I Want To Live in Your Hair [South]

As much as I want to be lighthearted and carefree, something weighs heavily on me and prevents me from taking any pleasure in the crisp Spring breeze or the pleasant sounds of mockingjays flitting through the branches over my head. My fingers play absently with Fiona's mane (I still can't believe Julian went and bought me a horse, but I don't complain because I love her to death and riding is my new favorite hobby) and my mind wanders far away from the path Julian and I have been traveling for the past few hours, reaching back through space and time to the interior of my shrink's office last weekend.

"Sweetie, I don't think that this thing in your head is just about bulimia anymore." My shrink is a sweet middle-aged lady with kind eyes and an understanding smile, but when those words leave her mouth she instantaneously becomes the most terrifying thing I've ever laid eyes on.

"Wh-what do you mean? I thought you said the Voice was normal for eating disorder victims? You said it's an embodiment of my self-esteem issues! What else could it possibly be?!" I'm more frantic than I mean to be, but the thought that I might have something else wrong with my head makes me so terrified that I can't think straight. She flicks through a thick volume on her desk and turns the page so I can see the large definition across the top. "Paranoid schizophrenia? You think I'm schizophrenic?"

"It looks that way," my shrink says, pointing at various lines in the text. "Auditory hallucinations, uncharacteristic jumpiness... All the signs are there, Aria. I can't make a definitive diagnosis without more tests, though, so I wouldn't panic just yet. You said something about not hearing anything when your boyfriend is around?"

I nod numbly, still looking in shock at the medical encyclopedia. Am I really crazy?

'Ria, I've been telling you that the whole time. Do you believe me now?

I try to hide the small jump of surprise, but I know that she sees it, making yet another note in my file. The Voice has been an unceasing presence in my life since I got out of treatment, only descending into silence when Julian is near enough to calm my scattered mind with his presence. At first I believed that it was simply a lasting psychological side affect of my bulimia, hissing insults and doubts into my consciousness, but I knew something was wrong when its conversation topics moved to other things, the acidic bass tone keeping a running commentary on everything happening in my life. Schizophrenia? How can this be possible?

Oh, Julian's going to have a ball with this. His girlfriend going psycho all over again? Priceless.

“Hey there! Trouble keeping up? Don’t worry, we are almost there.” Julian's voice startles me, causing me to twitch a bit in surprise. I hate being so jumpy, but it seems to be a tendency that isn't leaving anytime soon. It takes me a moment to realize that I have indeed fallen behind, so I force a smile and urge Fiona up alongside him, reaching across the gap between up and giving his hand a squeeze.

"Sorry, I spaced out. You know me, never paying attention." My laugh sounds unnatural and forced but I really do feel happier when I'm around Julian like this. The Voice has been mercifully silent all day, leaving me alone in the still-scary confines of my own head but nevertheless granting me a little more peace than I'm used to. Julian looks as far away and preoccupied as I have felt for the past couple of hours, and I find myself wondering what is occupying his mind enough to make his eyes cloud over in that grim contemplation that has been present with increasing frequency as of late. He seems to snap out of whatever funk he's in when we finally reach the exterior of a homey-looking cabin that reminds me a bit of my own house, jumping off of his horse and extending his arms toward me.

Giggling with an actual burst of mirth that is a huge relief against the tension I've felt for so long, I jump down out of my own saddle and let Julian catch me, swinging me around in a circle before letting my feet touch the ground. “I only have the best for my pretty princess.”

I roll my eyes at his comment; he knows I hate pet names even though I've been known to let a "babe" or "hon" slip through my own speech at times. But really, when "Aria" sounds so wonderfully musical in that smooth baritone of his, why would I ever want to be called anything else? "Call me 'princess' one more time and you'll be stuck with obnoxious nicknames for the rest of the week, Juliebear."

I laugh and give him a quick kiss before grabbing my bags and hauling them off towards the cabin, juggling my armload of overnight bags and camping supplies long enough to push the door open. It's a nice place, far more comfortable than Julian's obnoxious house and with more privacy than my own (I see the looks that my big brother gives him every time he comes over). Still, I can't help wondering why Julian made the impulsive decision for the two of us to take off and go camping in the middle of nowhere during spring break. The idea certainly caused raised eyebrows from both of our families, but my parents trust my judgment and Julian's mother has contented herself with ignoring my existence altogether (although it was all I could do to not cackle at the look on her face when Ander shouted "You kids have fun! Use protection!" as we headed out this morning). I don't know what kind of reputation Julian had before we started dating, but despite everyone's assumptions about our relationship we've never had the privacy, time, or guts to try anything.

