Author's Notes: The art for this chapter is by Slipnslideblog (Silver) on Tumblr, as is the art within. The art for the cover is also specifically of this scene, by AceofIntuition.
The song played is Time Will Tell by Jonah Levine.
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You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you." – Isaiah 26:3
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"Do you...enjoy dancing?"
Joey gave her a grin growing out of a touch of hesitation, a touch of shyness even, as she sat across him once again in his lonely office. But even if his smile was small, a glitter in his eyes certainly wasn't.
It was...relieving, almost, for him to react; the beginning of this third visit to the middle-aged cartoonist was arguably a bit tongue-tied. He asked her how she had been doing and she explained that recent moment that undeniably would be special for a very, very long time. The expression upon his face remained unchanged, simply listening and observing the woman in the chair past his desk as she described her silent worries for the man of ink and the musical remedy she employed that seemed to heal wounds she reopened. An unstretched, flat mouth behind folded hands, brown eyes behind his stained glasses seeming to pierce into her despite how nonthreatening the cordial old artist was. He murmured something at one point- something about "I'm so glad you have someone that keeps you from being alone,"- but that look wouldn't leave him.
He was certainly, undoubtedly worried until the moment she assured her new life's mentor that truly she'd done her best to leave the past be, leaving Mr. Drew flushed with ease and...something else. Whatever it was, she liked it, and so the young woman gave her own reserved yet warm nod and smile in response to his inquiry.
"I don't really, like- dance much at all or know-...know how, but..." Her eyes rolled to the floor, staring at the floorboards a ways off where shadow and reality met and blurred details of their environment. A few fluttery blinks and her gaze met his once more, a shine of their own in tender, childish vulnerability. "...I do have fun to," she finished in a confession so soft she briefly wondered if he could hear it at all.
That is- until she saw his eyes narrow, his smile sharpen, and his head shake with a "tsk, tsk" of much the same tone as hers.
"I don't suppose you can say you don't know how to dance after going about dancing like that," he countered, that expression about him now obviously a sort of playfulness. It made her cheeks a touch hotter, mouth drooping slightly in the sort of embarrassment that comes without shame.
Heaven knows it could have only gotten worse when Joey walked over and held out his hand, the frills of his undershirt's sleeve tickling at his wrist as that mild but mischievous grin waited an arm's length away. The other hand bent backwards behind him, completing the gentlemanly stance of someone long distanced from the society he formerly offered it to. Francine's hand rose slowly at first in mere surprise and then...as she looked over him...-
Joey's touch as she placed her fingertips on his in offering was so amazingly delicate, every drop of care he had in his old bones tangible in how gradually he took her hand into his. A thumb with rosy skin smoothed over her knuckles, a brief moment of what was maybe comprehension- of humanity- before his hold tightened into a grip and one last look was thrown over his shoulder the woman's way before pulling her behind and walking into the nothingness ahead, eyes smoldering quietly with anticipation.
At first, Francine was mesmerized alone by the idea that he was taking her from her seat to dance, but as he continued to move on towards the growing darkness, other things took her attention. Finally as Joey slowed to a stop some distance away from where they began, the shadows pulled away and before them was a phonograph. That- that...definitely wasn't within sight before; it made Francine's brow furrow in confusion, but soon the draw of another mystery pulled her in- the man that was now holding her hand.
"I say..." he began in a soft, hushed voice as his free hand reached for the device, "...It'd be most appropriate for you to prove me wrong."
And as taken aback as Francine was, she had no heart to tell him no- but had all of it to allow this.
Especially as the music played.
It was scratched; it was faded; it had all the characteristic traits of a record being played on a machine certainly much older than she, but it was also somehow...more than anything she had ever heard.
Unlike with Sammy, it was her turn to be surrounded by audible magic, and indeed "surrounded" this time around meant every meaning of the word. As the short man relinquished his hold on the phonograph's needle to take her second palm in turn, their drifting further and further away with each slow yet confident step of his made it more and more evident that the sound wasn't...emanating from the dusty record.
It came from everywhere.
Like it was a song straight from his heart.
