For whatever relief he felt that his kid sister was still among the living, Dominik had still been his usual self since all the commotion surrounding her birthday celebrations.  He'd been hunkering down in his flat a lot, though fixating less on Niobe the more she pulled away and the more time he had to reflect on recent developments in his life, for such was the settling in of routine reality, things were not simple given everything that had been going on; he had not given up his frequent night-time ritual of sitting cross the street from Niobe's flat, but he had also not gotten anywhere with Dolly, who was still playing friends with other men who were well acquainted with the part of her he'd known only once.

He knew now that he could depend on Laney for companionship at least.  That helped, considering that he'd been spending much less of his free time getting beers with the blokes since the team dynamic had changed.  Dominik was coming near to the time when his strange contract with the Falcons would be up for review and, subsequently he felt that everything in his life was 'up for review'.  He just didn't know where it all was going.

It was a relatively new development for him, considering Dolly as a love interest.  Even though Niobe was now fervently casting him off he felt they were in some sort of relationship with each other, something that she had always flatly denied but must have deeply known to be true.  It was hard and abnormal trying to substantiate everything in its own right like this.  Yes, he was in love with Niobe, and yes she was not pure, and yes he felt something raw and true with Dolly, and yes, Dolly hated him as much as she loved him....  He was nearing thirty years of age and for once was truly thinking of children and the having of them.  His quidditch career was quite possibly nearing an end and, what did he have to show for everything - for being let off the hook?

It was thoughts like these and the contradictions inherent in them that kept Dominik sequestered from the world throughout much of April and what had passed of May.  It wasn't quite that he was spending all his time in his flat or drawing terribly much... actually he hadn't picked up his charcoals in several weeks.  He mostly just existed -- here and then there -- doing things but hardly doing them.  Was he thinking things through or was he simply waiting for the days to end?  Dominik could scarcely tell himself.  He had the notion that Dolly was somewhere along the line changing him.  He didn't know what to do other than get her out for coffee, try to have a civil conversation in a safely public place where they might be less inclined to cause a dramatic scene, something that they were marvellously talented at having happen.

Somehow or other he'd gotten her to agree to go with him to Calaveras for dinner; they'd needed to talk and they also just generally needed to sit down and do something normal together.  Such was Dominik's thought on the matter, that maybe if they just went to enjoy each others' company, the craziness would ebb away with nothing but the simple task of sharing a meal to distract them from the simple pleasure of being.  And even if everything was irreparably ruined, the fact remained that they were friends and always would be close; it was the kind of bond that family kept and it couldn't be gotten rid of. 

Dominik awaited her at a small, round table that was positioned to give them a good deal of privacy.  He was well dressed for the occasion with form-fitting, embroidered black robes but he was reclining in his chair in a nonchalant pose with his hand up to his face, pensively staring off as he listened to the music.

Polyvore

Dolly was not... pleased to be meeting him. She was even less pleased that he had suggested Calavera's. She could not believe he was really that devoid of human emotion, that stuck in his own mind that he thought bringing her back to the place she had nearly died would somehow rekindle some sort of fond feelings for him... and yet there she was standing outside the place that had once felt like home and now haunted her nightmares. She had to talk herself into going inside. It was tempting...given everything he had ever put her through to just leave him sitting there until the moment it clicked over into his head the place he had tried to bring her back to. Of course the problem with that plan was assuming Dominik would ever, really, understand what she had lived through that night.

Aside from the evenings she spent with Dazmond or traveling to Hogwarts to see Tappy... Dolly lived sequestered from the universe. She even made Darian come to her, of course that was because she had anticipated a fight... not, in fact, Christening her new carpet. The lap light pooled around her as she tried desperately to convince herself this was alright. She was strong enough to walk through those doors. She didn't feel strong, she felt like a murderer returning to the scene of the crime. She felt as though she were standing on the precipice of utter stupidity... and she was just going to go ahead and fall over that ledge for Dominik. It made her stick to her stomach. Why did she always do this with him? What did she owe him?

She thought of her conversation with Tappy, of what made her feel so stupid... she thought of the light she felt in Dominik. She had started to believe it was all a lie. He wanted what he couldn't have and now he wanted her because he was in danger of her leaving. Did he finally realize when she gave up on him this time it would be for good? She was tired of being the other woman - he was the only man alive she took that from. Whatever the papers wrote; she didn't wreck relationships with her sexuality. She had never come between he and one of his conquests. They all just left him because he had never learned that obsession did not equate love. It was perhaps hypocritical of her to think that - there were those who would, in fact had argued that she was obsessed with him. Salazar's knickers she'd written an entire series of books about it.

The difference was, at least in her mind, she did not create for him some other persona. She did not idealize him, the real him. She accepted his flaws - crazy though they made her. That was what she was standing there. That notion of knowing him is what kept her coming back. He needed her; he would always need her. The dilemma that faced her now was the fact she didn't need him to need her anymore. She wanted more than to be needed. She wanted someone to share her life with; someone to see her - every single broken piece of her and be able to say they loved her. She did not believe Dominik could ever let go of his Ivory Tower unblemished Dolores. He blinded himself to the very core of who she was...because who she was was someone completely set on ruining the best parts of herself. She didn't know anymore if she did it to punish him for never seeing her or herself for wanting him to so desperately.

