I'm Married To This Damn City


elisabeth2_icon.gif felix2_icon.gif

Scene Title I'm Married To This Damn City
Synopsis Felix comes home again.
Date Feb 6, 2010

Elisabeth's Apartment, Dorchester Towers

He doesn't look that much better, for his trip to Florida. A little more color, a little more muscle, but Fel's still whipcord lean, and he has that haunted look in his eyes. Will likely wear its shadow until the day he dies. Fel's in a rugby shirt and khakis, still a bit large for him, but less so than they were. And he has Chinese and chocolate and flowers, which he's trying to juggle. Like he's not sure what holiday he's coming calling about.

And he knocks on Liz's door, of course, early enough in the evening that he figures she'll be home.

As she lets him in the door, Elisabeth is wearing a worn-out pair of blue jeans and a sweatshirt that has also seen better days, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders. Her eyebrows shoot to her hairline at the variety of gifts he comes bearing. "Well, hey there, Feeb," she drawls softly, reaching out to take the flowers since they're the nearest thing to her. "To what do I owe this?" she wonders idly as she leans around them to kiss him softly. Then she steps back to give him entry and closes and bolts the door behind him.

"I missed you," he says, bluntly. "And figured, hell, what woman doesn't like flowers and chocolate. And I know you like Chinese." It doesn't seem to be an attempt at seduction, anyway. His mouth already tastes of chocolate. "Here, take the kung pao, before I drop all this stuff." As charming as ever.

Elisabeth laughs softly, her smile still holding hints of pain, of grief. But she's smiling and it's a real smile; she's better off than she was the night Felix left. There was a lot of alcohol that night — the night of the wake — and a lot of crying, but the next morning… she locked it all up tight. Buried it. Kissed him good-bye, sent him off to Florida and his parents, and had the shuttered expression. Taking the kung pao from him, Liz replies quietly, "I missed you too." There's weariness, but it doesn't seem the uber-stressed-out weariness. "How're your parents?"

She moves to set the Chinese food on the breakfast bar and takes the flowers around to the kitchen to find a vase, burying her nose in them briefly as she idly wonders when the last time she got flowers was. A long time. Now that the blossoms are out of Felix's nose, the scent of garlic and tomato sauce is redolent in the kitchen. A couple of printer-paper boxes sit on the dining room table, half packed with baked goods.

Felix smiles at that. And it's the old full-wattage grin, shadowed or no. "Good. Good. I spent a lot of time golfing with my father. I'm fucking awful, but he likes it." He comes wandering in to the kitchen, sniffing. "Food's redundant, eh?"

"No, actually," Elisabeth replies as her hands keep busy putting the flowers into a vase she pulls from beneath the sink. "I, uhm…." She looks toward the stove and then back at Felix with a bit of a shrug. "I cook when I'm stressed out," she admits softly. "I cook… a lot when I'm stressed out. I was making things for my… under the radar folks. Not for me." She smiles a little, hints of worry, hints of pain in her expression. She's managing to force herself to eat, if only because this week she's using so many calories working out that she can't NOT eat. So as she sets the vase on the counter, she turns to fully face the Fed and says, "Kung Pao is perfect."

Felix's lips thin out. "Lee's that way, too," he says, after a moment. Lee's not dead, so it's not quite as weird to mention him as it might be. "Come, sit, eh?" he urges, indicating her kitchen table with a jerk of his head.

Elisabeth smiles slightly. "Italian grandmama," she comments. "Everything could be fixed with good pasta, good soup, and a glass of wine." She moves to walk to the table with the flowers, setting them down and heading back into the kitchen to fetch glasses and a wine bottle. "You brought the chopsticks, right?" she asks, as if she even HAS to ask — he's never forgotten yet. "So… you came all the way back here for little old me?" she asks as she moves to sit down at one of the empty places where boxes are not.

"I love you, you've been my mistress, but honestly, I'm married to this damn city," Fel says, a touch sourly. "And of course I did. That's an attitude I can sympathize with. My Dad's mom was like that, even if she was Russian, rat her than Italian." He scootches out the chair, drops down into it, runs a palm over his jaw, as if making sure he's shaved as well as he could.

There is a snort of laughter. "Your mistress," Elisabeth demands of him, amusement twinkling in blue eyes. "Well, I like that title. It's better than your fuckbuddy," she admits with a grin. The comment in and of itself brings a memory to mind that makes Elisabeth chuckle into her hand for a moment. But she shakes her head slightly and pours wine, then gets a little more serious. "So….. what? You're going back to work?"

Felix snorts at her, and slants a look at her over the rim of his glasses. Like a teacher who does not believe you. "Well, isn't that the term? We weren't boyfriend and girlfriend, per se. Yeah, it was friends with benefits, but I think that's a dumb phrase." He shrugs those narrow shoulders. '"Yeah. Can't quit, can't be happy somewhere else, not yet. I've made noises about the Bureau transferring me to Boston, but they won't agree upfront. Got another year to run in New York, at least. And I'm an addict, let's face it. If I get sufficiently sick of the bullshit and can take exile, I might eventually resign and see if the BPD'll take me." But he shakes his head at himself, even as he says it.

Helping herself to chopsticks out of the bag and pulling fragrant containers out too, Elisabeth says softly, "I like that you used the word 'mistress.'" As opposed to 'lover.' Though it's stupid as hell and she realizes it. As the food's set out before both of them, she looks at Felix and asks softly, "Have you tried to talk to him?"

"Well, you were in charge, even if not in the 'leather mask and whip' sense of the word," he points out, leaning in eagerly. Sesame chicken for him, as usual. "I've tried. He doesnt' answer my calls, now. I'm gonna have to go up there, when I have the courage. See what he says," Another of those rueful shakes of the head.

There's a tilt to her head as she studies him, and Elisabeth comments, "In charge? I don't think I've ever been in charge of anything when it comes to you, Felix." It doesn't seem to be a critcism so much as an observation. "At least… I didn't feel in charge of our relationship. I rather thought it was more mutual than that." But perhaps she's been wrong about it. Not exactly the first time, is it? At ease with her chopsticks, she starts to nibble on her dinner.

Felix blinks at her. "Well, it was. I meant…you…." Uh. How to put this. He's frowning. "You were the one who gave me the green light, you know? It was at your pleasure…." Is that making sense? He gives her one of those rather owlish looks.

Elisabeth ahs and smiles. "I get it," she replies. Leaning back in her seat with her chopsticks in hand, she doesn't comment that his green light never went away — she assumes he already knows that. "I'm sorry he's not picking up," she says instead. "Have you talked to you SAC here yet? About coming back on board?"

"I have," he says, quietly. "I'll be back working within the week."

"Oh!" Elisabeth looks … not surprised so much as chagrined perhaps that she didn't realize he'd have already had that in play. "I see. Well, good…. I'm glad they're not going to hold the situation against you or anything." Taking in a deep breath, she leans her head back on the high back of the dining room chair and simply sits for a long moment. "It's good to see you, Felix," she says quietly. "I missed you too."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License