Maybe that's why he's dragging me out here for a week? The thought makes my eyebrow arch in speculation as I toss my bags in the bedroom. There's certainly enough privacy; we're hours away from civilization. It's actually a little too much isolation for my taste; it feels almost like we're running from something. I shake my head slightly, ridding myself of the thought. What on earth would we be running from? I'm being paranoid again. I'm on a well-deserved vacation with the person I love more than life itself, and dammit, I'm going to have fun if it kills me.

I stick my head back into the main room, watching as Julian sets down his own bags. "So, what now? I've never been camping. Are we going to roast marshmallows or something?"

There are times when I wonder if Julian Scott is altogether sane, and this is one of those times. His sharp features are softened by a childish grin, stormy gaze sparkling with an excitement that isn’t usually visible beneath his stoic composure. I’ve only seen him like this a few times (my memory gives me memories of snowball fights and riding lessons and the way his face lights up when his fingers touch the keys of a piano), and I’m again struck by how endearing he is when he lets himself enjoy life out from under the Scott family’s oppressive cloud.

”Roasting marshmallows is kid stuff,” Julian says with a wide smile, and I find I’m unable to stop myself from grinning back. But then his shirt goes flying across the kitchen, and my expression immediately changes to shock. I have a feeling that my eyes are probably wide as saucers, but I’m unable to glance away, much less pick my jaw up from its current position on the floor. Julian’s always been forthcoming about things, but really, could he not be a little more… well, romantic about something like this? ”Swimming. Lake. Now.”

Oh. Oh. Swimming. Okay, swimming is good. And to think, I was hyperventilating for nothing. The flaming blush on me cheeks gradually begins to ebb away, eyes returning to their normal diameter. Honestly, what was I thinking, that he’d just… No. That was stupid; Julian’s more chivalrous than that. But swimming actually sounds pretty fun. I haven’t been swimming since I was a little kid, back when Liam would take me out to the creek in the summer. All the District kids had a rope swing that dangled from a large branch over the water, and we’d take turns seeing who could fly the highest before letting go and dropping into the clear spring below.

"But… But I d-don’t have…" My broken effort to communicate that I haven’t brought a swimsuit with me (hell, I doubt that I even own one) is interrupted by a bundle of fabric flying at my head. My hand jerks up reflexively to catch it as Julian smirks at me devilishly.

”I brought you one!” With that he’s out the door, laughing like a kid at Christmas. Smiling softly and shaking my head, I turn around and walk back to the bedroom to change.

No. Hell no. Absolutely not. Never before have I questioned the assumption that Julian’s intentions were anything other than honorable, but this… this handkerchief is making me believe otherwise. Honestly, I’m sure there are underwear more conservative than this thing. What the hell is Julian thinking? The mirror reflects my face, utterly horrified as I look at all the skin that’s showing. The fabric, what little there is of it, is pretty enough, a bright blue with a tropical-looking flower pattern, but it’s the actual construction of the garment that bothers me. I wouldn’t be caught dead in a two piece swimsuit, and the halter straps on the top of this one aren’t doing my broad shoulders any favors. Biting my lip nervously, I rip my eyes away from my reflection and look at the floor instead. There’s no way I’m going outside like this.

Please tell me you’re not wearing that. It’s a general rule that fatasses shouldn’t wear bikinis.

"Of course I’m not wearing it," I growl in response for the Voice, too irritated at Julian to even care that it’s made its appearance for the first time today. Grumbling incoherently, I rip open my bag and begin rifling through its contents. My fingers close around the comfortable softness of a well-worn blue turtleneck sweater and then find a pair of boxers that I typically use for pajamas. My face is still set firmly in a scowl as I yank the shirt over my head and slip on the shorts, poking my head into the bathroom and grabbing a towel from the linen closet before storming down the hall and out the front door.