Whatever the answer she wouldn't find it on the street, so with a determined nod she passed through the door of Calavera's. She steeled her nerves as she remembered the last time she had walked through the doors with Tabitha. It smelled exactly the same... and she could feel the bile rise up in the back of her throat. Swallowing it down she allowed Jessica to lead her toward Dominik's table. She wondered if he'd brought Niobe here - then quickly made herself forget the notion, "Whiskey, Jess, you know the brand I like," she gave the hostess a slight squeeze to the fingers before she seated herself across from the hulking Quidditch star. She did not let herself notice that he cleaned up nicely. "I suppose you think I'm less likely to throw hexes or vases at you if you drug me out in public," she arched a questioning eyebrow at him as she delicately crossed her legs and letting her folded digits rest atop the table, "Next time maybe try some place I haven't nearly died".

Dominik's eyes slid easily over to Dolly from their glazed staring into space and he blinked, seemingly coming to.  He straightened up slightly, for a moment hovering as though he had hoped to get up and hug her or something.  Instead he settled back into his seat as she immediately sat, not even offering a hello before pointing out the less pleasant underpinnings to the situation.  Well it was expected -- Dominik was not good at this sort of thing and of course he would take her to the place where she had nearly died without so much as thinking it over.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I wasn't thinking."  He didn't jump to correct the problem or sound eager in his voice, only calm and honest, for whatever that was worth.  He looked across the table at her for an extended moment; it was relatively dark but her blue eyes were dancing in the light of the candles and she looked astonishingly beautiful.  She also looked mad, but there was also nothing very new about that.  Dominik had resigned himself to the fact that he would always be deserving of her resentment; he had never been what she wanted him to be and he never got anything right when he tried.  He was a horrible date, but she'd come, hadn't she.  And she was already talking about using his thick skull for target practice.  It was sort of romantic.

Dominik gave an easy shrug of his shoulder.  "I have to admit, if I can avoid an explosive evening I won't be disappointed for the lack of flare.  I just really want a nice night with you.  Are you going to be alright here?"

Normally she'd have covered the truth up with an excellent lie. She'd have assured him it was perfect to make him feel better. She didn't want to make him feel better. She didn't want to make him feel like a worthless idiot but...well it had been wholly inconsiderate. Now that he knew that she felt a little less like driving home what a complete waste of space he was. At least he admitted he hadn't been thinking; maybe he was really ready to be honest with her about things. She found it hard to believe, and she really did try to mentally stomp out that glimmer of hope - but it just wouldn't die. "I haven't had any out of body experiences or flashbacks so I probably won't try to drive a silver stake through your heart". She was not, actually, being funny.

Since the Ides she had developed a vicious streak- a vicious streak that went far deeper than just cruel words and putting people in their proper place. Lexus Dale did not know the true depth of how close she came to losing her life on the floor of the Black Chimaera. What the party had passed off as drunken bitchery could have ended in actual bloodshed if the other creature (Dolly refused to call her a woman or a witch, she was neither) had pushed any further. Violence was a never ending thought cycle, desired reaction in the dark haired witch. She wanted to punish people. It was hard to rectify that sense of self with the image that she had always put forth.

As she toyed with the ring on her middle finger she became acutely aware of the way Dominik looked at her. She said nothing but returned a steady gaze with a slender eyebrow arched. What did he want from her? Was she supposed to trip over herself and gush at him for finally wanting to see her? When she could take the silence no more she exhaled a long breath, offering a grateful glance as the waitress returned with her drink, "How are contract negotiations going?  Rumor has it you're tired of breaking people's faces for a living," there was a trace amount of amusement to her voice as she ran her finger around the lip of the shot glass. Instinct told her to get miserably drunk, so much so that she might puke all over his nice robes - but maybe he was testing her to see if she even knew how to be civilized. She certainly didn't have to worry about him dragging her into another closet for a snog from where they were now.

So she'd be okay enough to not stab him through the heart with some silver cutlery.  The nightmarish quality of what she had said struck him and for a moment he regarded her with a flash of caution.  Looking at her he knew that she hadn't had it easy lately; aside from her frustrations with him -- which did run deep and rage chaotic -- she had also spent time in the hospital, lost a close friend, and was witness to his sister's abduction (by one of the Wizarding World's most notorious and legendary criminal overlords, at that).  Not to mention Dazmond's show-and-tell session which culminated in her near-fatal poisoning previous to the appearance of Kronos Malvivicus. 

He really wondered how she was holding up with it all, and the more he thought about it the more he regretted his terrible choice of venue.  It was interesting though, for them to be in a place that housed horrible memories and hope that it could bear some resemblance to normality again; wasn't that what he was hoping would happen with their relationship as well as with his entire life? 

It was a tall order.

Dominik made a strange grunt when Dolly asked about the contract negotiations and leaned back in his seat.  After a moment of silence he said, "I rather doubt I'll be renewed, some of the shit I've pulled but, I don't know -- haven't gotten any offers yet.  Might be time to put up the old bat.  Make some money... settle down...."  Dominik sighed and sat up again.  "What about you, Dolly?  Have another book in the works?"  He wondered what sort of new characters were polluting her future story-lines now.  For the first time ever, he was finally convinced that Devlin's true identity was... well, himself.  And the more he thought about that, the more he didn't want it to change.

The waitress returned with their menus and Dominik asked for a glass and a bottle of red wine. 

