Buttermilk Chocolate Cake with Caramel and Ganache

Oliver wasn't sure if it was intentional, but Alice's arrival brought on a wave of guilt even though he hadn't actually done or said anything that would be questionable given that he was dating her.  Perhaps it was unfair, but he also felt a bit angry at the fact that, on her first day as 'Alaric,' Alice had gone straight to Mark (ironically or not), and now Mark thought it was all okay for him to just reach over and not-so-subtly touch this new version of Alice as Oliver would have were she herself again. Beyond already being annoyed with Kaela, Oliver was immediately put on edge, and although he could sense the fact that he was suddenly tense, he couldn't fight his unamused expression.

"Alaric," he started, his tone more firm than it usually was with her, "Greg wanted to speak with you if you have a moment."

It was a lie, and Oliver suspected that Alice would know as much, but he needed an excuse and it was his best idea just off the top of his head. So he led her towards a space conference room, speaking loudly over his shoulder about how Greg intended to meet them there because there were more chairs and thus it would be more comfortable. Opening the door, Oliver let her go first before closing the door behind them and casting a disillusionment charm on the windows so people would think that they were just sat there chatting while they waited. Greg, however, was obviously not coming to meet them.

"Seriously, Alice?" he asked immediately, turning to face her, a frustrated look taking over. "I thought you would know that I was turning her away. That girl out there," Oliver gestured towards the door, "was getting on my nerves and making me uncomfortable. Imagine my surprise when I finally get an escape and you decide to come on over with Mark and talk about lunch. I had just told her I was going home to see you because you're unwell. This possessive nonsense isn't working for either of us, Allie. I wanted to whack Mark's hand away, even if you aren't really yourself. This is mental."

He shook his head, sinking into the nearest chair. "I half want to go home, but now I feel obligated to glare at Mark from afar, and it's all so wrong in my head. But you have work to do, and I need to figure how to sort you out so I won't be this tense all the time. That's not me saying I'm angry with you, by the way. I'm angry with whoever did this to you, because it's messed up the good we had going and I want it back. I want to have you back to normal and make a show in front of Kaela of just how much I prefer you. I probably won't, because then the whole office might just implode or something. But I want to."

In the relative privacy of the boardroom, Alice could unhinge the pleasant smile and let the fire leave her eyes. It spread onto the sharp, masculine features of the former-woman who, to anyone who knew him, would identify her immediately as some relation of Richard Anderson. Her jaw clenched, a saturated vein standing out against the pale hue of her skin. Her gaze settled on her lover and she inclined her head stubbornly, unfazed by his poorly veiled ire. There was no aggression she couldn’t match, shoulder to shoulder, gaze to gaze. She felt stronger in male shoes. She held not a scrap of fear, though she could deny the way her heart hammered, panicked, against her chest.

Her eyes narrowed, those bright sea blue’s the only things left behind by the curse that belonged to the woman. Her upper lip curled a little bit and temper flared an ugly scarlet hue across her cheeks and neck, not at all like the tomato-red flush of embarrassment she usually wore. When he dropped into the chair, something within her clicked over and begged her to stop – to not go where the churning rage in her gut was going to make her go. She could feel it tripping her tongue and teasing her into saying it. She knew better – Merlin knew she knew better – but she couldn’t help herself.

“That’s all that matters to you, isn’t it?” She all but hissed. “The ‘good thing we had going’ completely hinges on the fact that I’ve got to have tits instead of balls. You can shove your show up your arse, Oliver, because I don’t want to hear it. I feel like I have dragon pox! And I don’t, I bloody well checked! I have never, ever felt more undervalued than I do right now. There’s nothing wrong with me! Yes, I am a man at this present moment in time. Yes, I have never had more hair on my body. But you know what? I’m still me. Does that shock you?”

“I still like to go rock climbing. I like dogs. I go jogging every morning. I am damn good at my job. And for some bizarre reason I am still madly in love with you but you’ve bloody well hurt my feelings, Ollie, to put it mildly! Why am I worth so little to you like this?” She threw out her hands desperately before drawing them back in, pulling at the blazer and the tie as though they were suffocating her.

“I get it. I know it’s meant to be some big secret – hell, I agreed. I don’t mind. It means I get to keep working on my cases. But I refuse to stand there and watch that woman try to flirt with you. I get that you don’t want it. That’s fine. I trust you but …” she took a shaky breath. “I feel like I’m behind glass. It’s like I can’t touch you – I can see you but I’m not allowed to … and the worst part is that it’s like you’re the glass stopping me from getting to you. I feel like … like this … I’m not yours anymore … that I’m not … I’m not someone that you can love. I …”

“What … what is stopping you from looking at me and deciding I’m not worth it? That I’m not worth hanging around for? What if I never change back, huh? What if I am stuck like this forever? What’s going to stop you from thinking eventually that there’s nothing wrong with that girl … whose eyes are basically saying fuck me Oliver please with these bright flapping eyelashes? She’d love to give you a run round the copy room! And after a while … what’s going to stop you from thinking about it? That maybe it’s not a half bad idea? Because after a while, no matter how much you convince yourself you love me … not quite being able to bring yourself to actually love me is going to grate, isn’t it?”

