"Chrissie?" Valentine's voice is tentative but does not hide the concern. Her touch on his shoulder then the side of his face brings him 'round, reminds him where he is. Some of the darkness on the edges of his vision fades when Christopher opens his eyes to find her kneeling beside him in her skirt. He tugs on her hips until she is sitting on the ground between his legs, her back against his chest. In this position he is able to rest his head against the top of hers. Their arms intertwine around Valentine's waist and he holds her close, detesting the tremors he can feel in his limbs even now. Christopher curves around her, letting the warmth of her smaller form anchor him.

"Christopher, it's alright. I understand." Valentine says.

He shakes his head, no you really don't. She tightens her hands on his forearms.

"I do, Chrissie." He shakes his head again. "No, listen to me." Valentine turns around until they are face-to-face, her hands on his biceps. As is always the case, Christopher is impressed with the way she sees right through him. He watches her closely, taking in her lilac blouse and skirt, serious blue eyes and the firm set of her mouth. "I saw what happened in there," Valentine points towards the exit door. "Those old men, they think they're being friendly, but they're not, are they?"

Christopher nods.

"Right. I get it. Either one or the both of them started hounding you about your military service; they just wouldn't back off. I could see it from across the room." She pauses. "You've spent so much time trying to hide all of it from me, Chrissie, but I understand. I know that you feel like you are no hero, and I know how angry you are inside because you survived."

Valentine's expression is intense. Christopher thinks that right here, right now, is probably not the best place for this conversation; but, on the other hand, it all needs to be said. He's pinned to the spot and he's never felt so naked in his entire life.

"I just…" she trails off as a single tear forms in the corner of her eye. He wipes it away with his thumb then lets his hand rest on the side of her face. She takes a breath, "I can't ask you to stop it, Christopher; because you are unable. Coming home, trying to fit back in…I can see that it is difficult. People like that, they don't help much—they are so busy trying to make themselves believe the rubbish they are spouting that they forget about your feelings. In some ways, I think they are a little bit jealous, but unable to properly deal with it. You've got to understand that deep down, they don't mean any harm. Their generation was venerated for enlisting, you know?"

"Yes," is the only word Christopher can force past lips made of stone. He tilts his chin so that he can touch his lips to her forehead. Her closeness is a balm rather than overbearing and he welcomes it.

"Something like this will probably happen again, I am sure of it." Valentine continues, sighing. Her hands are now gripping his shoulders. "You have to stop being afraid to speak up, Chrissie. I know you, my love. If you would just talk, all of this pent-up stuff would be easier to deal with. I don't believe you'd actually hurt anyone, least of all me," she grabs the sides of his head and forces him to look her in the eyes when he tries to turn away. "You are hurting, Christopher. I get it. We all get it. I love you and I'm here. Do you see?"

Christopher closes his eyes again; if he doesn't, he's going to fall so far into the ocean of Valentine's that he's never going to find the surface again. After a few moments' silence, marked only by the backbeat of the music in the dance hall, he finds his words again. "You make me think, Valentine."

She starts to speak and he hushes her softly with a finger on her lips.

"It's a good thing. I've been trapped up here for so long," he taps his head then moves his hand to clasp hers in his lap. "I've forgotten that you are going through this, too."

"Christopher, what do you want?"

Instantly, he realizes that her question is loaded: what does he want out of life, out of them?

Valentine nods, idly chewing her bottom lip and seems to Christopher to be doing her best not to give into the tears that are standing in her eyes. Something inside his chest breaks and warmth suddenly floods his entire being.

"I've never been so transparent." He states quietly. Valentine smiles a little and leans her head against his shoulder. "It's all been so…so muddled for so long that…" He swallows hard, fighting the tears he loathes, but this time there's something different about them, something cleansing. "You're a mirror, Valentine. You've shown me myself. I couldn't ever let another soul.*" He finds that he is sobbing as discreetly as possible into her hair then her neck when she pulls back. This time when she holds him, he lets it all out—everything.