Francine tried for just a moment to focus on the music alone- this bizarre wonder they were suddenly encased in, looking up and all around to try to detect a singular source of the tune- but then her eyes inevitably fell back on the gold within Joey's, and soon this sweeping away by the fatherly old man and his invisible orchestra floating around them like a breeze became a unified, singular experience.
Years of isolation couldn't seem to deprive Mr. Drew of his well-earned whimsy and coordination, Francine in her inexperience at first having to watch her feet as the jazz swayed in and Joey took one step at a time-
"No, darling." A soft interruption, Joey releasing his left hand to tap underneath her chin, a guiding gesture to continue to meet his dreamy, half-lidded stare. "Don't you worry about stepping on my toes; don't you worry about tripping over." Something about him as she looked closer and closer- something she found so easy to trust as his head titled slightly and the slight shadow of his hat pulled over his irises to make them seem to glow even brighter. "Just close your eyes...and stop searching for the music when you can feel it right there inside you."
And before leaving to hold her once again, his fingertips gently moved to her face to pull widened eyelids down till they shut. Just in their last sliver of sight, she saw a certain seriousness about him as he nearly whispered:
"I promise you won't fall down."
And in a now lightless world, Francine decided she was helpless but to abide. "Feel it...feel it..." The young woman forced her mind to cease its noisy narration in order to take in a song rusted bronze with passing time.
And even with her eyes closed, Joey still hummed with satisfaction as her expression made clear that she was beginning to understand what he had meant. The floor beneath them shifted with his next stride, causing his brow to curl with worry.
"Now...promise me in return that you'll keep them closed... And try your best."
An awkward bob of the chin in reply, her lips pursed in concentration. And when Joey took a step back, he nearly silently sighed in relief as it became clear she was doing as was told; she did not react when behind Joey's heels, floorboards slowly apparated like ghosts out of a fog, floating just a touch higher and higher like an ascending staircase. Francine could feel one decidedly firm pinch of his fingers as her guide chose to rise himself and her up, each pace in tandem with the music in such a way that this sensation was indistinguishable from their dance without aide of her sight.
Instead, it seemed like a sudden burst of flight to them both in distinctly different ways, and to nearly his disbelief-
The girl held within his grasp giggled.
And that decided it all.
Soon they were truly waltzing in the sky, twirling and twisting with a wonderful sort of casual grace. She could feel him pull her in and out- could hear the slight laughter just a bit ahead- as the smooth jazz picked up and calmly set them flying. She could feel each note of this melody breathe into her, each soft blow of the trumpet cross between their fingertips as he took her back and forth between an arm's length.
What she couldn't see was a piece of wood emerge with every shift underneath the soles of her shoes, seamlessly manufacturing an experience unlike any other out of thin air.
As Joey would guide her away from one spot to form new ballroom floors, the ones they stepped upon would fade away just as they came. He briefly glanced behind him, silently marveling at this, but otherwise kept her focus sternly upon her, watching not only her happiness but her body language. Joey was a remarkable dancing partner, able to perceive with just a few hints of movement where someone wanted to go and what they would do next. Each hit of the drum, each punctuation of a piano key, he could match it to the young lady ahead, her pudgy form signaling in subtly where the music was going to take her next. A soft glimmer trailed alongside beneath them near the wood like a glare revealing a glass floor, a yellow light not unlike that which shined within the pipe's ink if you searched hard enough to find it.
And then the song faded...and faded...and faded away...
...Until like Peter Pan's pixie dust had lost its enchantment under their toes, they had stepped back down to the room's true floor. Her eyes fluttered open to nothing out of the ordinary besides what she had discovered inside herself.
"Now tell me..." the ginger-haired man in a cream, ink-stained coat coaxed with that honey-dipped voice of his, "...Can you dance?"
And Francine looked him over, breathless and weightless as if someone had lifted her up into the heavens as they twirled all around.
"Yeah." A smile inched across her face as she realized not only had she made this despondent, trapped man a bit more satisfied by indulging him...but that he had done the same for her, too. "Yeah...I think I can."
And his own grin that never once wavered in all the time she saw it only stretched farther and farther with this fantastic reassurance.
"I told you that you could trust me."