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If You Could See What I Hear (Shiva & Scribe)

At first Sawyer had be hesitant to follow Gideon's voice down the hallway past the stairs. She'd never gone farther than the bathroom, but she couldn't exactly keep him waiting, and she had to admit she was curious what other rooms might lay in that direction. When she first entered the study her eyes widened in awe and appreciation at this new collection of books, but once she looked more closely at the titles her interest waned somewhat. Just law books it looked like, along with some other volumes that looked far beyond what her Bachelor's degree had prepared her for. But Gideon was there, and he seemed much more like his old self, and the young woman didn't need to force the smile in response to his apology.

"Hey, it's no big deal. Not like you're the first drunk person I've had to babysit. But you are the first one to quote Dickinson while wasted, so that's pretty impressive," she teased, wandering over to the window to look outside at the light rain that was beginning to fall. Sighing a little at the prospect of a rather wet walk home, she quickly turned back to look towards her employer. "And I highly doubt you're a fool, with titles like...Nichols Illinois Civil Practice Volume 3 on your shelf." Ugh, Sawyer could feel herself getting bored at the subject matter just reading the title. Instead she stepped shyly back towards Gideon. "As for old...you can't be that old, or if you are, every plastic surgeon in town should be trying to murder you for your genes. I'm guessing you're...fortyish?" There was a small note of hope in her voice. If her guess was right, that meant he was only a dozen or so years older than her; hardly a difference anyone could consider inappropriate. Or at the very least, Sawyer didn't consider it inappropriate, though she had to admit she might have some bias as she looked at him.

She was a little taken aback when he held out the framed photo to her, and even more shocked when she saw the picture. It was Gideon himself, but much younger, even younger than she was now. His face wasn't quite so lean, and his hair...God, she thought his current neat, well-tended style was sexy enough, but with it hanging loose in his face like that, just begging to be pushed out of his eyes...she couldn't help but swallow. And that wasn't even the most shocking part. Sawyer couldn't be entirely sure, considering the picture had cut off just below his naval, but it almost looked like he was naked, with his lean white chest looking very much like what she had seen in her dream.

For a moment, she could do nothing but stare at her boss. What in the world did this mean? Did...did he like her? Well why the hell didn't he say so? And why was he acting so nonchalant about all of this? She opened her mouth, several times in fact, trying to find something--anything--to say in response, but before any words could come out she realized the photo wasn't the only thing in the frame. A handwritten note was tucked in next to the picture of Gideon, and upon closer inspection it looked like there was something else behind the photo as well. As Sawyer's eyes scanned the neat writing, her jaw couldn't help but fall open again.

Alice did this? Alice, who looked like a supermodel and had barely said ten words to Sawyer in their entire acquaintance? But why in the world...was she that desperate for her brother-in-law to get a date? If so, it was pretty insulting to assume the best he could do was a jobless 28-year-old from Iowa who lived in a basement and proofread amateur erotica to pay for groceries. Then again, how would Alice know anything about Sawyer at all, unless Gideon had talked to her about his reader?

The idea made the redhead blush, regardless of the fact she often talked about Gideon to her own friends (albeit always in a passionless, respectful manner; the way anyone would talk about their boss). He must have said something to Alice that would lead her to think Sawyer would be able to appreciate the picture, and the idea of that, even if it was a little embarrassing, suddenly seemed to spark a light in the young woman's heart. As quietly as she could, she slipped the photo of Gideon and the note out of the frame and tucked them safely into her purse, and it was only after she had done so she realized how beautiful the photo underneath, the photo she was intended to receive, really was.

"Wow..." she finally gasped, gently tracing her finger along the graceful lines of the tree. "Gideon, this is gorgeous, thank you so much. Are you sure it's really okay for me to have?" It might clash with the colorful decor of her apartment, but Sawyer didn't care. There was a small spot above her bed that would fit the frame perfectly, and she liked the idea of looking at the peaceful scene before falling asleep at night. "Where did you take this anyway? It doesn't look like any place around here."

Remembering she had come to Gideon's house for a reason (besides ogling his shirtless picture and overthinking his opinion over her), Sawyer quickly and carefully placed the photo into her purse as well, taking care to wrap it in a soft white scarf she had brought along just in case she got cold, then dutifully followed him back into the living room. "Um, I was joking about the chairs, you know," Sawyer said with some alarm when she realized he had reconfigured his couch for her. "They're really fine, just, you know, not great to sleep in. Not that I plan to sleep in your chair anytime soon, it's just...okay sure, chaise it is." She still deposited her bag on the old chair, but after picking up the book she instead tucked herself into the corner of the chaise and the couch, and she had to admit it was much more comfortable.

Still, when she saw him at the other end of the couch, Sawyer still saw him the way she had in her dream, and it took all of her fortitude to keep her gaze locked on the book and try not to think of him shirtless. "Um, okay then, let's see...do you remember where we left off the other night? I can back up a couple chapters if you want..." God, why was it harder to read to him now than when he was drunk and depressed? Even though he couldn't see, she could have sworn she felt his eyes on her as she began the chapter, and she began to curl into a smaller and smaller ball as she read, trying not to stumble over the words too much.

"Passepartout felt himself yielding more and more to the effects of the liquor. Fix, seeing that he must, at all hazards, be separated from his master, wished to entirely overcome him. Some pipes full of opium lay upon the table. Fix slipped one into Passepartout's hand. He took it, put it between his lips, lit it, drew several puffs, and his head, becoming heavy under the influence of the narcotic, fell upon the table...and I think we'll leave it there," Sawyer said finally, glancing at the clock. It had been two hours on the dot exactly since she arrived, but it felt like four times as long. She kept feeling an irresistable urge to curl up against her boss and rest her head on his shoulder while she read, feel his hands and his lips on her, and see how the shirtless subject of the photo in her purse had changed over the years.

With more haste than she had intended she got to her feet and crossed the room to her purse. "Same time tomorrow?" she asked rather quickly, setting the book on the side table and glancing into her bag one more time, just to make sure both pictures were secure. It was only when her eyes fell on her phone that she remembered the good news she had shared with her roommates, the same news she felt she ought to share with Gideon, out of respect for their professional relationship.

"Oh, hey, one more thing. I can't come over Sunday night," Sawyer remarked, turning to look back at him. "I actually have a job interview early Monday. At a real publishing house and everything. I just want to make sure I get a good sleep the night before, you know? But I can do an extra long session Monday night if it works for you." Although there was something slightly awkward about discussing job interviews with someone who was technically her boss, it didn't seem right to hide the fact from Gideon. After all, he surely didn't expect her to make a career out of reading to him, right? And she'd casually mentioned her career ambitions in the past, and as the excitement crept into her voice she had to hope he would simply understand and be happy for her.

"It's not anything glamorous, of course," she explained. "Just an entry level gig, mostly doing clerical work. But this company is known for promoting from within, and they're a major competitor to my last job over at St. James Press, so it'd be nice to know I was screwing them over at least a little." The grin that crossed her face had more than a little malice in it as she thought of her previous employer. "Anyway, if I get it, I don't think it should affect our arrangement here too badly. I might not be able to stay out quite as late of course, but it's not like I have much else to do in the evenings. And I'd still be happy to come over on weekends, even during the day if that works for you. Just let me know what you want."

Sawyer actually wished he would let her know what he wanted on a lot of fronts, but this didn't exactly seem like the time or place to bring that up. Instead, she made sure her purse was securely closed, then moved towards the door in preparation to step out into the rain that had steadily grown into a downpour. "Ugh, and I just fixed my hair," she murmured to herself, wishing she'd thought to bring an umbrella or a raincoat with her.

Before leaving, she looked back towards Gideon and hugged her purse close against her chest. "Thanks again for the picture, Gideon. That's really, really sweet of you. You're..." Amazing. Wonderful. Gorgeous. All words that flashed through her head that she didn't dare speak. "...a really talented artist. I'll...see you tomorrow?"
 
“Impressive,” Gideon repeated, his voice rising up. His eyebrows rose considering this as a smile played across his lips, not sure if he liked being equated with other drunk people requiring babysitting but liking the rest of it. A curious look though crossed his face at the next question, realizing he didn’t know how old the woman next to him was after all this. It was subjective reasoning considering the resume she’d sent and her words but he’d never actually broached her age. A slight pout came to his lips tough at her guess, looking back down at the table. “And hear I was hoping to pass for thirtyish and it didn’t even rate a guess. Forty-one sadly.”

The silence was deafening after he gave the picture to Sawyer and for a moment he wondered if he’d messed up, slipped past some boundary. Alice had thought it was a marvelous idea when he’d suggested it to her, talking about getting drunk on her visit and wanting to make it up. She didn’t seem to think it would be objectionable and had been enthusiastic in helping, carefully getting the photo down from his bedroom. It was a small thing as he’d worked mainly with 35 mm instead of moving to the larger formats except on occasion. He’d loved the manual feel of popping open a cartridge to wind the film in the dark and develop it, bring the work to life with his own hands. The chemical smell had been a refreshing thing for him for a long time.

But, finally, she said something and he felt like at least the world was right and he didn’t need to apologize for another mistake. It seemed to be all too common with her lately. “I took that picture to be enjoyed,” he said, a hint of sadness tinging his voice. “I obviously can’t appreciate it so I’d like someone to have it who can.” His lips pursed for a moment as he considered his words, wondering if they were stepping over a line, he shouldn’t be crossing but it was hard to keep track. Her next question though pulled him thankfully away from self-doubt with a heavy exhale. “Huh. Oh, Nova Scotia. It’s quite lovely.”

“Oh,” Gideon exclaimed, quirking up his lips. He didn’t sit in the chair all that often so he’d just assumed it was not great for their sessions not taking into consideration her sleeping in it. It hammered home the point that they had actually slept in the same room for a time which was a bit strange. Awkward even. “I mean, if you did, I have a very nice bed one of us could have used. But obviously not the point.” He waived a hand in the air to dismiss his stray thought before reaching up to wipe his forehead, suddenly feeling a little warm about this conversation. It was probably not the best to encourage strange women to sleep in his house, not that Sawyer was really a stranger any more, but also, she wasn’t sleeping in the same room company either. She was paying her and that seemed to be crossing a line.

Carefully, he settled himself onto the couch in his normal cross-legged fashion but when she opted to sit on the chaise lounge part, he turned himself, angling so he was facing more towards her. The arm of the couch was at his back as he considered her question. “I remember we wonderfully started at a funeral,” he offered, smiling to diffuse the joke. He tried to remember the exact passage, his condition not so bad he couldn’t recall the book or listening to Sawyer’s lovely voice. So they worked it out and he settled quietly in his spot, hands on his lap, listening intently. He found his mind slipping though more tonight as she read, wondering what she looked like. Between her last two visits, the thought had been brought up a few times by things she’d said or did and now he just wanted to know. But the idea of asking to run his fingers over her face to at least learn the contours or as direct questions about her age all seemed rather off-putting.

Before he knew it, the story was ending to both his delight and sadness, the journey so far had been quite interesting. He was happy this was a new journey he was taking with Sawyer, never having read this Verne book. It had been delightful so far. “Sounds good,” he said, smiling brightly. “Though I want to know more. I’m kind of glad I’ve never read this book in the past so I can experience it with you.”

