What You Will

"And-a one two three four five six seven eight, and ONE two three four slide and turn-and-eight, and dip and side side five six seven eight..."

The rhythmic bang of the cane on the floorboards wasn't strictly necessary, but god it felt good.

The dancers spun in unison, following the meticulously-choreographed routine that Olive had put together like clockwork. It was still a bit of a thrill to see her vision translated into shape and movement, and she knew it would be even better when it was finally on the stage.

"Okay, now, remember that our erstwhile protagonist is moving through the slots as you do this segment, so keep it tight, no flailing - yes, I'm talking to you, Parker, keep your hands to yourself!"

The young chorus member in question almost fell over as she tried to nod and look at Olive while also executing a left turn. It did not go well.

"All right, everybody, let's take a break," Olive announced, much to the relief of the dancers, who she had been driving hard for quite some time now. "And when we come back we're going to take it from the top, so be ready! Parker, if you have a minute." The young woman nodded, looking terrified, trotting behind Olive as she stepped to one side of the room. "Listen, you need to relax, okay? I know it sounds counterintuitive but you're never going to be able to stay tight if you're a bundle of nerves."

"Right, yes, absolutely," Parker replied with a vigorous nod. "I'm so sorry, I swear I had it before, I didn't mean t-"

"You know the steps, I've seen you. Just... take a deep breath and just dance them, okay?" Olive offered an encouraging smile - they had all been there at one time or another. "When we start again I'm not going to say anything. Pretend I'm not in the room if you want."

"Right. Yes. Right." Parker nodded, running a hand through her cropped hair and blowing out a long breath. Do not fuck this one up. "Thank you."

After a few minutes Olive called the dancers back together; they fluttered back to the floor, shedding water bottles and scarves as they came. Parker took her place in the line-up, trying desperately not to concentrate on the dark-haired woman standing to one side with narrowed eyes and Parker's entire future in her hands.

Relax. You're just chorus. This is low pressure compared to what you want to do one day. You know the moves, you know the words and music, you can dance circles around these guys. Just... do it.

This time when the music started she let the electric feeling in her veins drive her, following each step as if she was born to it. Kicks, ball changes, layouts, and all in perfect synchronicity with her fellow dancers, keeping each movement sharp and precise. She didn't fall, didn't stumble, and when the music stopped and she immediately looked at Olive she saw the choreographer had been watching her again - but this time her expression wasn't exasperated but interested, almost calculating.

And then with a clap of her hands and a "See you all tomorrow," the rehearsal was over, and everybody was packing up to go, pulling together their things and splitting off into their little cliques to gossip and make plans.

"Wow, Parker, whatever Ramirez said to you, it worked." Lyle was one year younger than Parker, one inch shorter, and only slightly less nervous about his first chorus line. "Care to share the magic?"

"Haha, she just told me to relax," Parker said with a shrug. "I... guess I relaxed. Just too exhausted to be anxious any more maybe."

"Well, you better summon up a little energy, because guess who's coming over here right now..."

As Elle Parker turned to look this assertion was confirmed: the choreographer, coach, director and just about everything else of their tiny off-Broadway production was wending her way across the rehearsal space toward them, her stride confident in spite of the slight limp that always characterised it.

"Nice work, Parker," Olive said with an approving nod, prompting an elbow in her ribs from Lyle, who was standing beside her, grinning like an idiot.
"Umm... thanks," Elle said, rather bemusedly. "...thanks for having a word with me."

"You sing as well, don't you?"

"I, uh..." Elle chuckled. "I'm a chorus member, Ms Ramirez. I do everything."

"Mm. Well, be here early tomorrow - I'd like to hear you sing."

"I... I, uh..." The word 'why' began to form on Elle's lips, and then she felt a firm hand on her elbow.

"She'll be there," Lyle said, drawing her away before she said anything stupid. Once they were out of earshot, however, he was scarcely less bowled over than Elle herself.

"Holy shit! Can anyone say 'big break'?"

"Oh, come on," Elle said with a shake of her head, trying to still her nervous trembling as she packed the rest of her things. "I managed to dance in a straight line only after she had to talk to me separately. If anything she wants to check my singing isn't substandard too before kicking me out."

"Well, either way, you better knock it out of the park. Hey, want to come over and practice tonight? My roommate's out so he won't get grumpy if we bang on the piano all night."

"Aw, I'd love to but I have to work," Elle said with an apologetic grimace.

"Fair enough," Lyle said with a shrug, though she could tell he was disappointed. "Good luck tomorrow, at least."

 

Work was, as always, hell. When she'd pictured working and living in New York, scraping by as a 'starving artist', working the chorus and waiting tables to make ends meet, Elle had known thing would be tight. She hadn't banked on quite the toxic combination of perpetual hunger, tiredness and anxiety that such a lifestyle would create. She subsisted mainly off of tips, but being exhausted and run-down meant that she didn't smile as brightly as she should and as such her income suffered.

The fact that most of her fellow servers were in the same boat should have bound them together, but instead it seemed to translate to jealous competition between them, with sniping of tables and occasional sabotage. Even Sandy, the girl she worked with who was on the chorus of What You Will with her was polite at best when they were on a shift together.

Luckily she had other things to worry about that evening - namely what to sing for her... well, it wasn't an audition, but what did that make it? There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to Olive's sudden interest in Elle and as such she was at a complete loss as to what to do about it. In the end, she resolved to simply use one of her more recently prepared audition pieces that she knew she wouldn't mess up, realistically, no matter how nervous she got. Better boring and good than imaginative and a fuck-up.

 

Thus it was with a sick feeling in her stomach and a flutter in her stomach that she made her way to practice the next morning an hour early, the well-used sheet music for Someone Else's Story clutched to her chest.

To her surprise - and shock - she found the room empty except for Olive, who was sitting at the small desk in the corner of the room, scribbling away in a thick, dog-eared notebook. She glanced up as Elle entered, giving a quick nod and setting her pen down. "Ms Parker. Glad to see you could make it. Have you warmed up or do you need me to run some scales?" As she said this she stood and made her way over to the baby grand, lifting the fall and stroking her fingers over the well-worn keys.

"Oh, I..." Just chill... Elle smiled sheepishly. "I warmed up before I left but could probably stand a top-up," she offered.

"No problem." Olive slid onto the bench, striking a chord and looking at Elle over the lid. "Ready?"

A quick, nervy nod, and Olive was playing, drilling Elle quickly through scales and arpeggios to loosen her up again. She knew she was in excellent voice today, her rich, open alto easily filling the rehearsal room, and this, at least, gave her cause to relax a little - at worst, she at least wasn't making a fool of herself.

Eventually when she indicated she was ready Olive took her sheet music, glancing over it briefly and giving it another (approving, Elle hoped) nod before once again settling at the bench. "Let's just run through this once and see how it goes, and then I might give you some notes, okay?"

"Um... sure, I mean, yes, great. Absolutely," Elle babbled. Remember that it's okay to be nervous, it's okay, just don't be an idiot, don't let it affect your performance. Consciously getting her breathing back under control, Elle nodded her readiness to begin. With that, Olive began to play, and as the familiar chords began Elle knew she had made a good choice - her nerves began to dissipate as she began the first verse, injecting as much emotion as she could into it without going overboard. She was by nature a restrained singer, tending to let the natural flow of the music guide her dynamics and passions, her natural introversion reining them in so that her performances tended to be tight, controlled but with, she hoped, a certain depth to them.

Of course, to date it wasn't a depth that anyone who mattered had ever seen.

When they reached the end of the song Olive said nothing for a few long moments, merely pursing her lips and looking thoughtfully up at the young woman standing at the piano. Eventually she spoke. "How did you think that went?"