She brought her fingers up through her hair, mussing all of the hard work she’d put into it that morning trying to get the long top lay down after the hairdresser had cut it.

“I’d never treat you like this if this had happened to you,” she whispered. “I respect you more than you obviously respect me. Do you know what I’m worth, Oliver? I am worth more than this. I am worth more respect and I should be valued than this. So you better have a winning line for me right now, love, otherwise I’m out of here!”

"But, Alice," he started, jumping in as soon as she offered him a spot and trying to respond to as much as he could in order. His tone, though, he kept as gentle as he possible. "The fact that we're together isn't a secret at all. You think they don't catch me looking at you? I just told what's-her-face that I was going home to you. Alice, they know," he repeated seriously, giving a little nod to emphasize the point. "I've never been subtle, you know that better than anybody. Yes, this is different, but it doesn't change the fact that it's you I want, not someone else."

He shook his head, letting out a sigh that was really more of a huff. "Babe, I don't think you understand what my problem is. Honestly. I look at you... and I know for sure that it's you. But at the same time, it's not. My gut knows that the person inside is the same, and it won't stop me loving you. Nothing you do could stop that, even if whatever you had done hurt me badly. My feelings for you aren't up for discussion if you're going to argue against them. That isn't okay by me. D'you want to know what I think?

"I think that, if this doesn't change... if I can't fix it... You would be well within your rights to decide you don't want this. Honestly, I would understand. But I don't think you realize that I would be content to have you around in any capacity. It might be a bit awkward, and I can't claim with any real conviction that I would become comfortable with... certain activities," he paused, his ears turning red along the shells. "But if you decided you wanted to stick around, I'd be more than happy to have you around. I don't know if you noticed, but I didn't exactly bother with dates before I started dating you. I don't... I mean, I'm someone who wants company more than a random shag. I don't really do random. If I had you around, why would I need someone else?"

Oliver shook his head, dropping his gaze to the floor. "I don't know what to say, Allie. I thought you would understand why this is so weird. If the tables were turned, would you feel like things were the same? I can't help but feel you would be confused, too. It's not that I don't want you, it's more than I have two conflicting images in my head now, and you said how badly you wanted to go back to normal and... I mean, don't you? At this rate, your dad is probably going to kill me even if I do get someone to help turn you back. I wanted to be helpful, but seeing even the chance of you being taken away - no matter by whom - it drives me up the wall. I don't care who came up to me and made whatever face you said she had. So long as you want me, I don't want anyone who isn't you."

It was easier to yell when it was a one-way street. It was simpler when she had to wait on the reply. When he spoke, all of the hot air went out of her and she visibly deflated, the anger that had contorted her fair features twisting into a sad and regretful look. She retreated, coming to stand against a storage cabinet. Her fingers, still long in this form, cured around the cabinet door handle and she closed her eyes, hanging her head in childlike shame. She inhaled shakily and forced herself to look up, to be stronger than she was being, and make herself heard.

“No, I want to stay like this forever,” she bit back, pushing herself away from the cabinet. “Of course I don’t want to be like this permanently! I don’t want to leave even if it is! But I feel as though …”

She bit her lip and shook her head, sliding back up against the wood. She had no idea how to word it and she imagined it was fruitless to do so, anyway. She turned her head away and wriggled her nose, trying to keep at bay the sudden desire to flee and find somewhere she could hide for a few hours. Hanging out in the men’s toilets wasn’t exactly going to be a safe haven for her, though, given Ollie could enter and beyond that it wouldn’t achieve anything. Nothing would be resolved.

“It doesn’t feel true, Oll.” She whispered finally. “It feels more like I’m just … I feel like I’m out to sea and no one’s going to come and get me, regardless of whether or not this gets fixed or not.” She opened up her jacket and shoved her hands angrily into her pockets, now understanding why her father did it so much when he was frustrated. It was oddly consoling. There would be no consolation from this, though, she didn’t think.