The grass is cool under my bare feet as I stomp down the small hill that leads to the lake, arms crossed tightly over my chest and fists clenched in irritation. In the moonlight’s glow I can spot Julian already in the water, dark hair soaking wet and plastered to his head. There’s another form in the lake with him and my eyebrow quirks up questioningly until I hear him shouting. “Czar! You moron! I left you with Natalia! How the fuck did you find me?”

If I wasn’t so pissed off I might laugh at Julian’s roughhousing with the notoriously dopey Great Dane. But with circumstances being what they are, I only continue making my way silently towards him, stopping at the edge of the lake and letting cool water splash up gently around my ankles. "Julian Scott, you are a pig. A testosterone-driven, woman-objectifying, lecherous little pig."

If looks could kill, I’m fairly certain he’d be dead. In all honesty I’m not that perturbed, but this is a great opportunity to mess with him. "Did you honestly think I’d wear that thing? Sorry, I’ve got a little more class than that."

As much as I’m trying to glare at him, the look on his face is so priceless that I can feel the laughter building up behind my scowl. Finally letting a smile break through, I lean over and run my hand across that water’s surface, splashing him. "Well, since I don’t have any decent clothing, I guess you’ll just have to go swimming on your own."

Julian's hand closes around my arm with an iron grip, stormy eyes glinting mischievously at me in the pale moonlight that reflects off the water. I realize what's going on a second before it happens, and I glare at him, my face stony and deadly serious. "Don't you dare - Ah!"

I'm yanked into the lake with a resounding splash, the frigid water making my muscles seize up and all but scream in protest at the injustice they're enduring. I begin shivering violently within seconds, my body shaking and unconsciously moving closer to Julian's warmth even as I screech at him through chattering teeth. "You ass! This water's f-freezing, I d-don't... W-why did y-you..." My sentence is cut off when he dunks me playfully under the lake's surface for a few seconds, the unbearably chilly water seeping into my hair and the small area of my sweater that had remained dry, the sopping fabric making me feel heavy and slow. I surface sputtering angrily and pushing soaked strands of hair away from my face, trying to blink away droplets that cling stubbornly to my eyelashes. "You're acting like a d-damn kindergartener, Julian! I t-told you I didn't w-want to go swimming and y-you just..."

He cuts me off again (although this time is far more enjoyable than the last), arms looping around my waist and pulling me closer. "See? This isn't so bad."

My biting retort dies suddenly when I feel familiar fingers dancing up under the hem of the sweater and ghosting lightly across the skin of my lower back. I attempt a response but can only manage a strangled, strange little noise as my body gives a little shiver that has nothing to deal with how cold the water is. In fact, I'm actually beginning to feel uncomfortably warm. Maybe the turtleneck wasn't such a great idea. The moral side of my mind buzzes irritatingly in the background about how we shouldn't be in this position, but I swat it away like a bothersome mosquito and alow myself to drift closer to him. My fingers unconsciously find their way to Julian's hair, tangling in the damp strands as he pulls me even closer and our lips brush lightly together. And then he starts cackling again, and I'm flying, landing with an unceremonious splash a few feet away.

Of course. I resurface again, glaring and absolutely speechless with irritation as Julian cautiously works his way towards me with that sheepish grin that makes my heart melt a little despite how pissed I am. His arms close around me in a genuine embrace as he leans down with a grin to press his lips to mine. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist."

"Tease," I mumble petulantly into the kiss, smacking him halfheartedly on the arm but nonetheless collapsing into giggles that force me to pull away for air. My hands reach out to pull him back for another kiss, but the next thing I know Julian's flinging me away and a black, furry blur splashes into the lake. I cackle gleefully as he flails around in an attempt to get Czar off of him, taking my hair and wringing the water out of it as I watch the spectacle. "Karma's a bitch, yeah?"

The gargantuan dog takes off towards the shore clutching something between his teeth, but I'm too busy laughing at the bewildered look on Julian's face to pay much attention to anything else. He charges off after the Great Dane, shouting and waving a hand through the air as the water surrounding him sinks lower and lower...

"Um... Julian?" my voice is a comically high-pitched squeak, and my face is now radiating so much heat that I'm fairly certain my cheeks are glowing red through the darkness. Blinking wide eyes and stuttering lamely, I stand frozen in place as he finally realizes what's happened and sinks back down in the water, his face now as red as my own.

