Chapter Text
It had been a few months since the convention. It was a new year; winter had finally run its course and was beginning to ebb into an early spring. When I got back home, I found it hard to continue working at my day job. I was so frustrated with my employment, and the position in my life, that it showed in my performance, and I was let go. I didn’t care really; I hated my job, and I was ready to move on. I moved back in with my parents before the holidays, which was fine, since they were never home. And they were grateful I was back. I could keep an eye on the house for them when they were away, and I enjoyed the quiet. I toyed with going back to school, but I put the kibosh on that idea. I didn’t want to commit to something if I couldn’t follow through. I spent most of my time reading, or on the internet. I made sure I didn’t stay in my jammies for more than two days in a row, and I watered my parent’s plants. I collected my unemployment and casually looked for another job. I knew I was going through a depression, so I took it one day at a time and didn’t berate myself for feeling the way that I did. I saw my parents intermittently, in between their trips, and they worried about me. But I assured them I was quite alright, despite all of my moping around the house.
I never texted him. I thought I would after he got back to London, but I found I couldn’t do it. I had boxed up all of his gifts and goodies that he couldn’t take with him on his flight, but I sent nothing personal of myself along with his parcel. No note of inquiry, no letter thanking him for my tiny gift and the letter he had written to me. I only sent what belonged to him from his adoring fans. I wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to hear from me. Of course all of this was fear and resentment at the situation, but I just didn’t want to interfere in his real life. He said he loved me, in his own way, but many things are said, and not truly meant. Not like I wanted them to. Then again, I told him I loved him and meant every letter and syllable, so who knows what that means. Perhaps he did mean it; I never got an answer. Not even after his package left my house, with my return address emblazoned on the front, there was no acknowledgement of receipt. He never messaged me. I hadn’t expected him to. Again, he was busy living his real life. The five days we had were stolen from reality, and that was it. I wasn’t going to throw my hope into a love story that had already ended.
When Thor 2 was released, I waited until it had been out for a few weeks. I purchased a matinee ticket and went on my own. I sat in the back of the theater and watched as best I could. I didn’t remember much of the plot, but every scene he was in, my throat would get tight, and I pushed away the tears that wanted to come. It was so strange to see him on the big screen when I had seen him in some very compromising positions only a few weeks before. And I didn’t have the fortitude to see Only Lovers Left Alive. I knew that would be a numbing exercise in futility, so I stayed away from it, despite having both of my favorite things; vampires and Tom. But I knew better. I missed what we had for the short time that we had it. I thought it would be too hard to scroll on my Tumblr, seeing all his photos and interviews from the press junket for his movies, but I found it strangely cathartic. Watching him smile and flirt and say the same things over and over again in interviews, it was comforting. Almost. After the first month or so, I had reached a point of accepting that whatever it was we had, was indeed truly over, and I would have to hold on to the memory of what it was, and expect nothing more from him.
The convention season was slowly opening up, and I had heard from a new promoter in Arkansas that wanted me to come to their event and work sometime in late April. It was a multi-genre convention again, and I double checked the guest list. Thankfully, there were a few actors I had worked with before, so no drama. But, I hadn’t worked a show since the one in October with Tom, and my knee jerk reaction was NO - don’t do it. But, I loved what I did, and I couldn’t let one dalliance stop me. And it wasn’t as if I felt that I would fall into a similar situation with someone else; Tom was an anomaly, an absolute fluke. He was definitely the one celebrity on the planet that I should never, ever, have handled, and I felt I had paid my price.
It was a very late chilly evening in early March, and I was enjoying what I knew would be one of the last late night cups of tea I would have. I decided to curl up in bed with the rest of my tea, my netbook, and the remote. After turning on the TV and flipping through the hundreds of channels my parents paid for but never watched, I landed on a movie channel showing the end of an old 90’s romantic comedy for background noise. I fired up my laptop and sipped my tea quietly. It was late, sometime between one or two am, and I automatically did the time conversion in my head. Seven am London time. I wondered if he had risen with the dawn to go for a run. I thought idly if it was as chilly there as it was here, and I admonished myself for the hundredth time in the past few months, yet again catching myself doing this. Dammit. I needed to cut it out, but it was an automatic response within me and it was a hard habit to break.
I arranged a pillow behind my back and slid another pillow onto my legs with my laptop perched on top. I could hear the credits rolling on the movie as I got signed into my Facebook and opened up a tab for Tumblr. I scrolled my Facebook, getting caught up on the handful of friends I had on there. Seems Julie was getting ready to fly out to California to work a convention that her “true love” Edward was appearing at. Bless her, she never gave up. When it was all said and done in the end, if anyone was keeping count, I won and she lost. Thinking about it in such petty terms was really a shame, and seeing that her little defeat in October hadn’t deterred her, I supposed it was a positive thing. She was living the dream, travelling around and doing what she loved. I envied her, but not maliciously. I didn’t have it in me to be malicious about the whole thing. It did no one any good in the end. And did I really win anything? I didn’t have an answer for that.