She took a breath and shook her head suddenly. “Just … forget it, I guess,” she said tiredly. “Forget I said anything. I get it, it’s weird. Fine. Yeah, I appreciate that if you were in this position I’d find it strange too but I’d like to think I’d leave you feeling a little bit more supported than I feel right now. And that’s the thing, okay? I know you’re trying to fix this. I know you’re trying to make this as pain free as possible. I get that. I’m grateful for that. But am I enough like this? Am I? Really? I sincerely doubt it because if I already feel like a leper, and this isn’t permanent yet that we know of, then how on earth are you going to leave me feeling if it is?”

She lifted a hand from her pocket and drew her fingers through her hair, mussing the gel away and leaving the top fluffy. It fell around her face and she found herself hurriedly trying to push it back again, suddenly trying to remember a spell that would seal it back once more once she had to go back to working on her case.

“I love you, Ollie.” She murmured, lifting her head to meet his gaze. “But I’m scared. I’m scared one day you won’t feel the same about me if this,” she gestured to herself, “is what you’re stuck with. Because I know you don’t want to agree but that’s what it already feels like. And I don’t know what to do about it.”

Oliver was trying to stay calm, truly. But what he meant to be reassuring had been torn apart by the person he thought understood him the best out of anybody. He couldn't stand it any longer, really. Pushing out of his chair, Oliver essentially squared off with Alice, crossing his arms over his chest. One eyebrow lifted, as it rarely had to around Alice, in order to make a show of how annoyed he was. Although Alice did appear taller now, Oliver lifted up to his full height and made a rather intimidating figure.

"Alice," he began, unable to bring himself to pull the full name address that she was so fond of doing when upset with him. The tone was there, though, even if the usual action did not suit him. "I know that you're frustrated, and you're scared. I understand that, and I can't blame you. But, do you have any idea what you've just accused me of? You've just suggested that I care more about sex than I do about you. Alice, I love you but I can't believe that something like that could ever come from you. I'm not so base or so dense that I could be that kind of guy."

He nearly took a step back, entirely lost as to when Alice had started thinking of him that way. Instead, he glanced towards the door, deciding that he wasn't quite sure he wanted to stick around and hear her continue on about him. When his gaze found hers - his - again, Oliver frowned deeply.

"When did you forget that I want you forever? That I was stupid and worked up over the fact that you probably wouldn't want me? Alice, I've talked about having a family with you. About it being both of us for always. Think what you will about the kind of man I am. That won't change the fact that I would prefer you over anybody else. I wouldn't tell Ariel if I were you, but you're the only person I could ever need this badly.

"What do you want me to do, Alice? Take this... this new version of you to bed? I have absolutely no idea how you could expect that from me. It isn't the same. Yes, you're still my Allie, but how is that not an insult to you? You're so worried about me sleeping with someone else, and this is basically the same, except a bit more strange given that you essentially want me to go to bed with another man. I'm not opposed to physical contact. You would never be turned away if you needed me. But the last thing I want is to go to sleep after something so important and wake up and see someone else's smile the morning after. Maybe I'll get used to it someday. I can't promise. But I refuse to just accept this when I can try to fix it. So I hope you have a great lunch with Mark. I'm going to at least attempt to be helpful."

He hesitated, his eyebrows pulling together slightly. Had Alice been herself, Oliver might have just walked over and pressed a kiss to her hair before retreating. But he wasn't at all sure that she would accept it, given what he had just said. So Oliver shook his head and turned to leave.

It was amazing, really, that all the nosy co-workers could see was an innocent, if not jovial and familiar conversation. It was strange to actually be part of the set piece of male aggression. As Ollie neared, Alice straightened herself and tried to make herself as tall as possible, inclining her head stubbornly at him as her lips thinned into a line. It was something she’d seen her brothers do a thousand times when they squared up to Paul. They never won, of course, but they always tried to make themselves at least a contender in the fight. Her brother-in-law, however, had yet to learn the tricks weighting himself evenly in the argument, let alone win. Alice had always gotten close. She’d always faltered right at the end, though, and here was no exception regardless of how angry she was.

“That’s not what I—” she tried, her brows knitting together as she attempted to cut in, to save herself, to clarify and to try to make it clear that she’d not meant what it had been viewed as. But then, she considered as she rapidly shut her mouth, how else could it have been taken? Alice would never take any prizes for being the most eloquent when it came to talking about the way she felt or dealing with her own problems. She would never take any prizes for being rational about it, either. She’d also never, ever get any medals for avoiding hurting those she loved when doing it.

And the last person she ever wanted to hurt was Ollie.

“What? Are you mad? That’s not what I mean— what do you mean another man? I mean, yeah, I get what you mean but … that’s not what I’m saying— Ollie please!” She exclaimed, sounding more like herself than she had for the last few days. Her voice rose to a pitch that almost, if you closed your eyes and tried really hard to hear it, she was there. “It’s not about sex. It’s not. It’s that I just… I didn’t mean for you to take it like that. I wasn’t trying to say you’re that kind of man. I know you’re not. I just … I … oh Merlin … I’m not any good at this.” She scuffed her hand through her hair.