Elle's brows drew together and she ran her fingers through her sandy hair - as she was wont to do when nervous. "I, er. I'm not sure," she lied.

"You're not?"

"Well, I mean. I know how I felt about it. But I dunno, are we ever really a good judge of our own performances?"

"We're also usually our own worst critics. So tell me what you thought of that."

Elle swallowed. Okay... "It was good," she said. "I could do with being a bit stronger in my upper register, which is mostly down to tiredness... um, not that you have any reason to believe that. But I'm in good shape over my break, I felt pretty good about my breath and phrasing... uh. That's it, I guess?"

"All right." Olive nodded, then stood, making her way back over to the desk. "How are you at sight reading?"

"Good," Elle said, brightening up - as someone who'd harboured a vague desire to be a classical musician as a kid she had been gratified to find herself slightly better-equipped than most in at least that one regard - though her boyish looks and less than bubbly demeanour had always seemed to do more than enough to off-set the advantage.

"Well, why don't you try this out, then?" The other woman handed over a freshly-printed sheaf; it was labelled with 'Westward Ho!' and Elle immediately recognised it as one of Viola's numbers from the First Act. She chuckled.

"Oh, uh... I mean, I do sight sing well, I swear, but I feel like I should admit that I know that one pretty well already."

"You're not in this scene," Olive said neutrally, raising her dark, perfect eyebrows.

"Sure, but I've heard in rehearsals a few times," she said. "I have a pretty good memory. I mean, I'm not saying I know every word but I know how it goes. Which, I mean..." Elle seemed to catch herself, shaking her head and shutting her eyes briefly. "Sorry, I'm happy to sing it, I was just... trying to be honest."

A hint of a smile twitched on Olive's lips and she nodded, taking her seat at the piano once more. "Well, let's see how that memory of yours serves you. From the top."

The style of What You Will was an interesting one - very much in the modern Broadway tradition, but with the slightest edge of English folk to it in the harmonies and speech rhythms - it had to, really, to marry the adapted text with the songs, as while it had been modernised somewhat it was still very recognisably Shakespeare, and sections of the music were written almost in recitative. As she had intimated, Elle had heard their Viola - an up-and-comer named Daisy Lang - perform the song a couple of times, and knew that she did her best to roll with the punches when it came to its particular style, staunchly attempting a passable English accent and taking on a distinctly theatrical edge to her tone. Elle could see what she was going for, but she didn't much like it. To her, the music felt deliberately small-scale and intimate, and putting on an accent and trying to be Shakespearean seemed like exactly the wrong thing to do.

Then again, wasn't that what Olive wanted, if that was what Daisy was doing? Face it, you have no idea what she wants - you don't even know what you're doing here. With a lurch of nerves in her gut, Elle came in after the short intro with a pure, clear tone, in her own mild accent. She kept her vibrato and dynamic variation to a minimum (something else Daisy did not do) and instead concentrated on the words, attempting to imbue them with a natural speech rhythm, to tell the story rather than just make pretty sounds. She half expected Olive to stop her part way through the first verse, but soon she was onto the second, and then the chorus, and then, all too quickly, the song was done and the director was lifting her hands from the keys.

Luckily, she didn't demand Elle tell her what she thought of her performance - she had no idea what she would have said in that case. "That was very interesting. Tell me, what do you think of Viola as a character?"

Elle blew out a long, thoughtful breath. "I think she's... interesting," she said eventually. "From a literary perspective she's not like other Shakespearean heroines because she drives the plot without trying to bend it her way - she acts initially out of self-preservation, and then out of duty or loyalty or whatever, but she never tries to mess with stuff way that, I dunno, Portia did. So she's a catalyst, but not an object, maybe 'cause she's pragmatic enough that you don't believe she's being controlled - just choosing to exercise caution and restraint. So... that makes her interesting," the young performer finished rather sheepishly.

"And is that how you'd play her?"

"Oh, well, I mean... I guess in a perfect world where I got to do anything I wanted, um... sure."

"Ah, well," Olive said, pushing up from the piano, "I was going to ask you to understudy her, but if that would only happen in a perfect world..."

"What? I mean, but hang on, I only meant..." Elle stopped to suck in a breath. "I don't understand," she said. Then, "I'm just in the chorus."

"Understudies often are," Olive pointed out.

"Yeah, but..." Elle shut up. "I only meant that I would want to fit with my director's vision," she said. "Before, I mean. About 'perfect worlds'."

"Right. Well, that's something you and the director ought to discuss sometime." Olive flashed the young woman a grin, crossing the room to scribble something down in her notebook. "So that's a yes, then?"

"I, um. Yes, absolutely, great, of course, yes." This is not happening.

"Great. I'll send you an updated schedule for rehearsals, and a copy of the script. I'm really glad to have you on board."

"Right. Well. Thanks. Thanks very much."

 

No, thank you, Olive had wanted to tell the young woman, you got me out of a tight spot. The problem with doing a show with twins was that people expected the twins to look like each other, which made casting an even harder challenge than it normally was. And with things with Daisy being as they were, not having an understudy was taking a pretty big risk...

"Daisy, please, just open the door."

"Fuck you, Liv. Seriously."

"Okay, I can see we're going to have a very productive conversation here..."

"Don't give me that productive shit! You're so calm - why are you always so fucking calm it's fucking infuriating!"

Olive sighed, resting her forehead against the door in front of her. "Because yelling doesn't accomplish anything, usually. C'mon. Open up."

At length, she heard movement inside, and a moment later the door slowly clicked unlocked. Daisy didn't open it - Olivia heard her flouncing away from it across the room, no doubt to be posed in a suitably irritable fashion on her entrance.

With another sigh she pushed open the door to be greeted with the usual sight of Daisy's cluttered and chaotic room, and the woman herself, standing with her arms crossed and her hip jutted out to one side almost uncomfortable far. "Hey. Listen, I'm sorry about last night--"

"Where the fuck were you? I waited for an hour."

"I got... held up."

"I'll bet you did. You and the precious Sam putting heads together to figure out how to cut even more of my numbers?"

"I've told you before, we're cutting several numbers, not just yours, and Sam's working on some new material for you even as we speak."

"Sure. Whatever." Daisy scowled.

"C'mon," Olive said with a hopeful smile, "you know I wouldn't sacrifice any more of the great Daisy Lang than I absolutely had to. It'd be suicide." For at least one of us...

Looking somewhat mollified, Daisy flopped down onto the sofa, reaching for her half-finished glass of champagne. "Fine, fine, whatever. Just... just don't mess me about, okay?"

"I wouldn't dream of it." Olive limped over to the sofa and sank down onto a free cushion. "Have you had a chance to go over those pages yet? I was hoping to see them in action tomorrow..."

"Mm? Oh, not yet. I'll try," Daisy said with a wave of her hand. "I'm just so tired tonight..."

"How long have you been drinking that for?" Olive asked, nodding towards the champagne with what she hoped was a neutral expression.

"I dunno, how far down is it?"

"Daisy..."

"What? Oh, now, don't start with me, this is your fault, if you hadn't bailed..."

"I just think maybe you'd be a little less tired if you didn't drink quite so much..." Olive made a face, reaching to take the glass out of Daisy's hand and setting it aside before turning back to the other woman and placing a hand on her knee. "I just want you to be at the top of your game. That's all."

"You 'just want' a lot of things," Daisy said with a level, slightly owlish look.

Olive scooted closer, smoothing her fingers over Daisy's thigh. "Can you really blame me?"

"You're a cad."

As Olive leaned in to nuzzle the other woman's neck she wondered if this was true - she hadn't intended to rekindle anything when she had gotten in touch with Daisy to beg her to audition for What You Will. but the other woman had been as high strung and difficult as ever, and plying her with physical adoration often worked far better than words could. Still, it was most certainly the case that that was not the way that anyone who found out about their affair, now or previously, would see it - least of all Daisy's husband.

