Letters from Juliet

Title: Letters from Juliet

Copyright: 2002

Author: emmastark

Rated: ~NC-17~ 

Disclaimer: All original TAT characters belong to Stephen J. Cannell and Universal.

Warning: Explicit Slash

Comments: Please

Summary: An answer to the A-Slash Missing Scene Challenge #8 -- The Spy Who Mugged Me.

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Letters from Juliet

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Dear Romeo,

It started to rain half an hour ago, but I’m still out here. Where you left me. On the balcony.

If I die of pneumonia, you’ll be sorry.

No, you probably won’t be. You’ll probably just hope I learned my lesson before I died a horrible, hacking, lonely, ugly death in some Monte Carlo sanitarium.

Okay, I probably won’t die of pneumonia. It’s not cold out here. It’s a little bit cold, but just enough to keep me from being able to sleep. But I probably won’t die. So you probably won’t find this letter, scribbled with a pencil from the game room downstairs onto cheap hotel stationary, on my rigor mortised body in the morning.

Probably.

Remember when we read “Romeo and Juliet” out loud driving through Wyoming that time? I keep thinking about that. Hannibal and BA hated it, except for the sword fights. And they only liked those because you acted them out. I liked it, though. You kept slipping your hand under the blanket while I was trying to read.

Okay. Let’s not think about Romeo and Juliet.

That whole part always got me, though. Where he thinks she’s dead, so he kills himself. Then she wakes up and finds him dead, so she kills ~herself~.

If you found me dead out here in the morning, what would you do?

I know, I know, I know. This is all my fault. I know.

I’d say I’m sorry, but I can see Dominique taking off your shirt through the thin, white curtains on the window. I can see the outline of your face as you watch her.

Close enough to reach out and touch and a million miles away.

Star-cross’d lovers.

You’d be better off if I died of pneumonia in the Monte Carlo sanitarium.

I ~am~ sorry. Everything’s just so...

I don’t know.

Sometimes I think I should just make you go. For real. Do something so terrible that you wouldn’t take me back. I don’t know what it would be. What would be terrible enough?

God, it’s cold out here.

Everything was different before. We weren’t...

Romeo. Why do we keep switching around? Romeo, Juliet. How did I end up out here on the balcony? All I wanted to do tonight was scam my way in your door and spend the night in your bed. With you. You looked so goddamn good in that tuxedo. They have good beds here. Cheap stationary, but good beds.

Are you going to sleep with her?

Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. If you’re doing this to kill me, it’s working.

Maybe I should push you away. Maybe I should just go away. I’ve been thinking about it more and more. I’m tired of playing this role. No, not Juliet. I don’t mind Juliet. Or Romeo, either one. I just wish it was just us, up here on the stage, is all. If we could just get rid of all these other people...

The swordfighting has never been my favorite part.

I’m a lover, not a fighter.

Ha, ha.

There’s water running down my neck, now.

I hope you know.

Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast... would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest...
 
I can’t hear your voices anymore. Did you go in the...
 
No. Don’t tell me.
 
I didn’t sleep with Tess, you know. But I liked her. She made me forget how tangled up we are now. I liked her. 
 
I can’t stand this. I’m going crazy.
 
No, that’s Ophelia. I’m forgetting which tragic heroine I’m supposed to be. Where are the cliff-notes when you need them?
 
The city lights are bright. No moon. I can hear someone playing the piano down in the bar. 
 
I miss you.
 
Okay?
 
I miss you. Are you happy now? I miss you. I want to fuck you. I want you to fuck me. I want to hold your hand. 
I want to lie down beside you. I miss you. I want to quit fucking everything up. I want to run away with you.
 
I want to run away.
 
I’m cold. I’m wet.
 
Yes, I know I’m whining. I’ll shut up now. Do my penance, out here in the rain. I understand penance. Father Michael 
always gave easy ones. Ten “Our Fathers.” Two rosaries. Father Maghill was the one who was hard on us. He’d make me 
go kneel for three hours and think about what I’d done. I hated that. Do you know what your knees feel like after kneeling 
for three hours?
 
