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Lightning flashes over torrid grey skies, the clouds thick as wool. His coat flies around him like a cape, lending a pretence of majesty to an otherwise stark moment. There’s a crash and the first sprinkling of rain streaks down his face, as cold and empty as the grey light. He doesn’t wipe it away. He stands alone, the rooftop empty and forgotten in the beginning storm, one speck against the horizon.
The door behind him opens and she steps through, her coat a deep maroon that matches her lips, a black umbrella overhead. She smiles, and he wonders how she ever manages to fool people into thinking she’s harmless. The rain picks up and it’s harder to see her, but she comes closer with that startling smile and stops just far enough away that her umbrella doesn’t cover him.
“John. I wasn’t certain you’d come. And in this weather – I think I might be flattered.”
“What do you want, Alice?”
She tuts. “That’s not very friendly.”
“We’re not friends.”
“Aren’t we?” she tilts her head, “I shot the man who murdered your wife, you helped me escape prison. I’ll admit I’m no expert on the subject, but that seems fairly intimate.”
Luther sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his coat like he can shake off the wetness if he just hunches up enough. Alice twirls the umbrella in her hand with a smirk and he doesn’t even glance at it.
“People like us can’t have friends in such...distinct situations. I’m still not sure you can have friends at all.”
“I’m a fast learner.”
“You can’t learn how to feel, Alice. Your brain isn’t built for it.”
She pouts, exaggerated and childish. “I don’t take well to being told I can’t do something.”
“Prove me wrong then.” He laughs, and it’s not so much cheerful as desperate.
Alice frowns and thrusts the umbrella at him. John raises a brow but takes it, holding it over both of them as she steps close enough that their coats brush. She looks up at the detective, seemingly studying his face as she slowly peels off her gloves and slips them into a pocket.
“Two opposing forces that cannot possibly exist side by side, but incomplete without each other. Equal and apart, the same under the skin in ways even they don’t understand. What would happen, do you think, if those two forces were to touch?”
“Are we talking about your work?”
“You’re cleverer than that, John.”
He shrugs, pointedly looking away. “Destruction. They can’t exist together.”
“Ah, but what a mess they’d make in the process. A beautiful kind of implosion, like fireworks in reverse.”
“Like Vesuvius.” He snorts.
“Life exists around them, between them, but neither of them are truly part of it. They are alone, with only each other for company.”
“Some company, if you can’t be together.”
She leans in to whisper. “Who says they can’t?”
“Alice...”
“Haven’t you ever taken a risk, John?”
“Too many.”
“Then what’s one more?” she raises a shoulder dismissively.
“You don’t know what you’re asking. If I ran off with a known fugitive-”
“You’d what? What do you have here that’s so precious?”
“I have a job that helps people. Protects ‘em.”
“And it’s eating away at you,” she starts circling him, oblivious to the rain as she passes out of the umbrella’s radius, “Every time you fail, every poor victim you didn't save, every time you were too slow. Zoe. Ripley. You’ve lost so many people, John. Maybe leaving would be the merciful thing to do, before you lose someone else.”
He spins suddenly, dropping the umbrella in a mess of synthetic fabric and broken metal, and grabs the top of her arms so hard it makes her breathless.
“And what then, hmm? You’re saying it won’t eat away worse, knowing I could be helping and doing nothing instead? What about us? What are you expecting from me, Alice?”
“Entertainment.” She smiles.
“Thanks but no thanks. I’m not a trained monkey. And I’ve seen what happens to the people who piss you off.”
Alice arches a brow. “You don’t really think I’d hurt you, John?”
“You murdered your own parents.”
“Exactly. You’ve never wronged me.”
“And if I did?”
She’s quiet, running her tongue over her top teeth. “I think you know I’m not the type for crimes of passion. I’d forgive you.”
He rests his forehead against hers, the rain streaming down their skin in ice cold rivulets that sneak under the neck of her coat.
“Alice,” he sighs, “What do you want from me? I don’t think you even know.”
She raises her hand to his cheek, wiping away the droplets only to have them immediately reappear. Alice closes the last inch between them, lips pressed to his so gently it could almost be a kind of prayer.
She pulls back just enough to speak. “See? No explosions.”
“Isn’t that usually a bad sign?”
“Call it a test run.”
She kisses him, seriously this time, putting her years of experience into it. Alice learned early that men were ridiculously easy to manipulate, and she’d built a repertoire of tricks that had them wrapped around her finger every time. She doesn’t need to overpower John but she wants to impress him. As with everything in her life, she wants it to be memorable.
He doesn’t let her. John hesitates, unsure, unresponsive – and then something in the tension around them snaps and he’s wrapping his arms around her tight. He takes control, redirects her, forces her to slow down and keep it simple. It’s exceedingly more intimate than she’s used to and Alice isn’t sure how to feel, but she follows his lead because isn’t that the point? Learning new things?
John drags it out, and it’s unhurried but that doesn’t mean it’s not eager, his mouth firm and demanding against hers. She feels well held in his embrace, not trapped or smothered but anchored to something solid in a reassuring way. She wants more of him, to see those places inside his head she’s guessed at but never really known.
He breaks the kiss before she’s really ready but keeps his hands clutched to her face, gasping for breath. “Can you do this, Alice? Can you really care about someone enough to be considerate? Selfless?”
“I care about you deeply, John. I thought I’d made that obvious.”
He shakes his head. “You’ve helped me, in your own way. You’ve tried to protect me and mine. But can you do that even if it goes against what you want?”
“I could have let Marwood kill Mary and told you I didn’t make it to the safe house in time; the villain of the hour removes my competition and then I step in to console you, seemingly innocent and loyal. But I didn’t.”
“No. You saved her.”
“And you chose me. Which brings us back to you, waiting on a rooftop for me in the rain. You already made your decision, John.”
He nods once, smoothing a hand over his head. Luther straightens and takes her hand, turning towards the door.
“So. Fireworks?” she teases.
John snickers. “I don’t know about that, but the universe might have stopped spinning for a moment there.”
“Two like-minded forces can be a powerful thing.”
He opens the door and holds it to let her through first. “I believe you. What letter are you up to?”
She purses her lips mischievously. “We are up to S.”
“I’ve always wanted to see Spain.” John smiles, casting one last look over the deserted roof as he closes the door.