He slowly uncurled himself from the couch, throwing his legs over the side again as he stretched out his body. Curling his toes into the carpet, he yawned widely and quickly brought a hand up to cover his mouth, remembering getting yelled at by his mother. “Tomorrow sounds great,” he said, stifling another yawn. The week had been a hard one and the book, with its narration, had been relaxing. He just wanted to curl up on his bed and relax, drift off, warm and content. The strange thought of curling up with Sawyer flashed though his mind though and a light blush tinged his cheeks, pushing such nonsense away.

A curious eyebrow rose at her addition, wondering at the change which was quickly told before he could even ask. The pleased look that crossed his face was accompanied by a bright smile as he took a step forward with his arms raised, as if to hug her. It was his first instinct but after the whole drinking incident, he quickly reconsidered. His left hand fell away as his right carefully found her shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze and pat. “That’s great news,” he said, excitement in his voice. “I know you really wanted to get in somewhere and stop editing direct publish works, of which I can only guess at how lovely the content you get to review.” He snickered at the thought of what gets self-published on the electronic store fronts with a coworker not too long ago, whole new ideas opened up to his imagination that he’d rather have had closed.

“An extended Monday sounds good though,” he started, gears already turning. “You must let me cook for us, a celebration for the job we both know you are overqualified for and will get. What is your favorite dish? I’ll make it. Well, I’ll try. Or we can splurge and I can get some Lou Malnati’s in, but we should do something. I promise, no drinking on my part. Well, maybe a little wine.” His fingers curled around her shoulder and gave her another squeeze.

A wry smile turned up his lips as he raised his eyebrows curious, wondering what her anger at St. James Press had been. The name sounded familiar and he was sure it was probably some annoying party his partners had forced him to attend. But her next words brought a hint of worry to his face, sadness pulling down the corner of his lips for a moment. Still, he quickly pushed it away, realizing he was being selfish. “Well, I knew I couldn’t monopolize your nights forever,” he said with a little vigor. “Though it is a little sad, but for the best, so I understand. Perhaps the wisest thing is to maybe do a little longer session on the weekend and we can play the week by ear. I don’t want you having to run over here and then back on work nights. I would feel guilty.” He could think of other arraignments but all of them were completely inappropriate so he kept them pushed down.

He walked with her to the door, hearing the rain outside pouring down, twisting his lips up. “I’d offer to call you a car but I know you’d refuse,” he said, with a smile. He reached a hand out past her, pressing rather close to her as he did, the daisy smell filling his nostrils again. A small sight slipped from him as he wrapped his fingers around the large, black umbrella and pulled it out of the brass container next to the door. “Your perfume is quite lovely,” he said, pulling away. As he did, he offered the umbrella out to her. “So, at least take my umbrella. I forget it half the time anyway, at least you’ll get some use from it.”

The bright smile played over his lips as he lingered at the doorway, wanting to tell her to stay, not to go into the rain. He could keep her warm and dry inside, though the last part did go against certain ideas. She shouldn’t go out into the rain when she was here because of him, he had a guest room that he didn’t use but offering it up over rain seemed a definite over the line step. “Thank you,” he managed, smiling brightly. “You are an amazing woman Sawyer Thompson, in many ways. Have a good night and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
 
"Oh! Um, thank you..." Sawyer stammered, blushing as he complimented her perfume. "It's nothing fancy obviously...but I'm glad you like it. It's my favorite, actually. Reminds me of summer back home. I'll wear it more often." For you she wanted to add, but in her mind it sounded a little too Fatal Attraction-y. Instead she just allowed her fingers to brush his as she accepted the umbrella and prepared to open it into the storm outside, praying it wouldn't break in the process.

"As for dinner," she continued with a smile. "Sounds great. I don't think you'll be able to make my favorite meal; that's my dad's grilled chicken, my mom's rosemary potatoes, and fresh sweet corn, but--" She pointed the umbrella at the floor and leaned on it jauntily for a moment as she thought. "Maybe seafood? I love shrimp and scallops, but I don't usually make them at home since my roommates can't stand anything that smells remotely fishy. But you have to let me help!" She poked him gently in the chest with the tip of the umbrella to emphasize the point. "Besides, I have a killer recipe for roast asparagus, and the farmer's market by my house has had some awesome veggies lately. I'll bring that and a pinot grigio, and you can do the rest. Fair?"

Before turning to head out the door, Sawyer wrapped one arm around her boss and gave him the smallest squeeze. Considering how nice he'd been to her that evening, she couldn't imagine any harm in just one friendly little hug, and not even with full-body contact. "You're a sweetheart, Gideon," she murmured, then finally stepped away. "I'll see you later!"

*****
​
The interview itself had gone very well.

On Monday morning Sawyer arrived bright and early at the offices of Duke & Everett dressed flawlessly in a black powersuit and carrying a briefcase instead of her usual bulky leather purse. A secretary had met with her and escorted her to a gorgeous conference room on the thirtieth floor of the building with a view overlooking the lake, where she was met a few minutes later Samantha Burgess, head of the Acquisitions Department in the Books division. She was a friendly woman of about fifty, and Sawyer had no trouble nailing the typical interview questions, even taking just enough initiative to ask a few of her own. Samantha was more than impressed with the young woman's portfolio and work background as well, and even seemed sympathetic upon hearing about her reasons for leaving her last office job.

"So, Michelle Pierrot demanded they fire you, huh?" the interviewer asked with a small laugh. "You should put that on your resumé as an accomplishment. I heard that woman is an absolute bear to work with, and I doubt you're either the first or last person whose career she's interrupted. Between you and me," Samantha leaned forward conspiratorily. "I don't even think she's written a decent book in the last ten years, and everyone knows she pays to get on the New York Times Bestseller List. If she didn't like your edits, you must have done something right." The older woman let out a little laugh and sat back in her chair. "In either case, I can assure you that we don't allow our writers to treat our staff disrespectfully here, and we definitely aren't interested in acquiring Miss Pierrot's contract from St. James, so she won't be bothering you again."

The interview wrapped up with a few more casual questions, but in less than an hour Sawyer was shaking the interviewer's hand, with the promise that she would hear one way or another about the job in a week or two. She was about to head towards the elevators when on a whim the redhead decided to dart into the bathroom, just to make sure her lipstick hadn't smudged at all during the process. Thankfully it hadn't, but she still took a few minutes to decompress in front of the mirror, adjusting her hair and clothing and touching up her mascara, all the while silently reassuring herself she had nailed it and the job just had to be hers.

Then she walked in.

"Oh wow, Sawyer! What in the world are you doing here girl?" The speaker was a short, skinny girl of about twenty-five, with straight black hair and too much makeup on her heart-shaped face. The redhead recognized her almost immediately, the way she might have recognized an oncoming train if her car was stalled on the tracks.

"Oh...hey there Kelci. I didn't know you worked here," Sawyer replied, injecting some false joy and politeness in her voice as the girl came up to her and forced a limp hug. "When did you leave St. James?"

Kelci's overly-whitened teeth grinned back at her as she moved in front of the mirror, beginning to adjust her own appearance. "About a year now," she replied, applying a deep red lipstick to a mouth that looked like it had been stung by a hornet. "I started in Acquisitions, but I'm already in the running for an Associate Editorship, can you believe?"

"That's great," her former coworker replied, trying not to grit her teeth with envy. "I actually just finished up an interview for Acquisitions, and I think it went pretty well. Who knows?" She tried to laugh but it got caught in her throat. "We might get to work together again."

"Ooooooh so you were Sammy's eight-o-clock. She mentioned she was interviewing somebody while we were having lunch on Friday," Kelci turned back to look Sawyer up and down, no longer trying to hide the distaste in her eyes. "Well, good luck, I hope it all works out. But just in case it doesn't, don't feel too bad Sawyer. After all, most of the managers here are women, and the CEO only has daughters. So, you know, not like you'd have much of a shot at moving up or anything. Maybe you could look into Hustler instead."

Sawyer was not a violent person by nature, but as Kelci skipped out of the bathroom it took all of her resolve not to grab her by the hair and slam her Kylie-Jenner-wannabe-face into the sink. Instead, she bit back hot tears of indignant rage and made a beeline for the elevators, quickly putting on sunglasses despite the lingering rain outside. The whole way home she tried to tell herself that it didn't matter, that Kelci had been a jealous brat two years ago and time hadn't changed her at all. The interview had gone well, and Samantha really had seemed to like her. But the next time she had lunch with the prissy little bitch, would she learn what had really happened at St. James?

Probably not. Kelci wouldn't tell her that Sawyer's manager had deliberately set her up for failure by assigning her to work with the notoriously hard-to-please Michelle Pierrot. She wouldn't tell her about how somebody (Sawyer always swore it was Kelci herself, but never had any proof) had sabotaged her notes and the writer's original draft and caused the novelist to go on a tirade so loud everyone in the office could hear it. All she would tell Samantha was that Sawyer had climbed the ranks at St. James by fucking the owner's son, and when she wasn't able to get a penny after divorcing him she decided to retaliate by irreparably damaging the publisher's relationship with its most profitable cash cow.

Instead of going straight home, Sawyer opened up Gideon's umbrella and decided to stroll down to her favorite used bookstore, which was conveniently located near the conglomeration of publishing houses in the city. While she browsed, she considered picking up something for her only boss for the foreseeable future, just as a thank you for all the kindness he'd shown her. But the only braille copy of anything was a biography of Mamie Eisenhower, and while there was a good selection of audiobooks available, it didn't seem prudent to remind Gideon that he could have on-demand reading whenever he liked, if he was willing to listen to someone other than Sawyer. In the end all she ended up purchasing was a slightly-beaten but still legible hardbound copy of Tess of the d'Urbervilles for herself, mostly because she thought it would look nice in her rainbow of shelves.

Luckily she had better luck at the farmer's market that afternoon, finding not only some fat, fresh bunches of asparagus, but some enormous strawberries as well that would pair nicely with her secret supply of dark chocolate for dessert. Even though it was still raining, the thought of cooking with Gideon cheered her up enough to put the events of the morning behind her, at least for the moment. The only other unfortunate incident of the day was when Sawyer was on the train, her cloth shopping bag full of fruits and vegetables (and her book) beside her but sadly missing the bottle of wine, which she'd wholly forgotten.

That was the first thing she said when she walked into the house that evening, making a beeline for the kitchen and calling out to her employer. "Soooooooo I'm an idiot, and totally forgot to bring wine," she explained to him as she began to place the asparagus,strawberries, and small container of chocolate pieces in the fridge. "Is there a liquor store nearby? I'd be happy to run out and grab a bottle real quick..." In a way, it was a relief to have something as small as a missing bottle of wine to talk about. If she was lucky, maybe she'd be able to distract Gideon from asking about the interview, and needing to relieve the awful memory of what happened afterward.
 
“Fair,” he said with a gentle laugh. The idea of help in the kitchen sounded welcoming in a strange way, though he feared tripping over her, or more awkward happenings.

“And you’re a delight, Sawyer,” he said, smiling lightly. A hint of a blush came to his cheeks feeling the small hug, surprised that he just reacted, his own arm giving a quick squeeze around her back. It reminded him of the full hugs he’d gotten the other night and no matter how much bourbon he’d had in him, they lingered in his mind. He remembered the feminine curves there and how lovely they had felt along his body, feeling the first strange stirrings he’d felt in a long time. “See you later. And good luck with the interview!”

Rain poured against the windows like a raven rapping thought the house as Gideon shut the door, leaving himself in the quiet house. The light lingering of Sawyer’s perfume along with the warmth of her arm around him made him feel less alone as he leaned against the door. Yellow swam like a distant flicker in his mind, a little filament fluttering away from him. “You’re beautiful, Sawyer,” he murmured, fingers running over the panels of the door.