She watched him carefully; acutely aware of the polite dance steps to follow in this conversation. She had never had to do that with him before. Whatever else they lacked conversation skills had never been one of them. It was a combination of sheer exhaustion and emotional hesitation that kept her from spilling forth; happily preening in the hopes he would see her. She didn't have it in her anymore. She couldn't let her hopes get so high that she'd fall and break another pieces of her heart when he slunk off to obsess over Niobe. She couldn't stop replaying the conversation with Tappy only nights before over and over again. What did she owe any of them? She had decided she owed Dominik the least of all; but she also felt like she didn't owe anyone else much of anything either anymore.

Still, when he spoke she found herself peering at him curiously, "Is that what you want? To hang up the bat and try to convince Niobe to marry you, really"? And there it was again, it wasn't as hateful as usual - her voice didn't drip with the venom it formerly had whenever she said the woman's name. She hated that he acted like she didn't know, that she wasn't completely aware of his obsession despite the fact he thought he could just up and kiss her whenever he wanted. It was annoying. Downing the shot in front of her, she rolled the glass between her fingers and shook her head,"If you want to keep playing then play like you want to... if you don't then figure out what it is that will make you a less miserable human being". She meant it, and not in the 'you're a miserable excuse for a man', but rather in the sense he should follow his bliss.

Graciously the waitress arrived with menus to delay her answer about the book. She hadn't been working on it, actually. She didn't want to face the story. She didn't know how it ended. Realistically she couldn't suddenly create a new love interest for Odette. Thinking of Rhys always made her miss Elliot. She missed laying in bed arguing over edits and spelling changes. She missed the way he'd read reviews to her - even the really awful ones sounded hilarious in his brogue. It made the underside of her heart hurt. When she lifted her eyes from the text blurred before momentarily weepy eyes she tried to swallow it all back. She'd drown in the guilt if she let herself. There was so much she'd done wrong, so many people she'd hurt because she couldn't walk away from Dominik.

"They have me on the hook for one more novel. So I suppose I'll have to pull something together eventually," she gave a small shrug of her left shoulder. The open ended silence hung between them as she  forced her blue eyes back down to focus, "If Nate's working tonight I have a feeling my food my end up with extra ingredients". It was a sorry stab at humor but at least she was trying. she hated the strained air between them but she sure as hell wasn't going to bring up the elephant in the room. She wasn't going to make it easy for him to waltz in and out of her life anymore. He needed to know there was damage that had been done to her on a near cellular level. The pin pricks of abandonment went clear down to the bone, down to the soul. "Honestly I don't know what to write about anymore. It seems most fitting that after so many years of being a fool Odette end up alone - I should have ended with the last book...but everyone wants the fairytale ending".

When she said 'Niobe' and something about marriage, Dominik was actually startled.  Had he thought of that?  All the time.  Was that what he had meant when he said what he said?  Not really.  The long and the short of it was that he didn't anticipate a pleasant response if he were to propose marriage to Niobe Thursby.  That was putting it very lightly.  But what had he meant, then?  Dom had said settle down like he had something to settle down into, but in reality his future was as vague as a Hufflepuff's remembrall.  Whatever was happening with his life, he knew enough to know that talking to Dolly about Niobe led to nowhere good, and fast.

Dominik was caught off guard rather completely by the conflict, and his expression made that fact perfectly clear....  He made for an uncomfortable, "Well --" but was mercifully cut short by her next statement about how he should do whatever would make him less of a miserable human being.  It was a curious enough addition to the conversation that his pondering of it allowed him to forget the embarrassment that he was previously feeling.  Did he even have a bliss of his own?  He could think of nothing other than raising a son, and even that was only because he'd been romanced into the notion by his parents for his entire life.  He was smart enough to know that it wasn't an original thought of his own, no matter how deeply he desired to be a father.

But, Quidditch had been like that for him once... it'd just been so polluted by everything else that it held little of its original joy.  When he was a boy he played Quidditch because it was fun and he loved to play hard.  As a man he played Quidditch both because he had to and because it was an outlet for his aggression and frustration, but he could never get over the fact that he was, in a sense, being rewarded with a Quidditch career for betraying the school that had got him started in the first place.  It was something that he could never reconcile.  When his father had sat him down at age seventeen, proclaiming his new-found manhood and really displaying his love and pride in him, had been one of the most important days of his life.  It was paired with the resolution that he had a duty to his family and to all of their associates... to fight for their future.... 

It hadn't figured out that way, of course.  Their future was not what everyone had imagined it would be, and the Dark Lord had been vanquished by a boy younger than himself.  As a young man he had felt that his life was in ruins - his loyalty and pride had produced nothing but public shame.  Dominik did what he only could, and went along with the drawn out negotiations that landed him his ten-year contract with the Falmouth Falcons.  Such a scandal of privilege and high tinkering as their little world had ever seen.  He had been an insufferable brat the whole time of it, too, which was why Dolly resented him and also why Niobe would never let herself be in love with him fully.  He had promise, maybe, but his ghosts dragged him down time and again, reducing him to an animal unleashing his frustrations on the world.

Saying he was just going to put up the bat and settle down was easy, but the reality behind the words was ridiculously vague.  He wouldn't know how to climb out of his hole if he had a broom and a ladder and a freaking flying carpet. 

He looked over the Calaveras menu as Dolly started talking about her books, methodically casual.  But he was listening with his ears perked for any clues mixed in with her explanation:  What did their future hold?  She settled for a vague yes at first and then mentioned Nate and the bad blood between them in passing - to which Dominik looked up and, after a moment, sort of laughed.  He was actually relating to his mutt brother-in-law a lot lately; he knew, after all, what it was like to be free while your mates faced Azkaban, the subsequent strain and evil eyes cast upon you till you bore the title of Knockturn's biotch.  He'd never had a brother other than Nate, and the sucker did love his sister, he could see.  And, pleasantly, the little jibe seemed to hold a flicker of twinkle in Dolly's eyes.

