have to worry about potential awkwardness or misunderstandings, poor timing, thoughts of what he will or won't like, what he will or won't do for her. All of that is past, and she can focus on him instead, sighing at the brush of his fingers against her back.

With her hair out of the way, his fingers find purchase on the zipper, and Jerry doesn't hesitate to start tugging it down, past trying to pretend that he isn't eager to have her out of this dress. There's too much else he's keeping pushed back for that, things it's far more important to try to disregard, and when having her close is the best way of battling that, when she seems to want to keep going just as much as he does, he can't think of a single good reason why he should hold back now. "Gracie," he murmurs, drawing back for a breath and kissing along the line of her jaw after. She'll probably have to move, he thinks, to get this dress off, but as long as he can put that off, he means to, not ready to let go of her yet.

Grace sighs, eyes fluttering shut as she tips her head up, anything to give him room, to keep the feel of his lips on her skin. There's nothing quite so exhilarating as the way he sounds saying her name at times like this, when it comes so readily to his lips that she doubts he's entirely aware he's said it. That need, deep-seated and true, warms her through and through.

She lets go of him long enough to shrug out of the sleeves of her dress, letting it slip down, though she's too content where she is just now to try and remove it entirely.

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