"Um... Czar... He took my boxers..."

"Yeah." It's the only response I can muster over the pounding of blood in my ears that fuels the unceasing blush across my cheekbones. "So, uh... What now? Oh, wait!"

By chance my fingers brush against the fabric of my own shorts, floating just above my knees, and the idea presents itself. I've got the swimsuit bottoms on under them, and it would certainly save us both the embarrassment of having to attempt a rescue mission for Julian's stolen boxers. I slip the shorts down over my hips, heaving them out of the water so they land with a splash next to him. "There. Bet you're glad I dress conservatively now, aren't you?"

Snickering at the levity I've managed to bring to the situation but still blushing furiously, I head for the shore myself. "Karma is a bitch, indeed. I'm going back to the cabin, it's freezing out here. You, um... You might want to put those on," I nod at the floating fabric before retreating.

Frigid water drips off of me in streams as I head back up the hill, my soaked sweater clingy and uncomfortably heavy. Finally fed up enough to throw modesty to the wind (after all, Julian's probably too preoccupied trying to recover his dignity to be looking at me), I yank the stupid thing over my head and wring the water out of it, now absolutely freezing because of my damp skin being exposed to the night air but able to move far more freely. Shuddering from the cold, I double my pace towards the warmth of the cabin.

You're a real hypocrite, you know that? the Voice hisses at me as I toss my wet clothes in the bathroom and rifle through my bag for pajamas. Actually, I'm not sure if it's hypocrisy or just the fact that you're a chicken. I'm in your head, 'Ria, I see what you think about him, but when it comes to actually doing something you turn into this chaste little nun. Pathetic.

"I'm not a prude," I pout, crossing my arms irritably as he meanders over to where I am curled on the rug in front of the hearth. "I just don't take kindly to being objectified. I'm not a piece of meat, you know."

I might be serious except for the wide grin that makes itself apparent across my face as Julian pulls me into his arms and wraps the soft warmth of the blanket around the both of us. Any irritation I may have felt melts effortlessly away in the face of the familiarity of his embrace and the comforting smell of old spice and pine, lulling me into a sense of comfort I haven't felt for some time. Letting out a soft purr of contentment that sounds more like Felix after I give him a catnip toy than an expression of human happiness, I lean back against his chest and fix my eyes on the orange-red-yellow flickers of the glowing fire in front of us. I can almost hear the smile in Julian's voice as quick fingers find the sensitive spots along the sides of my torso and prompt me to squirm away from him in fits of giggles even though he keeps me tightly restrained. "Look at you, built a fire and everything. Aren't you my little survival expert."

Snorting quietly, I settle back into his lap and luxuriate in the sensation of his lips pressing against the column of my throat. "Please. You would have frozen your sorry ass off last winter if I hadn't swooped in and saved the day with my superior survival skills."

I trail off for a few moments, getting lost in the amorphous dance of the sputtering flames and thinking how much has changed since those tension-filled days during the winter. Am I happier now? Certainly. I am (somewhat) healthy and whole, and I have Julian in my life, and really, what more could I ask for? Am I at peace? That is a harder question to answer. It is simple and clear-cut to say yes at times like this, when I'm wrapped securely in his arms and feel like nothing can ever hurt me again, but when I am alone and don't have Julian's presence to calm the Voice's hissing doubts it is quite a bit harder to feel content. But for now, everything seems to have shifted a bit closer to the normalcy I so desperately crave, so I push the small flutters of indecision far from my mind and press even closer to Julian under the blanket's warmth. This trip was a good idea and we both needed it. That much is true.

“Hmm, let’s see. Warm fire, close proximity, complete and total privacy in a romantic cabin by a lake, only one thing comes to mind…” A surprised little squeak that is more comedic than anything shoots over my lips as his arms tighten around my midsection and leave absolutely no space between the two of us. My face flushes crimson for the umpteenth time this evening, faltering verbalizations trying to present themselves as my heart thrums in my ears. "Well, I... I mean... I guess we... I suppose there's no reason..."

"Scary stories!" I have less than a second to realize that Julian's playing his implication game again before I'm being tickled within an inch of my life and screeching for mercy as I struggle for freedom.