Just don’t leave me, okay? I know I keep talking about going, but don’t leave me. 
 
God, now I sound pathetic. I’d burn this, except I don’t think I could get it lit out here in the rain.
 
I love you. Don’t leave me.
 
I love you.
 
~Juliet~
 

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dear juliet ~stop~ got letter ~stop~ not star-crossed ~stop~ meet me in cabin 17 ~stop~ 9 tonight ~stop~ romeo ~stop~
 

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 The cabin was empty when Face got there. At nine sharp. He laid down on the bunk and stared up at the ceiling.
 
After awhile, he fell asleep.
 

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There was a hand over his eyes. The light was on, but there was a hand over his eyes.
 
Face tensed. “Who is it?”
 
“Ross,” Murdock said. “Logan Ross.”
 
Face sighed and turned toward the wall. 
 
Murdock pulled Face onto his back again. “Did you miss me?”
 
“Enormously.”
 
“Have you been pining away for me?”
 
‘Yes,’ Face thought. “No,” Face said. “I was sleeping.”
 
“Somebody’s sleeping in my bed,” Murdock said in a Papa Bear voice. “And he’s still there.”
 
“We’re always in a different story with you. Every time I turn my head.”
 
“Just trying to keep up with all your characters, Juliet.”
 
Face turned away from Murdock again. 
 
Murdock stroked his hand down Face’s bare arm. “I’m not a doormat, Facey. I’m not going to be your doormat. I’ve seen 
enough of that. I ain’t playin’ that.”
 
Face stared at the wall. The white paint was cracking. “I don’t want you to be.”
 
“What ~do~ you want me to be?”
 
“Mine.”
 
“I’ve been that for a long time.”
 
Face turned back to Murdock. Wrapped his arms around Murdock’s waist. Rested his head in Murdock’s lap. “Stay,” he
said. “If you’re done with the first mate.”
 
“Logan Ross must beguile the ladies,” Murdock said. “It’s his nature. It’s in the script.”
 
“Is it too late to call for a rewrite?”
 
“Where am I now?”
 
“For how long, though? You’re on a roll out there.”
 
“I’d rather be on a roll in here. A roll in the hay...”
 
“Juliet has a headache.”
 
“What does Faceman have?”
 
Face reached out and took Murdock’s hand, then placed it over his crotch. He closed his eyes as Murdock’s hand rubbed 
over his cock. It felt so good. It ~was~ so good. The two of them together. But everything else still swirled in his head. 
Everyone else. He couldn’t let go of it. “I can’t see how this is going to end, Murdock.”
 
“You got to trust Hannibal, baby. He’s smarter than Stockwell.”
 
“Hannibal doesn’t see how this is going to end, either.”
 
“Forget about golden eyes.”
 
“This can’t end well. I keep having premonitions. How many suicide missions can you come back from?”
 
“We’re famous for our happy endings. Against all odds.”
 
“Famous.”
 
“Yeah. Famous.”
 
Face sighed. “Against all odds.” He looked up at Murdock. “What are we going to do?”
 
Murdock grinned. “I got some ideas.”
 
“I mean about everything.”
 
“Hell with everything. You get ~yourself~ tangled, Face. I’m gonna get you one of those signs for your wall that says ‘one
day at a time.’”
 
“I don’t have a wall.”
 
“I’ll pin it on your shirt. Like a first grader goin’ off to school. ‘If lost, return to...’ ‘If lost, remind him to take one day at a
time.’”
 
“You don’t put safety pins in Versace dress shirts.”
 
Murdock unbuttoned Face’s trousers and unzipped them. He slid his hand inside, touched Face over his silk boxers.
 
Face moaned. “Don’t stop.”
 