As I commented on a few photos posted by another friend, I heard the opening clarinet of “Si Tu Vois Ma Mere”, and I went very still. I glanced up slowly and I saw the unmistakable first scenes of “Midnight in Paris”. I closed my eyes and released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Dammit again. This was stupid. I patted my bed, reaching blindly for the remote. I didn’t know if I wanted to turn off the TV, throw the remote, or just keep watching. It wasn’t like he was in the damned movie very much. But he was in it, wasn’t he? I just sat there, unable to turn it off. It was a small piece of him, and I would take it, despite my reservations. I took a deep breath and held onto the remote.
I watched up to the Fitzgerald’s party and then switched off the TV. I couldn’t deal with it any longer, and that was his last scene anyway. I shut off the lamp on my nightstand, shoving my laptop to the other side of my bed, and burrowing deep in my covers and hoped for sleep. Chance Tom sightings had popped up like mushrooms since I had gotten home. They happened mostly on my TV, and after tonight, I decided I wouldn’t turn it on again. All it did was get me into trouble, and do nothing but confuse me. At least with my Tumblr, I had some sense of control over seeing him. But that didn’t mean certain new photos of him didn’t take my breath away, despite how much control I thought I had.
I slept fitfully and dreamed broken, disjointed dreams. Strangely enough, I didn’t dream of him often since returning from the convention, but when I did, they were quite vivid and emotionally disturbing. When I would wake the next morning, I couldn’t remember many details, but I could feel the emotional impact of what I had slept through. And this dream had awakened me in a cold sweat with my heart pounding frantically in my chest. All I could remember was an intense feeling of claustrophobia, like I was under many layers of earth, and I could hear Tom yelling and screaming, trying to find me. It was scary and heartbreaking, and I was glad I was awake. I rolled over to check my phone for the time, nine thirty seven am. I had only been asleep for about six hours and I didn’t feel rested at all. And it looked like I had missed a text. I unlocked my phone and opened it to see who it was from. “Hey kiddo, go check your email. :)” It was from Brian. It was a bit early in the year to be hearing from Brian about his show, so it must have been personal.
I pulled myself out of bed, walking bleary-eyed to my door, bumping into my desk for the thirty seventh time since moving into my old room, making my monitor spring to life and showing my screensaver, which happened to have a slideshow of the photos from October. My desk was almost too long to be against the wall in my old bedroom, but with all of my worldly possessions still packed in boxes and totes stacked along my walls, it was a bit cramped, and I had to remind myself not to run into it if I was in a hurry. I made my way downstairs to start the coffee pot and make some toast, rubbing the muscle of my thigh. Whatever Brian needed from me this early in my morning would have to wait. I had no idea what it could be, frankly. And I was still shaken from the dream that I had had. I prepared my coffee mug with its sugar and creamer, my mind wandering aimlessly to someone else who happened to be in another time zone, most likely enjoying a late afternoon tea in his back garden, or running long fingers through his curly hair as he read a new script at his kitchen table, or something. I shook my head, forcing Tom out of my head, and I poured my coffee, taking it, and my toast, back upstairs to my room. I had done so well keeping him shoved away from my brain over the holidays, and I had even reached a quiet peace within myself about the entire situation, but as spring arrived, along with the convention season, it became harder and harder to keep random thoughts of him at arm’s length. I sat down at my desk, drinking half of my coffee and downing my first piece of toast before I launched my email.
“Hey Becca!
How’s it goin', honey? I hope you had a great New Year’s. Listen, someone you and I both know contacted me about your handler credentials and I wanted to give you a heads up. I sent them your email address, so you should have something coming for you soon. She said she had been considering you for a position, and I wanted you to know that I gave you a glowing review! :) I told her as far as I was concerned; you were the best in the business. ;) I’m so excited for you and I hope you get the job!
Stay in touch! Love you!
Brian”
Well, this was interesting. I had been filling out a few applications here and there for the sake of my unemployment, but a handler position? Maybe it was another convention? I thought back to all the job applications I had filled out, and I couldn’t recall anything for a handler. There wasn’t much call for that where I lived, so I was confused and intrigued. I wasn’t sure how to respond. Should I ask who it was? Would it look like I didn’t know what this was all about? My mind was muzzy and numb, as was the usual these days, and I decided to let it go for a while before responding. Then again, it could be the new convention in Arkansas gathering references or something like that, who knew.