-------------------------------------------​

“I’m sorry, you need a half day for what,” Max asked, leaning back in the visitor’s chair of Gideon's office. He wore his suit well as if it was a second skin and took good care of himself, wearing his age well. The incredulous look on his face was only broken by the smirk on his lips, looking at Gideon like he may have been grabbed by the pod people.

“I need to stop by the shops to get some shrimp and scallops,” he said, forehead furrowing. “Quit laughing,” he admonished. “I promised Sawyer I would make something nice for dinner tonight to celebrate her interview and she said she loved them. She’s a good person, I just wanted to… I don’t know, celebrate with her.”

“And this is the woman you hired off the internet to read to you at night,” he asked like Gideon was on the witness stand.

“You make it seem much more salacious than it is,” Gideon responded, tapping his fingers on the desk. “She’s a book editor, it’s just a job.”

“And this is the woman who spend the night at your place a few nights ago. With no sex.” The incredulity in Max’s voice was hard to ignore.

“It was a hard night for me and she was just being a good person,” Gideon started defensively. He sipped from the water bottle on his desk as his mouth suddenly felt overly dry. “She’s a very unique and caring person. Don’t make it sound anything more than it is.”

“Gideon,” he started, the chair squeaking under him as he leaned forward. “I know people who don’t talk as nicely about their girlfriends or mistresses as much as you do about this chick. So cards on the table, is she hideous too look at or like a hot air balloon? I mean I know you are old fashioned and all but even if she’s married, at this point…”

“Max,” Gideon growled, his voice sharp as a knife. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said with a sigh. How do you trust you heart again after it’s been shattered and you can’t see to put it all back together? No one could understand what it was like to lose Mary and the world at the same time, to be pitied for it all. “We are just friends.” Technically, he was her employer but it felt like they had moved into a kind of friendship without defining it.

His friend and partner sat silently for a moment before clicking his tongue, a sign he’d come to some idea. Usually it was one that Gideon wouldn’t like. “Fine, take the day but you need to come to the party,” he said, referencing one of the monthly shoulders rubbing parties the various law firms in the building liked to throw. It was a wall to wall infliction of the Chicago’s local companies’ masturbation and self-flagellation rolled up into one. He usually only went to larger events like awards and other such things where he had to represent the firm. “You can bring your friend.”

“I’m a fucking partner,” Gideon snickered. “I can take off if I want too.”

“Yeah,” Max said, rising and starting to walk away. “But if you want me to cover for you, you will be attending the party.”

------------------------------------------------​

The butcher had gotten obviously annoyed with Gideon as he picked up the shrimp and scallops, insisting they get deveined well. He had apparently pushed a little too hard about getting all of the grittiness out and gotten the older man to growl at him. The small shop had been his main source for meats and seafood, a small brother operation, one handling the meats and the other handling seafood aspect of the split store. He had to immediately apologize about his attitude, just wanting to make it perfect for Sawyer, nervousness showing through. The man laughed at him and maid a crack about the effects of women and Gideon had to bite back the ‘they were just friends’ remark.
​
With his catch in a bag, he pulled out his cane again and started down the sidewalk with the careful swish tap. It was a neighborhood near the house and he was comfortable in it, though even then he didn’t like to linger. Perhaps it was a hint of paranoia but he always felt like he was on display when using his cane. He’d only gotten a few stores down when he suddenly hit the feet of someone.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” a woman exclaimed.

“My fault,” Gideon started with his old standby. “I wasn’t really watching where I was going.”

“Oooh… oh,” she finally started a polite laugh.

“This used to be a store all about beef jerky and pickles,” he said, sniffing at the air. It was a comforting smell floating on the air and certainly not the tang of vinegar and smoked meats. “You must be blissfully new. What, pray tell, do you purvey.”

The woman giggled a little as he could hear the russle of a long skirt, certainly not the usual for women these days. And the clatter of a beaded chain coming from high that he assumed were those strange devices people kept form losing their eyeglasses. So, he assumed she was an older woman. “A book store.”

“You don’t say,” Gideon said, his face brightening. “I happen to be an enthusiast.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have any braille books in stock,” he said, a mix of disappointment and worry in her voice.

“Well,” he said, moving towards her and the entrance. “Let’s see what else you have. I happen to know a lovely lady who is into books as well.”

------------------------------------------​


The walk home had been good and let him get his menu straight in his head, a bag full of supplies in his one hand. A part of him was wondering if this was too much for a friend but he wasn’t quite sure on what to judge things. The point in his life where he kept lots of friends close and enjoyed the closeness of a woman seemed centuries ago at this point. He’d kept the door closed for so long now it was a little scary to open it a crack even to peek though, but that’s what this felt like, but was it fair to her. A part of him wanted to throw that door wide open though and step though but he hesitated, the worry flowing back over like a constant tide.

Setting the stuff on the table, he quickly changed out of his work clothes and threw on a pair of loose, black slacks and a crimson button up shirt. He slipped on some socks to keep his feet warm, brushing his hand though his hair. Pausing at the mirror, he felt around on the top of one of the chests of drawers, finding the small glass vial Alice had given him a while ago. Opening the top, he sniffed at it before considering it a moment, finally dabbing a little of the cologne on his neck. It was a subtle scent of sandalwood and bergamot with an undertone of sage or something he couldn’t quite pin down.

Dressed, he quickly made his way down the stairs and began the prep work. He’d decided on a simple menu since Sawyer had mentioned getting farmer’s market vegetables. A light flavored would work well and let the natural wonderfulness come out better, nothing too heavy. Filling a large pot with water, he carefully placed it on the stovetop to let it heat. The fresh linguine was set out on the counter near the stove. Then he pulled out the fresh garlic and lemons on the center island for preparation before pulling out the butter from the fringe. Lastly, he grabbed the fresh pressed olive oil in a dark green bottle he picked up from a small store down the block, loving its little tang.

He’d just gotten to work on dicing the garlic and preparing the lemon when he heard the door, pausing in his cuts. Setting the knife down, he carefully wiped his hands on the apron at his waist to make sure they were clean, carefully moving along the counter. A hint of worry showed on his face as she started to put things away and seemed to be fixated on a bottle of wine, but something in her tone cut at him. The job seemed a shoe in based on the resume she’d sent him and he could only imagine it was a slam dunk, yet she didn’t seem to exude the joy she did just a few days ago.

Finding his way, his hand reached out to her and touched an arm, following it up to her shoulder only to lift off for a moment. His fingers tentatively touched her cheek, palm moving to caress her cheek for a moment, his head facing towards her. “It’s ok,” he started, his voice quiet and gentle. “Is everything ok? You seem out of sorts. Wine and food can wait, you are much more important.” A small shake moved though his hand as he brushed the pad of his thumb over her cheek, lingering a too long before letting his hand fall away.

“As far as wine,” he started, gesturing to the other side of the kitchen where the counter wrapped around a corner. A few various devices were built into the lower counter, at least one was obviously a dishwasher. “Max, a friend and law partner, insisted I install one of those mini wine cellars or whatever the call it. There is always bottles in there though I haven’t a clue what since nothing gets labeled. It only get’s open when Max or Alice decide to pull something out or fill it up.” He’d never been much into wine to know what was good or bad so maintaining such a cooler was not his forte but was glad to leech off the experience of others with a better nose for such things.

He stayed near her though with the concern lingering on his face, trying to get a sense of what was bothering her. “I don’t know if they have any… pinot grigio,” he started, mind searching for what she’d said she was going to bring. “But if it helps in a choice, I’m making my own version of shrimp and scallop garlic linguine.” He took a step closer to her so he was well past professional distance and into harassment territory as his hand found her shoulder again, giving it a gentle squeeze. Gideon’s head tilted slightly as he faced her, simply listening to her. “Having interviewed you myself,” he started, a flight chuckle in his voice. “I assume you must have nailed the interview. So I don’t feel like I need to ask how it went but I like to relive what a good choice I made, so give.”
 
Sawyer might have understood Gideon's suspicions if he could see. After all, everyone knew she had a horrible poker face. But how in the world could he tell from the sound of her voice alone that there was trouble in paradise? Even her roommates hadn't questioned it when she mentioned the interview had gone "fine" in passing. For a moment, she tried to think of how she convince him she really was okay, but the young woman was completely taken aback when she felt his fingers brushing against her cheek.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew such a gesture wasn't appropriate, but it had been so long since anyone had touched her so gently, she just couldn't help but tilt her head against his hand. His touch was so comforting that it made her want to tell him everything. Not just about the interview, but Kelci, and St. James...and even Jack. But would Gideon really understand? It still stuck in her mind when he had called her "angel" the other night, and Sawyer both hoped and feared he had some idealized vision of her in his mind that was better than anything she could ever hope to be in reality. Would he still touch her like this if he thought she was just another dumb slut trying to sleep her way into a career?

Suddenly the idea of not getting the job seemed laughably insignificant when compared to the idea of losing Gideon's regard. No, he could never find out about any of that. She would just have to suck it up and deal with the situation on her own like a grownup. After all, didn't he have enough on his plate already?

Smiling and shaking her head, Sawyer pulled her favorite apron out of her shopping bag and began to tie it on over her jeans and white sweater. "I'm fine, just post-interview jitters," she explained, tying her hair into a high ponytail before setting about washing her hands. "I think it went pretty well. The interviewer was nice, and it seems like a great company to work for. I won't hear anything for a while though, so I'm just going to try not to let myself get too anxious until I know one way or another. Good thing my main gig is keeping me busy." Giggling, she patted his shoulder before bending over to examine his wine fridge.

"Wow, you've got some really nice stuff here," she remarked, turning the bottles slowly as she searched for a good white. When money hadn't been so tight for her she had often enjoyed exploring different wines, but she hadn't been able to afford anything out of the ten-dollar range in years. So it was no wonder that her eyes widened when she saw a few vintages that cost multiples times her usual budget, and although she was tempted to select a five-year-old sauvignon blanc, she instead opted for a chablis from a vineyard she recognized as not ridiculously expensive and that would pair nicely with the food.

"Will Max or Alice mind if we open this William Fevre?" Sawyer asked as she set the bottle on the counter. "I can replace it, if they don't mind something by Barefoot instead. That's what I'd intended to bring, but...next time, I guess. In the meantime, fancy a glass? Or would you prefer to wait until dinner?"

After pouring the wine, she set about washing and trimming the asparagus spears and making a lemon butter sauce to sauté them in. On more than one occasion she found herself bumping into or brushing against her host, but it was more of an amusement than an annoyance. As long as they kept the knives pointed away from one another, it was actually nice to have company in the kitchen for once. "You know, no one's done this with me since I left home," she remarked as stood beside him at the stove. "My mom and I cooked together all the time growing up, but everyone else I've ever lived with has been content to let me handle all the meals on my own. It's nice to have some company for a change." Taking her gaze off the asparagus in the pan for a moment, she looked up towards his face curiously. "Where'd you learn to cook? And don't tell me you're self-taught, Gideon Wallace. No one's that perfect."

But damn if he wasn't close. For one brief moment, she rested her cheek against his arm, but once she realized her asparagus was beginning to brown she quickly returned her attention to the task at hand. Sawyer had managed to time it out that her dish should finish up about the same time as Gideon's, and once it was ready she wasted no time in setting the table and refilling the wine. "Well, regardless of how things turn out with the job, this dinner looks amazing. Thank you again, Gideon. For everything." After removing her apron, she raised her glass in his direction, despite the fact he couldn't see it.