All the anger and guilt and grief, everything pours out once the dam is broken and he decides then and there that he no longer has to hold any of it back, at least with Valentine. Christopher can't take it anymore and palms the back of her neck in order to bring their mouths together. Something brilliant and sparkling erupts behind his eyelids when he thinks how accepting of him that she is and has been, how even with tears streaking down his face and his eyes all red she never shrinks away, always meets him at least halfway and sometimes even further. His heart pounds against his ribs and he kisses her slowly, drawing it out, pulling back enough to run a questing tongue against her bottom lip and when she gasps from the combined feeling of his mouth and his hand on her neck, he dives in, wanting to show her what gifts she has given him in this moment.

"Can I take you home?" Christopher finally breaks away long enough to ask. The look in Valentine's eyes is almost enough to break him again.

"Yes." She whispers against his mouth. In no time at all, they are standing, leaning on one another as they walk towards the parking lot.

ooo

Christopher's leg gives only a small twitch as he leans over Valentine, the fingers on his right hand deftly flicking open the tiny pearl buttons on her blouse. He is balanced over her on his left hand. She smiles up at him and for a second he has to stop and let himself revel in her undiluted radiance. Finally, he opens her shirt and cups her breast around the purple lace bra she is wearing.

"Your hands are so warm, Chrissie." Valentine says, arching into his touch. He quirks a smile as an answer as he leans down to kiss her; his hand behind her back now, unhooking the strap that holds the garment in place. With a clicking sound, it is finally open. He draws first off of one of arms then the other before dropping it over the side of the bed. Christopher mouths around the side of her neck and down her chest, barely tasting her with the tip of his tongue before taking one nipple into his mouth and suckling it, ever so gently.

Valentine hisses between her teeth, arching into his mouth. He suckles harder as the atmosphere around them changes, shifts into something less needy and more comforting; he finds that he can feel her heartbeat in his mouth. She holds him and caresses the skin of his bare back as he closes his eyes and groans against her breast. The arm holding his weight off of her begins to tremble and she pushes down against his shoulders, telling him without words that it's okay. Before he rests, he runs his hand down her belly and pulls her skirt up over her hips in order to take her panties off. Once they are out of the way, he places his palm against her and another groan escapes him at the hot, damp feeling of her folds.

Christopher fingers her carefully, wanting nothing more than to be slow and loving; to stay in the moment for as long as his damnable mind will allow. Valentine bucks into his hand and wraps her legs around his hips. With a firm grip on himself, he rises up and enters her gently then finally stretches out over her, her heels digging into his buttocks as he thrusts.

"Christopher." Valentine whispers into his ear. He nips at her neck as she meets him with every thrust. He moves his head in order to plunder her mouth; she tightens her legs around him, the motion spurring him on until his thrusts become erratic, the formerly drawn out tempo broken because he can feel her hand between them and when she climaxes around him, he loses all sense of rhythm and comes with a force inside her quivering muscles that virtually paralyzes him.

"I love you." Valentine says when he comes down enough to look at her. She kisses him tenderly, holding his face in her hands. This time he does not fight to hide the emotion that he knows must be written all over him.

"I love you, Valentine." He kisses her again, thoroughly, languidly, until they fall asleep wrapped around each other.

ooo

Note: *my own paraphrase of the lines: "You do make one collect one's thoughts. I've been very muddled till today…you analyzed my character. I'd never let another soul…don't you see?" Thank you F.M. Ford for such a poignant explanation of the emotions Christopher is having a difficult time expressing. I'll always feel like the symbolism of Christopher and Valentine having this discussion in front of a roaring fire is appropriate to what is happening between them: they are fanning the flames of desires they cannot yet express, so they choose to talk about the way they feel rather than act upon it, i.e. they acknowledge the beauty of each other in the firelight, but ignore the heat (for the time being.) Fire is considered by many to be a pure element…as is love that is entrenched within souls that belong together.