I pittered around, going to my usual websites and looking at the same old things as I sipped at my coffee. As I scrolled Facebook, I choked on my last bite of toast. Tom had posted from his Twitter: “Off on an American adventure!” This little post was accompanied by a fuzzy photo taken from what could only be the view from a seat on an airplane. I felt my heart unwillingly skip a beat. He was coming back to the States. Oh god, where was he off to? I hadn’t seen or heard anything to indicate what in the world he could be doing. And there was no news that mentioned anything that he could be attending that was Marvel or awards related, at least nothing that I had seen. Captain America wasn’t out for a few more weeks, so that couldn’t have been it. The only other thing I could think it could have been was his small role in the new Muppet movie, or perhaps his turn at Capt. Hook, but I just didn’t know. I didn’t stalk him as a rule, just allowing the public news from his posts on Facebook, Twitter, and the occasional magazine article. Which to some may have looked like I was stalking him, but I wasn’t, truly. I tried my best to keep him at bay, despite going to Tumblr and not removing him from my Facebook or Twitter feeds. But I sure as hell didn’t mark his every move like I had before October, before there was an us. And I reminded myself there was no us, there never was an us.
I spun the silver ring on my right thumb, thinking about his new American adventure. We had had quite the little adventure, albeit unplanned, and completely on accident. But it was an adventure to be sure. I didn’t cry much these days; sometimes I thought it hurt too much. I enjoyed a numbing calm, doing my very best to keep everything in perspective, and knowing in my mind that we had had was, in fact, over. Now, I had spent the weeks following the convention doing my fair share of crying, but I felt I was cried out. And I still hurt, and the hurt was deep. But it was so deep that it had just reached an eerie point of detachment, and it made it easier to ignore. Except when he posted something or tweeted anything. Then it would reach up and strangle me all over again. And I would think casually about unfollowing all of his social media sites, but in the end I knew I couldn’t do that. Despite everything, I was still a fan. As I sat at my desk, sipping the remainder of my coffee, I got a new message in my email:
“Becca!
Hello, Stephanie Hale here! I wanted to know if you’d be interested in being my personal handler for a convention that I’m appearing at in the next few weeks? I contacted the promoter of the show we did together in October to get your contact info, and I’d love for you to come hang out with me! The convention I’m going to wants to assign someone to me, but I wanted you, if you can come! I’ve included my mobile number, so please call me if you are interested. Dmitri and I would love to see you again!
Regards,
Steph”
And the plot thickens. Why in the world would Stephanie Hale want me as her handler? True, she had seen me handle Tom at Brian’s show, but this didn’t make any logical sense. Why wouldn’t she want to have just a regular handler from the convention help her? Weird. I didn’t know her very well, and I wasn’t aware she had been paying any attention to me, or what I was doing at Brian’s event. And it wasn’t as if I was handler famous or anything, like Julie. I was curious and suspicious. I grabbed my phone and dialed her number. I had no idea what time zone I was calling, and it didn’t matter. I wanted to know why she wanted me.
Stephanie’s phone only rang twice; I could only assume she must have been expecting my call. “Hello?”
“Stephanie? This is Rebecca Wright, how are you?” I asked, trying not to sound as suspicious as I felt. I watched my desktop photo change from Tom and me at his autograph signing, to us standing in each other’s arms after closing ceremonies, and I spun in my desk chair, putting my back to my monitor. I wasn’t in the mood to see that tender and heartbreaking moment this early in my morning.
Stephanie giggled into the phone and said, “Oh Rebecca! Hi there! Wow, that was quick, I take it you received my email?”
“I did, that’s why I’m calling. Listen, that is really kind of you to think of me coming to help you at your show, but I’ve got to know, is there a reason why you are asking for me in particular? I mean, usually when you go work a show, the convention assigns someone to you, unless, of course, you bring your spouse or your publicist -” I said, unwittingly faltering on the last word. I squeezed my eyes shut, my mind spiraling to images of Luke and Tom, which lead to Tom and me, and I cleared my throat as quietly as possible.
There was a muffled shuffling sound and then the line cleared. “Yes, this is true, but Dmitri and I are invited to a really big show in Nevada, and when the guest relations liaison was telling us that they would assign someone to us, I thought, well, what if I want to bring my own handler? They were completely fine with the idea, so I thought, well, why not Rebecca? You did such a wonderful job with Tom last year, and I’d love to have your help.”
