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William wandered, feeling lost and defeated after the train departed. Julia had left, after all, and suddenly he felt as if he didn't know what to do with himself.
He walked up a long drive and realized where he was only when he was standing in front of the main door of the Pendrick house. He stared at it for a moment, confused what he was doing on Pendrick's doorstep, but he used the knocker anyway, letting it fall with solid thumps.
It didn't take long for someone to answer. Pendrick himself cracked it open, looking cautiously to see who was knocking on his door in the evening.
"I'm sorry, I'm the last person you probably want to see--" William blurted.
Pendrick frowned a little but opened the door more widely. "Please, come in, Mister Murdoch." He was in his shirtsleeves, without his sling, though he held the arm tightly against his body. He led the way to the familiar sitting room, and strode to the side table. "Would you care for a drink?"
"Thank you; that would be appreciated. Whatever you're having."
For a moment there was no sound but the clink of the glassware as Pendrick poured from the decanter and offered him whiskey in a tumbler. Then he picked up his own glass and held it up. "Cheers." He settled himself in the armchair and invited, "Please have a seat. I trust I'm not under arrest again?" he asked, with a tired smile.
William smiled back at the joke. "Indeed, no. My visit is an entirely personal one." The smile faded away. "I… I wished to apologize again for my assumptions. I'm afraid that my unwarranted suspicions led to your imprisonment, near execution and the ruination of your life."
Pendrick examined the amber liquid in his glass but answered with a wry tone, "When you put it that way, I suddenly have the urge to throw this at you. But no, Detective, your suspicions weren't, as it happens, unwarranted. They were only misdirected. And considering how tricked I was as well, it seems churlish to blame you for what I didn't see myself."
"I fear I don't deserve your absolution, but thank you. And it's William," he offered. "I think we may be beyond the formalities, now."
Pendrick's lips twitched into another reluctant smile. "Indeed. Then I am James. So tell me, William, was your only purpose in apology?" he asked, and his dark eyed gaze sat on William intently as he turned the glass in his hand, making the facets sparkle.
"I … I asked Julia - Doctor Ogden - to marry me. And she left on a train for Buffalo," William confessed unhappily. "I wandered for some time and then, became possessed to speak with you. Though I don't rightly know why. I suppose because your wife proved false, too, as Julia did, if in a much more minor way."
Pendrick's eyes turned back to the glass then he took a deep swallow. "So we are both left, it seems. Luckily I still have a full cabinet as a companion." He waved his free hand toward the liquor and the bottles there, and winced at the pull in his injury.
A few minutes of comfortable silence passed as they both nursed their drinks.
"What will you do?" William asked.
Pendrick answered, "I must sell the house to raise capital." He sighed heavily. "Though of course the value will plummet in a quick sale. The art I will keep, at least for now. Then, I think I should travel to start again. Perhaps westward, or across to the American side."
"I think you will find new success," William told him. "You understand the new technologies that will change this world. But," he sighed and added, "I am sorry it is necessary."
To his surprise, Pendrick shook his head once, and teased, "If you continue to apologize I shall be forced to understand why Doctor Ogden left you for Buffalo. You were performing your duty to the best of your ability, and I think it fortunate the city has you."
"I don't think I could be as forgiving," William admitted.
"I intend to save all my anger for those who deserve it the most," Pendrick declared, rising to his feet. "That would not be you, William." His voice remained mild, but as he turned toward the side table, William glimpsed Pendrick's face, cold and set, and the hand holding his glass was white-knuckled. William realized then that Pendrick's true future plans included avenging himself on his faithless, criminal wife. Sally had been clever to frame him and get him out of her way, but William had to wonder if she truly understood what she had turned against her. Pendrick's intellect bent to a singular purpose would be a fearsome thing indeed.
William intended to warn him against expending his life or turning against the law in the pursuit of vengeance, but he swallowed back the words. What right had he, when he was the reason Sally's plans had succeeded in the first place?
But when Pendrick turned to raise his brows at William, his expression was controlled again. He held up the decanter. "Second round? The servants have all left, so I have no supper to offer, but I can offer drink."