Olive pulled after several minutes of sweet nothings and tender kisses, her expression quite sober. "So, how about we go over those lines now, hm?"

Daisy raised her eyebrows. "Are you serious? You want to go over lines now. Like, right now?" she added, one nimble hand working its way up Olive's thigh.

"I thought you were tired."

"Too tired for lines..."

"How about just a few pages? You know how much I like reading with you... it'll be just like old times."

Daisy made a face. "Fine. But afterwards you owe me."

Of course I will. "Of course I will - you're a star."

 

And then she's all, "Well, I was going to ask you to understudy - I mean, just like that!" Elle shook her head, then took another long gulp from her beer. "So I dunno. I guess that's... happened."

"Wow. I mean... wow." Lyle looked suitably awed as he gazed at Elle, the bottle in his hand seemingly forgotten and growing warmer by the second. "That's pretty incredible, Elle. I mean, not that you don't deserve it, obviously, but I thought flukes like that just happened in the movies."

"Well, that's the thing," Elle said with a pragmatic sigh. "I think it might be - a fluke, I mean. I've been thinking about it - I sucked in that rehearsal until she spoke to me, so why would that make her single me out? Truth is, I think it's just the first time she noticed me. I mean, think about it: Viola needs to look like Sebastian, right? And they've already cast both of them, and that means that if one of them drops out but not the other..."

"So? Who cares? You've always got to look the part whenever you're cast for anything. And obviously you're a good enough dancer and singer that she thinks you'd be up to it."

"I guess. But mainly I think I'm just tall and boyish enough. I'd never really thought of myself as looking anything like Daisy Lang but I guess I do bear a certain resemblance to Tom Vine."

"Oh come on, Elle, you're gorgeous..."

"As is Tom Vine," Elle asserted. "Don't worry, I have no problems with how I look. I'm just saying I'm no former model."

"Yeah, well, if you ask me that's no bad thing. From what I've seen of Daisy Lang she's still coasting on her former glory more than a little bit."

"Mm. She is a bit-... No, no, I'm not going down that road."

"Oh c'mon, what's the point of being an understudy if you don't get to be a little bitchy about the star?"

"I was just gonna say that I thought she was kind of... mature... to play Viola, but I mean, that's totally unfair, really, she still looks great, and you can get away with that in theatre, and-"

"And she's old." Lyle interjected, chortling madly. "Just wait, she'll break a hip in rehearsals and then the role'll be all yours."

"Lyle, please, don't..." Elle shook her head. "I see this as a way to really impress Olive, and then, maybe in the future when she's auditioning for some other show, she'll think of me, y'know?"

"Well, if this actually works. You know she's put like all of her savings into the production?"

"Where did you hear that?"

"Oh, y'know, through the grapevine..."

"It doesn't make any sense, though - she and Sam have worked on stuff together for years; they've always been massive hits, even the small-scale stuff. Backers should be throwing money at this."

Lyle shrugged, taking a swig of his beer. "I dunno. Maybe it's a bad time for Shakespeare. Or maybe it's the economy. Either way if this doesn't work out, Ms Olive Ramirez is in trouble."

"She's certainly thrown her all into this - writing, directing, choreography..." Elle frowned. "I feel like there has to be more to it than that..."

 

"Ah, there you are!" Sam must have heard Olive enter but he had a look of delighted surprise on his face as he greeted her anyway, rushing up to embrace her. He was still in the same robe and pyjamas she'd seen him in yesterday, the slightly ripe smell of unwashed skin reaching her nostrils as she returned the hug warmly.

He pulled back first, narrowing his rather sunken eyes as he surveyed her. "You have that guilty-yet-sated look again. Seriously?"

"Don't even start, I swear to God..." Olive held up her hands in defence as she trailed after Sam, following him into his overly-cluttered sitting room. She didn't mind a little mess, but he didn't like to throw away even a stray sheet of paper, resulting in stacks and stacks of newspapers, old notebooks and other assorted sheaves piled up on every imaginable surface. "She wouldn't go over her lines for the next rehearsal unless I made her come. I swear, it's like some sort of weird sex vending machine, put in an orgasm, get out a functioning actress for a few days."

"Well, it's a living, I guess," Sam said with a chuckle, sinking down into his battered leather couch with a sigh. "How was the Parker girl?"

"Good. Really good," she corrected herself with a shake of her head. "Couldn't be more different than Daisy, but she's got a hell of a voice and a good grasp on Viola's character."

"So we have our understudy, then? You'd better get one for Tom too before you make any announcements or it's going to look weird."

"Yeah, I'll sort it out," Olive sighed, running a hand through her short hair. "Anyway, how are you feeling - have you eaten today?"

Sam made a face and shook his head. "I mean, I tried," he said, "but I couldn't keep it down. Think it's the new meds."

"Well, we knew that might happen," Olive said pragmatically. "How about I run you a bath - don't argue with me, I can smell you from here - and then I'm going to order something, Chinese maybe. And you can give it another go then. If there's anything that's going to stay down, it's sweet and sour shrimp."

Sam leaned back on the couch with a long sigh, turning his head to look in Olive's direction. "You're a saint, y'know that? You're quite literally my salvation."

"Hardly. I'm just relieved there's someone I can boss around without sending them into a prissy fit."

"No, I'm serious, Oli," Sam said, straightening up a little. "You dropped everything and gave up your life to take care of me. And then to basically run this whole show on top of that, just so I could write the music? I literally could not be doing any of this without you."

"Hey," she said, crossing the room to perch uncomfortably on the arm of the sofa beside him, "we're a team, remember? There's no way I'm doing any of this without you." With that she leaned over to kiss the top of his head, smelling the 'cancer funk' underneath the laundry detergent and body odour. "And besides, it's damn good music."

Sam smirked a little. "It's not bad, is it?" he said. "Oh, hey," he went on, pushing up from the couch with renewed vigour, "I wrote something new last night - just incidental really but there's a new theme and I'm wondering if there might be a number in it..."

"Yeah? Play it for me while I get this bath started. I'll keep the door open."

Sitting down at the piano, Sam pulled a piece of sheet music down in front of him and began to play. Though she'd intended to go and run the bath immediately, Olive found herself hovering in the doorway, watching him for a moment. With him sitting in front of the piano, fingers nimbly working across the keys, his whole body animated, she could almost see the man she'd known and worked with for the past ten years. Almost.

"Sounds good, but d'you think it'd work better in D?" she called as she went through to the bathroom, tidying up here and there as she went. "Or have you tried that already?"

"Too bright," Sam called in return. "I thought about D-flat but then I was like, why do that to people, y'know? I'm not a monster!"

"You're a little bit of a monster. You once had an entire audience in tears with just the overture!"

"Crying is good for the soul."

Olive gave a sad smile as she turned on the tap, feeling the hot water trail over her fingertips. "Don't I know it," she murmured.

 

"So you're the understudy."

Elle whirled around, almost catching her heel on the bar and falling over.

"Uh... Daisy. Hi. I... guess I am."

It had been a few days since she'd had her 'audition' with Olive, and it hadn't been announced officially yet, but sure enough, Lyle being Lyle, the news that Elle had been made Viola's understudy had soon made its way around the whole cast.

Daisy eyed her up and down, her lips forming a little moue of distaste. "You're a skinny little thing, aren't you?"

"It's true," Elle said, doing her best 'apologetic' expression. "Straight up'n'down. Can't help it."

"Hm. Well, I guess you'll make a good enough boy. They're going to have to do some extra padding with the corsets, though, you've got nothing to work with."

"Well, um..." Elle shrugged and shook her head. "I'm really probably never gonna actually play the part, so..."

"That's right," Daisy said sharply. "So why don't you just go... stand in the back or something. This is my show."

