So any time apart from him felt like too much time.
Then, while she'd been sitting there crying, she'd sensed movement behind her. His legs had come around either side of hers, and his arms had wrapped around her, and then he'd held onto her through her sobs, gently rocking her.
“You're never alone, so never be afraid,” he'd whispered.
And just like that, all had been right in her world again.
So what did someone do when everything was going right, and they were with the person they most adored?
They celebrated.
There were no clocks where they were; no dates, no calendars. And yet oddly enough, things were planned. She wasn't quite sure how it worked. She'd been skulking around Old Town, determined to grab someone and shake them till she could see their face clearly, when a little man – at least she assumed it was a man – had handed her a flier.
A Gray Party. Come Dressed Accordingly. Where: The Tunnel. When: It Happens.
After reading that, Adele decided she couldn't be in purgatory. No, because clearly she was through the looking glass. That was the only explanation there could be for an invitation like that; like it was written by the Cheshire Cat himself.
But Jones was always telling her to go with the flow, so she decided to do just that – a party would be good for both of them, surely. So she went about her usual antics, going from place to place, to wherever the falls took her, and she waited. She didn't concentrate on anywhere in particular, and she didn't mention the party to Jones.
And after a particularly terrifying jump off the castle's balcony, she found herself outside a door marked “The Tunnel”. When she looked down at herself, she was wearing a gray satin gown.
Apparently “It Happens” means right now.
The Tunnel wasn't really a tunnel. It looked like a normal enough building, the same as the rest in Old Town, all stone and brick on the outside. The door led the way into a round room, which had a staircase skirting its walls. They descended for about two hundred feet, and at the very bottom of them, a party was in full swing.
When Adele finally reached the ground floor, she was immediately swept up in a sea of gray. It should've been impressive, every guest adhering so strictly to a dress code, but there was something strange happening.
Normally, everyone's face was a blur, but these people ... she could swear she could almost see them. A smile here, a blue eye there. Nothing recognizable, and a second glance just showed a blur, but there was definitely something brewing.
“It's rude to stare,” Jones was suddenly whispering in her ear. Startled, she whirled around to face him.
“It's just ... can you see their faces? Sometimes I think I almost can,” she said.
“I can always see them.”
“But I can't, so what does this mean for me?”
“I think it means you're getting used to this place,” he said, his voice low and slightly ominous sounding. She frowned and glanced around again.
“I should think so, I've been here for ... forever,” she mumbled, trying to think back to the beginning and guesstimate how much time had actually passed. One millennia? Two? Or maybe just a couple hours? It all blended together in her brain and became a soupy mess of time and memories.
“Hopefully you won't be here quite that long. Care to dance?” he asked, but he didn't wait for an answer, just started gently urging her across the room. He seemed to be in a somewhat serious, somber mood, so Adele decided to change the subject to something lighter.
“I've never been in this place. Those stairs! They should invest in an elevator,” she joked.
“Why?”
“Because it's a long way down. I don't even want to think about climbing them at the end of the night,” she groaned. Suddenly, he was warm against her back, and she could feel his breath on the side of her neck, just below her ear.
“Why bother with the stairs at all?”
“Because I ...”
Adele's voice trailed off as she realized what Jones was talking about. She tilted her head to look up, then watched as a man on the stairs simply leapt off. She stifled a shriek as she watched, thinking maybe he would just disappear, and hoping she wasn't about to watch someone die.
Instead of doing either, he flung his arms out to his sides and great, big, gray feathers fanned out behind him. His “wings” allowed him to coast in a wide, lazy circle, slowly dropping him into the party. When he finally landed, the feathers all fell off the arms of his suit. He straightened his tie and headed towards the bar, but not before winking at Adele.
“Awfully bold,” Jones snorted.
“He winked at me!” she exclaimed. “I actually saw it! And did he just fly down here? Could I have done that?”
She looked up again to see more people doing it. Men and women jumping off the stairs, sprouting wings, and gliding in circles around the edges of the room.
“You're shocked? You jumped off a cliff, remember? Jumping off some stairs should pale in comparison. C'mon, dance with me.”