"You know, I'm really glad I answered that silly internet ad after all. I got myself one hell of a boss out of the arrangement, and a really wonderful friend. To you, Monsieur Fogg, from your Passepartout." She couldn't say the line with a straight face, but drowned her giggles in the chablis before setting the glass down on the table and joining him to help serve the food.
 
A bright smile bloomed on Gideon’s face hearing the strange lilt in her voice was just jitters, a concept he could understand. “Oh, ok,” he replied, taking a step back. His hands found the counter again for a point of reference, slowly moving back down towards the stove and his work area. “I’m glad it went good and the interviewer was nice, that’s one of the reasons I don’t do interviews for the firm, I can only imagine how little we’d get working for us.” He laughed lightly as he reached a hand to find the blade again, fingers carefully moving around to find the handle. “I’m a main gig,” he mused, tilting his head towards her. “I don’t think I’ve ever been such.”

“I’ll take your word on it,” Gideon called back, smiling. The whole wine cabinet had been a bit of a bargaining chip in buying the big house which Alice and Jacob had insisted was way too big for him. They had recruited Max into the whole affair. They had pointed out how hazardous it could be, much more disaster for a blind man in such an old house not matter how many things were added to mitigate it. It would have been amusing if not a bit painful to listen to them dance around the whole issue of him not needed a big house like this with no family on the horizon, but it had been implied in a lot of what was said. He admitted it had been a fairly selfish purchase but he’d been pig headed about it.

Finishing dicing the garlic, he paused at her question as a smirk lifted the left corner of his lips. “Possession is nine-tenths of the law,” he said, humor in his words. “So as a lawyer I say too bad, so sad. Break it open. I’m sure they will bring over a replacement soon enough.” He went back to finishing the garlic before grabbing a pan and placing it on a front burner, leaving a front burner free for Sawyer’s dish. “I’m good waiting but feel free to pour yourself one. My cooking skills don’t improve with wine.” A hint of blush rose on his cheeks thinking about the last time he’d drunk anything with her around, still feeling a hint of shame at how he’d acted.

Cooking with someone in the kitchen helping was a new experience and he found it interesting, not as annoying as he’d thought it would be. He knew he could be a bit of a control freak so it was good to give a little, to learn to flow with her in the kitchen. No one was much of a cook in his life so it was nice to have company though a bit strange at the same time. “I don’t think my mother ever cooked anything, and if she did, well God help it. But for the most part people leave me alone in here. Most people are happy to let others cook their food for them.” It was a strange thing that he’d decided to pour his creativity into cooking after the loss of his sight when no one else in his life had been one to cook, perhaps it was the need to not be reliant on anyone.

An eyebrow rose up Sawyer’s next words, his lips pursing as distain fluttered quickly across his features before quickly released by amused wonder. A look that said maybe she was crazy. “I am about as far from perfect as a rat is from a reindeer,” he started, carefully tossing the contents of the pan with a flick of his wrist. “After the intensity of getting through law school, I started to feel myself missing a creative outlet once I had more time on my hands. I found out about a blind chef up north and bugged him until he would teach me. It’s been a process of refinement and addition since.” Getting out of the darkness left by his blindness and Mary, he had pushed himself as hard as he could, having a lot of time and energy to put into things. Cutting out a social life had allowed him to expand in others.

The first alarm beeped letting him know he needed to toss in the pasta, but thankfully with it being fresh it was a quick cook. Metal chimed as he tired to grab the pot but got a little too much metal, the heat quickly getting to him, letting out a small ow. Grabbing his towel, he carefully grabbed it and maneuvered to strain it. Another beep and he tossed in the fresh herbs to give the whole thing a little bite before adding in the pasta. Asking for plates, he quickly poured it out onto the two places, hoping the scallops and shrimp distributed evenly, telling Sawyer to grab more from one plate if it wasn’t. “There is no regardless,” he called back, hands playing down his side. His fingers found the tie of the apron and quickly undid it, folding it over the handle of the oven for now. “And you are welcome, Sawyer. It’s my pleasure.”

Carefully, he found his way to the table with the plates and set them down, hoping he didn’t make a mess of it. He wasn’t used to having to worry about others and presentation of his meal. It was usually just him and how it looked didn’t much matter to him. “I’m glad you did too,” Gideon added, his voice quiet. “And I’m glad to count you as a friend, I don’t gather many of them.” He found his glass of wine and took a sip, eyebrows rising at the surprising taste of it and how it would pair. “I feel it a disservice though to call you my Passepartout with your terrible French,” he laughed. “Perhaps my Sancho Panza to your Don Quixote? Though my Spanish is terrible so perhaps I’d make a terrible Quixote.”

He was about to start to sit down when his face suddenly brightened up, pausing before quickly getting back up. He carefully reached out into the air and made his way over to the counter and his shopping back, fishing out a small, square rectangular box. His folding cane fell out, quickly grabbing it to place back on the counter, a hint of red tinging his cheeks feeling rather silly. “I almost forgot,” he said, carefully making his way back to the table. He tossed the thing box on the table near the edge between them, slowly sitting himself down into a chair. “I found a new local book store and got you an appropriate new job present.”

Inside the small, glittering box, saw a silken cloth bookmark sitting in the plain white innards of the box. It was a cornflower yellow with tassels at either end and daisies stitched in black on the strip of cloth. “I figured,” he started, joy and sadness arguing on his face. “With you getting this new job, things will have to change, as you said. There may be many days where the book of choice needs to sit and we can’t have you putting random bits into the pages. So, when the lady described her hand-crafted bookmarks at the store, it seemed an appropriate thing to have, it represents you and will keep your place until you return.” His brow creased as he leaned across the table more, a look of worry on his face. “Please tell me she gave me the daisy one and not the cow one she was trying to shove off onto me.”
 
Sawyer couldn't help but giggle at the reindeer remark. "Well they're both mammals that begin with R. Maybe they aren't identical, but they do have some things in common--fur, number of legs, you can find them in really lame petting zoos. I guess that just means you're perfect-adjacent. No doubt you'll get there eventually though." The smile died on her lips though as she saw his hand jerking in pain, and she quickly took a step closer to him. "Everything okay over there? Can I help you with something?" Over the weeks of their acquaintance she'd learned the answer to the second question was almost always 'no,' but she couldn't help but asking it out of habit. Especially on nights like this, when Gideon just had to go about spoiling her with his food and wine. She just couldn't help but try to give some of that back in the few ways she knew how.

Burn or no burn though, her host seemed to have a good handle on things, so she allowed herself to sink back into her chair to wait for him. Once he'd removed the apron, it occurred to Sawyer that the shirt he'd worn underneath was the exact color she had imagined on him previously. And she'd been right--it definitely suited him. For one brief moment, the memory of her dream flashed before her eyes and she imagined feeling the fabric underneath her fingers, she she immediately took a deep drink of wine to try to calm herself. "That...that looks great," she said finally after taking a deep breath through her nose (and sensing the maddeningly warm scent of his cologne in the process. "The food, I mean. Not that you don't look great, because you do. I just--" Oh god, she was rambling again. Wasn't she over this? It was like their very first meeting all over again. "That is a really great shirt," Sawyer finished weakly, resisting the temptation to drain her wineglass entirely. "Did Alice pick that out for you?"

She had expected him to give her an uncomfortable look, or maybe with all his good nature he would simply laugh it off or tease her a little. What Sawyer didn't expect was that he would pull out a small, nicely wrapped box and toss it casually on the table in front of her. "Oh Gideon, you shouldn't have," she murmured, instinctively reaching for the box before the mention of the job made her pull her hand back. A sinking feeling began to grow in her stomach. He seemed so sure about her, and so proud. What if she disappointed him? "I mean, it's just a little premature. It was just an interview, I haven't gotten the job yet. I might...I might not even get it at all." Her eyes felt hot when she finally managed to speak the fear aloud, but she refused to let herself cry over it. "It's just, there are a lot of applicants I'm sure, and I haven't had an office job in two years. I wouldn't blame them if they chose someone else over me. After all, it's happened before."

Oh yes, Sawyer had been passed over many times in her life, in many different settings. But what was the use of being bitter now? Gideon had worked so hard to make a nice dinner for her, and he'd gotten her a gift on top of everything else. Instead of bringing him down with her own negativity and self-doubt, the least she could do was open the damn box and be grateful. "I should just shut up and say thank you though, shouldn't I?" she smiled, carefully opening the box and letting out a pleased gasp of surprise. "Oh wow, it's so pretty! And you remembered I like daisies...although I do like cows too. You know, farm girl and everything." Rising to her feet, the young woman circled around behind her boss' chair and draped her arms over his shoulders, giving them a little squeeze and resting her chin on the top of his head. "Thank you again, Gideon. It really means a lot to me. But, I'll have you know--"

Stepping back, she crossed over to the table where Around The World in Eighty Days was still waiting, her old bookmark nearly at the end now. "I haven't been using random bits to mark the pages. I've been using this." She plucked the purple iris bookmark out from the pages and replaced it with the yellow daisy one, then returned to the table and slid it beneath Gideon's fingers. Due to its handmade nature and the pressed flower petals sealed against the paper, it had an unusual and very distinct texture that would easily separate it from any other papers he might touch. "Ash made me a bunch of these for my birthday last year, but I think it's fair to give you this one in exchange for yours. Granted, you might need to explain to someone why you have a bookmark with the letter S on it, but it should help with some of your braille books, right? Or if its too girly to use--it does have flower petals on it--that's fine, but keep it anyway. For me."

Satisfied at the exchange, Sawyer returned to her seat across the table from him and began to nibble daintily at the food. It tasted as heavenly as she imagine, and when paired with her lingering wine the flavors of both came through beautifully. But great as the food was, a small lingering concerns was hovering around her, and she'd only made it through a few bites before she had to bring it up. "Why should things have to change between us?" the redhead asked finally, looking directly into Gideon's eyes. "I mean yeah, maybe I'll need to come by a little later than usual, or leave a little earlier, but I still want to come over and read with you. Believe it or not, I really enjoy this--" Relationship? Friendship? Completely inappropriate one-sided longing? "--Whatever you want to call our arrangement." Her hands waved in the space between them to illustrate. "I don't want to give it up unless you do," she said finally, taking another bite of scallop. "Even if you do make fun of my French."

"Speaking of which," she continued, taking a bit of the asparagus (which, while she didn't want to brag, had turned out flawlessly in her opinion). "I was wondering if maybe you could help me practice sometime. I took it though my freshman year of college, but I haven't had anyone to speak it with since then, so if I'm rusty that's why. But if you help me get good at it again, I could read you Cyrano in the original French." Her voice took on a tempting, beseeching tone that she hoped might win his acquiescence. If that didn't work, she was willing to cut her rates for him, sure that lessons with Gideon couldn't cost more than what the other tutors she'd looked into were charging.

"If not, no big deal," Sawyer said finally, popping a particularly small shrimp in her mouth. "Just don't expect me to stop you next time you go tilting at windmills, Don Quixote. I don't know the Spanish word for 'stop' anyway." A devilish grin crossed her face as she twirled the pasta around her fork. She had just raised it to her lips when her eyes happened to glance out the windows onto the street, and she realized there had been a change in the weather. "Oh hey, the rain's clearing up. I wonder if there's a rainbow outside?" she mused softly, then looked back towards Gideon with a clear idea in her eyes.

