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He was wearing the sweater she had bought him for Christmas one year. Not one of those “ugly sweaters,” but more loud than what Kingston usually picked for himself. Instead of regular argyle or stripes across the chest, woven into it was a design of the New York City skyline. It was subtle enough for a tourist with good taste or a proper resident. It was the one and only time she had bought him a piece of clothing and the way he beamed in approval at it was the first time she thought “I want to spend my life with him.”
Seeing him wearing it now made her heart ache. She wondered if he knew what it meant to her.
She tried to remember if she ever let him know.
“I take it you saved the world?” Liz asked with a smirk. She hoped it was a smirk, but she’s not one hundred percent sure her body is doing what she wants it to do.
“ We did, yes. Thanks to a big move by Kug, but we all… we all helped.” Kingston hovered by the foot of her hospital bed. He picked up her chart and flipped through it to make sure they were giving her the best care.
Liz waited, examining the sorrow in his clenched jaw and self-admonishment in his furrowed brow. The visible stormy emotions weren’t something Kingston ever let linger for long (and hardly ever in front of the people Kingston thought looked up to him). It must have been bad. Kug… Kugrash? The giant rat-man he’s been with lately? He must have done some sort of self sacrifice for Kingston to be this quiet and this open.
“The city is safe,” Kingston said as if that explained everything, as if that was a good enough reason for whatever any of them endured. Maybe it was, Liz thought, but she was someone who always wanted every detail, and Kingston’s broad strokes and overwhelmingly large capital ‘P’ Purpose had never given her enough information.
When they were together she had never gotten used to the bits and pieces of information he’d drop, the cryptic answers or just plain nonsensical explanations he gave her. This time, something told her not to press. That he’d open up when he could, if he ever could.
Liz waited until he put her chart back down and looked at her. She motioned for him to come sit in the chair next to her, waiting for him to settle before she spoke, “I’m glad you’re safe, Kingston, and that you came to check in on me.”
“Of course,” Kingston responded, “Like I said, you got to put it all out there.”
“Like I said… get someone to teach me magic and I’ll come whoop ass with you.”
Kingston laughed and reached out to fix her pillow. “I’ll ask around. It would be nice to have you on our side.”
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Liz wasn’t supposed to have gone into the office today. She had busted her ass all week to make sure she had this time free, but the fae had no regard for blocked off calendars, and finally meeting Don Confetti’s lawyers in-person wasn’t something she could pass off to one of her associate attorneys. As such, she was already stressed before what was sure to be a stressful talk (she hoped it would stay a talk and not turn into another shouting match).
Kingston was puttering around the kitchen, getting a pour over set ready with some baked goods that were no doubt delivered by his mother.
Liz sat on one side of the couch, one leg tucked under her opposite thigh, arm up and resting on the top of the cushion. It was her side of the couch. Kingston never sat there. He often left things piled on there when company was over to ensure no one else sat there either. It was only sometimes on purpose. Kingston wondered if it still felt the same to her.
“You can grab something to change into,” Kingston offered without turning away from the kettle. He probably didn’t want to know if wrinkled her nose in that particular way she did when someone said something ridiculous. “If you want.”
Liz hummed in thought and pushed herself up off the couch and wandered into Kingston’s bedroom. Everything was still arranged the same, so it only took a few moments for Liz to reemerge still wearing her blouse, but her nice slacks were replaced with a pair of Kingston’s basketball shorts he only wore around the apartment.
He brought over a tray with their coffee and snacks and set it on the low table before handing Liz her mug. It was one of her favorites; she bought it from a local pottery studio. It wasn’t perfectly round, had a giant handle, and was dark grey with colorful speckled paint. They both knew she left it on purpose. A lifeline (an excuse ) if either of them ever wanted one.
Kingston sat on the opposite end of the couch, not quite mirroring Liz’s position because his hips are not that flexible anymore, but still trying to face her as much as possible. He held onto his mug to give his hands something to do.
There was no better way than to just start. Kingston cleared his throat and asked, “Do you still want to leave the city?”
Liz let out a sigh of a laugh. Of course that was his first question. For Kingston Brown, if the answer to that question was still yes, there was no point in being here and making themselves go through the (most likely) painful process of whatever it was they were doing now. She knew he was going to ask and she had thought about it. Had been thinking about it over the last twenty years, if she was honest. Back then, she wanted to leave to be somewhere else, see anything else, than the city she was born and raised in.
Liz had really believed that she had to see the world in order to be the kind of person she felt she needed to be. Intelligent. Mature. Worldly. Experienced. After the divorce was final she did leave the city. Never packing up all of her things and upending her life completely, but Liz used all of her precious PTO to travel. She took trains all over Europe, spent a month with her father’s family in Guatemala, went to visit her sister in Los Angeles, and attended her colleague’s wedding at Martha’s Vineyard. All things Kingston would never do, could never do in his role as Vox Populi.
Over time, thanks to her friends going through messier divorces and trying to parent willful children, she realized how much she had been pushing what she thought Kingston needed, what she thought would be good for him. While Liz still believed that a Dr. Kingston Brown would have thrived in any city, she understands better that he was already living the life he wants to, a life he loves. He wasn’t settling; he was simply content.
“Yes I do,” Liz answered and she tried not to laugh at how poorly Kingston was trying his immediate disappointment. “Marcie’s planning a girl’s trip to Belize next winter. And my niece is going to graduate high school in a couple years. And I already have tickets for a concert in Jersey in September.”
Kingston’s disappointment had morphed into confusion. “That sounds like… it’ll be nice.”
“It will be. And it’ll be nice to come back here and be home after.”