Then, she presented him with a little gift by saying something about the book.  Dominik levelled his gaze on her, secretly reading her expression for any signs as he took in her words, knowing full well that they were now metaphorically discussing her own love life and her own immediate future.  What a task to have to write the end to your own story when you weren't even sure where it was going.  But if it was given the fairytale ending then that would have meant that Odette would be with Devlin.  Dominik closed his menu and leaned back, then leaned forward.  He suddenly felt... awkward, and he fiddled with his napkin.

"Well, it must be tough to finish," he said.  "Though I can hardly tell - would the fairytale ending be with Rhys or with... Devlin?"

He seemed to stumble all over himself. He hadn't meant Niobe when he said he wanted to settle down. It was a confused sort of feeling that formed in her stomach. If he wasn't talking about the reporter who could he possibly be thinking about? The old part of her wanted to know, needed to know... and yet her present self, the one who had lived through so much, lost so much... didn't. She didn't want to think of having someone new to hate, to feel inferior to. She was tired of the childish jealousy. It was exhausting hating women who happened to make the same mistake she had; falling in love with someone who couldn't love themselves let alone another living breathing person. Dominik could barely keep house plants alive - how in Merlin's name did he think he could offer the tender love needed to foster a healthy happy marriage?

Dolly had wanted to believe that goodness was in him, deep deep deep down, but she had begun to wonder. Her eyes were unflinchingly open to how selfish with her he was. He might not have done it with purpose; but he had held the promise of himself out in front of her for years upon years. A part of her wished she could have been a casual observer in the hospital after her accident. She wanted to see what Tappy had said was there - because she certainly hadn't felt it. She didn't feel it now; she didn't feel she had more value to Dominik than any other ego stroking Quidditch groupie. He used her up and set her aside when something new and shiny came along - and she let him; that was the part that made her sick to her stomach. She had spent years sitting there waiting for him to want her again. She had thrown away a good man, a man that loved her regardless.

Her mind jumped then to all the things Tappy had said, the reasons he had left her and not written. They were so awful for each other; she knew inherently she would just keep hurting men because none of them were Dominik. She didn't want to, she really had wanted to marry Elliot, she really did care about Tappy. How did one rectify all of that with a childhood sweetheart that would swallow her whole if she let him? He could lure her back in so easily with his wounded eyes and cries of missing her. It made her feel weak and it made her feel stupid; two things she tried to pride herself on never being. Yet there she sat looking at him; not forty feet from where she had nearly died. In side of her this terrible pain began to build, the unbearable weight of being alive in the face of Tabitha's being dead. She could feel her chest closing up and she wanted to cry. She wanted to sit there and fall apart and scream at the world for all the ways in which it had failed to prepare her for this moment.

However, rather than falling apart she smiled graciously as the waitress brought over a bottle of wine (sent from a fan, of course). Across the room sat a man and his wife (Dolly assumed anyway) who waved and then looked rather bashful. She raised her fingers in a small wave, taking the time to count backwards before downing half a glass of the expensive red. It was no real wonder she was a drinker; anything to avoid the reality of what was sitting right across from her. She was tired of being his second choice. She was just filling up her second glass when his question plopped itself right down in front of her. He had never admitted to reading the books. He never really asked her questions about her work, really most often he treated her like she was spoiled for getting irritated with her publisher. So, to say the question caught her off guard would be a vast understatement. She wasn't even quite sure she knew how to answer anymore.

"Well, originally, it was always supposed to be Devlin. He was supposed to wake up and realize that he'd been chasing false prophets in all the scandalous women he went after and that what he'd really needed all along was right in front of him," she spoke openly without a trace of awkwardness or irony - knowing that by now he had sussed out who he was in the story. "Unfortunately Devlin is an idiot... and Odette isn't much brighter. Here she had this amazing man who loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her - and she let it fall all to pieces because she couldn't let go of Dev. When he needed her she went to him and Rhys couldn't take anymore," she gave a vague shrug and looked contemplatively into her wineglass. It was really a puzzle now, how to end the books; "The fans are split of course, about who she should end up with but I'm of the mind she's not good enough for Rhys and Devlin isn't really good enough for her. I don't know how to some how redeem either of them; to make him worthy of the heart Odette so foolishly gave to him before she knew he'd mistreat it so horridly, or to make her someone who deserves the devotion Rhys offered on a silver platter".

The truth was, surprisingly,  easier to speak in code.

Dominik tried very hard not to show signs of unease as what had been teeming behind their friendship for the past ten years came forward, disguised as it was in the form of a fictional plot that was supposed to have nothing to do with either of them, a plot that he had never previously admitted to knowing, let alone admitted to knowing by heart.  But as she so calmly spoke he couldn't break his gaze away from her.  They were talking about them and there was no mistaking it now as she spoke about Devlin and Odette:  It was always supposed to be him.  Dolly had been right in front of him, Dom, as in I, me, mine.  After all of this time she had - at least until recently - been hoping he would come around.  And... he wasn't good enough for her.  It stirred him to hear her say that, because she was right.