Diiiidn't contest that... Elle just smiled, and made her way to the back of the rehearsal room just in time for Olive to enter with the practice pianist.

"All right everyone, we're going to start with Westward Ho! and then Too Hard a Knot," Olive announced, waving for the dancers to take their places. "There's a lot to fit in today so-- yes, Daisy?"

"Can we run through What Would You first? I just... really want to get into character before we start on the bigger numbers..."

"Yes, all right, we'll do that first, then it's straight into the other numbers. Places, people."

There weren't really any 'places' for the song in question, of course - Olivia was the only other person in the scene, and of course their Olivia, a sweet young woman named Amanda, wasn't required that day. As such.

"Olive, you'll play Olivia, won't you? I mean, there's not much for her to do in this scene but I'd like someone to sing to..."

"You're an actor, Daisy, you should be able to sing to a chair," Olive said, drawing some appreciative laughs from the dancers, but she obligingly limped to her mark and spread her hands. "Ready when you are."

The piano played the intro, Olive delivered her line at the allotted time -

"Why, what would you?"

And then there was Daisy's reply, covering the dialogue of the scene in perfect time with the piano in her very best Shakespearean accent:

"Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
And call upon my soul within the house..."

Once the lines had been delivered, Daisy began to sing.

She was... well, she was pretty good. There was no doubt she was a good actress - her demeanour seemed to shift as she donned the character, and even without a costume change she somehow looked as if she was a woman in a man's clothes. Her singing was all right, though she obviously hadn't done much warming up beforehand, and there weren't that many dance moves to get wrong.

But Elle couldn't help but feel, as she always did, that Daisy just wasn't Viola. And looking at the set of the director's face when her 'star' wasn't looking, Elle was pretty sure she wasn't Olive's Viola either.

"I do not want your money, so keep your purse,
and if you hear nothing but this sad verse,
think of my master, his broken heart,
and make an end of this sad start...

"Fairwell, fair cruelty!" With this final line Daisy was sweeping around for her expected applause, and the dancers dutifully clapped, though without any great enthusiasm.

"Great," Olive said, "just great. Okay, onto Westward Ho, and I want it at full tempo this time."

"You, uh... don't have any notes?"

"We'll run it again when Amanda's here, but right now I want to move on to the scheduled songs..."

"Oh." Daisy sighed. "Fine," she said. "All right."

Elle didn't miss the look of relief that swept over Olive's face as Daisy turned away to get in position for the next song; had she been expecting trouble?

The rest of rehearsal was largely uneventful - though Daisy basically phoned in the rest of her performances the rehearsal was mainly for the chorus and so it wasn't a complete waste of time. Still, Olive looked pretty wiped out by the end of the day, and so Elle was very surprised when, as she made her way out, Olive called her back. Daisy was still hovering about, and looked thoroughly unimpressed to have company.

"Ms Parker. How are you getting on with the script?"

"Oh, um..." Elle blinked. "I guess I have Act I down? I mean, not perfect every time yet, but I'm mostly off-book."

"All right, well, I'm going to have you in next week to stand in for Daisy, if that fits with your schedule. Mornings, mostly, and a few afternoons."

"What? I mean, right. Yes, sure, no problem," Elle said, nodding feverishly.

"Thanks. And don't worry if you're not completely off-book, this isn't a race." Olive gave her a small smile. "Just as solid as you can get it in the time you have."

"Um, thanks," Elle said, even more determined now to be totally off-book. A loud throat clearing echoed in the now near-empty rehearsal room. "I, uh, I should get going," she said.

"All right. I'll email you the new schedule."

"Great."

 

Daisy watched the girl leave with thinly disguised contempt. "Well, she could certainly pass for a boy," she said with a smirk.

"Mm. Now about those notes. Your entrances were a little sloppy, I need you to count more independently, I won't always be there to signal you in."

Daisy blinked. "Excuse me?"

Olive looked up from her notes, her expression slipping for a moment before she put on a smile. "I'm sure you were just tired today."

"I'm not a child. Olive."

"I never said you were."

"So don't make excuses for me. If you thought I sucked, just tell me I sucked. I can take criticism."

I really don't think that's true. "You didn't suck, but you were late on the entrances. If you work on that I'm sure everything will be great."

"Whatever. Has Sam got those rewrites ready yet for the scenes with Orsino?"

"Not yet. They'll be ready in a few days."

"Jeeeesus, it's just a few fuckin' cues; how long can it take."

"It'll take as long as it takes," Olive said patiently, though inside she was screaming. "I'll get them to you as soon as I can."

"Fine. But give him a kick in the ass. God, he never changes. Anyway, I'm suppose to meet Dan for drinks and you know how he gets - was there anything else?"

"No," Olive told her, gritting her teeth. "That's all for today."

"Right, well, I'll see you, then." Daisy sometimes moved in for a kiss goodbye, but thankfully not tonight, because Olive didn't think she could have stomached it. She watched the other woman go; next week (and Daisy's planned absence for some 'unavoidable' trip to the West Coat) couldn't come soon enough.

Sebastian wasn't a big enough part to require an understudy, really, were it not for the fact he had to look a certain way. Nevertheless, they dutifully auditioned and cast him from the chorus, and fortunately it was one of the members Elle got along quite well with, for all they weren't really friends. Still, the vast majority of her scenes weren't with him but with other, less available cast members, for whom second had not yet been cast and the primaries weren't terribly interested in running lines with a chorus girl. As such, while Elle was off-book by the next weeks' rehearsals, Lyle had taken most of the grief when it came to running her lines and cues.

"I know, I know, I owe you, big time."

"Hey, just remember me when you're all big-time famous..."

"You'll be famous long before I am, 'sugar-hips'."

He grinned, looking up at her from his position flat on his back on the floor of his living room. "I think that's more notoriety than fame, and it doesn't come with the whole fifteen minutes."

"Still, I haven't heard any complaints."

"Nor should you! I take my duties as samba master and manwhore very seriously, I'll have you know."

"Mhm?"

"For women are as roses, whose fair flower, being once displayed, doth fall that very hour!" he declared, rolling over.

"Don't give me any of that Elizabethan patriarchal bullshit."

"Hey, calm down, Gloria Steinam. I'm just trying to help you with your lines, that's all."

"Whatever. C'mon, we're not going to get anything else done tonight. Want a beer?"

"God, yes. And then you can fill me in on all the latest gossip."

 

"So basically, that's all I know. She's off out west for reasons unknown, and I'm... Viola next week. Though with the main cast, I think - I don't think any of the other understudies are being asked to do it. I mean, most of them aren't cast yet anyway..."

"So you're playing in the big leagues. Nice." Lyle nodded approvingly, his expression almost admirably free of jealousy. "You nervous?"

"Terrified. But also, I dunno... I mean, I'm excited too, y'know? It's pretty make-or-break stuff. It'll be good to get it over with, to know now if I can really hack it."

"Aw, of course you can. You're awesome, Elle. You've got this."

"You have so much more faith in me than I deserve," Elle said with a wry smile. "But I intend to try."

Lyle scooted a bit closer on the sofa, slipping an arm over its back casually as he took a sip of his beer. "Y'know, Elle... I think you're really great. Like, from the minute I met you I was all 'wow'."

Elle laughed. "Okay, not you're laying it on way too thick."

"No, seriously!" he said earnestly. "And I know you're really busy now, with your job and this understudy stuff, but... I thought maybe it'd be nice for you and me to go out sometime."

Elle blinked. "Lyle you're a total player. I have watched you work your way through half the girls in the chorus. Why on earth would you want to go out with me?"

He adopted an expression not unlike a kicked puppy. "Because I like you?"

"Like you liked Melinda? And Laura? And Marie?"