"So...I have a suggestion," she began slowly. "After we finish dinner, what would you say to taking a walk? It's actually pretty warm out, and I love the way everything smells after the rain. Plus I bet the sunset will be really pretty with the clouds clearing up." Sure, I bet Gideon would love to see a sunset. Too bad there's just that one little thing in the way the mean inner voice remarked, making Sawyer blush deep with regret. "Oh, but I'm not trying to screw you out of a session or anything. We can still read afterwards; I did promise you an extended session after all. Or if you don't want to be up late, maybe we just call tonight a freebie? You know, just two people hanging out." Sawyer paused, then decided to add the final clarifier.

"Hanging out as friends. But if you don't want to, that's fine, we can skip it."
 
“I’m ok,” Gideon said, rubbing his palm on the apron. It hurt but it wasn’t enough to mar or blister, he’d had those though in his drive to do more. “Just not being careful enough. I’m good.” He spared Sawyer an encouraging smile as he went back to work, knowing it was hard to ask for help for him. It was something deep inside that made it hard to rely on others. When you give your trust and love to someone thinking they will be there in your weakest moments it causes some issues. It wasn’t right to let it shape his life but he had found it easier to not rely on other’s that would disappointing you in the end, it was too hard to bear.

The food was smelling good and he realized it had been a while since he’d had any decent shrimps or scallops, hoping he did an adequate job. They were temperamental to get them just right but he thought he’d hit the timing well. A bright smile curled his lips as he plated and she said it looked good, glad it was at least visually appealing seeing as he could only go based on taste. His lips parted to say something when she corrected herself and but added he looked great, a blush rising on his cheeks at the mention. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had complemented him and it felt surprisingly good despite feeling like he’d moved past such things. “Well, thank you,” he said, nodding. “On both the food front and the looks front. It’s good to hear every so often.” He brushed a hand over his shirt, feeling the softness of fabric, shaking his head. “No, I relied on the sales clerk that it didn’t look horrible.”

Sitting at the table, a curious look crossed Gideon’s face at the mention of her not getting the job, almost looking crossed at the idea. Shaking his head, he pursed his lips as he tried to gather his thoughts carefully, sliding a hand over the table but pausing at the box. He wanted to reach a hand out to comfort her but realized he’d just be groping in the darkness. “I would blame them,” he started, sighing. “I mean I’ve read your resume and having seen your standards; I can’t imagine them finding a better candidate. I guess I’ll just have to be your cheering section either way. I mean, I surely don’t want to give up any moment of our time but I also want to see the best for you.”

A bright smile pulled at Gideon’s lips hearing Sawyer’s reaction, his face brightening up as he listened. “How could I forget,” he murmured, realizing he remembered a lot of the woman. But there was so much more to know and he found himself strangely wanting to know her more, it was a strange feeling. The idea of opening his life to someone else to have in it, he’d not really been one to go out of his way to want to add more people in. “Cows are good, I’ll have to remember that.” Curiosity piqued on his features as he heard her getting up from her seat, not sure where she was going. And then her arms were on his shoulders and he could feel her chin on the top of his head, a small laugh escaping him. A stray hand reached up to touch her hand where it was on his shoulder, the pads of his fingers brushing along the back of her hand.

And then she was moving again and he lost her for a moment from his senses, not sure where she was going. Suddenly, she was coming back and sitting across from him, something being slid across the table to be under his fingers. Raising an eyebrow, he ran his hand fingers over the strange texture, feeling each bump and grove, getting the vague definition of petals. His face shot up though at offering it to her as it wasn’t what he’d expected with this exchange and his hand fall over it protectively when she asked if it was too girly. “I think I have many other things to worry about than a girly looking book mark,” he started, laughing lightly. “Thank you. I’ll put it to use I’m sure.”

Returning to his food, he was really enjoying the taste of the high-quality olive oil mixed with the garlic and spices. The shrimp and scallops had not cooked too much, the biggest worry, so they were lovely and delicate. He’d just started to chew on a scallop when she asked his question, head raising up to regard her with a curious tilt. His heart fell out at the last bit not having thought of giving her up ever since she’d come into his life, it pulled at him. Licking his lips, he took a deep breath to gather his words. “I don’t want to give you up… give this up,” he corrected, blank eyes blinking rapidly. “But I’m a realist too Sawyer. I can’t see you trudging home to then come over here just to read to me and then run back home, hoping you get enough sleep. I enjoy our time.” Probably a little too much but that was really his problem, he needed to consider her right now. “I just want what’s best for you.”

Chewing on a shrimp, he considered her question about French tutoring, lips glistening with oil as he listened to her. Finally, he swallowed it down, placing the fork down for a moment. “Je serais ravi de vous aider a pratiquer, Sawyer,” he said with a snicker. “I’d be happy to help you practice, though I will warn you I’m a terrible teacher.” He laughed as he thought about the few times, he’d tried to explain go Max the new dictation system and it had not gone well, eventually having one of the assistance help him. “But I’m sure we can come to an equitable arraignment. I guess it depends on how much you want to learn.” A mischievous grin showed on his lips at the small challenge.

He was trying to figure out how closely Spanish was to French in his thoughts as he knew there was some crossover in romantic languages but he didn’t know a lick of Spanish. The mention of the rain stopping, he brought up his head to look at her, chewing on some pasta, slurping the last noodle though his pursed lips. He listened carefully to her as she spoke, a hint of sadness showing in the cast of his face as he glanced away, remembering he’d never share a sunset with anyone again. It was a strange thought but he knew how beautiful and romantic it could be. The silverware screeched against the plate as he speared a shrimp and twirled a bunch of linguine around the fork before raising up to regard her again.

“I know…. I know I can seem a bit cold or off putting sometimes,” Gideon managed, his voice breathy. “It’s complicated. I’m complicated. But I assure you there is nothing I would enjoy more than just spending time with you as a friend, never doubt that.” Lifting his fork, he let it waiver in front of his lips as he considered his next words carefully, “You’re an exquisite woman, Sawyer Thompson, and I’d be happy to go for a walk with you, though…” Hesitation spread across his face as he thought about having to pull out his cane again and bother with being a sight with her. It brought a heat of embarrassment for some reason that he would have to choose to be a sight and be independent or rely on someone which was not his forte.

“Taking a walk with a blind guy isn’t as simple,” he said, head tilting down so he was facing the table. “I would need your guidance. You’d have to stay close and it may be… uncomfortable for you.” He sighed as he turned towards where his bag had sat, considering the cane for a brief moment. “Call me prideful but I’d rather not have to use my cane right now.” The fork wavered and the pasta was threatening to slide off before he quickly slipped it into his mouth.
 
I just want what's best for you.

It was a sweet sentiment that touched Sawyer at her very core. But the idea that spending less time with Gideon would be good for her was absolutely preposterous. Ever since she'd left college she knew she'd been missing someone who could intellectually challenge her, and now here she was ready to start re-learning French, not to mention trying to raise her cooking game to impress him. He was supportive of her too, and seemed to place more faith in her than she probably deserved. Still, it was a nice feeling all the same, to know someone at Gideon's level of brilliance and experience was so firmly in her corner, and the idea of giving him up or even stepping back a little felt like trying to get off of some kind of euphoric drug.

That was probably why Sawyer argued so hotly when Gideon began to turn on himself. "You're not cold or off-putting at all!" she cried out, probably more loudly than was necessary for the small room. She blushed a little, but didn't back down. "And of course you're complicated; we're all complicated. We're fucking human, aren't we? But you've never been anything but a perfect gentleman to me, so unless you're secretly an asshole to everyone else in the world, I refuse to believe you're anything less than kind, smart, funny," She paused, and smiled warmly at him before continuing. "And maybe a little awkward, but in a cute way. So please don't talk shit about my friend, okay?"

She rose to her feet and began to clear away the dishes, but not before pressing a hand firmly on his shoulder to emphasize her point. "As for needing my guidance, of course you can lean on me. I know I don't look it, I mean, feel like it--" No doubt he would be able to tell from their few embraces that she wasn't the most muscular person in the world. "--But I'm stronger than you think. Joyce drags me to the gym with her a couple times a week to spot her and lift weights. I'm terrible at it, of course, but at least I have a good sense of balance. I promise I won't drop you." Or at least if she did, he'd find a pretty soft landing if he ended up on top of her. The idea made her blush furiously and almost drop her empty wineglass, and she needed to take a drink of ice cold water before she dared speak again.

Although she tried to keep her movements and tone casual as she helped clean up the meal, the redhead's heart was beginning to pound sharply in her chest at the idea of actually leaving the house with Gideon. Was it a date? Well no, not exactly, but it was an excuse to have him physically close to her. Maybe that was the subconscious reason she'd thought of walking with him in the first place. It couldn't be considered inappropriate; hell, some people would consider it downright charitable. And besides, the fresh air would probably do more to clear her head than just sitting by him and trying to read, inhaling the scent of his cologne and fighting the urge to run her fingers through his hair.

By the time they'd finished cleaning up the dishes, a fiery sunset was beginning to flood the street outside. Just to be safe though, Sawyer still pulled on her dark blue raincoat and picked up Gideon's umbrella from the stand by the door; not opening it, but informing him she had it just in case. She didn't bother with her purse but did tuck her phone into her coat pocket, and once they were ready to set out she took her friend firmly by the arm. "Well now, look at us. Leaving the house like normal people and everything," she teased, locking the door behind them. "Are the neighbors going to gossip about you taking a walk with a younger woman?"

It was a joke, but once the words had passed her lips a thin little needle of concern pricked at her heart. Would people talk about seeing them together? Well, considering it was late and the street was still pretty much empty, it was unlikely anyone would see them in the first place. Best not to worry about it she decided, focusing instead on just enjoying Gideon's presence and the scent of rain-soaked flowers and trees around them.

"Your neighborhood is gorgeous," Sawyer commented as they wandered down the sidewalks, passing houses of varying levels of stateliness that somehow never seemed quite as pretty to her as Gideon's. "And so quiet too. We've got so many bars and clubs down by me it feels like I never get a moment's peace. Usually it makes me miss home, but I think if I lived around here it wouldn't be so bad." They passed by a yard lined with thick lilac bushes all in bloom. Pausing for a moment, she shut her eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the scent surround and relax her. Satisfied, she continued on. "How long have you lived here, Gideon? Did you move in before or after...you know." If he'd picked the house and neighborhood once he'd already lost his sight, that proved he must really have had some kind of second sight guiding him. And if he'd moved in beforehand, at least that meant he got to enjoy it a little before everything went dark.

Before long, she could see the deep blue line of Lake Michigan at the far end of the street. But she could also hear something too: the sound of music. They were approaching a park, where despite the rain several people were standing in the mud listening to a jam band warbling out their guitars while garishly painted food trucks surrounded them in a circle, like Conestoga wagons fending off attack. If she were alone Sawyer might have been tempted to see what all the commotion was about, but not sure if her companion was interested vehicle-cooked food or bad folk covers, she instead led him slightly to the right towards a deserted beach.

"There's a bench here, want to sit? The sunset's behind us now, but I like to stop and look at the lake sometimes," Sawyer murmured, letting her hand slide down his arm until her fingers twined with his. The band was attempting a Dylan song now, and at this distance they didn't sound half-bad, which in her mind was all the more reason to stay where they were. It was getting too dark to see where the horizon was, but she could see lights of the city reflected where the water met the gray sand below them.

"It's pretty." The words came out as scarcely more than a whisper. She could feel the rest of the thought lingering on her tongue: I wish you could see it. But to speak it aloud seemed at best pointless, and at worst a patronizing cliche. So instead Sawyer only squeezed Gideon's hand in silence as the night settled down before her.
 