"Gah, Julian, stop it!" It's hard to distinguish the words through the heavy laughter but it actually hurts like liquid fire shooting through my torso. "Oh God, please, you know I... hahahaha dammit cut it out!" He finally relents and I slump back against him, panting as my eyes water profusely and the muscles in my stomach throb from laughing so hard. We settle into a long bout of silence again, but this one seems far more uncomfortable than the last as Julian shifts behind me nervously.

"Aria... I have something to tell you."

I can only sit in stunned horror as his story unfolds, my eyes widening with each fractured sentence. He trails off to nothing, making a concerted effort to not meet my eyes, and I am left sputtering for a response. How do I reply to something like this? "Wh-what? A stalker? Wait, what do you mean, 'mentioned me?' Julian, what's going on? How long has this been happening? Should I be frightened, because I..."

There are so many questions that I choke on them, stalling into a doe-eyed silence as my eyes lock onto his. I know I look weak and scared but I can't bring myself to put up a brave front, too much has happened and all I want right now is for him to wrap his arms around me again and reassure me that everything is good and normal and okay. Whatever those letters said, I know they must have been horrible to prompt him to drag me to the middle of nowhere in an attempt to escape. I find my entire being yearning to know what the notes supposedly said about me. Insults? Threats? Death threats? The last bit of imagination makes a heavy lump shoot up into my throat, momentarily cutting off my ability to breathe as well as speak.

"I... I really can't handle this right now," I half whisper, burying my face in shaking hands. "Why didn't you tell me about all of this when it started happening, Julian? I've been walking alone at night, I've been leaving my door unlocked, and if some... some crazy is out for my blood, I think I deserve to know so I can take the proper precautions!"

I am edging upon panic but do my best to press it down, willing myself to stay strong enough to not have a complete meltdown. "I just... I think that you should have told me sooner, that's all. Tell me everything, right now. I want to know."

"I'm sorry..."

Julian's reaction is more than a little acerbic, but I find myself guiltily realizing that I deserve it. My reaction was entirely self-centered, as he very sharply pointed out, and I find my head ducking in shame as I curl against him and shift my eyes upwards to meet his. "I didn't mean it that way. Of course I'm worried about you, but... But I was just caught off guard and I panicked, okay?"

I'm still panicking, actually, but my better judgment tells me that sharing this fact with Julian wouldn't be the best idea. I feel absolutely ill when I think about the fact that there's some completely unhinged person out there watching us, watching Julian with psychotic intentions (was he serious about the 'taking a bath in his blood' thing?). Any irritation that typically would have made my temper flare up against the sharpness of his words is drowned out against the swirling confusion rocketing at rapid speeds through my head. I don't know whether to be mad or disappointed or scared shitless, so I settle into an uncomfortable mix of the three.

"I'm such a mess," I mumble, raking fingers through my damp hair and glancing back at the fire (it flickers and changes and turns on itself much like my own mind, so watching it brings me some solace in knowing that I'm not alone in my confusion). Even with the blanket and Julian's warmth I still feel unbearably cold, the flimsy, thin satin of the nightgown not really doing much to keep in my own body heat. Shuddering partially from both how chilled I feel and from horrible images of strange girls peeking through nooks and crannies every time I go over to Julian's house, I tear my gaze from the fire and shift as close to him as I possibly can, resting my head against his chest. "I really am sorry. Sometimes I just say things and... and they don't come out right. But I'm far more worried about you than myself.

I don't want to be such a paranoid basket-case all the time, but I really can't help it," I snort, only half-trying to be humorous as my fingers tangle their way into a comfortable nest with his. "Hell, it's probably just Felicity trying to mess with you or Adrian playing some stupid joke. Neither of us should be worried. Let's just have fun this week, okay? We need it."

It's much easier to feel safe and comfortable like this, surrounded by the comforting aroma of old spice and pine with the steady thump of Julian's heartbeat beneath my ear. All of the tension in my body slowly shifts to a kind of lethargy, allowing me to relax against him as my breathing slows down and I give a small yawn. "I love you. You know that, right?"

Vaguely I wonder what time it is, but my limbs are suddenly lead-filled and I can't force my head up to look at the clock on the mantel. Heavy-lidded eyes slide closed, phantom orange flickers from the fire still dancing their way across my obscured vision. I know that I'm falling asleep and Julian will have to wake me up sooner or later, but I'm so far-gone and sleepy and utterly at peace in this moment that I don't really have the ability to care. Floating away on the steady pulse of the heart beating beneath my resting head, I'm unconscious within seconds.