"Hey, just because we didn't get married doesn't mean I didn't like them!"

"Yeah, well... I don't really need someone to like me that way right now, Lyle. Y'know? You're a good guy, but I just... don't think that would be a good fit."

"I wasn't talking about just screwing around, you know. I meant like actually... y'know, nevermind, forget it. The only thing worse than getting shot down is continuing to beg once it's over."

"Hey." Elle nudged him where they sat. "You're my best friend here. You know that?"

"Yeah, I know," Lyle grumbled, though it was clear it was embarrassment fuelling his despondent demeanour. At length, Elle put her beer down.

"Right," she said. "New plan. Dancing."

"What, right now?"

"You got something better to do?"

"No, I guess not..."

"So let's go!"

 

Dancing ended up being a good plan - it was hard for Lyle to stay down in a club full of beautiful people, as well Elle knew. They stayed out late, until closing time, and left the club together, sweaty arms slung over each other's shoulders. By now Lyle seemed back to his old self, bragging about how many numbers he had gotten from hot girls, and she hoped that the awkwardness of earlier had passed for good.

Upon getting home she fired up her computer, peeling off her sweaty clothes and dropping them in the growing laundry pile in the corner of her room. A new message beckoned to her in her inbox and she wasn't surprised to see her new rehearsal schedule from Olive, though she was slightly curious to see that it had been sent not half an hour before, at a time when most normal people would already been asleep.

Without even thinking about it, Elle hit 'reply' and sent off a quick acknowledgement of the receipt - she realised as she hit the button what she'd done, but caught herself before she got too panicked - after all, a former performer like Olive would know that even her most dedicated cast members pulled the odd late night. Better that than leave it 'til morning and forget, she told herself, and went back to checking Facebook before bed.

Her computer 'pinged' at her a few minutes later - she had another email.

 

Up late I see. Hope you won't be too dead on your feet tomorrow, there's no hangover clause in your contract. -O.

 

Blinking, Elle hesitated. Should she pretend to be gone to sleep now? At length, she decided the damage was probably done and she might at least be able to convince the other woman of her comparative sobriety if she replied.

 

No fear on that front - I don't mix drinking and dancing! I would enquire as to whether you had such a clause yourself but I think that might get me fired...

 

Apparently Olive wasn't about to head to bed, either.

 

Hah. I just found you, what makes you think I'd fire you so soon? And re: my own clause - I wouldn't expect anything of you I wouldn't expect of myself. Seems only fair. -O.

 

Elle chuckled, and in spite of herself pulled up the 'reply' window once more.

 

Well, in fairness to you no one is expecting you to do high kicks.

 

"Fuck. Her leg." Elle actually spoke out loud into the air of her tiny bedroom as she realised what she'd just said. She hadn't even thought about it - Olive's limp and occasional cane was just a part of her; you didn't notice it after a while. But high kicks? God, couldn't you have picked anything else. Now you are going to get fired...

Fortunately Olive's reply wasn't long in coming, and it wasn't an immediate dismissal. Unfortunately, all it said was:

 

:)

 

and nothing more.

Blinking at the screen, Elle decided that this thoroughly confusing missive was her cue to go to bed.

 

"Okay, and again, a-one, two, three..."

Olive struggled desperately to keep her eyes open as she watched the dancers work through the choreography she had taught them earlier that afternoon. The morning rehearsal with Tom and Daisy had dissolved into a desperate attempt to calm the actress down from some perceived slight, resulting in barely an hour's worth of actual practice and a burgeoning headache for their director. The afternoon had gone more smoothly, at least, but even the steady stream of coffee she was ingesting wasn't doing much to make up for her late night the night before.

Most of it had been spent at Sam's - they'd had a writing session, and following on from that she just couldn't face going home and leaving him, so she'd stayed, chatting and listening to music, until the early hours, and when she'd finally got back to her apartment her dark mood had kept her up longer still, looking over bills and making plans over the best part of a bottle of wine, the general tide of negativity broken only by her brief interlude with the new understudy, whose few emails had been a welcome distraction from her worries.

Elle Parker was considerably more alert herself - Olive had spotted her necking a diet coke before practice but she'd seemed bright-eyed and alert enough and clearly was not in fact hungover, though her lothario friend was clearly a little the worse for wear so she suspected they'd been out together. The younger woman had shot the odd glance Olive's way during the rehearsal - over and above watching her for direction, that was - and she thought she noted a hint of concern in Elle's expression, though it could of course just be sincere concentration, to which she was also prone.

They ran through the song a few more times, then through a few of the more established numbers - Olive always liked to end on a good note, when she could - before she dismissed them for the day. She listened almost wistfully to the chatter in the room as they packed up, remembering a time when she was among the flock of young dancers with their whole lives ahead of them. Watch out, she wanted to tell them, it doesn't always work out like you plan.

Elle hovered behind after the session, and Olive wondered at first if the young woman needed to ask her a question of some kind before she glanced back down at her own schedule.

One-on-one run through. Of course.

Elle looked a little uncertain as Olive glanced back up in her direction. "I can always come back another time if you want to tweak the schedule..." she offered.

"Don't be silly, this is your time," Olive said with a shake of her head, easing into a seat for a moment to try and take the weight from her aching leg. "Unless you'd like to invoke the hangover clause after all..."

"I'm great," Elle said. "I mean, I'm fine, I'm good."

"Well okay then. Let's start with What Would You - I'll be your Olivia today."

 

Elle ran through the songs one after the other as Olive prompted her, taking on her guidance and advice with a sombre expression, nodding seriously through Olive's criticisms or suggestions. It was as far a cry as it could get from Daisy's simpering, passive-aggressive comments that Olive almost felt like crying at one point, though that could've been the exhaustion talking.

"Good, much better... that was a lot smoother this time. Just remember to breathe, too - we don't want you falling over right in front of us."

"Pfft, breathing's for sissies," Elle joked automatically, though she caught herself a moment later, blushing a little.

Olive just chuckled warmly, pushing herself up from the bench - she couldn't afford to keep the practice pianist for solo sessions like this. "How are you doing with this new workload? Are you handling it okay? I know it's a lot to handle, especially if you've got other commitments..."

"Oh, uh..." Elle shook her head. "I manage, it's cool. I have a job alongside rehearsals, but I'll cut my hours back if I have to." Not that I can afford to...

"I see. Is it a fun job?"

"Waiting tables."

"Ah. So you're not just doing it for kicks."

Elle's response was a wry smile.

"Well, if this scheduling doesn't work for you, just say so. We can meet at other times - I'm quite flexible. Or at least, I was," Olive joked. The other woman managed a slightly nervous laugh at this.

"I'll make it work," she said determinedly. "I really appreciate this opportunity."

"We'll see if you're still saying that next week."

 

"Wow. I mean, seriously, wow." Tom Vine was surveying Elle in mild shock. "Olive, how did you find this girl?"

"Would you believe she was right under my nose in the chorus the whole time?"

Tom shook his head, though in his continued astonishment rather than in response to Olive. "Well..." He glanced across at the piano. "I want to say we should run over the number again, but I really don't think we need to," he said. He glanced back at Elle. "She looks so like me, too - way more than Daisy does," he said, earning himself a warning look from Olive.

"How did you feel about that?" she asked then, turning to look at Elle inquisitively. "You can be honest, Tom's got a thick skin."

Elle laughed. "I, uh... it was good. I think... mm, it's not important..."

"No, go on," Tom promted her with a grin. "I can take it, I promise."

"Well, it's actually maybe more my problem than yours," Elle confessed. "Your speech rhythm and the way you stress the words when you're singing. It feels a bit... like you're imitating the way Daisy does it - which makes total sense," she added quickly, "I mean, you guys need to be similar. I'll adapt."

