Chapter 44

A/N: Oh my gosh, is this really it?! Is this really it?!

           Okay, first of all.  I have an epilogue for this story, but I want to know if you guys want to read the epilogue, or if you would rather I just leave it with this last chapter.  Please leave a comment and let me know!

           Thank you to every single person who has read, voted, and commented.  Every single one has meant so much to me.  When I first posted this story, I didn’t have many people reading at all.  I kept writing because I just felt I needed to get this story out of my head.  And then I met some really amazing people through this website, and slowly more people started reading and responding.  It has been amazing and beyond inspirational.  I’m so glad I found this website!  You’ve all be so kind, and thoughtful and helpful through this story.  I’m just so happy that people have enjoyed it.          Thank you also for being so forgiving as far as my shitty grammar, and all the artistic license I have taken in regards to characters, people's names, locations (esp in this next chapter, since I have no real knowledge of London other than google!), and other various continuity errors, plot points, things.

        It’s so bittersweet to end Tom and Emie’s journey!  I’ve had so much fun writing it, and it’s often been the highlight of my day.  Thanks so much for all your support!  I’m going to miss this story so much.  What will I do?! Oh that’s right…get started on my next story, called Crumbs (so look out for it!).  Hopefully I can get Emie and Tom out of my head.

        Thank you for sticking with me through this crazy roller coaster ride.  I know it’s been quite a trip.  You are all so amazing. Much love.

       The flight cost her an arm and a leg, especially considering it was the day before Christmas Eve.  She wasn’t even sure she’d get a spot on the plane, but she waited in stand by and then ended up paying for a first class ticket.  Emie didn’t even care.  She bought a one way ticket on the flight that left at 4 am, not knowing how long she would stay in London.  That answer depended on many things, but it was the least of her worries. 

       She packed in a hurry, throwing a few changes of clothes into a small carryon bag.  She left the house in nearly the middle of the night only a few hours after she’d received the book from Tom.  She was hoping to catch a red eye, direct flight to London.  The flight itself was about ten hours long, and London was eight hours ahead of Los Angeles, which would place her in the city at around 11pm.  If all went well.  She could only hope. 

       From there, she would sort it out.  She didn’t know where she was going to stay, or how she would find Tom, but all she could think of was seeing him.  She had to see him.  She couldn’t feel like this anymore.  She couldn’t fight it.  If he’d have her, she would do anything to make it up to him. 

       Emie settled into her seat, pulling her sweater around her, anxiety welling up inside of her.  She hadn’t really been thinking when she’d left the house, wearing only jeans, a thin tshirt and a knit cardigan.  It was cold in London at the moment.  Winter, Christmas cold.  And she looked like she’d walked off a beach.

       When the plane took off, Emie was too focused on figuring out her plan to really notice. She would have clung to the wing of the plane if it had meant she’d get on this flight.  She had a moment of panic, and then she pushed it hard to the back of her mind.  Nothing was going to keep her from getting to London, so she could either freak out the entire way there, or she could relax and breathe, and fight it.  So that’s what she did.

       During the long flight, she found a hotel near the theater and booked a room for one night.  She sent out emails to Scotty and her sister.  She knew she should have called them, but she didn’t have the energy for those conversations.  Emails were much easier.  She checked and rechecked the theater website, noting when Tom’s show that night started and guessing when it would end.  She figured she’d arrive in London around the time his show was ending. 

       The last thing she did was look at Tom’s twitter.  She didn’t know why, but she did.  After she’d come home from Bora Bora, Scotty had suggested she delete her Eme Leo account.  It had been for the best, since she was being bombarded with mostly rude and vulgar messages.  At the time, it was the last thing she needed.  So, she hadn’t kept track of what Tom was doing.  She brought up his account, noticing he hadn’t been tweeting all that much in the last few months.  There were mostly messages about his new play. 

       But then, there was the last tweet he’d sent out.  It had been from yesterday.  He’d posted one of his Songs of the Day.