Liz counted the seconds it took for Kingston to understand what she was saying to him. His brow went from furrowed to smoothed in surprise and settled somewhere in between in an expression of warm hope.
Liz had gotten all of the things she expected and wanted from traveling. She learned a lot, felt independent, made life long memories, and challenged herself. But the most important thing Liz learned from leaving New York City was that it was home, and it was always going to be where she belonged.
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“Did you have a good time?” Kingston asked as he took off his coat and folded it over the back of the ancient rocker recliner in his living room.
They had just gotten back from going to Nod with the Vox Phantasma, Pete (weird, but clearly a good heart), Sophia (messy, but in a fun way), Ricky (too perfect), and Esther (always a pleasure).
Smirking and giving her shoulders a saucy wiggle, Liz bragged, “Mr. March let me touch his abs - I had a great time!”
Kingston scoffed and immediately went over to put the kettle on the stove. “You missed your chance, he’s happily taken.”
“It’s for the best,” Liz teases, “I think I would be too much woman for him to handle.”
Kingston laughed and looked back at her over his shoulder, “I think Ricky and Esther would agree with you there. I saw you take a few swings with her baseball bat - looked like home runs.”
“Never underestimate a girl from the Bronx, Kingston,” Liz warned.
The whistling of the kettle cut off whatever snarky reply Kingston would have made. He finished making their tea and brought it over to the living room. Liz was sitting with her legs stretched out across the couch, so he took a seat in the recliner.
She inhaled deeply cradling the mug to her chest. Genmai cha. A freshly open bag based on how potent the toasted rice aroma was. She supposed she had been coming over often enough - or maybe complained enough - to warrant Kingston buying her favorite tea.
“I think I understand better now,” she said quietly, looking down into her mug. “Back then, when I tried to get answers from you, it felt like you were keeping things from me or being dismissive like I just wouldn’t understand. It hurt so much to think that it was easy for you to lie to me. Made me suspicious because how could that be all you could say to me? You were a guest of honor at a mermaid banquet? The tree nymphs in Prospect Park tried to pollinate you and that’s why you’re covered in flower petals? It all sounded like bullshit!”
She finally looked up to meet his worried eyes. Kingston gave her his best, slightly sorry smile and agreed, “Honestly, it still sounds like bullshit if I didn’t know better.”
Liz chuckled and took a sip of her tea. A little oversteeped, but she’s had worse.
“I realized… I hadn’t been trying to understand. When you first introduced me to all this I wanted you to have answers to all of my questions because why would you bring me into something unknown and scary? I started blaming the unsleeping city for driving a wedge between us. Even when you could give me answers, I didn’t hear them, especially because it seemed to me that you didn’t care that we were falling apart.”
Kingston grimaced. He wasn’t going to try to defend his actions, but it still hurt to hear. “I did care, Liz… I just didn’t know what I could do about it. I didn’t know how to make it easier for you. I know I let you down and made you feel alone, but I promise I did care.”
Liz nodded sadly, “I know. Well, I know that now . And I know I didn’t make it easy for you to talk to me. I had a huge chip on my shoulder that I had to work through myself. If I’m honest, I didn’t even consider dealing with it until I saw you again in the interrogation room. All of the things I’ve seen at work over the years I just shoved into a box labeled ‘weird and stupid’ and never bothered giving them a second glance. I didn’t want to know any more than I had to about the Unsleeping City. I wanted to keep hating it because it took you from me, even though I knew it had you first.
“I was scared that if it started becoming normal I couldn’t be mad at you anymore, ” she had to pause, biting her lip to keep angry tears from spilling, “I had to stay mad at you or I would miss you too much.”
“Liz…” Kingston motioned for her to come to him. She left her tea on the coffee table and set herself in his lap in the recliner, her legs over one side of the chair with her arms wrapped around his shoulders. She buried her face against his shoulder, his dreadlocks tickling her cheek. Kingston’s hands felt so familiar and warm as they held her close.
“I missed you too, Liz. I thought of you everyday, but I didn’t know what to say either, and each week, month, year that passed made it harder. But that doesn’t matter because we’re here now. We’re figuring it out now.”
Sniffling, Liz gave his shoulders another squeeze. “I promise I’ll listen this time.”
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“What are we doing, Kingston?” Liz asked. She’s sitting up against the headboard and a pile of pillows, a sheet pulled up over her chest and tucked under her arms. It’s not said with impatience or accusation, just a genuine question.
Kingston set down water glasses on each of the bedside tables and got back under the covers, scooting close and taking her hands in his. Liz’s hair was a little more gray than it was when she was stuck in the hospital. Kingston liked that she didn't try to color and hide it.
“You know in all those movies when couples get back together they always ask each other if they can start over and they do that thing where they re-introduce themselves and it’s real cheesy? I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to start over,” he said, squeezing Liz’s hands as a lifeline, “I don’t want to start over. I want to keep going with you by my side again, and of course I’ll be by yours. I won’t give up on us like I did before.”
“Oh, Kingston…” Liz shook her head.
He squeezed her hands again. “No, Liz, I did. I did give up before. I gave up what I wanted because I thought I couldn’t have both. But thanks to Pete, I see how I can have both now. Being the voice of the people is important to me, but I promise this time I’ll make sure you feel that you’re important to me, too. I didn’t do a good job of that before, but this time - this time I will.”
Liz could only cry and cling to Kingston’s hands as tightly as he did hers.
“Move in with me, Ms. Herrera?”
She let out a watery laugh and dug her nails a little bit into his skin as a warning, “Only call me Ms. Herrera at work, Mr. Brown.”
“Is that a yes, Liz?”
“It’s a yes, Kingston.”