((Gawd, so short. D<))

I wake up feeling more rested than I have in weeks, basking in the wonderful feeling of Julian next to me, still breathing in that deep, even way that indicates he's still asleep. I contemplate closing my eyes and trying to slip back into unconsciousness, but I already know I won't be able to fall asleep now that I'm up. I was born a morning person, and before long my desire to simply do something is going to drive me out of our comfortable little bubble.

I roll over as gently as I'm able to, feeling a soft smile spread across my face when my gaze falls on Julian's sleeping form. While he always looks so intense and careworn in his waking hours, he could pass for someone much younger right now, all the lines of stress and worry smoothed out as dark lashes dust along high cheekbones and chocolate-colored locks splay out haphazardly against the white cotton of the pillowcase. I find myself reaching out to brush his hair back into place but I stop, too scared of waking him, of bringing him back to a world where he has to care and worry. I do enough of both for the two of us, after all.

The smooth wooden floor is cool beneath my bare feet as I quietly shut the bedroom door and try to find something to get into until Julian gets up. I can hear the horses outside and it reminds me that I should probably check on them, so I slide my feet into a beat-up pair of slippers and head out the front door. Fiona and Marilyn greet me pleasantly enough, allowing me to talk to them quietly for a few minutes and run gentle fingers through their dark manes. It's purely by accident that I spot the paper sticking up noticeably from Julian's saddlebag from where it sits propped up against a tree trunk, and my curious nature just won't allow me to leave it alone. I pluck the yellowed sheet from within the bag, my eyes raking over the smeared letters and growing wider with each line. It's all I can do not to shriek in horror, but I bite back the swirling emotions and cram the paper back into the saddlebag, turning on my heel and heading for the cabin.

Pffft, you know you're only freaking out because you think the same stuff and that means you're just as psycho as stalker-girl.

That is not true! I reply mentally, indignant. I don't want to set aside breaks to look in his eyes or... or live in his hair! That shit's just freaky!

Oh yes, how presumptuous of me. I'm sure a simple summer home in his hair would suffice, of course you don't have to live there.

It takes me a moment to realize that something's wrong when Julian crosses quickly to me and wraps me up in his arms like we haven't seen each other in months. While he's normally so stoic and composed (I'll ignore the random outbursts of anger for now), I can actually feel him shaking, breaths too heavy as they muffle themselves in my flour-filled hair. My eyebrows shoot upwards, worry spiking through my consciousness as I attempt to calm him down a bit, tracing nonsensical patterns over his back with delicate fingers and murmuring in a consoling tone like I do to Stella when she won't fall asleep even after I sing to her. "Hey. Hey, whatever it is, it's fine. What happened, honey? You're shaking like a leaf, what's -"

But then he's kissing me in this way that absolutely wipes my mind blank and I can barely even remember what my name is, much less what I was going to say. While we've never really been the chastest of couples this is completely beyond anything I'm used to, and that stupid little choked noise from last night tears itself from my throat and muffles itself against Julian's lips when I feel hands that are somehow rough and gentle all at once tracing a warm trail up to my neck. I'm just beginning to think that I could definitely get used to starting my mornings this way when my head gently tilts sideways and oh, hell.

I think I must have blacked out or something because the next thing I know my knees have decided to stop supporting me, and I'm left slumped against Julian, who's grinning rather smugly. He might be laughing, but I'm sure I couldn't hear it over the rapid pulsations of my own heart pounding heavily in my ears. Trying to regain my footing and remember how to breathe all at once, I distantly realize that for some odd reason I'm not blushing beet red like I should be.

Go for it, kid, The Voice hisses, and I give a small gasp. It's the first time that it's made an appearance in such a close proximity to Julian, but even odder is the fact that it isn't insulting me for once.

Wh-what? My fragmented mind tries to produce a response but only comes up with strings of words that don't make too much sense. What are you talking about, I can't just... Well, I mean, I could, but...

Listen. The sexual tension in this kitchen is so thick you could cut it with a knife, and frankly I'm tired of sitting in your head and listening to your hormone-driven thoughts. So shut up and get some.