But she was wrong about one thing, he thought.  She had never been second choice in Dominik's mind.  If he was honest with himself he had to admit that since they were very young he had loved her.  She was his best friend.  Beyond that, he had never not been attracted to her.  He pulled away sexually, he saw and fell in love with other women - not many, but not a few - and he did not allow himself until very recently to act on or to even think about Dolores like that.  Not because he didn't feel excited every time she was near him.  Not because he thought other women were better than her.  He held her at arms' length because he thought that to have Dolores would be to break Dolores:  She thought he had made her into some porcelain doll in an ivory tower; he thought the world would crumble and everything would die if he let himself be so lucky as to have her.  She was Dolores.   

Still she had always been his closest and dearest friend.  He couldn't possibly count the number of times that she had cradled his head while he sobbed.  Maybe he had been selfish....  Maybe he had been right all along that he was bad news for Dolly.  He couldn't let her go, because he felt what she felt, and he always had:  She knew him like no one else did - she knew what he had lost and treated him as if he still had it.  She was a gem, and he was terrified of letting go of his guilt, of his shame, of his own self-loathing that he had somewhere along the line come to embody.  He believed with everything in him that he was incapable of change.  It was only when things started changing drastically around him that he had started to wake up a little bit, soon enough to know what he'd been missing, yet too late to claim her heart.  He didn't deserve it.

Dominik poured a slow glass of wine, having finally looked away from Dolly.  He poured, and there was a moment of silence.  As he set the bottle down he looked at her again, sombre and sensitive. 

"Devlin would be an idiot if he hadn't always been vastly in love with her," said Dom.  "Maybe he's never let himself have what would make him - whole.  I mean he might just be afraid of restoring something in himself that - well.  Why try to trifle with it - you're really rather an excellent writer.  You can have your choice of any Wizard.  However it works out, it'll be okay."  The way he spoke was gentle and ambivalent - was he talking about writing the book now or was he talking about Dolly and their romantic conundrum?  He gave no indication either way, but kept it light and tapped his menu as a means of distraction.  "We better have a look, then," he said, catching her eye.  He couldn't hope that they would ever be together, but he could certainly hope that they'd at least be best friends as they always had.  It was really the least he could expect from her, that she wouldn't reject him entirely.

"What do you think, lobster tail?  We could get the crab cakes as a starter, or... anything you want; it's my treat."

All Dolly could do was stare. Actually she was quite amazed (distantly in the back of her mind) that her mouth did not fill with flies because it was literally hanging open. Were they really just having this conversations, in public, without screaming at one another? Had he just admitted to always loving her? She suddenly felt shaky, fingers trembling as she gripped the menu more tightly. He didn't get to say things like that! He didn't get to drop that bomb on her life and then ask about lobster tail! Four months ago this revelation would have validated every impulse, every inkling that had told her to hang on, to wait it out, to just give him time. Now he wanted her? After more than a decade of devotion, after countless broken hearts, after the self doubt and selling herself short - now when she was ready to love herself more than she was willing to hang on to him he told her he loved her?

He deserved a face full of wine and her storming out. He deserved for her to hate him. He deserved a million horrible things to strike him all at once - but all Dolly could do was stare at him numbly. It was his ambivileance that caused the ache in her chest. In her head she saw him having this conversation with the others - the desperation he would have felt, the way he would have begged when he felt them slipping through his fingers. She knew how hard he had fought for women who were meaningless - and yet someone he professed to have loved from the start he'd let slip through his fingers a million times. Carefully setting the menu down she finally cleared her throat, "I..." what was she going to say? She couldn't put any of it into words. She couldn't breathe, the air that had formerly brought vibrancy to her veins, now left her gasping for breath like a fish stranded on the shore. Letting out a shaky breath she grabbed her purse, "the loo. I just, I'll be back".

She stood and then quickly walked away, not giving him a chance to catch her arm. By the time she made it to the bathroom she was sure her legs were going to give out. Seating herself at the plush vanity, gilded mirror reflecting her pale features back on three sides it took her several minutes to catch her breath. She fumbled helplessly with the clasp of her clutch before finally giving it up and slamming it against the counter and cursing under her breath. She wanted to cry - and she hated herself for it. It felt like a million years ago; a planet and a lifetime away from the person who could pretend she didn't care. Her mind picked over every single morsel, every ounce of new information. She hated herself for allowing him to be so important to her, for her - she hated him for finally telling her some perverse version of what she'd always wanted to hear. She didn't want to hear he now. She didn't want the pain and uncertainty that came with it.

As she touched up her make up (having calmed her nerves and thus her fingers enough to open the clasp of her bag) she thought of just walking out. She thought of finding Alastar. She thought of going to Tappy. She thought of Darian, just popping 'round to his shop. She thought of leaving Dominik waiting for her until the candles melted away and he realized that he had finally lost his grip on her. The problem with any of these plans was that... she knew it wouldn't make her happy. She could be right or she could be happy. It was a choice. She could hold on to the towering inferno of her indignation of she could stop keeping score. In the end none of them would fill the gaping hole in her heart. She could hate him, she could lose her faith in him, but at the end of the day he would always be a part of her - and  for the last five years she'd just been running from herself and the pain without getting very far.

When she at last felt ready to face him; or at least like her legs could carry her back to the table she gave her appearance another once over. When she finally sat back down the waitress was upon them and without much thought Dolly drawled out her usual order of Lobster Bisque and one of the pasta dishes. She was too distracted to even remember if she had said bow tie or spaghetti... so that would be a surprise when it showed up. She was too busy thinking about the next thing she really should say to Dominik to give real consideration to her calorie intake. Then, finally, she took a deep breath and.... "You know you've never told me I was good at what I do? Ever," well, there was that place to start. She had always believed he read her books but he made it pretty clear he thought of it as a silly little hobby and not a career; not something that had any value.