Gideon’s eyebrow rose at the sudden outburst from Sawyer though the left side of his lips turned up in a smirk. He wasn’t sure he totally agreed with her assessment but he knew he wasn’t the best judge of himself sometimes, especially when it came to interpersonal matters. Plus, considering her bit of passion at the start he felt like arguing the matter would get him nowhere, so he conceded to her. “Ok,” he replied, with a nod. Though a curious look crossed his face after his words, turning towards her more. “Though cute, really?” He showed a hint of distaste on his face before laughing gently.

Leaning back in the chair for a moment, he rose up carefully and made his way over to the island in the center of the kitchen, leaning against it as he finished his wine. “I was meaning more about how close we’d have to be,” he said, quietly, listening to her move in the room. “But it’s good to know you’ll be there to pick me up if I fall too.” Unless things went very badly, he didn’t think he’d get thrown off that much where he’d end up on the ground. Well, unless her friends came buy thinking her employer was getting overly friendly with her, though he hoped he was safe.

A hint of nervousness showed in the man as he moved to help the best as he could, finding him not knowing where to stand. He’d learned to value his independence and about the only one he ever walked with was his sister in law, and his brother before his passing. Of course, he didn’t count many friends that he’d spend time with like Sawyer so it was a new experience, he supposed. An exercise in trust and care. Which was why he found himself nervous as it had been a while since he’d expanded such a thing to anyone not already in his life before losing his sight, especially anyone he’d found himself caring for like he’d begun to with his reading partner.

The walk to the door put pins and needles along his skin as it felt like static moving over his body with a strange anticipation. Slipping his socked feet into his brown street walker shoes, he moved to take Sawyer’s arm carefully, not bothering with a coat. If he got rained on the umbrella should be enough, not that he minded walking in the rain quite frankly. But stepping out of the house, he felt a little weird as he couldn’t remember having been on his porch with her other than that first day greeting her. Tilting his head at her question, he took it more seriously than she perhaps meant, a smile playing across his lips. “Well, Ms. Bayer next door likes to watch the neighborhood from her bay window I’m told. And she’s quite the gossip. But I think we’ll be safe, and if not, hopefully she embellishes it a bit along the way.”

Warm are caressed him as he started to walk with her as the sound of the city filled his ears. A slight breeze, almost imperceptible on the skin, rustled trees and he could hear what he had to assume was a squirrel running along the branches as they passed one house. Dogs barked and the scent of a fruit pie wafted on the air along with burgers booking on a barbecue in one of the back yards. Car’s honked farther off near the main roads but thankfully it wasn’t too busy on the sideroads they found themselves on. The smell of wet grass and the deeper smell of the lake was a gentle undertone on the air and he’d forgotten how nice it was to simply experience the quiet of a walk, he was usually on a mission if he was out.

Slowly, his companion slowed and he found himself surrounded by the scent of lilac and listening to the breath of her next to him. He wondered at the general shape and feel of her from what little he’d experienced of her, trying to form a vague shadow shape in his mind. Turning towards her, he considered her question for a moment as his mind pulled back for a time frame, licking his lips. “I’ve been here about ten years, maybe a few months less.” He paused as they walked and a hint of embarrassment showed on his cheeks as they warmed. “It will sound strange to speak aloud but when I was a kid my parents lived just up in Evanston and we’d walk down here and I saw the house. And I told my mother I would have that house as it looked like a castle and I would be it’s king. Of course she told me to stop being silly, but I’d see that house a lot before we moved and I swore I’d have it. So, when I could afford to have it, I had my brother keep an eye for it to be listed and it luckily came up for purchase. Silly I know. I never saw what it looked like on the inside, but in my head, it is my castle and I it’s knight and king.”

The distinct smell of the lake and sand grew closer as they moved along and he could guess at the view, having spend time wandering the lakeside in his youth. But still, he felt a bit of a twinge that he could not share the moment exactly with the woman at his side, but he’d learned to accept what he had. Then, the sound of music reached his ear bringing a little smile. It was a little off key and the drummer really needed to work on his tempo but it wasn’t terrible. And the distinct smell of fried food reached his nose, reminding him of the food carts filling the downtown during the work day. If he’d not already eaten he’d be tempted to ask for a visit to indulge in something bad for him.

“Sure,” he quietly said, happy to sit. He reached out with his free hand as she guided him and found the back of the bench, followed it and slowly moved to sit down. Gideon blinked though as he felt her hand move down, assuming she was leaving him be, only to feel her fingers slide in between his. The band was trying their hand at Dylan and it wasn’t too bad, though he wasn’t sure the true fans would think so, but he’d never gotten that deep into the warbler. Though he did quite appreciate his skill with lyrics so still indulged in him. It felt weird to sense the gulf in front of him from the sound, hearing the lapping water and nothing more out in front of him. It was like a little abyss of darkness in a greater dark.

Tilting his head towards Sawyer, he heard her words on her lips, the slight melancholy speaking more as he felt her hand squeeze his, giving a squeeze back as he faced her. There was a time he would have been sad that he couldn’t enjoy the view she was but he’d learned long ago there is no point shouting into the hurricane, it didn’t care. “I was mad for a long time,” he said quietly, turning his face towards the sound of the waves. “That the world had taken away my ability to see the beauty of the world. But I learned something over the years, there is so much more beauty that we can’t see that goes unnoticed by most people. The sound of a perfect G note or the feel of warm silk on the skin. The kind inflection in the voice of a beautiful soul. ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy’.”

Reaching over, he covered her hand that held his with his other so she was wrapped up in him, leaning towards her. “The view may be pretty,” he started, his forehead creasing as he tried to find the right words. “But you’ve guided me to so many great vistas in my head and… you are much prettier than any view. So I feel no sadness that I can’t see the view as long as I can share it with you. I..” The words fall from his lips though as he heard the band move into a David Bowie number that just didn’t suite him and the sound grew louder around them, making him realize his words were getting too bold. “I’m happy just to enjoy the moment with you, Sawyer.”
 
Do not stay anything stupid. Do not put your head on his shoulder. Do not, under any fucking circumstances, Sawyer Nicole Thompson, attempt to kiss him.

The warnings were stark and powerful in her mind, but they felt just barely strong enough to fight off the temptation. For Christ's sake, he called her pretty and was quoting Shakespeare at her even though Gideon didn't even like Shakespeare. How many times had she fantasized about this exact scenario? Granted the guy usually looked a bit more like James Dean and the music playing in the background was usually a lot better, but this was about as close as reality could possibly get. If this were a scene in a romance novel, she absolutely should have said something bumbling-yet-adorable and put her head on his shoulder, and a moment later he would have kissed her, and everything would have been absolutely perfect.

But it wasn't a romance novel.

It was life, and Gideon was her boss. He was older than her, wealthier, more professionally established. He'd lost his sight and his brother, and she was a silly little girl who could offer him, what? Books? Pastries? A companion for dinner? Sure those were great, you could even build friendships off of those. But a friendship like that would be shattered the moment he knew that Sawyer didn't want to be his friend. She didn't want to see him only in his living room or his kitchen. She didn't want his friends and family to look at her and only just see the nice girl who worked for him. She wanted more evenings like this, sitting side by side in absolute fucking silence because his presence alone was enough to assure her that everything was going to be okay. She wanted to be a part of his elegant professional circle, and introduce him to the warm, loving chaos of her own family. She wanted to know what his bedroom looked like, and how it would feel if he was deep inside her and what his back would feel like under her nails.

Sawyer could never tell him any of that though. He was too sweet, and would probably let her down easy, but things wouldn't be the same anymore. She knew his own self-esteem wasn't great, and best case scenario he'd probably think she was taking pity on him and resent her for it. And at worst he would probably think she just wanted him for his gorgeous house and his money, and he'd probably downright hate her. But if she could just keep her damn mouth shut, and keep her hands to herself, maybe they could take more walks together, and maybe she could introduce him to Ash and Joy at some point. Once she got a job she could stop taking his money, and they could just be normal friends with no strings attached. It wasn't ideal of course, but it was better than losing Gideon altogether.

So she just sat beside him, letting the darkness swallow up the lake entirely. When enough time had passed that she felt like she had to say something, a bright spot of pink out of the corner of Sawyer's eye gave her the perfect distraction.

"Oh hey, The Sassy Cow truck is here!" she remarked brightly, rising to her feet. "Their ice cream is amazing, have you ever tried it? Their many shop is down in my neck of the woods, but I've visited their food truck at different festivals and things like that, and it's still just as good. The flavors are kind of weird--I tried a chocolate-chili-tangerine once, that was an experience--but they churn it all fresh every day and it's pretty much the best thing ever." Her face fell for a moment when she realized she'd left her wallet at home, but when she reached into the pocket of her raincoat she was pleased to find a forgotten ten dollar bill crumpled up inside. That had to be a sign. "Come on, let's go get some. Or at least, come escort me while I get some. I'll treat you if you want though!" Sawyer took his arm as gently as she could, but it was clear to tell she was not to be deterred in her aim.

The crowd had grown somewhat with the end of the rain, but the pink truck was the farthest back from the stage and they had little trouble navigating towards it. As they walked, Sawyer couldn't help but observe the nature of the crowd around them. All well-dressed and obviously better-paid than the people in her neighborhood, but the faces were mostly friendly and the ages ranged from young families with children all the way up to an elderly couple dancing together near the stage. Smiling a little, the redhead made sure she held Gideon's arm close as they approached the counter, not wanting to risk the chance of getting separated from him.

"Hi there!" she said cheerfully to the girl working the counter in the truck. "I would love a single cone of...ooh, vanilla lemon hazelnut please!" Something light and bright like that sounded absolutely heavenly after their dinner. "Gideon?" Sawyer asked, turning to let him order if he wanted. Once the treats were obtained, they found an empty picnic table nearby where the music was louder, but if she leaned in close to her boss she could still hear him if he spoke. Leaning on her elbows, she let her tongue circle lazily around the scoop of ice cream, reveling in the perfect blend of sweet, tart, and nutty flavors and letting out a soft moan of pleasure as she swallowed.

"Fuck, that is really, really good," Sawyer said with a giggle. "You want a taste?" It might get a little bit messy, but it seemed such a shame to keep it all to herself. "I should make a cake like this. Or cupcakes. Maybe lemon for the cake, and vanilla hazelnut buttercream? Oh! And maybe inject a little amaretto into it to keep it moist..." Her thoughts were spinning so quickly with working out the recipe and enjoying the ice cream that at first she didn't notice the man chatting to a petite girl with strawberry blond hair next to a truck selling doner kebab. But when she finished off the cone and was busy cleaning her fingers with a napkin, her brown eyes happened to pass over him, and everything around her seemed to go completely still.

He was about her age, tall, with dark hair she was used to seeing slicked back with plenty of product. Sawyer remembered him having flawless sideburns and always pictured him in jeans and t-shirts, hiding his upper-class nature behind a rockabilly facade swathed in cigarette smoke and sailor tattoos. The man nearby though was wearing black slacks and a gray button-down shirt that was perfectly tailored to his rather muscular torso, both of which clashed sharply with the images of anchors, skulls, and snakes on his exposed forearms. She might have called it a coincidence, but his collar was open just a little, and was that...yes. There were cherries tattooed on his neck.