"No," Olive said, sharply enough to give Elle a slight start. "You've done enough adapting. Tom, I want you to try to gel with Elle's style. See how that goes."

Tom grinned. "Happy to."

A consummate professional, he did just that. They had done all but one of the songs they had together (since Sebastian's part in the show, while important, was after all much smaller than Viola's, there weren't many), and in this last one he altered his performance significantly, riffing off Elle's style and using her more conversational, less 'English' interpretation.

Olive watched them like a hawk, nodding along and asking for their feedback as soon as they had come to the end.

"Felt great to me," Tom said easily. "Really natural."

"I, um. Yeah," Elle said, nodding quickly. "Yeah, it worked, I think." It did more than work. It was excellent. The best I've heard it.

"Well, Tom, I know it'll be a bit of a mind-fuck but let's try it that way next week when Daisy's off, okay? I know you'll be up to the challenge."

"Delighted to," Tom said with a grin. "Hey, where d'you think you're going?" he asked as Elle began to pack up, "you're coming for a drink, aren't you?"

Elle was set to decline, but the opportunity to rub elbows with Tom Vine wasn't one that came along every day. "C'mon, I promise we won't bite," he added with a grin, wrapping a narrow and incredibly stylish scarf about his neck.

With a nod, she packed up and followed along, though Tom halted with her at the door, and she was confused as to why at first until Olive said, "Just a minute, one minute," and she realised they were waiting for her.

"We're all a family around here," Tom murmured with a grin as he took in her surprise. "Well, apart from Daisy," he added in a mutter, "who's more the evil aunt you don't invite who shows up and spoils everything anyway. But tonight you're one of us."

 

The bar where they ended up was a trendy little hole in the wall that Elle had only read about in all the Broadway rags. They were joined now long after by their Olivia, Amanda, and her boyfriend, another up-and-coming young actor named. Jake.

Tom had insisted on buying her a drink, and everybody seemed delighted that she'd come along, chattering away to her as if she was an old friend. Surprisingly, Olive seemed almost subdued among the group, though this was perhaps explained when Amanda looked around and then exclaimed, "Hey, where's Sam? I have seen him in ages!"

"Oh, you know how he gets when he's composing," Olive commented with a tight smile. "He barely sees the light of day, let alone other people."

The others exchanged glances at this, and Elle knew why - as much as Broadway enthusiast as any other aspiring star she was well-acquainted with media coverage of Broadway's denizens, and Sam Miller was well-known as a man-about-town, even in his busiest and most productive periods.

"Well, you should give him a call, get him out! It's not a party without Sam," Amanda wheedled.

"I'll... try," Olive replied, and with that stood and made her way towards the back of the bar, where it was a bit quieter. Elle didn't mean to eavesdrop, but a few minutes later she was struck with the urge to use the bathroom, and on the way back couldn't help but overhear the director's familiar voice, though there was no doubt she was trying to stay unnoticed.

"...I know, but everybody would be thrilled to see you, and I just thought-- yeah, of course. D'you want me to come back? I could use a night in anyway... hey, I am not becoming a hermit, you take that back!"

Elle kept walking, but Olive must have spotted her passing by and realised she must have heard, because the restroom door opened and shut right behind her and when she turned, Olive was there.

"Uh... hey."

"Hi." Olive was still holding her phone, which she seemed to realise belatedly, stuffing it into the front pocket of her trousers. "Listen, I don't know how much of that you overheard, but I'd really appreciate it if you didn't tell the others. I was just going to tell them he's busy."

Elle shook her head. "I'm not a gossip," she reassured the other woman. "Anyway, I really didn't hear much. Is... Sam okay?" she asked then, brow furrowing in concern.

"He's a bit under the weather," Olive replied with an attempt at lightness, though it didn't seem entirely believable. "That's all."

"Right. Well." Elle smiled a little awkwardly. "You can trust me."

Olive considered the young woman for a moment longer before forcing her own awkward smile. "Of course I can. C'mon, let's get back to the group."

"I, uh, still have to..." Elle pointed behind herself at the stalls. "I'll see you out there."

"Oh, right. Sorry."

By the time Elle returned to the table Olive had presumably already broken the news that Sam wasn't coming, and they were happily chatting away about Tom and Elle's rehearsal that afternoon.

"...I'm telling you guys, she was unbe- ah, speak of the devil," Tom said as Elle sat back down. "I was just telling these guys how awesome you are."

"I think that's a bit of an exaggeration," Elle said with a shy smile.

"Oh, I can't wait for our scenes next week," Amanda excitedly, squirming in her seat. "Can I drop the accent too, Olive? Pleeeeease?"

"I'll be trying out a few different variations," the director said with a tip of her head. "We'll see."

"Daisy insisted we all do 'Shakespeare' accents," Amanda confided in Elle. "We all thought it was stupid but..."

"'Manda..." Jake said in with a gentle nudge.

"I'm not trying to start a revolution here," Elle said, holding her hands up innocently, for all that she had an internal sense of glee at the idea.

"Well, let's hope you do anyway!" Amanda exclaimed, and Tom agreed, lifting his glass towards the centre of the table. Olive sat back, watching the three actors laugh and compare notes, nursing her drink slowly.

Elle opted to leave after a couple of hours - though she dearly wanted to stay drinking with Tom and Amanda and Olive 'til closing time, she had rehearsals all the next day followed by a full shift at work, and knew she'd be sorry if she wasn't in bed soon. As she descended into the nearest subway station she couldn't keep from grinning; today had been pretty much a dream come true in so many ways. She knew it was too much to hope that Olive would come to her senses and sack Daisy in favour of putting her in the part, but even if she remained just the understudy this was better than she ever could have hoped for.

 

Tom had turned to Olive almost as soon as Elle was gone. "Sack Daisy," he said. "C'mon, Olive. You know you want to. And if Rick was here," he added, referring to their Orsino, "he'd say the same thing."

Olive shook her head slowly. "I can't, Tom. I know you all want me to, hell, I want me to, but I can't."

"Come on, why not?"

"It's complicated."

"Because you were friends."

"It's more than just that." Olive hesitated, glancing over to check that Amanda and Jake were still wrapped up in their own side conversation before continuing. "Her husband's a silent investor in the show. If I sack Daisy, we can't run."

Tom's eyes widened. "Shiiit... so she's got you over a barrel."

In more ways than one. "Pretty much. Listen, I'm going to try and get her on board with the new changes - we've still got time, I think it's going to turn out great. Just... don't exacerbate her while I'm working on her. Please."

"I won't, I won't... Wow. Poor Elle. She deserves this."

"Yeah, I know, she's good. But talent like that will get recognised sooner or later."

"I guess we'll have to see to that. Y'know. After What You Will."

"Right now I just want to get through opening night." Which she had sworn to Sam he'd be well enough to watch from their traditional seats in the back row. "Everything after that... well, that can wait."

 

Rick had been absent most of Elle's 'practice' week, so the first time she sang with Orsino was on the first day of her week as Viola. Rick Graham was another up-and-comer - a TV actor who wanted to make the transition to stage (it always amused Elle how everybody wanted to 'transition' either one direction or the other these days), so his habits and mannerisms were a little off, leaving him something of a fish out of water among the cast. He was however a decent guy, hard working and low in ego, and that made him a pleasure to work with, even on a stressful day like today.

"I need you to go bigger, Rick - they need to see you in the balcony," Olive said, hobbling towards the two actors, cane in hand. "It feels silly to you, I know, but trust me, all they see is nice, clear acting."

"Right, but I... I just don't know how big is too big, you know?" he told her, frowning.

"Just... think grand." Olive replied, and gestured for Elle to stand next to her. "When you're speaking, and gesturing, just remember you're a duke. You're used to being seen and heard." She put a hand on Elle's shoulder and swept an arm in front of them. "There is no woman's sides can bide the beating of so strong a passion," she intoned, "as love doth give my heart."