Murdock pulled Face’s trousers and boxers down and off. “Ain’t stoppin’, darlin’.” He took off his suit jacket and 
unbuttoned his shirt.
 
Face watched Murdock through half-closed eyes. He reached out his hand and held it over Murdock’s heart. He could feel 
Murdock’s heartbeat. Feel the soft, curling hair on Murdock’s chest. Feel the movement of the boat beneath them. 
 
Murdock took Face’s hand off his heart and pressed it into the mattress, then leaned down and kissed Face.
 
Face pulled away a little. “You’ve been drinking martinis?”
 
“Shaken, not stirred,” Murdock said. He reached over and lifted two martini glasses off the small nightstand/dresser. “The
Prince wanted to thank Logan Ross for his heroic efforts.” He pressed one of the glasses into Face’s hand. “Logan Ross 
found it necessary to drink the prince under the table. With the help of a potted camellia.”
 
Face took a deep drink of the martini. It tasted harsh, but familiar. Touch of vermouth. Twist of lemon. He set the glass 
down, reached over and unbuttoned Murdock’s slacks. Pulled them down. He pressed his cheek into the thick, dark hair 
that curled around Murdock’s cock.
 
“Touch me,” Murdock said. 
 
Face ran his fingers down the length of Murdock’s cock, then took Murdock’s cock in his mouth. His lips twisted into an odd
smile. Murdock’s cock tasted harsh, but familiar...
 
Face pulled Murdock down onto the narrow bunk beside him, then straddled him. He took Murdock’s cock in his mouth
again, sucking him gently. Making love to him. Murdock’s hands stroked back his hair and Murdock’s fingers memorized his 
face, like a blind person. Face anchored his own hands on Murdock’s hips. 
 
This he could give. This they could give each other. A small, protected place of good sex and true kindness in the midst of all 
confusion.
 
Murdock’s hips jutted upwards, toward Face’s mouth. Face wrapped his fingers tightly around the base of Murdock’s cock 
and took Murdock deeper and deeper into his throat until Murdock came, crying out, flinging out his arms...
 
Face swallowed Murdock’s cum (harsh, familiar) and rested his head on Murdock’s chest. 
 
“Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast...” he said softly. “Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest...”
 
Murdock pulled Face up beside him. Kissed him gently. Touched Face’s cock, which still jutted, hard, against his stomach.
“Fuck me first, darlin’,” he said. “I need you.”
 
Face nodded. 
 
Murdock filled his hands with lotion from off the nightstand and spread it onto Face’s cock. He spread his legs.
 
Face hooked his arms under Murdock’s legs and lifted him up a little. He pressed forward, pushing his cock inside Murdock. 
Watching his face. Loving and claiming him. Holding him tight.
 
Murdock gasped. “Face,” he said.
 
Face stopped moving. He touched Murdock’s arm. “You okay?”
 
“Yeah,” Murdock said. He pressed himself down, toward Face, into Face, Face into him.
 
Face felt the rush of coming. He could have held it off, but he wanted it. Wanted to lose himself in this moment. He rocked 
forward, deeper in, and Murdock’s hands were on his ass and his heart froze in his chest. His lungs ran out of air, and he 
shivered as pleasure ran all through him. He let himself collapse down onto Murdock’s chest again. He could hear 
Murdock’s heart beating strongly, steadily, through the thunderous pounding of his own. “Love you,” he said. “I love you, 
Murdock.”
 
Murdock held Face close. “Love you too, Face,” he said. 
 
They fell asleep joined to each other that way, the boat gently rocking. 

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Murdock was alone when he woke the next morning. Face’s clothes were gone, and so were the martini glasses. Light

streamed in the porthole window.

There was a note safety-pinned to the pillow beside his head.

It said, “For never was a story of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo. But long as life and breath remain in me, each

night shall bring me back to thee.”

Murdock carefully unpinned the note, put it in his wallet, threw on his clothes and went to find Face.

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~fin~

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