Reality wasn't the only thing that needed to slap him in the face. Her fingers itched for her wand, to hex him seven days to Sunday. Mr. Hatchitt deserved it too for all the grief and (the single) sleepless night he caused. He might've been talented at transfiguration, but Fallon doubted he had reflexes as fast as hers or any of the more intense DADA training she had. If she really wished to, and Merlin was she considering it, she could hurt him as he had hurt her. Only this time the wounds would be physical.

And they were.

Only, she didn't use her wand. As soon as the be reasonable left his mouth Fallon knew there was no turning back. There was no dwelling on how much he cared or logic thought. There was only her boiled over temper, of which she no longer had control. Her hand flew towards his face, an open palmed slap so unlike her typical fighting behavior. Then again, everything with him was so unlike her.

  

He hadn't been expecting it, or well maybe had, considering he'd picked himself up off the floor once, but the slap resounded throughout the small lift with a resounding smack, vibrating the entirety of the space.

He did deserve it though.

Shaking his head, the sting had him blinking back some stars. Had she punched him, he may have gone down and how embarrassing would that have been? "Feel better yet?" He could take it, he was pretty sure, if she had more in her. Whatever she needed to do to get it out and come back down to a reasonable head space, so they could talk like adults.

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delicious biceps brought to you by MJ!

The satisfaction of the slap hitting its target was short lived. No, she didn't feel better. She was still a tightly wound ball of anger who desired nothing more than to fight constantly. That wasn't his fault, though, or was it? He was certainly the focus of her rage and had been for the better part of a week, but not even the minimal heartbreak she suffered could cause this level of fury. No. She didn't feel better, if anything she felt worse.

Fallon thought briefly about shoving him, pushing him into the wall if only to work out more of her frustration. He hadn't reacted harshly to the slap, despite his every right to. Assaulting him wouldn't help matters, just as pushing him away to begin with hadn't.

"No," she admitted after a long minute of quiet. The fury was still there, but now some other emotion took up residence in her heart, something she couldn't quite name. "No, JP, I don't."

  

He waited her out for a minute, still on edge, just a little. It seemed the slap was the only assault he'd face today, which was fine. He had deserved it after all and even if she didn't feel better afterward, she did seem to deflate a little. That he could work with.

After another moment, and her confirmation that the slap hadn't worked, he reached out tentatively, one hand wrapping gently around her arm to pull her toward him as he closed the gap between them. Carefully he wound his arms around her and squeezed tight. "I am sorry I hurt you." He murmured. No matter how much he tried to defend his intentions, at the root, he'd hurt her and he hadn't meant to. For that he was truly sorry.

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delicious biceps brought to you by MJ!

Any thoughts she had of resisting the hug vanished at his apology. Slowly, the tension in her body relaxed enough for her to return the gesture, even if her embrace wasn't as tight. The rising swell of emotions wasn't one she was equipped to handle in a lift, nor was it one she wished him to witness. At least, not so soon after their fight, anyway.

She rested her head against his chest and was immediately soothed by the sound of his heartbeat in the same steadying way Lachlan's heartbeat had reassured her. The steady thump thump was proof that they weren't done yet, that the end hadn't yet arrived to take them to whatever next plane.

"I'm sorry, too," she eventually murmured. "For shoving you out the door."

  

Better, this was better. It was moving forward- sorry had been said and accepted, now it was time to move on. He leaned back ever so slightly, unsure of his next move. A couple of options warred for priority in his head, but nothing seemed quite right. He opened his mouth to say something else, but the lift suddenly jerked into motion again.

The unexpected shift of the lift had him swaying slightly and for once, he cursed the damn thing for working correctly.

He wasn't quite ready to let go yet, but thought it prudent, as anyone could now get in the lift at any floor. Carefully, after one last squeeze, he stepped back, though not too far away. "Start over?" He suggested with a slight smile. Take it slow, get to know one another better, as she'd originally thought to that night in the hospital.

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delicious biceps brought to you by MJ!

The lift's resurrection separated them. While she enjoyed being so near him (physical touch had become a thing for her in the weeks since returning home) Fallon was relieved for the distance. Another minute and she might've begun to cry, which, after the events of the day thus far, would be humiliating.

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and nodded at his suggestion. "That sounds great, I'll write you." It had all started with her letter, after all. It only made sense for their restart to begin again with her. The lift stopped on the main floor of the ministry, the ding louder than ever before. "Goodbye, Mr. Hatchitt," she said politely for the people boarding once they were out of the lift. Home. Fallon wanted to go home.