I winced and grit my teeth. Hearing her speak so casually about Tom stung me out of the blue. I didn’t want any memories of that show to come pouring in, and I knew if we chit-chatted about it, then it would open a floodgate that I had been spending months doing my best to dam up. And I would be damned if I was going to let it all crumble into a pile of unnecessary and unwarranted feels.
“Well, goodness, I’m not sure what to say...” And I didn’t. I was still recovering from her bringing up my wonderful treatment of Tom, and a few of my errant memories leapfrogged over my dam.
“Then just say yes, silly! Here are the details. It’s in Vegas at the end of the month. Dmitri and I will be arriving Thursday morning, and will be flying out Sunday morning. We’re both scheduled for things Friday and Saturday, but the convention wants us in early for some private industry event on Thursday night. But the main event doesn’t get started until Friday afternoon. Would you be available to come on Thursday? I’d like to spend some time getting to know you better, if you’d like.”
Las Vegas, last weekend of March...OH MY GOD. “Wait, Stephanie, is this for Galaxycon!?” Galaxycon was the Vegas answer to San Diego Comicon, and it was huge. And by huge, I meant its lowest attendance was no less than one hundred thousand attendees. And it attracted huge industry guests. It would be the largest event I had ever worked; I was glad I was sitting down.
“Why, yes it is, how did you know?” Stephanie asked innocently. I rolled my eyes and tried my best not to smile. Goodness, anyone who couldn’t get to Comicon in the summer made Galaxycon their vacation destination in the spring. Their attendance was growing by leaps and bounds each year, getting major studio support and endorsement after many years as a small fan-run convention.
“Lucky guess. But, I’ll tell you, Vegas is so far away from me; if I drove, I’d have to leave on Wednesday morning or something...” I replied, thinking about the eighteen hour trip and calculating all the gas money I shouldn’t be spending, due to my lack of employment. I had some money in savings, left to me by my grandparents, but I conveniently kept forgetting it existed. I was saving it for god knows what, but I refused to touch that money for anything frivolous.
“Nonsense, Dmitri and I are flying you in. It’s the least we can do on such short notice. And you’ll have a room as well. The convention booked a room for each of us, but I won’t need mine,” Stephanie said with a knowing giggle. I was glad she and Dmitri were still together; they made a cute and striking couple. I had a brief memory flit by in my mind of her riding piggyback on Dmitri and bouncing merrily down the hall of the hotel...and I stopped that line of thinking again quickly. That had been a horrible night with too many emotions and too many memories that I needed to keep sealed away for my own good. “So, anyway. We’ll get you here and you’ll have a place to sleep, will you come?”
I swiveled in my desk chair again, facing my computer screen, casually watching the photos of Tom and myself on my desktop, change from one to the other over the course of our fateful stolen weekend. Dammit, could I work another show? Could I spend time with Steph and Dmitri and not think of Tom? I sighed. I was a professional, and it seemed she needed me. “Of course, how can I say no?” I said.
Stephanie giggled again. “Oh, that’s the best thing I’ve heard today! Thank you so much, Becca. You have no idea how happy you’ve made me. I’ll have Dmitri send your e-ticket info as soon as we ring off.”
“No problem, I’m looking forward to it. And Stephanie? Thank you. I do appreciate it,” I said, and I meant it. It would be good to get out of this house and get back to doing what I loved. I just hoped I could handle it emotionally.
I could hear Stephanie smile on the phone. “Oh no, you are doing me the biggest favor, and don’t thank me until you get here. Speak with you soon!” And with that, Stephanie disconnected the call.
I set my phone on my desk, continuing to watch our photos flip by in their desktop slideshow. The photo from the dance faded into the photo of us at the dinner for the stars, and my heart squeezed. Could I do this again? Could I take a chance on working an event that he...? Oh no. I felt my stomach drop and I immediately launched my browser. I could feel the small hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I googled Galaxycon and waited for the page to load. He couldn’t possibly be going, could he? This wasn’t part of his Great American Adventure, was it? No way, it would have been announced if he was, there was no way I wouldn’t know if he was attending. I clicked on the guest list and held my breath.
I scrolled through the guest page and saw nothing. It was the regular gamut of video game, anime, comic book, and animated feature voice actors, and no mention of Tom. The only thing I did see was a special Marvel preview release event for the Captain America movie, but it was for the video game, and nothing more. I breathed a sigh of relief; my nerves stood down and I relaxed. A tiny part of me was quietly disappointed, but I was cautiously relieved. I would be able to concentrate on my two charges and do the best damned job I could. And I was pleased that this convention didn’t have anything to do with Tom’s new American adventure, whatever the hell that was. My coffee had cooled, so I went back downstairs to fill it up again, shoving my thoughts of Tom back inside his box and taping it shut.