"Gladly." William offered his glass, and Pendrick came to pour. He laid his fingers over William's to steady the glass, and in that touch, there was… a moment. He felt his heart skip a beat, though that was plainly ridiculous. He glanced up and his eyes met James', whose gaze was steady and intense.
William felt flustered, as if Pendrick was catching him out at something, and he said with an uncomfortable half-laugh, in an awkward attempt to change the subject, "Mister Tesla is an intriguing man, isn't he? So brilliant, I felt rather inadequate when speaking to him…"
Pendrick finished pouring the whiskey and withdrew back to his chair, with none of William's apparent discomfiture. "He has quite a towering intellect."
They spoke of Tesla and his inventions, staying safely away from any discussion of the deadly weapon, until William drained his second glass.
"Another?" Pendrick asked.
"No, no, I shouldn't," William refused. "Or I shouldn't make it home, I think. But thank you." Reluctantly he forced himself to his feet, even though Pendrick's comfortable chair seemed to want to pull him back down. "I have intruded on your hospitality long enough. I should take my leave."
"There is no need," Pendrick reassured him. "I welcome the company. The silence of this house has become oppressive," he added more softly, and in the resulting quiet, William could hear only the clock on the mantle, the crackle of the fire, and more distant creaking of the house settling. There was not a sound of another soul moving around, only stillness.
"I see, but I should not, that would not be proper, I think. The detective and the --"
"Innocent," Pendrick helpfully supplied. "Neither suspect nor felon." His lips twisted. "Though I suppose society will never believe it."
"You and I will speak to the papers tomorrow, with the chief," William declared. "We will exonerate you. We will tell them you were assisting the police in secret to conduct our investigation."
"Which is a lie," Pendrick pointed out dryly.
"No, it's not," William argued. "You were assisting us. It was so secret we didn't know you were doing it."
That made Pendrick chuckle, as William had hoped.
"Very well," he said. "I welcome your efforts, of course. If I can't persuade you to stay, then I should at least walk you to the door." He was unsteady when he stood, catching himself on the back of the chair with the hand of his injured arm. He winced and gasped a little at the sudden renewal of pain, and William made a quick move toward him, in case he fell.
"Be careful. Perhaps you should sit down again?"
"I am quite all right. It was a reflex to use that arm; I should know better." After a moment, Pendrick pushed off the chair and started for the hall.
William followed him to the front door. "Thank you for a pleasant evening," William said, trying not to sway. He wasn't drunk, merely a bit into his cups, he told himself.
"You are always welcome." Pendrick put his hand on William's shoulder, and for a moment, their eyes met. William felt his heart thudding in his chest, as though this were frightening, but he didn't understand why.
Then Pendrick leaned forward and kissed him. On the mouth.
William was so startled, he didn't move. He didn't breathe. Pendrick was the first to move, pulling back and turning away hastily. "Forgive me," Pendrick said. "I … I acted thoughtlessly. It's been a difficult day, and I … forgot myself for a moment."
William was still staring, not quite sure what had just happened. "You… you kissed me."
"I was mistaken," Pendrick answered and took a step back. "Please, forget anything happened. I let the drink go to my head."
"No," William said, uncertainly and feeling confused. "Why would you do such a thing? That was not in the least brotherly or of friendship."
"It doesn't matter."
"It does," William insisted. Then suddenly a possible answer came to him and he stared. "But you told me you loved your wife."
Pendrick hesitated, and then after a resigned sigh, he said, "There are many kinds of love, Detective. Yes, I loved her, but she and I shared beds rarely and never easily. I find women aesthetically beautiful, but not … appealing," he finished delicately. "Sally and I both agreed that we might seek companionship elsewhere, as long as we were both discreet."
"I… You didn't tell me about this."
Pendrick raised his eyebrows. "I was already condemned to hang; I hardly needed a second noose."
"No, I suppose not," William muttered, trying to wrap his mind around this new fact. He knew vaguely of such relationships; Julia had given him a look once that suggested he was naïve when he had asked her whether the two bachelors who lived together on her street had asked to court her. But he had not, to his knowledge, ever met anyone. He knew the Church considered carnal relations between the same sex to be sinful, but the Church had also once considered astronomy sinful, so it was not as if doctrine was eternal. And he was curious about the cause.