       “SoTD: Temper Trap, Love Lost. Keep me in mind/When ur ready/I am here to take u every time.”

       Emie turned off her phone, and knew she was doing the right thing.  She could only hope.

      

****      

       Heathrow was busy.  Even late at night, it was bustling.  She weaved her way through the crowd, desperate to find a cab.  She hadn’t checked any bags, and was glad she could just carry her small bookbag with her. 

       It didn’t take her too long to find a cab, as there were loads of them lined up outside the airport.  The adrenaline she felt residing from the plane landing, to arriving in London finally, kept Emie from feeling absolutely exhausted.  She hadn’t managed to sleep at all on the plane.  She slid into the backseat, throwing her bag in first.  The weather in London was as expected, rather cold and wintery.  She shivered, but was relieved to find the interior of the car to be warm.

       “Hello.” She said, sitting down. 

       “Evening.  Where to, miss?” The cabbie asked, turning slightly.  Emie took a deep breath.

       “The Donmar Warehouse—Earlham Street.” She said.  The words felt strange coming out of her mouth.  It made it real.  It made her plan something that was actually happening.  If you could call it a plan.  She knew the show was ending, and she was hoping she could find Tom at the theater still.  Some part of her wanted to surprise him.  She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.  But it was all she had.  After she’d arrived in London, she’d called his phone, and it had gone straight to voicemail without ringing.  She couldn’t wait.  She didn’t want to lose the courage she felt.  So she was going straight there.  And then she would figure it out.

       “The Donmar?” The cabbie wheezed, and shook his head a bit.

       “What?” Emie asked, leaning forward and frowning.

       “It’s a bit crazy over there right now.  They’ve got a play running with some big names.  You’re a bit late for the show—“ The man looked at the clock display on the front of his cab.  Quarter past 11. 

       “I know.  I’m meeting someone there.  You say it’s crazy? How so?” Emie asked breathlessly, as the cabbie started to drive.

       “A lot of fans and big crowds.  I could barely get through last weekend.” He said.  Emie sat back, feeling a bit deflated.  She hadn’t thought of that.  In her head, the theater would be somewhat desserted after the show.  She’d be able to talk her way inside, or wait for Tom outside and surprise him.  He’d look surprised at first, but then break into one of those gorgeous, wide smiles.  

       Apparently, the fantasy in her head and reality may turn out to be quite different. 

       She leaned back against the seat, quiet for the rest of the ride.  It didn’t take too long, but long enough that her stomach began to slowly tie itself into knots.  All of her plans relied mostly on Tom accepting her, and forgiving her.  What would she do if he rejected her?  Get right back on a plane?  She couldn’t think of that now.

       She could tell they were getting closer, as she could see people lingering around cobblestone streets.  She suddenly wondered if she should have checked into her hotel first, and freshened up.  It was too late now.  She was here.  She couldn’t stop now.  The cab driver weaved through the streets, letting people cross and maneuvering between the theater crowd.  It looked as if the show had just let out.  She could see the large red Donmar sign against a brick building.  Her mouth went dry.  How was she going to do this?  There was a ton of people there.

       “Here we are, Miss, I don’t think I’ll be able to get you much closer to the doors.” He said, stopping his fare.  Emie thanked him and paid quickly using the mounted credit machine on the back of the passenger window.  She grabbed her things, and then stepped shakily out into the cold London night.

      

 ****     

       Her first regret was not dressing warmer.  It was frigid outside, and she was still in jeans and a light cardigan.  She wrapped it tight around her, slung her bag over her shoulder and surveyed the scene.

       Her next regret was not having a better plan. She was standing on the sidewalk, across the street from the Donmar.  Already, there was a large line of people queued up by the doors.  She had an idea of what they were waiting for, but she didn’t want to quite believe it.  Around her, on the sidewalk, people were also waiting.  She squeezed amongst them, realizing with dread that she wasn’t sure what her new plan was going to be.  She stood on the sidewalk, waiting amonst the crowd, her eyes focused on the door to the theater.