He looked across at her, hesitant as he watched for her response.  He didn't think she was going to attack him from her manner but the thought did cross his mind as she stared at him in disbelief.  Dominik tried to act natural in those moments but his calm confidence went out the door as he waited on the precipice for her next words; he held his gaze on her carefully when she didn't make to respond about the shellfish - he didn't want to appear to not care but he also couldn't bring himself to say anything.  When she finally spoke it was to excuse herself; he gave a nod of quick obeisance that she probably didn't even see, because the very next instant she was gone.

Dominik took a long, deep breath as his posture drooped like a wilted flower and he rubbed his face with his hands in vexation.  He had no idea what he was doing any more.  Had he just admitted romantic feelings for Dolly after twenty years of silence and then asked after her favoured appetizer?  What a git.

It was true that he didn't know what he was doing any more than Dolly did.  Any of the times that he had tried to be normal it had always backfired and the gods seemingly laughed down upon him with devious merriment at his expense.  He was both used to it and tired by it, resigned and persistent.  He was rather good at making like this was a romantic dinner, for instance, thinking that the notion itself was enough, though it certainly wasn't.  The feedback he received from trying to be decent was always likened to a scoff - a reminder that he wasn't decent and that there was no point in playing pretend.  The way he slouched in his chair now was very Dominik Wiedman, Falmouth Falcons Beater - a sharp contrast to his classy Wizard's attire that helped him fit the part of perfect date.  Nothing good was coming to this man.

He spun off into the distance with staring eyes as the music infused him, returning to his preoccupation with thoughts, sitting in the same stance he'd been in when Dolly had first arrived.  He could only think of how depressed he was, thoroughly convinced that he'd never be able to salvage anything good from the ruins of his life.  He felt like he was at a crossroads and all the paths were blocked, like any positive motion would only be a ruse and he would, inevitably, find himself back in the dark pits of lonely self-loathing and merciless unease.  How could he ever go about making things right, when he was lorded over by his own inner demons that constantly dragged him through the mud?  How would he ever learn how to move on with his life, when he had been living in a state of emotional regression since the end of the war?

He had plenty of time to think about it - Dolly was gone so long he wouldn't have been surprised to find she'd climbed out of the lavatory window.  His eyes finally found her walking back toward him and he began to refocus on her form.  As soon as she approached the table he noticed that their waitress was upon them as well.  Dolly rattled off her order without thinking and Dominik merely said he'd have the same as her.  The waitress left them alone and Dom looked headlong at the Witch across from him in an attempt to suss out her internal landscape.  He looked her dead in the eyes, though there was certainly a hesitance mixed in with his direct, connected approach.  What he had to respond to, then, was an accusation.

"Ahh -" he started hesitantly. Well it was true, wasn't it?  He hadn't, had he?  He had always minimized the importance of her books, pretended he didn't read them when under his bed was a small trunk filled with all five hardback, first editions procured before their release dates by Dazmond.  He'd gotten Daz to promise never to tell anyone, even Dolly; yet he'd poured over every one of the books like some strange puzzle, feeling stirred by the plots and interpersonal dramas and some of the... more adult scenes.  He had no idea why he hid all of that from her.  He had somewhere along the line gotten a broom up his arse about the books with her.  He loved the books; he hated thinking about Dolly sleeping with all those Wizards though, and he had never tried to directly support the lifestyle that she had chosen.  He wanted her to live to her highest potential while refusing to do the same for himself.  He'd just always emphasized how hollow and superficial her endeavors were while she rightly said the same about him.

Indirectly he was probably more than a small influence, if not the cause itself of her self-destructive and hedonistic behaviours.  On some level Dominik had always wanted exactly what Dolly always had - to settle down with her; it was just not something that he had ever been able to admit to himself before.  The possibility had always seemed so untouchable.  He was terrified of the notion of her in a big way.

"I don't really know why that is," said Dominik after an awkward pause.  "I suppose I always wanted you to do better for yourself, that you could do something more serious with your talents.  Maybe people would take you more seriously rather than as a sexual attraction of glamour-inducing twee - I mean...."  He was saying all the wrong things, wasn't he?  "I just - well - I do like your work; I've read all of them at least twice each I just, I never -"  He paused, his hands suspended in the air in gesture.  He supposed in part it was a sort of jealousy, wasn't it, an emotional mechanism of defence holding him from being able to breach the subject of her books with Dolores herself.  It had, rather, always been part of his private world, walking down the same streets as her characters in his imagination on lonely afternoons in his trashed apartment.  Merlin, he was an asshole.

But how could he have talked about them honestly with her, when to the deepest core of him he was repressing the very story that was unfolding in her books?  He'd put them aside as much as he had done with her, he supposed; while in private he wanted to indulge in both, he was really rather good at compartmentalizing.  Especially where such closing off was in favour of his martyrdom.  But as much as he was beginning to understand these things about himself, he couldn't easily deliver the understanding in the form of a statement.  This moment was suddenly seeming very crucial.  How on Earth could he disapprove of her lifestyle when he was the reason behind it?

"Listen, Dolly," he said intently, "I'm really sorry that I haven't said.  I've been really wrapped up in my own world y'know, but I'm - I'm trying to be honest."