She felt Elle tense slightly at the line, saw the slight twist to her lips. Something made her give the young woman's shoulder a squeeze before releasing it and stepping away. "Of course, he's wrong, but he'll learn his lesson soon enough. Think you can manage now?"

"Sure, sure," Rick said. "I'll give it another go, shall I?"

"Please."

 

Rick started to get into his stride toward the end of rehearsal, confiding in Elle in a quiet moment that it was the first time he'd felt as though he was actually 'getting' it. Elle was very glad that she wasn't prone to a swollen head, though reasonably convinced that everyone's delight with her was driven rather more by how difficult Daisy was than by her own talents.

As everybody filed out Elle began to gather her things together, stopping only when she heard the distinctive sound of Olive's approach, complete with cane. "Elle. Are you heading off to work, or do you have a minute?"

"Oh, um... I am working, but I have a few, yeah."

"Hm. Well, maybe this conversation would be best had another time, then," Olive said, pressing her lips together.

Elle looked thoroughly crestfallen at this. "I'm really okay for a few," she said. "Or, I mean, there's after my shift, though that's pretty late..." Fuckin' job...

"That's okay. Where do you work?"

"The Marque?"

"Cool, okay. And when do you get off?"

Elle made a face. "One in the morning? Well, I mean, technically midnight, but I'll have to stay after and help clean up, so it'll be one, even on a quiet week night..."

"Ah. Well, you probably just want to head home after a long shift like that-"

"No, no, I mean..." Elle chuckled nervously. "I will, but if you want to talk, I'll have time - I can never settle for a bit after my shift anyway, so you won't be keeping me out of my bed or anything..."

"Right. Well, I'll stop by and pick you up, then, and I'll try not to keep you too late. Sound okay?"

"Sounds great. Perfect. I mean, that would be good, cool." Elle widened her eyes at her own inability to contain herself. "I'll see you later," she finished.

With a friendly smile and nod Olive departed, leaving Elle to finish packing her things and head off to work.

 

Elle was in a state of such anticipation throughout her whole shift that she could barely concentrate - she got two orders wrong and it was only her sterling reputation as a good worker that saved her reputation that night. She rushed though clean up, though there was no sign of Olive until five minutes to one, when she appeared outside as if by magic, wrapped in a heavy overcoat and carrying a cane with a stylish silver handle. She made eye contact with Elle through the glass and mouthed "take your time", but Elle wasn't inclined to dawdle then, and was soon donning her own rather worn winter coat and hitting the street.

"Sorry, sorry," she said, though in truth Olive hadn't had to wait for long at all.

Olive waved away the apologies, starting down the sidewalk as soon as Elle fell in step beside her. "How was your shift? Are you hungry? I used to be starving every time I finished a shift... I guess it was being around all that food and being unable to eat it."

Elle's smiled widened - it wasn't at all surprising that Olive had done her time waiting table of course, but it was a little surprising to hear her talking about it. "Actually, yeah," she said. "I have some stuff at home I'm going to heat up later though, no worries."

"Hm. Well, I was going to take you somewhere that does amazing pie, but I guess you could just watch me eat it and have your leftovers later..."

Elle laughed, glancing down at her feet. "I, umm..."

"Why don't you take a look at the menu before committing to anything you'll regret, at least."

"Uh..." You really can't afford to turn down a free meal - from anyone. And on what basis, anyway? "Done. Thanks."

"That's the starving artist spirit," Olive said with a grin. "C'mon."

 

Olive took her to a small diner not that far away, though Elle had predictably had never heard of it before. The menu did indeed have an impressively wide array of pie, and she was stuck staring at it for several minutes before finally making a choice.

"So. Um. What did you want to talk about?" she said at last.

"I noticed you had a... reaction to the script earlier," Olive replied, tapping her fingers on the formica tabletop. "It's not the most progressive piece, is it?"

"It has its moments," Elle said with a shrug. "And come on, it was written in, like, sixteen-oh-one or whatever."

"Right, of course. Context is important. But I need you to keep your reactions... subtler. I don't want the audience getting jarred out of the moment when they realise that Viola doesn't really buy all this... heteronormative bullshit."

"No, no, of course, it was... just I dunno, you delivering it rather than Jake, the-..." Elle blinked. "What am I even... Look, I love that I'm getting the chance to do this and I am totally one hundred percent committed to doing my best on it, but I'm never going to do this in front of an audience. Not unless there's some kind of accident or emergency or whatever."

"You need to be ready to go on at any time, Elle. You need to stop thinking that you're never going to get the chance - I know it's heartbreaking to expect it every night and have to dance in the chorus, but when it does happen you need to be ready."

"Right. Well. I promise that you won't see that reaction in that scene again. I just... wasn't in the moment, then - you were giving Rick notes, not-..." Elle made a face. "Sorry, that sounds defensive. I didn't mean it that way."

"That's all right. I know it can be hard, mouthing some of the stuff in these shows. Would that we were able to pick only the most enlightened material to work on, right?"

"Honestly, it's no big deal - it was just a moment, I swear." And definitely not one that it was worth coming to see me at one in the morning for. So why are we really here.

Olive nodded; the waitress appeared then with their pies - apple pie for Elle, rhubarb for Olive. Elle stuck in with gusto - it was an excellent pie, though in honesty it could have been barely palatable and she would have been scarcely less enthusiastic as she was starving hungry. The other woman ate more sedately, mostly watching Elle wolf down her meal with something akin to amusement.

"Wow," was Elle's first word after placing her fork down. "That was... food. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Olive said with a grin. "I'd ask if you want some dessert, but..."

Elle chuckled. "Um... Hah, yeah. I, er..." She shook her head. "Sorry, I'm such a dork, I know..."

"It's okay. It's nice being around someone with an appetite, makes me feel like less of a pig."

"Oh, man, I don't get through half as much food as Lyle," Elle said, shaking her head. "It's unbelievable."

Olive pressed her lips together briefly, nodding. "Dancers have pretty impressive appetites, it's true."

"He is something else. I have never seen anyone put so much food down them - particularly not keeping rock-hard abs at the same time."

"Hm. You're probably tired after that shift, we should get going..."

"Right. Sorry." Elle shook her head. "I shouldn't keep you." Though that begs the question, again, why you came out here rather than ticking me off in like two minutes after rehearsal.

"That's all right." Olive reached for her wallet, pulling out a twenty and slipping it under her plate. "Do you live nearby? Do you want me to call you a cab?"

"Hah, oh, God, no. On both counts," Elle said, shaking her head. "I'm not too far, though, I'll walk."

"Are you sure? It's quite late..."

"Yeah, it's fine - I walk from work every night, this isn't much further."

"All right. But email me when you get home, and if you don't I'm going to call the cops."

Elle blinked. "That's a joke, right? I'm never sure when you're telling a joke."

"That wasn't a joke," Olive said with a shake of her head. "I take the safety of my cast and crew very seriously."

"I just said I walk home eve-..." Elle shut her eyes briefly, shaking her head. "Sorry," she said with a sheepish grin. "It's... a little too easy to forget sometimes that you're my boss. You can be so..."

"Informal? I'm sorry, I guess I have been pretty relaxed lately. I'll try and tighten up the ship."

"I guess. I mean, yeah, I suppose that's what I mean." Elle shook her head again, as though to clear it. "Olive, can I ask you something? Before you... tighten the ship?"

"Of course," the other woman said, a little too readily.

No no no no nononono... "Whydidyoucomeseemeafterwork?" It came out in a rush, and Elle sucked in a breath before continuing. "I mean, you could've easily mentioned the tone thing after rehearsal, it would've taken a minute."