       “Do you think he’ll come out?” A voice to her side said.  Emie turned and looked, and saw it was two younger women.  One was shorter with dark, sleek brown hair.  The other was a bit taller with wavy, reddish hair.  They were dressed warmly in winter coats, clutching red and white Donmar Warehouse pamphlets in their hands.

       “I think so.  Look at all the people waiting for him. He’s bound to come out.” The red head said, smiling.  Emie froze, listening to them.

       “He might sneak out the back though.” The brunette sighed. 

       “We should get in line then, so we can try and meet him.” The woman with red hair said, grabbing her friend’s arm.  Emie turned then, before they could walk away.

       “Excuse me, who are you talking about?” She asked, her voice sounding foreign to her.  She was all nerves.  The brunette grinned and let out a tiny, almost inhuman squeal.

       “Tom Hiddleston.  Did you see the show?” She asked, looking confused at Emie.  Emie was definitely not dressed for the theater, nor was she dressed for the cold weather.  Emie crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head.

       “No.”

       “I don’t think he’ll sign anything unless it’s from Coriolanus. And you have to have a ticket.” The red head said, looking apologetic.  Emie nodded, swallowing hard.

       “Thank you.” Emie said softly.  This was beginning to look more and more impossible. 

       The wind gusted slightly, and Emie shivered.  Her heart sank as she looked around, taking in the ever growing crowd around her and across the street.  It was as if they were awaiting a parade.  She had no idea how she was going to do this now.  Large crowds of people in public were not exactly her forte.

       Emie teetered on the edge of the curb, trying to figure out her next move.  Perhaps her plan had been a little too spontaneous.  She was in London, alone, and standing amongst a crowd of a hundred waiting to see Tom.  Brilliant.

      

****

           Only a few minutes passed before everything suddenly started to move in fast forward.  The door to the Donmar opened, and a cheer rang through the crowd.  Emie was pushed slightly forward by the crowd behind her, but she stood her ground, still teetering on the edge of the curb.  There was the narrow cobblestone street between her and the Donmar Warehouse, but she could easily see the door from where she was.  It wasn’t Tom that came out, but what looked like a rather intimidating security guard.  A second later, the door opened again.  This time, it was Tom.  It was absolutely Tom.

       Emie’s breath caught in her throat.  She resisted the urge to run across the street, waving her arms and screaming his name.  She wasn’t sure he’d even hear or see her in this crowd.  He stepped out of the doorway, and paused to address the crowd.  He was dressed nicely in a white dress shirt and a black coat.  He was speaking to the people in front of the Donmar, but Emie couldn’t make out what he was saying. And then he was moving.  He was walking away from the building, away from the line of waiting people, and he was waving.

       He was leaving.

       No.

       Emie panicked.  He couldn’t leave.  He couldn’t just come out and then leave.  She heard a disappointed rumble go through the crowd, but then people were clapping and waving good bye to him as he walked toward a black car that was waiting for him.  He was only a few yards away at this point.  The car was parked almost directly in front of Emie, but across the small street.  She could see his light, wavy hair.  His gentle blue eyes.  His kind face.  Emie felt her heart racing.  She couldn’t just let him go.

       Forgetting she was so close to the curb, and the uneven stone street, Emie took a rushed, panicked, clumsy step forward.

       “TOM!!” Her voice exploded from her chest, as she fell into the street.  She landed hard, on her knees and hands and there was an overall hush of the surrounding chatter, as well as a collective “Ohhhh!” as she hit the ground.  She felt her bag fall unevenly off her shoulder and land a few feet away.

       Emie bit her lip, hard, fighting the urge to run away. It was only fitting that she fell.  It was her go to move, apparently.  She stood up as quickly as she could, and when she managed to pick herself up and look back in the direction where he’d been standing, she was met with a pair of intensely blue eyes.  Like the ocean water on a stormy day.  Tom was standing still, across the street, with his hand still on the car door, just staring at her. 