This was hard for him; she knew it, she'd have known it even if it wasn't written all over his face. He was so consumed with his own guilt and...all things relating to himself that there was very little room for anyone else. Even the women he so desperately "loved" - he loved them because they added one more layer of misery to his life. She knew that he had never let himself really love her because he was scared of that happiness being snatched away too; but knowing that wasn't enough for her anymore. It didn't take away the hurt, it didn't keep her warm at night. Knowing that he would love her, were he not such a coward...gave her nothing. She could not live on or with woulds or maybe someday anymore. She wanted a life with someone who would not constantly try to change who she was.

That was always the problem really; they wanted her to be more - but she never knew more of what, better than what - better than herself? With eyes focused on the candle between them she cleared her throat softly, "You've always been enough for me; even the angry broken bitter parts. I never questioned loving you, just accepted with an open heart the things about you - which even you could not love.... but I've never been enough for you," slowly she raised her blue eyes to look at him, fingers twisting the cloth of her napkin. If they were going to do this then she had to lay out for him exactly how she had always felt - not to hurt him but in the hopes of making him understand. She had to screw her courage to the sticking place and really dive all in if they had any chance of really fixing things.

"We've always just kissed and made up because we were tired of fighting, because I was tired of fighting, because I felt like having you in my life; even at a distance was better than not having you at all," her voice was soft rather than accusatory, "the thing is Dom, you've always wanted me to be someone else; imagined me as someone else, a person I couldn't be. I am who I am, warts and all". Her heart hurt saying these things, finally confronting the painful truth that she had never felt good enough for him; never felt she could compare. She felt that way because of how he treated her; because he refused to see the reality of the person she was over his precious perfect Dolores. He wanted her to be sixteen and innocent. He loved that Dolly. In reality he didn't even know the woman sitting in front of him.

"You've always said you want me to be more, but more than what? More than myself? More than the person who has stood by you and wiped away countless tears? More than the person willing to break in through your bathroom window to try and drag you out of your self inflicted misery? You focus so much on the persona; you really don't see me at all," it wasn't a question - it was a sad and sorry fact. He was so consumed with his judgment and jealousy there was no room for more than her public image in his mind. She had always understood that he was something bigger than a former Death Eater, than the beater for the Falcons... but to him she was just T&A Dolly. He gave her so little credit; it was as if he didn't understand how the game of life was really played.

Wetting her bottom lip she refused to let her gaze waver, though some part of her was dying to bust loose and just curl up in a crying ball and be done with it. She held him steady as she chose er words carefully; "You love the idea of me Dom - because you've never let yourself know, really know... who I am. The pain on those pages, the self doubt, the anguish, my silly little hobby... even my image of the sex kitten; they're all real parts of me," she paused as the waitress came by to refill their drinks, once again her flawless smile and charm in place before it quickly melted away, her hands folded in her lap, "Me being me, whether I am picking you up off the floor or doing vampy photo spreads to further my career...it should just be enough for you Dom, if you really loved me I would be enough; and you'd be able to separate the fact from fiction".

Dominik mentally braced himself as she started speaking to him in the most direct and honest way that she ever had, her tone no longer accusatory or caustic but rather soft and sad.  He didn't dare to interrupt her, though he often felt a surge of emotion in response to her words, wanting urgently to refute them - though he made no move to do so.  He did know... she wasn't not enough but somehow entirely too much for him to know what to do with.  He'd been a part of her world practically since she was born to this world; his own parents had quite nearly raised her... she was a staple in his life to be sure and he had never - in his mind - taken her for granted.

As he listened to her he felt a mixture of fear, sadness and intense attunement to the moment as the full truth finally laid itself out in front of him.  He looked at her with deep concern, actually terrified of where this was going because he could no longer deny the existence of a deep-seated and inevitably arising romance for Dolores St. James.  He had never wanted to take advantage of her, to be the cause of her distress.  Perhaps she was right in thinking that he had never acknowledged that her most active love-life might be something other than an innocent Dolores being pulled into the world of the famous against her will.  He did not love her because she was beautiful and voluptuous, though she certainly was; he loved her because he simply always had, even as a child.  Maybe he had lost sight of who she was becoming - of who she had become.

As she said that he would have to separate the fact from the fiction, Dominik had a chill run through his entire being, drilling to the bone.  It rang true in so many ways that it might nearly have changed the frequency of his brain waves.  She became still and he found that he could no longer look her full in the eyes for any length of time.  It was obviously his turn to speak and he knew he couldn't get away with anything less than the full honesty which she had just provided him.  He spent a moment mentally preparing himself for the task at hand - consciously driving the various excuses and grand explanations to the back of his mind.  After making a considerable effort to hold his eyes to hers, he settled his gaze on the tablecloth and the slight flicker of candlelight dancing there. 

"You know I think you're right," he said.  He couldn't help but pause substantially, unaware of what he could possibly say next.  Nevertheless, it somehow came naturally to him even as the words fell from his lips.

"I have some processing to do," he said, "in the serious, nose-to-the-grindstone sort of way.  And I don't expect that - that you'll be waiting or willing for when I'm able to come back to reality.  That we might - I don't know - maybe try for a sort of relationship.  Everything that I've put you through... it's not fair, Dolores.  I don't even want to say how sorry I am; I don't want you to think that I'm just covering my own arse.  I really care for you.  And it's different than anything else."  He put his elbow to the table top so he could touch his temple, eyes moving pensively across the pattern of the fabric there, deliberately avoiding her gaze.

"I want you to know, I - I'm calling it off with Niobe, haven't even seen her since... well, a long time now, I've just been thinking.  But no matter what, you know, whatever it is that happens," he finally found the tenacity to look her in the eyes, "I'll always be here for you, and I'm really going to really try to be a better man for you.  Dolly, you've always been my greatest friend, since I can even remember."