"Shit," the young woman whispered, but before Gideon could ask she recovered quickly. "Um hey, it looks like it's about to start raining again." Actually it was impossible to tell, now that it was completely dark overhead. "We should probably get going if you're done. Ready to head out?" She did her best to hide the note of panic in her voice, but her hand on her arm betrayed her insistence to leave. The last thing Sawyer wanted now was to bump into her ex-husband.
 
The quite lingered between them as Gideon sat on the bench with Sawyer and despite his lack of vision, he could feel a tension in the air, he just wasn’t sure if it was good or bad. Her hand felt good in his as they sat and it prompted the thought of what the rest of her would feel like under his hand. With the dying rays of the sun on his skin and the growing cool of night, he wondered about the tableau of sitting there with him. He imagined this was where he would turn towards her, cupping her face in his hand and lean in to kiss her lips. It would be fluid and graceful, a beautiful sight. Not the bumbling of a blindman who might just as easily poke her in the eye. No, this was where he saw with a friend and shared a nice night with her, the kissing was for a good man, a whole man worthy of her.

It was strange to think how far he’d come that he could be so positive with her here, if only she’d been there in his darkest hours. She’d have seen the real him, as wasn’t it telling of your mettle when you were at your weakest. He’d seen just how weak he could be and it shamed him, it stabbed into his chest like a blade. He’d been no Cyrano when the time came to show if he could stand and be brave.

Her words brought her out of his rumination, feeling a twinge of guilt for letting his mind wander to such darkness with her at his side. “Sassy Cow,” he repeated, curious. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure. They must not have any trucks or shops downtown.” He was pretty sure someone at the office would have brought some around by now if there had been, there were one too many sweet tooth in the office. He found himself being quickly drawn out of his seat following Sawyer along, curious but feeling still off and afloat in his own head.

Following carefully, he tried to follow the guidance, feeling the larger crowd round him, putting himself closer to his guide as he could. Despite himself, a man who smelled of too much aftershave and beer slammed into his shoulder, causing him to falter for a brief moment, but he was able to recover. Thankfully it was a glancing blow though the man didn’t seem to bother saying anything and Gideon let it pass, the world was full of inconsiderate people and he wasn’t in the mood to fight dragons. He continued on behind Sawyer until they finally made it to the truck, feeling her pull him closer.

Gideon’s head floated a as the redhead began to order, breathing in the aroma and trying to understand his surroundings. At her question, he turned towards where he assumed the woman in the truck was, smiling politely. “What do you have,” he asked. His free hand reached up to touch the metal counter that run the ordering window.

“It’s on the board,” she said, pointing to the chalk board hung in the window. It was polite but slightly agitated, giving his companion a sympathetic look stuck with an ass who was too lazy to read.

“And that would be helpful if I could see,” he said, his blank eyes not focusing on anything. The muscles in his jaw twinged for a moment as he took in a deep breath, catching himself. Sometimes he wondered why he didn’t just bother wearing sunglasses so he could look cool and give the universal sign that he was blind. Leaning forward, he sniffed slightly before looking up at her. “Do I smell Cilantro?”

He ended up coming away with a cone of cilantro lime and feeling a little less about the night, hating she’d had to see just what it’s like to deal in a visual world. Carefully moving to the table, he settle down on the bench, placing his elbows on the table. He licked lightly at his ice cream, pausing to purse his lips before giving a pleasurable murmur. It was surprising just how well the cilantro worked with it all, slurping slightly on it as it started to melt and coming away with green lips and tongue. At her offer, he leaned forward to press his lips into the ice cream, letting it roll on his tongue for a moment before swallowing it down. He offered his own cone up towards her if she wanted any, careful to keep it near the table and not hit her with it. Licking his lips, he nodded his head at her ideas, curious how any of it would taste.

“I vote for the cupcakes,” he said, licking at his own ice cream. He was quietly trying to calm his own thoughts and for one brief moment wondered what he was doing here, what was this between them. Was he content just being friends or was it the painfully stupid hope that they could be something more, not having had anyone like Sawyer in his life. He wondered if he was being too selfish and stupid entertaining this all way too much.

His head shot up at her sudden vulgarity, wondering what he was missing, his face turning up to the sky at her mention that it looked like it was going to rain. The moisture coating everything from the prior rain made it hard to really tell, you could feel it about to come sometimes. He was about to answer her question if he was ready when he felt her hand on his arm, nodding. “Sure, I’m done,” he said, the corner of his lips turning down slightly. “Could you toss the rest of this.” Holding out the cone, most of the ice cream was gone except some stuck down in the end of the sugar cone.

Rising up, he moved to take her arm and let her guide him, his hand finding a firm hold as she started to lead them out. They’d only gone a few feet when someone walked into him hard, shoulders slamming into him so he twisted around, losing his grip on Sawyer for a moment.

“Watch where you are going,” came a gruff voice, the Aventus cologne applied a little too heavily.

“I would if I could,” said, giving his head a little Ray Charles head swing. He couldn’t picture what the man’s look was but he heard the slight grunt and sensed him move away, shrugging. There were many things he would endure, bullies were not one of them. Reaching out, he found Sawyers arm again silently pulling himself closer to her.

He was quite for a short while s they walked back home, wanting to say something but not sure what. Something felt off and he wasn’t sure if it was just him or it if was her or both. It was the first time they’d actually gone outside together and it didn’t feel like it had gone well. “The ice cream was good,” he finally managed, nodding to no one. “I’ll have to look up their locations next time I’m craving some ice cream.”

They walked in silence again for a while as he considered a million thoughts, plucked them from his brain and realized they were too wrong for the moment. As they got to his house, he could smell the familiar scents and sounds, smiling as they moved up the steps. “Quand on a pas ce que l’on aime, il faut aimer ce que l’on a,” he said quietly, not offering a translation. He waited for the door to be open, quickly slipping in and removing his shoes, curling his toes into the rug to listen the tendons and release a little of the soreness. “Thank you for the walk,” he said, moving out into the kitchen to grab a bottled water.

Carefully, he sipped at the water as he made his way back to the couch, settling in the middle cushion of the couch. Placing the water bottle on the coffee table, he leaned back, looking towards her general direction. “If you don’t feel like reading, it is your day,” he started, not able to zone in on her mood. “But if you are up to it, perhaps you can sit next to me, we did just chare a bench and a view, this isn’t much different.”
 
They'd almost made a clean escape from the park, but Sawyer felt her heart jump into her throat when the asshole in the golf shirt and phone to his ear careened into her and Gideon near the crosswalk, nearly sending her friend crashing into traffic. "What the fuck, douchebag!" she snapped after him as he raced the flashing DON'T WALK sign to the other side of the street with a fearlessness only money could buy. Thankfully Gideon had no trouble finding her arm again, and she gripped his just as tightly when it was finally safe enough to cross the street. "What is wrong with people?" the redhead muttered, feeling ashamed she hadn't held onto him more tightly.

That wasn't the only thing she was embarrassed about either. Her cheeks burned in remembrance of how useless she'd been at the truck, not once offering to read out the menu for him and being too slow on the uptake to call out the worker for their rudeness. "I'm really sorry about back there," Sawyer murmured to the blind man once they'd left the noise of the lakefront behind them. "You would think we've known each other long enough that I would remember the whole blind thing, but I guess I just keep forgetting. I hope I didn't embarrass you or anything. If there's anything I can do to make it up to you, just name it." She had a feeling 'never leaving the house with him again' would probably be a good option, but it seemed so dreadful to her that she didn't want to mention it aloud.

Actually, up until they'd ventured over to the park, she would have called the whole thing a success. But between Gideon getting called out for his blindness, her getting a glimpse of the Ghost of Husband Past, and selfish pricks happy to throw people in front of a Volvo to get them out of their way, the latter half was definitely a downward slope. Why didn't Chicago have any good sized farm fields, preferably with a creek and some willows in them? Those were always the best places to walk in silence, and she was sure if she could have only gotten him into a setting like that, the night would have been perfect.

Sawyer was quickly jerked out of her fantasy at the sound of muttered French from her companion, but his voice was too soft and she was too out of practice to catch it all. "What was that?" she asked as she opened the door for him, stepping out of her ballet flats and padding across the floor in her stockinged feet. The clock was just beginning to chime 9 o'clock, but Sawyer wasn't overly concerned at the lateness of the hour. Not for herself, at least.

"I don't mind knocking out a chapter or two," the redhead remarked, picking up the book and joining Gideon on the couch. "But I can sleep in tomorrow. The hardworking members of society like you--" She playfully nudged her elbow into his side. "--need their rest if they're going to run the world for the rest of us. So don't be afraid to stop me and kick me out whenever." Pulling her knees up in front of her, Sawyer snuggled back into the corner of the couch, letting her long hair drape over the back as she searched for the daisies pressed between the pages. "Hmm, looks like we'll be finished with this one soon. Any idea what we should do next?"

It really wasn't her intention to stall, but she knew once she started reading that would be the end of their...what would she consider tonight? A date? Well, not really. It wasn't like he asked her to anything. He just made her dinner, and that was mostly to celebrate with her about the interview (oh God, she'd forgotten about that, but when you combined the morning with the evening today really sucked, didn't it?). The walk and everything that ensued after was entirely on her, and it was obvious Gideon hadn't enjoyed it nearly as much as she did. Maybe she just needed to back off; stick to the reading and don't push anything beyond that.

After swallowing hard and trying not to think too much, Sawyer picked the story up where they'd left off, on a trans-continental train ride across America. As far as she could tell her voice didn't betray the storm of emotions within her, but instead kept the smooth and slow pace she always adopted when reading aloud. She was also careful not to look too long at Gideon's face, though she couldn't resist glancing over at him every now and then. Unbidden, the memory of the ice cream on his lip as he sensually licked it off kept popping into her mind, making her blush and shift a little in her seat. When Fogg and Passepartout finally made it Chicago though, she had to admit enough was enough, and a cold shower was in order.

"I think we'd better call it there," she remarked, shutting the book on her lap. A moment later, another idea occurred to her. "Shit! I totally forgot; I had brought strawberries for desert. Is it okay if I leave them here?" Sawyer looked over towards Gideon. "They're in your fridge, next to the orange juice. Maybe you could have some for breakfast? Or I'll whip up a ganache dip next time I'm here and we can have them together. Who knows? Maybe even to celebrate my getting a new job." She tried to inject some hopefulness into her laugh, but it sounded flat on her ears.

She gathered the rest of her belongings silently, but before putting on her shoes she did pause to briefly, and after a moment's hesitation put her arms around her boss, hoping that even if he could feel her breasts crushing against his chest, he couldn't feel the heart pounding beneath. "Thank you again, Gideon. For all of this. I really, really don't deserve a friend as wonderful as you." Sawyer pulled her body away from him, but her hands slid down his arms until they caught his hands, and she gave them both a little squeeze. "But I hope I can make you proud of me. Or at the very least, I'll settle for not totally humiliating you in public. In either case, I'll work on it."

Her hands gripped his a few moments longer, then she let them drop. "I'll lock up behind me. You should get to bed. I'll see you tomorrow?" She hoped the answer was yes, but tried not to sound too desperate. Gideon might need a day or two to unwind from tonight's events, and Sawyer needed to respect that. He would let her know when he wanted her again, and in the meantime she just needed to focus on something else. Maybe brush up on remedial French?

"Well, au revoir, mon patron," Sawyer finished with a smile, shutting the door behind her. Once it was locked she all but ran for the train station, ready to leave the entire night behind her.
 