    Emie knew this was it.  Her heart was racing, and she took a hesitant half step forward, feeling the burn from the scrapes on her hands.

    “Tom.” She said again, finding her voice.  He blinked, as if he couldn’t believe she was standing there, a few feet from him.  Emie took another step forward, and saw the theater security guard walk up and say something into Tom’s ear.  Tom didn’t break eye contact with Emie, but he shook his head and held a hand up to the guard.  The guard walked away, back toward the building.

       “What are you doing here?” He said finally, his brow furrowing.  Emie wasn’t quite sure how to read his voice.  It wasn’t friendly, but it wasn’t angry either.  The crowd around them had quieted, and it seemed everyone was just watching them, watching Tom’s odd reaction to her. 

       “Tom…” She felt her hands shaking.  “I’m so sorry. I…” She pushed forward, past her nerves, past the fact that there were at least a hundred people standing around, watching her.  She felt eyes, and cameras, pointed at both of them.  She felt the flash go off on cameras, taking pictures.  But she couldn’t wait.  She had to do this here, and now, before she lost the nerve.  And before Tom turned his back on her completely.  She was only hoping he hadn’t already.

       “I had to come.  I had to.  I saw your interview. I got the book.  I can’t stop thinking about you.” She watched his face, saw the wary look in his eye.  She could tell he was listening, that she had his full attention.

       “I was an idiot.  I was the worst kind of person.  You gave me so many chances to realize what I was doing.  You gave me the world and I…I was too scared to accept it.  You mean everything to me...you’re the only thing I can think about.  I go to sleep wondering where you are, I wake up wondering why you aren’t next to me.  I dream about you.  I hear you.  I smell you.  I feel you.  I can’t stand the fact that you loved me at one time, and I threw that away.” She was babbling, slightly, but she didn’t care.  Tom still hadn’t moved, as if he’d been frozen in time.  “The time we spent together was so special to me.  I wouldn’t give it up for anything.  And you’ve been too good to me.  It was always the case.  You are too good for me, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness.  I don’t deserve to even be standing here.  But I’m here.  Because I’ve loved you for so very long. I was so scared of who you are, and who I am.  But I’m not anymore.” Emie took a few steps forward, but then she stopped when Tom held up a hand.  His movement froze her.

       “Em, I’ve nearly broken myself in two thinking about this.  About you.” His words were steady, and Emie clung to each one.  “How do I know that at the first sign of trouble, you won’t run again? You promised you wouldn’t run before, and all I saw was your back.” His voice was hard, demanding.

       “I…” She faltered, feeling the biting wind seem to seep into her bones.

       “How do I know that when all these photos show up on the internet tomorrow, you won’t disappear?” Tom’s voice was low as he put a hand out, pointing to the large crowd, all the cameras pointing directly at them.  Emie felt her heart pound, and she took a step forward. 

       “I will travel the world, I will pose for any photograph, I will broadcast my life, if it means I can have you back.” She spoke quickly, holding her scraped up hands out in front of her, offering everything to him.  “And if you don’t want me back, then I…I will have to live knowing that I fucked up.  That I somehow put fame, and celebrity, and all the bullshit that I hate before you, and before us.  That I pushed away the best man I’ve ever known.  But at least I’ve told you.  At least you know now.”

       Tom’s hand dropped from the car door. His mouth opened slightly, but he didn’t say anything.  You could hear a pin drop.  Emie felt a tear roll, slow and hot down her cheek. 

       “Have dinner with me, Tom?” Her voice was small, but strong.  She roughly brushed away her tears.

       Tom lowered his eyes, his jaw clenching slightly.  Emie could barely breathe.  She waited, not taking her eyes from him.  She was desperate for anything.  A movement, a word, anything to give her a clue as to what he was thinking.  She was afraid to blink and see that he wasn’t there anymore.  That he’d walked away.

       “It’s Christmas.” He said finally.  She frowned, not sure what he meant.  Of course she knew it was Christmas, but what did that have to do with anything?