"Did something… happen?" he asked, "to you? To make you feel that way?"
James frowned at him, at first not seeming to understand the question, and then answered, "No. It was something I knew quite early, but I learned to approximate the same behavior toward girls and women as my peers did, in self-preservation. I didn't know until I was an adult that anyone shared my feelings."
"I see," William said slowly, trying to understand. "And did you think I would be receptive?"
"For a moment, I hoped so," Pendrick murmured. "But it was only a reflection of myself and my own imagination. I am sorry."
William found himself snorting and he shook his head. "I ruined your life, and you apologize for a kiss. That seems a special absurdity. Especially when it was not so terrible."
Pendrick's lips curled in a slight smile. "No? Then I am satisfied." He inhaled a deep breath and stepped back from William, taking refuge in formalities. "Good night, Mister Murdoch."
Ordinarily William would have followed his lead and stepped back, but curiosity had always been his besetting sin and he'd had enough to drink to be a little reckless. "I thought you were going to use William, James," he said and recovered the distance had just moved back, then stepped even closer. James was watched him with a frown of curiosity, not sure what William was doing.
"I, I wouldn't be averse to trying it again," William murmured, swallowing back his nervousness. "You took me by surprise, and I think I would enjoy it more a second time."
James froze, his expression a naked one of pure disbelief. "Are you quite certain?" he asked, and his dark eyes were almost painfully wary as if he feared William's rejection or outright hostility. "I … would not want you to do something you find uncomfortable or distasteful."
That fear made William more certain. That James would be afraid of him for this - when he had shown no fear facing down unknown weapons and killers, made William begin to understand the risk James had taken. He wanted to assure James that he meant no harm. "I don't find it either of those, only unknown," he answered. "And I think if we try it again, like many things, it will become less strange, and more familiar."
"And therein lies the danger," James murmured, to himself, but he raised his good hand to touch William's face. It was a light touch with his fingertips, feathering down William's cheek and the side of his neck. No one had ever touched William in that way, as if exploring the feel of his skin, and he found himself shivering.
Then James drew nearer, the amber flecks in his brown eyes becoming visible in the dim light of the hall lamps. William leaned in, unwilling to let James make all the effort, and he went the wrong way, so their noses bumped, and yet their lips met again.
It was clumsy and didn't last long, but William shuddered anyway. It felt… wrong. Or maybe it felt good and that was why it felt wrong.
James pulled back a little to quirk a smile at him. "I recognize the signs of too much thinking, William," he chided softly. "We would never achieve success without daring. And sometimes we must dare the censure of society to change it, as in the same way we dare to create new technologies, to change the world to come. But, I suppose that's my burden, not yours." He dropped his hand away from William's shoulder, and it felt like a loss of warmth.
'Daring'. William thought of that for a moment, and he remembered the gentle kisses. There could be no sin in those, except the sin in all kisses. As for society's censure… Society would censure Julia for being a woman daring to handle corpses and he knew that was wrong, because Julia was more than capable. Perhaps here, too, was a case where society knew nothing but antiquated prejudice.
When James reached for the door handle, William's hand shot out and laid on top, keeping the door shut. He folded his fingers around James' hand and pulled him back.
"I want to try it again," William said, and this time his voice was steady and sure. "We are men of science. And that effort was inadequate to determine its effectiveness. Shoddy, even. I think we could do better."
He said the words lightly, but he meant them, and James knew that. His relief was easy to read as his pleased smile grew with each word that William spoke.
"I'm certain of it, William," he answered, and his hand slipped with comforting familiarity around the back of William's neck to urge him close. William's heart was beating rapidly, and he felt like a schoolboy again, uncertain and yet full of excitement as the moment seemed to stretch.
Mouths touched together. This time, William pushed closer as well, lips at first together but then parting, as his skin tingled.
It felt good, to kiss him. Moreover, it felt right. And it felt even more right when William combed his fingers into the brown hair, to keep James there. His mouth tasted of whiskey and desire, and at the end of that long, nightmarish day that was exactly what William wanted.