The muscles in Gideon’s temple twitched as his jaw clenched at her apology, feeling the slow coil of pity in his gut. It was the one thing he’d wanted to avoid going out in public as it was too easy to hit those little things that built up until you could feel it in a person’s words. “Not your fault,” he managed, nodding as they walked. “Not like we go out together all that often. Just what one has to deal with in the world, it’s not built for everyone sadly.” Yes, he thought, you could just let me hold you in my arms and forget about all of this with a kiss on your lips though he didn’t dare say that was how she could make it up. “It’s fine.”

It was rather stupid of him, he knew, to be so worried about it all. So what if she saw just how hard it was to deal with the likes of him at her side, it wasn’t like they were destined for anything more than friends. While he was happy to call her a friend, a part of him wanted to know her as more than that but times like this felt like it put a gulf in between them. Seeing how difficult life can be when you care was what drove his fiancé away and he kept expecting the same for others. Was it too much to want to be a hermit with the one you care for?

“Huh,” Gideon asked, stalling. He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud and a hint of red showed on his cheeks as he turned away from her to head into the house. “It’s an old French proverb. ‘When one doesn’t have the things that one loves, one must love what one has.’” He shrugged as he slipped off his shoes and moved quietly to the couch.

“I’m not sure lawyers qualify for that remark,” he said, smirking, facing her direction. He knew mentioning that he’s not been sleeping all that well would probably not get him anywhere with her, if anything sent to bed early. But he’d learned to work with less sleep than the average over the years and found it kept him energized enough. Plus, he found it hard to want to give up a moment of time with her for even a few more winks of sleep. “I will make it just fine. I mean I can catch a few winks and no one will even notice.” He waggled his eyebrows at the bad blind joke if only to break the strange bit of tension extending between them, feeling it was his own fault for letting the ghost of the past haunt the pleasant walk.

His head quirked to the side as he considered her question and considered their prior works, pursing his lips. “Well, we could throw some Tolstoy on the list and make the nights very long and boring for both of us. Though I feel like perhaps something a bit more… romantic. Elfland’s Daughter leaves a bit to be desired for a decent romance even if it has it’s own charm. Though nothing too bleeding heart, I mean the Cyrano in me would not be able to stomach it.” He smiled at her as his eyelids closed for a moment, feeling it was a bit of an overstep. Perhaps they were better off with something boring before she started to think he was getting strange with her.

Listening intently, his hands fell in his lap as one hand ran along the fingers of the other, remembering the feeling of hers in his. It was a strange phantom warmth left there and he desired to feel more of it, to wondering how it would feel to hold her against him. The boldness of the thought surprised even him but he had to admit he wanted to know so badly lately. Denial is easier when what is being denied wasn’t so close at hand and she was oh too close at hand leaving a strange ache in with that knowledge. But what woman wants a man who can’t look into her eyes and see each other, feel that connection.

Nodding, he couldn’t argue with it being a good time to call it, his own mind starting to wander too much to enjoy the tale as fully as he wished. At the mention of her strawberries, he smirked at another treat left in the fridge. Though her mention of celebrating her job with them did provoke an interesting idea, though he quirked an eyebrow up at the tone she had for it. “I’ll have to get Max to get me a good Champagne for the rack,” he queried. “I hear it goes well with strawberries and celebrating.” He was not sure if was overly improper to be appearing to want to get her tipsy, plying her with alcohol as much as he was, but it was hard not to want to celebrate.

Slowly rising from his seat, he hovered around the end of the couch listening to her quietly, blank eyes looking out. And then, suddenly there were arms around him and his wrapped around hers for a moment, squeezing her tightly for a moment. She felt good in his arms and it provoked thoughts that he had to quickly crush down, letting his arms relax and fall to his side despite wanting to hold her and not let go. A curious look showed on his face as she took his hands up and spoke, head turning a little as he licked his lips and took her words in. His own hands squeezed hers and drew her a little closer as he leaned in, a playfully stern look on his face. “I’m very proud of you,” he said, his voice soft in the quiet room. “And proud to call you my friend. And you could never humiliate me, Sawyer. I very much enjoyed spending the time with you.”

A small sigh moved his chest feeling her hands slip away as he felt himself adrift in the living room. It was a strange feeling as he was used to being alone in here but it felt empty without her in the room, even the prospect of her leaving brought the feeling. “Tomorrow,” he said, nodding. “And bed does sound good.” He absent mindedly reached a hand up to brush his hand over his lower lip, not really wanting the night to end but knowing it had to before they got punch drunk from lack of sleep.

“Bonne nuit et fait de beaux reves.’’ He called after her before heading up the stairs and quickly getting ready for bed, feeling his mind racing in a million directions. A part of him wished he could be brave like she seemed to be but he found she was in his weak spot, personal relationships an open wound since going blind. Thankfully, once his head was on the pillow, the swirling thoughts ebbed away and he found himself fading off into sleep.

-----------------------------------------------------​

The next day was not easy to wake up for the alarm, comfortable and lost in dreams of the feeling of Sawyer in his arms. French press coffee at least helped a little as the car arrived for him and took him into the office, already feeling like he was running behind. The morning calendar was light so he found himself with too much time to let his mind wander as he looked over some citations. He found himself pondering asking the lovely Sawyer on a real date after last night and then finding all too many excuses not too. She’d not seemed to enjoy herself with all of her apologizing and such so he doubted she’d want to be in public with him again anyway.

“Max,” he called out, poking his head into his partner’s office. “When you stop at the store, can you pick up a good champagne for me?”

“It’s 10 o’clock in the morning,” the older man exclaimed. “I mean I’m all for drinking early but this is early even for me.”

“Quit being stupid,” Gideon chided lightly. “I just want it for a possible celebration.” He raised an eyebrow and pointed a finger in the man’s direction, turning his head in mock frustration. “Don’t even try, I can already feel the sexual innuendo about celebrating something.”

Max chuckled as he tapped his fingers on the desk. “You take all the fun out of it,” he said, scribbling a note. “But I’ll grab you something nice. And I won’t even tell you that it better be a date this is being used on. I will say though,” he said, suddenly growing more professional in his voice. “That it is time for your yearly physical for our insurance. And so I don’t have to hear you give excuses, I want you to take a half day later this week and get checked out, the forms filled out.”

“Ok,” Gideon agreed. Still, as soon as he was done, he felt the urge to share with Sawyer, pulling out his phone as he got back to his office. For a moment, he paused if he should be reaching out about something other than scheduling their visits but decided he wanted to just connect no matter what. ‘Bonjour. Got a half day later this week to take care of some things. May experiment with my cooking so you may have to help me eat the remnants.’ Hitting send, he shook off the thought of being anymore personal, knowing she had her own life to live, getting back to work even as his mind wandered to her from time to time.
 
It was supposed to be a good weekend.

Ash and Joy had left Thursday morning to go to a music festival in Tennessee, which meant Sawyer was going to have the whole place to herself until Sunday night. Not that she planned on spending much time there. She'd been thrilled to get Gideon's text about the half day, and had wasted no time in sending him a response.

Awesome! Late Brunch? I make a mean avocado toast! 🥑🥂💛

She was so excited that she didn't even realize until after the message was sent that the emojis probably wouldn't translate in his text-to-speak, but Sawyer refused to let that get her down. Friday was a chance to make up for all of Monday's madness, and she was determined not to screw it up this time. They would have a nice meal, start a new book (they finally finished circumnavigating the world on Thursday night), and maybe, just maybe, she could work up the nerve to invite him over to her place. Not that she had anything unprofessional in mind, at least nothing she would admit to. But friends went over to each other's houses, right? And she and Gideon were friends. Plus it seemed like a happy medium between their usual time at his house and going out in public. And who knew what the next chance would be for Sawyer to have the apartment all to herself?

Of course, she needed to get the place cleaned up first, and that was going to be a half day unto itself. So when she left Gideon's on Thursday night she let him know she wouldn't be by until two or three in the afternoon the following day. By then she figured her own dwelling would be spotless and ready to receive any visitor, even if they were blind. Sawyer took a certain pleasure in cleaning in general, and when her alarm went off early that morning she was genuinely excited to begin the day.

Then she checked her email.

Any other person would have been disappointed at the form email sent over by Duke & Everett, but the language was so impersonal they would probably just have shrugged it off and moved on with their life. But all Sawyer could think beyond the initial "We regret to inform you" was that they knew everything. That fucking Kelci had aired the dirty laundry for all to see, and Samantha and everyone else was probably either disgusted or thought the applicant was a complete joke. Who wanted to bother hiring a walking HR risk anyway?

Sawyer couldn't help it. She started crying. Her phone fell from her hand as she curled back up in bed, sobbing not just in disappointment, but in shame, and rage directed both at the company and herself. Hours seemed to pass until a pang of hunger pierced her stomach, and the young woman finally had to stumble out into the kitchen in search of breakfast. She opened the fridge, meaning to make some eggs, but instead her eyes fell on the orange juice. Fuck it, might as well Sawyer thought, grabbing both it and the half-empty bottle of vodka from the freezer (apparently Ash and Joy were going to attempt to sneak some into the festival in water bottles again). Pouring herself a screwdriver that was inappropriately strong for 8:45 am, she sat down in front of the TV and turned on voices to drown out the memories and regrets.

The apartment never did get cleaned, but the screwdrivers kept coming and the morning shows gave way to trash TV which gave way to infomercials. It was only when her phone went off that Sawyer realized it was quarter to two, she hadn't showered, and she had a very good buzz going on. "Fuck...Gideon!" she cursed to herself, standing up too quickly and immediately toppling forward onto her face. For a moment, she seriously considered just laying there, either until she threw up or died, whichever came first.

How could she face him like this? Drunk as shit and still unemployed, robe open to expose the chest that would probably keep her from ever getting a real job again, eyes swollen with tears if she hadn't given herself a black eye in the fall. What a joke. Gideon would probably be thankful if she stopped hanging around him so much.

You gotta at least tell him you're gonna be late some small, sober part of her scolded. Groaning, Sawyer's hand groped blindly for her phone, and without getting up from the floor she turned her head slightly to stare at it. It took multiple tries to open her lock screen, and while she couldn't be totally sure she might have texted her grandmother before opening up Gideon's name.

Heeeeeeey! Gonn b late. 2 mch cleenin haha.

At least that was what she hoped went through. Sawyer tried not to think on it too much as she stumbled her way down to her bathroom and turned on the shower, pausing only to finally vomit and brush her teeth before stepping into the ice-cold water. That sobered her up slightly, but there was no way she would be able to properly do her makeup or arrange her hair. Instead she put her damp red tresses into a pineapple on top of her head, pulled on an oversized white sweatshirt and black leggings, then hid her eyes behind a pair of large, dark sunglasses. She brushed her teeth three times to hide the smell of the vodka, and while she still felt dizzy and ready to burst into tears, by three she could at least stay upright for fifteen minutes straight. Just to be safe she grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge, then sent another text to Gideon as she scrambled out the door.

Sorry jist getting to the trane. B there soon.

It took a full ten minutes to type all of that out, and when she hit send Sawyer still wasn't totally sure the spelling was just right. She spent the train ride chugging the first bottle of water, and when she stepped off in Gideon's neighborhood she felt almost human again. Still, she was dreading how he would react at her being nearly an hour late. He probably wouldn't get angry, not outwardly at least, but the idea of disappointing him made her want to start drinking all over again.

"I am so, so sorry," she announced as she stepped through his door, slipping off her mismatched ballet flats (how had she grabbed one blue and one silver one?) and looked around for Gideon through her sunglasses, not daring to remove them just yet.
 
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