       “Yes.” She swallowed.

       “I’m on my way to my mum’s.” He said, his voice low.  The street was still quiet.  “I’m spending the holidays with my family.  Things are really busy right now.” Tom looked up then, his eyes still giving nothing away. 

       Emie realized what he was saying.  She’d said something similar very recently.  He didn’t have time for her, or this.  There wasn’t space for her in his life.  Not anymore.  That wide, once expanding place he’d made for her had rapidly closed.

       “Okay.” It was all she could think to say.  She felt her heart—her broken, bruised and battered heart quite possibly beat for the last time. 

       “Okay, I understand.” Her voice broke, but she didn’t cry.  Not anymore.  Not on the street.  Whenever and however she managed to get back to her hotel room in this foreign city, then she would cry.  When she was alone.  But not here, in front of the cameras and in front of him.  She clenched her hands into balls, and crossed her arms over her stomach.  She couldn’t feel the cold anymore.  She felt at one with it. She would take one last look at him, and then she would never forgive herself for looking in the first place.

       When Emie looked back up, she saw he was walking toward her, meeting her where she stood in the middle of the street. 

       It had been long enough since she’d seen him in person, that it was almost overwhelming to have him so near.  All those nights.  Those long, lonely nights thinking about him, trying to remember his face, and the way he moved, and nothing coming quite close to the real thing.  And it hadn’t been just the nights.  It had been the days too.  Bright, sunny skies.  Beautiful sunrises.  Windy days, rainy days, they’d all been so empty without him.  And now here he was.  Solid, strong, unyielding in front of her.

       “After Christmas though...” His words were low, and he leaned forward, whispering them in her ear, so only she could hear.  “After Christmas I’m free.  And every day after that, I’m free if you are the one asking.  I have no plans.  And would get dinner with you every day, if you’ll have me.”

       Emie nearly collapsed into his arms, as he closed the gap between them.  They didn’t kiss, they merely hugged, clinging to each other.  She buried her face in his chest, feeling the sob rise from her own.  She breathed in his familiar scent that immediately made her feel like she was home.  Tom wrapped his arms around her, bringing them up, cradling her head.  In his arms, she felt as if the whole universe had conspired and made sure she was in the right place.

       “Thank you, thank you.” She murmured into his neck.  “I love you.  I’m so sorry.” Being able to say the words to him, and have him hold her, Emie felt as if she’d never be the same.  She felt every other worry in the world melt away. 

       “I never stopped loving you, Em.  You have to know that. I told you I would wait.  For however long it took.” He said softly.  She smiled, feeling jubilantly happy.

       “I messed up so badly.” She touched his jaw, and then brushed her fingers over his lips.

       “I knew you’d come around.” He said with a breathless laugh, a look of relief spreading over his face.  She laughed as well, knowing full well that they’d both had their doubts. 

       “Are you really on your way to see your family?” She asked, suddenly a bit aware of the large crowd surrounding them.  Most people were talking and chatting animatedly about what had happened. 

       “I am.  And now, so are you. I have a few days off for Christmas.” He said with a grin.  Emie laughed, and reached up, running her fingers through the hair at the back of his head.  He grinned, and she felt her heart melt.

       “In a few hours, this will be all over the internet.” He whispered, pulling back.  “All the headlines will say ‘Famous author Emie Harris falls for brilliant, dashing actor Tom Hiddleston.’” He said with a laugh.  Emie looked up at him, at his handsome face.  His eyes were glistening, and she reached up, brushing at the corners of his eyes, over the laugh lines that were gently creased.  His smile reached all the way to his eyes.

       “At least it will be the truth.” She said with a smile.  “Let’s really give them something to talk about then.” And with that, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pushed to her tip toes and kissed him.  Tom laughed softly into their kiss, and then wrapped his arms around her waist, dipping her back slightly.  The noise from the crowd was deafening cheers, but the only thing Emie cared about was Tom.  She only saw him, only felt him, could only hear him.  And it was wonderful.