He led her into the thick of the crowd and placed his hands on her hips. It wasn't like the times before in the grand ballroom, where they'd danced in a more traditional manner. Adele was glad, she felt more comfortable in this setting, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“This is nice,” she sighed, resting her cheek against his lapel. She realized she could hear his heart – it was so loud, like she was using a stethoscope. A strong and steady beat, thumping in time to their dance.
“Adele, you know this isn't real, right?”
“It feels real.”
“Only because you make it that way. It doesn't have to be.”
More nonsense. He wouldn't answer her questions, and then when she finally stopped asking them, he wanted to tell her things. Maybe that had been the point, the whole time?
Silly. This place is so silly. I don't even care anymore. I just want to be silly, too.
“Jones,” she breathed, looking up at him. “I asked you the other day – if I ever go home, will I see you again?”
His lips formed a hard line as he stared down at her. He looked ... pained. Not a good sign. She braced herself for his answer.
“I have a job to do here, and when it's over, you'll be gone. You most likely won't remember any of this,” he told her.
Adele was shocked.
“I don't want -”
“You do. You want to forget everything. Remember how scared you were in your parents' house? Remember how you felt when you thought I was gone? Think of those things. Think of how dark it is in Old Town – do you really want to live like that? No, Adele. You want to be in the sunshine,” he assured her.
“But there is sunshine here, we could stay at the beach. Or even in the poppy field. I love it there,” she insisted.
“You don't. You don't understand, I don't want you to -” he tried to argue, but she abruptly stopped moving, bringing their dance to a halt.
“I don't want to go home if you're not there.”
There was a lengthy pause, and she stared up into his green eyes the whole time, daring him to argue with her.
“Adele, you don't mean that.”
“I do. I want to be here. I want to be with you.”
“You can't possibly understand what you're-”
No more talking in circles.
In her old life, Adele was pretty sure she'd never been a particularly bold person. But she wasn't in that life anymore, and could barely remember it. Didn't even want to, not if Jones wasn't in any of those memories.
So screw it – here, in this world, in this time, in this now with him, she was a bold person. Had always been one, as far as she was concerned. So without sparing it another thought, Adele stood on her toes and kissed him, hoping he could feel just how much she did understand what she was saying.
I'd stay here forever with you.
She expected him to stop her. To tell her it was against the rules, or not allowed, or only when it rains upside down – some ridiculous made up rule for their ridiculous made up world. But Jones didn't do any of that. She felt his fingers clench against the back of her dress for a moment, and then he was kissing her back.
Sometimes, a thing can just feel right. A perfect sunset at the end of a perfect day, a beautiful song played by a beautiful musician. It resonates with your soul. Kissing Jones ... it was something she'd been missing for most of her life, and she hadn't even realized it.
It resonated.
Adele didn't want to let the moment go. So much time in that place felt like it was standing still, so why couldn't their kiss? She sighed and pressed herself against him, opened her mouth, traced her tongue along his lips.
When he returned with double the intensity, it felt like fireworks started going off. Hell, maybe they were, who knew what was possible anymore? She'd held the moon once, now she was kissing perfection. She would never doubt anything ever again. She moaned, pressing her tongue to his, forcing their bodies flush together. His hands wandered over her back, holding her tight against him.
Then, as quickly as it had started, it was all over.
“We can't do this,” Jones pulled away from her and whispered.
“No, no, no, we totally can,” she replied, already leaning back in for another kiss.
“Oh my god. Adele, look.”
She followed his gaze and looked up. Her eyes opened wide and she turned away from him as she tried to understand just what it was, exactly, she was witnessing.
Pink. Coating the ceiling, dripping down the walls, running along the stairs. Like someone had dumped a big can of paint over the whole building. Stone and mortar and steel, they all absorbed the color, turning different shades of blush, magenta, and rouge.
It was amazing.
And it wasn't just confined to the walls and stairs – big drops fell from the ceiling, landing on the people who were flying around. Their gray costumes all turned pink, just like the walls around them. A woman near Adele laughed as a fat bead of pink dropped right on her head. As the color dribbled over her body, her outfit changed color along with it, going from a smoky charcoal to a dusky rose.