She took a hesitant step forward and this time made a concerted effort to keep her hands out of the pockets of her trousers, already missing skirts and the way the lack of places to hide meant she had to be forthright. She felt stronger physically like this, as though she could take on a boxer for a little bit, but she didn’t feel any stronger in herself. In fact she felt weaker. Would that ever not be the case? Would she ever feel like she could finish this sort of thing after, tactlessly, she started it? It was, certainly, time she took responsibility for the jeopardy she seemed to place her relationships in. If it was one thing she needed to do then it was grow up in that regard.

“I’m sorry,” she spoke clearly, not a mumble or an under-the-breath utterance: a real, honest-to-good apology. “All I’ve done since this happened is take it out on you and it’s not fair. I haven’t meant to but that’s not an excuse.” She trod carefully, her mouth passing slowly over the words. “I know I had no right saying those things to you and I am sorry. I don’t think that about you or about the way you feel or anything else but I … no, there’s no but really,” her brows came down, furrowing over her eyes. “I’m sorry.” She rubbed her hand across her face, already feeling the pricklings of scruff there even though she’d shaved that morning. “Can I …” she took a breath to steady herself, peeking at him with unsure eyes. “Can I come and help? Or at least … I mean, I get it if you don’t really want to at this moment in time but I … please …” she closed her eyes, willing herself not to sound so childish, “don’t be angry with me anymore.”

Failure.

The panic in her request made Oliver draw back from the door, looking over his shoulder at her. She seemed to be getting upset with him more and more frequently as of late, and he didn't truly want to go to bed angry with her. If they could solve it now, wouldn't that be better in the long run? Oliver felt it must, and so he never allowed his fingers to make it to the door handle. The way she said his name was so familiar that he actually ached from just the sound of it. Oliver hated when she said it that way, even more than when she seemed ready to slap him and walk out of the door. His girl was in pain, even if she didn't seem herself just then, and he really was the only one who could fix it just then.

Still, he could feel the tension straining his shoulders as he looked at her. Down the hall, however, all Mark saw was a meeting room with two men talking and no sign of Greg going off to meet them. It did strike him as odd, but he decided that perhaps he should check in with the boss to be sure. The knock at Greg's door surprised him, thinking that perhaps it was Alice - Alaric, technically - who was there. It didn't sound like her usual knock, but he supposed that things had changed, so something as small as a rap on the door might have done as well. When he saw Mark standing there, however, he merely gave a confused expression that looked incredibly like Oliver's. Mark hesitated, then explained that Oliver and the new guy were waiting in the long room for him to join them.

Greg knew better than the look surprised, expecting that Oliver had gotten up to something. Instead, he nodded and left his office, closing the door behind him. When he pushed open the door to the room and saw that things were not at all as they appeared, Greg frowned, shutting the door too loudly. Oliver jumped, turning over his shoulder again, but this time in the opposite direction. He had considered crossing over to Alice, considered tugging her into his arms if only to calm her down. She wouldn't have been going with him, though. Not with the mood Oliver was in.

"Why did Mr. Fraiser just ask me to come and see you two?" Greg asked after a moment, realizing that Oliver wasn't about to give himself away so easily.

"It's nothing," Oliver returned quickly. His gaze moved to Alice before he added, "Everything is fine. And anything that doesn't feel just fine can be worked out at home."

Oliver's shoulder deflated a bit, and he came to the conclusion that, really, he might have been too hasty to think badly of her. Or, rather, he might have been too easily convinced that she had intentionally hurt him. She was scared, though, and he could understand that feeling. Alice herself had brought it out in him many a time, and it seemed that she, too, was affected by him. Oliver felt that he had already known that, but sometimes it took being reminded for him to fully register the fact.

Greg's eyebrows pulled together as he watched his son cross the space between himself and Alice, only to pull her - him? Greg wasn't sure how to phrase it. - in and press a kiss to her forehead. Oliver began speaking into her ear, too quietly for his father to catch it, and some part of Greg was actually disappointed by it. Deborah would have inched closer, probably, to hear, but Greg didn't dare. Not when his son was finally showing some sign of having reached adulthood. Of finally wanting to settle down with someone, even if they hit such bizarre rough patches. He was actually rather proud for it, and thus kept his distance, hovering by the door.

"I'm still upset," Oliver confessed quietly. "I won't deny that. But it will be fine. And I will fix this. Just... please, I need time. Let me and Ariel try. If we fail, then come with us. It's not that I don't think you'll be helpful. You must know that. But I need to try this for myself and process everything before I get angry with you again."