Wanting and needing and having to say the words, he had to do another assessment of his own ability to be honest, not just with her but also with himself.  He had often told her he loved her, though it nearly always came across in a platonic way.  It could take an incredible amount of courage for him to frame this in a way that it'd never been framed before, but he couldn't very well hold it back now.

"It's not just that," admitted Dominik, his expression fully informing her of the genuine feeling behind the thought.  "But you've always been directly in my heart, Dolly, and I bloody love you."

The silence seemed to stretch before her for forever. She hated it; she hated the way he looked so sad. She always hated it when he looked sad - even when he bloody well deserved to look sad because he ought to have been terribly sorry for all the things he had or hadn't done. When his heart broke, her heart broke - they were best friends. Even when she was madly in love with him and consumed with jealousy it was because she wasn't just potentially losing the man she thought she was supposed to be with for the rest of her life - it was because in those times he was with the others he was not with her; he was not her best friend anymore. It was as though he did not know that loving one person did not mean you had to leave another. Being close to him had been the best and worst part of her life; the most beautiful and the most hideous.

There were moments so sweet, from long lost summers spent at the cottage, curled up in the old swing while they read passages to one another from Aliec's books. Summers when he chased her through the gardens and threatened to throw her in the pond - those were the moments that had kept her love for him alive all these years. She was seeing, really seeing, for the first time that the majority of their life together since then had not been happy. There were glimmers - even this last years when things had been so miserable; there was the night they'd danced cheek to cheek in Calavera's, the picnic before he'd mentioned Niobe, breaking in through the old trusty bathroom window he never bothered to fix because he didn't really want to keep her out.

Until the moment he really said it (and Merlin did he sound shocked the hear the words coming out of his own mouth) she didn't know how all the contradictions could be true; how she could need so much of anyone who had only seemed to let her down. Biting her bottom lip she had to hold her hands tightly together to keep from reaching for him. There was a part of her that, somehow, wanted to find a way to make this easier for him... and yet she knew that they couldn't live life that way. They couldn't live in a world where she was constantly trying t o fix the maladjusted pieces of him. He had to fix himself for once, pick himself up, figure out what it all really meant for him; for them... and she wouldn't promise to wait because she wasn't sure it was a promise she could keep.

Pressing her lips together she tried to find words and felt wholly inarticulate, though there was a hinted trace of amusement to her voice as she muttered, "Now was that so hard"? She knew the answer was a resounding yes, but she didn't wait for him to confirm before she went on, "I don't know... what happens now Dom. A year ago, two months ago I'd have let you kiss me silly and immediately started picking out china patterns," there was a sad little laugh at the thought as she shook her head, "I don't know how this story ends. There are a lot of things... we have to learn to accept, to know about one another. A lot of things we have to make peace with... but I know if I walk out the door and out of your life tonight I'll regret that I didn't even let you try," she forced herself to look up at him finally reaching across the table, "Had we but world enough, and time..."

It was very strange to him that they were having this conversation in terms that were actually promising - there was a sense that maybe it could work, that maybe they could turn their lives around together.  She reached across the table and he immediately put his hand in hers, with a passionate and purposeful grip.  He wasn't clear on exactly what it would take, but he was suddenly very willing to do anything if it meant that they could be together.

"But we have," he said, "I promise you I'll do everything I can to get back on my feet."  And he did feel it was true - the world was good as well theirs for all the drive he felt to act.  If there was one thing that could be said about Dominik Wiedman it was that, once he set his mind to something, he was an exceptionally determined Wizard.  But he also needed to be realistic.  "Even if you decide it's just to be a better friend," he said.  There was also no reason to expect that this little chat was a free ticket to real romance.  He'd have to expect nothing from her and just do his best to sort out the mess of his own life.  What he really needed was to learn how to stop hating himself if he was ever going to have a chance at a healthy relationship.

"You look very beautiful," he said carefully, a bit humoured by the tail-end of his statement.  Dominik didn't know if he had said those words to her at all often over the years, though there was very little reason to hold back from saying them now.  And what else could he have really said just then?  A sort of strange silence had fallen between them - knowing, intimate, and a bit overwhelmed.  A part of him wondered what on earth they'd have to talk about all through dinner, having tackled such an incredibly important and life-altering subject already.  And as if on cue, the server arrived with two bowls of soup.  There hands naturally parted and Dominik gave Dolly a look; he wondered if she'd be concerned about gossip if they were seen in such an intimate stance.  Of course it was no secret that they were very close friends, but the gossip rags sometimes stalked high-profile places like Calaveras for just something like this:  two incredibly famous and scandalous people, talking urgently over a candlelit table and holding hands. 

He muttered a kind word to the waitress and took a large drink of his wine before setting in to his soup.  He was suddenly very hungry, as though famished from an emotional catharsis.  Dominik also felt enormously lucky to be sharing a meal with Dolly after what they had just said to one another.  He took a deep breath to clear a bit of the intense air between them, and then dug into his bisque. 

"Mm," he said behind a spoonful of soup, "bloody good choice.  Always forget how good a bowl of soup does a downtrodden soul."  His tone was sweet and non-abrasive, slow of pace and meant to encourage a continuation of their healthy dialogue.  He looked across the table at her  as he brought the spoon to his mouth again.  "Maybe I ought to give you the key to unlock my flat," he said abruptly.