Mr Americano - ALAN RICKMAN fanfic

Chapter 25 - By My Side

Another chapter for you! [M rating]!

Thank you SO much everyone who has voted, commented and favourited this story. The appreciation is through the roof! I'm so grateful.

Not much is left of this story, I'm sad to say! At the same time, I really don't want to have to say goodbye to Alan and Rebecca. We'll see ;) 

After this, I am planning to write a short fanfic of Snape and Lily, then I'm returning to my original Snape story - 'The Gifted Curse' and finishing the sequel I already have in the works (but not yet posted)

Hope you enjoy this chapter! 

....................

"Maybe I'm making the wrong decision," I question, nervously twiddling my fingers at my side watching Alan tying his suit shoes, sat on the bed. "What if all seems forged now I'm not attending the preliminary hearing?"

Alan looks up. "Rebecca, he was found with trousers half way down and your clothing ripped... You're worrying too much darling. You not showing up does not mean that your voice is heard any less than it would by being represented by a lawyer today...and Jack Bensen is the best there is. You've said all you needed to say and frankly Scott doesn't have a leg to stand on."

I recoil upon hearing Scott's name and he senses it.

"Don't spend your day clock-watching. Why don't you go out? Do something nice for yourself. All will be fine and we can discuss it when I'm home. Okay? Don't you worry." Alan comes over to me and wraps his arms round my middle.

Something for me. It almost seems foreign. It's approaching the last day of Perfume's sold out run of the West End and I need something to wear for the upcoming cast and crew afterparty.

"I guess shopping for a dress wouldn't hurt."

"There you go." Alan inhales through his nose, running his hands down my back. "Wouldn't hurt to buy something sexy to wear underneath either...just a suggestion."

"Oh really?" I pull back, smirking. "Or would you prefer it if I didn't wear anything at all?"

"Oooh," he purrs. "Easy now, or I'll walk out of here pitching a tent."

Before Alan leaves for the preliminary, he hands me a credit card across the breakfast bar, which I push right back to him.

"No. No way."

He tuts at me and shoves it back in my direction. "Just...take it."

"Nope," I slide it back. "I'm not that kind of person."

"The person you're implying also suggests you think very little of my intelligence and judgement of character. I'm slightly offended," he says dryly, pushing the card back.

"You know what I mean," I smirk. "I'm not about to waltz around London with your credit card."

"It's called a gift, darling. Take it. I'm not expecting you to come back with the dress in the back of a Lamborghini."

Another act of complete kindness. Alan doesn't take no for an answer, and after his final wise words of the day, he heads towards the door. He spins around before he opens it and points across the room to me,

"No car dealerships Miss Stone." And with that sardonic smile of his, he leaves.

...........

It was good to get out, to breath some fresh air into my lungs – as fresh as it gets in London that is. Not wanting to blow an extortionate amount on a dress, I buy something simple but figure hugging enough to ignite racy thoughts in Alan's mind. Black, of course – classic. I'm quite looking forward to this party, if anything to celebrate the success of Alan's directing. It worries me that he has to be in New York next month to begin filming on a new movie. Surely it could be potentially when the trial begins. So many questions, so much anxiety, but I remind myself of Alan's words "one day at a time."