"Oh, I..." Olive trailed off uncertainly, then shrugged. "I don't know, really. I guess I wanted to talk to somebody - well, to you. and it seemed strange doing it at the studio."

"Talking about work at the studio?" And again, no. Shut up, turn around, go home. My god. Elle.

Olive grimaced, as if she could see herself walking into a trap and yet could do nothing to stop it. "It wasn't strictly work-related things I wanted to discuss, I, um... I don't know."

Elle tipped her head to the side. She knew she had the other woman on the back foot, and she didn't like it. "Don't get me wrong," she tried now, trying to smooth things over. "Any time. Just, er... what else did you want to talk about?" As confused as she was, part of her couldn't stop pushing, perhaps because her fascination with Olive Ramirez only increased with the director's discomfort.

"It's... it's not important any more." If the mood had ever been right for Olive to say what she had asked Elle here to say, it certainly wasn't any more. "Really. I wouldn't want to bother you."

"All... right. Well. Good night, then." Looking rather confused, now, Elle gave the other woman a brief nod and a tiny, though sincere smile, and backed up a couple of steps before turning to head off toward home. Behind her she could hear the sound of Olive's cane on the sidewalk as she slowly made her way in the other direction. Well. That was weird.

She almost didn't email when she got home - even though she had said she was serious Olive had to be joking, right? She had to be, since she didn't off-hand know where Elle lived to know where to send the police... or would she have that information somewhere in paperwork or on a computer at home? Just in case, Elle pulled up her mail and fired off a quick note.

 

Home safe, please don't call the cops! Even though I was super-weird. Sorry, spaced-out from a long day, I guess.

 

Of course, it hadn't really been Elle who was weird, but still. Olive was her boss.

As before, the reply was quick in coming.

 

Pigs still snug in their blankets. Glad you made it home okay. You don't need to apologise, and I hope you don't feel strange working with me still. Really looking forward to seeing your Viola this week. -O.

 

Elle frowned at the screen, still thoroughly confused. Why would I feel weird working with you?

She didn't ask, though, rather replying simply:

 

:)

 

 

Rehearsals, at least, continued to go well. Elle got on very well with the other actors and it was clear that they were enjoying this new 'take' on the material and considered her responsible for it - Tom took to bowing to her whenever he saw her, and Amanda slipped her a box of chocolates as 'thanks' after one particularly successful rehearsal.

As the week drew to an end she began to dread Daisy's return, and a darker, pensive mood seemed to have fallen over almost the whole cast, making her wonder if she wasn't the only one.

On the last day, however, something happened that distracted everyone entirely from such thoughts. They were about halfway through the day, having run chorus work in the morning and, after the rest of the cast filed out, started work on some of Elle's duets with Amanda and Rick respectively, when a slim, well-dressed figure appeared in the doorway.

"Miss me?"

The four people in the room were all entirely taken by surprise, but no one looked more shocked than Olive.

"Sam!" Amanda exclaimed delightedly, clapping her hands. "Oh my god, it's been ages. Where have you been?"

"Oh, y'know, working, playing, avoiding Daisy," Sam breezed, strolling over to sit at the desk where Olive had been before she'd taken up the piano seat. "I know Olive's holding down the fort just fine here, but I just had to come see the new take on Viola she's been raving about all week."

"That's our Elle," Amanda said proudly, gesturing to the girl, though of course there was no doubting who the new person was, or what role she was playing. Olive crossed the room, leaning in to murmur something quietly to Sam, who shook his head and then shot a winning smile at the young woman.

"Well, Elle, I can't wait to hear what you've got in store."

"Uh, right. No pressure, then," Elle said with a chuckle. In truth, she was a world more comfortable than she had been a fortnight before, even in front of the composer, who also happened to be one of her personal heroes. If the past few days had told her anything it was that while she might never do this in front of hundreds of people, she could do it, and that had been a revelation for her that she knew she would take with her through this show and beyond.

"We were just about to do After Him I Love," Olive said, returning to the piano and shuffling through the sheet music there. "Ready, you three?"

Elle nodded, embracing the twist of nerves in her stomach. "Ready," she said.

It was a song for all three of them - Viola, Orsino and Olivia - where the tangled ruse would start to unravel. Rick's clear tenor and Amanda's soprano complimented her own voice well, and they were comfortable enough with each other and the song by now to throw in some of the dance moves Olive had begun teaching them, turns and quicksteps that had them whirling about the 'stage' in pairs.

As Elle switched between her two partners, the harmonies shifting between Amanda and Rick, she felt a slight twinge of sadness. Was this going to be the last time she really sang this?

"That was brilliant, absolutely brilliant," Sam said when they had finished, clearly the more effusive of the duo. "You all looked like you were having such fun with it."

"We were," Rick said with some feeling, grinning down at Elle, who was still in his arms, though he released her a moment later. "It's been a good week."

"Really good," Amanda agreed, smoothing her skirt down. "Honestly I think if Miss Thang wasn't due to come back next week we'd all be a lot happier. What? We were all thinking it!" she added at Olive's frown.

"Mm. Well." Sam smiled brightly. "Here and now, that was just great. Thank you. All of you."

"That's enough for today," Olive told them, standing and closing the piano up. "You can go."

Elle blinked at this abruptness - usually Olive had notes for everybody and there would be a fair bit of chitchat after the rehearsal but here they were finishing early. Still, she got her things together along with Amanda and Rick and made to file out behind them.

"Elle, would you stay behind a moment?" It wasn't Olive who called out after her, but Sam. "I'd love to hear just one more song."

Elle spun on her heel, her gaze landing on not Sam but Olive, who gazed back at her distractedly, lips slightly parted.

"Um, sure, absolutely. What would you like to hear?"

"I actually have something brand new for you, if you're feeling adventurous," Sam said with a grin, standing and pulling some sheet music from his bag, pushing one copy across the table and taking the other over to the piano. "Shift, you," he said. "Let me play you this."

Olive grumbled but slid off the bench, leaning in to catch a glimpse of the music as Sam set it on the piano. "Maid and Man?"

"Remember that tune I was playing you? I thought Viola could use one more number at the end to sum everything up for us."

"Before the fool's last song, though, right?" Elle asked with a slight frown as she flipped through the piece, clearly almost offended by this idea.

"Oh, Feste still ends the play, sure," Sam said with an elegant wave of his hand. "This is after the wedding and before the wrap-up. I see you still like 'em opinionated, huh, Liv?" he added, winking in Elle's direction.

"Let's hear this masterpiece," Olive said dryly, leaning on her cane.

'Masterpiece' wasn't far off. Most of the songs already in the show were great, but this one... it was perfect, really, both for the character and for Elle's voice. Somehow, without them ever having spoken, without ever having even heard her, Elle felt as though Sam had reached into her head and plucked out her Viola. It summed up everything, and more than that, without stepping out of the play or the setting, it made the story relevant. relatable - Viola, at her pragmatic but emotional best, reflecting on the nature of love and its transcendent qualities without ever leading the audience by the nose.

Sam looked quite pleased with himself by the end, and with Elle, exchanging a wide grin with her as he played the final flourishes. "Not half bad, I think," he said demurely, giving her a wink. "What do you think, Liv?"

They both turned their gaze on the director, who was standing, blank-faced, at the end of the piano. "It's good," she said after a moment, nodding briskly. "Very good."

"Damn right," Sam said slapping the top of the piano as he stood, though Elle thought she saw him then lean heavily on it. "Because I am a genius, and so are you. Oh, also, I'm sorry I stole your notes - I know you weren't done with them but I spotted them on the breakfast table and I immediately knew how to use 'em."

"I should know better than to leave things lying around," Olive said with a grim smile and a shake of her head. "I'll need to rewrite some of those verses, they're not quite right yet."

"Oh, sure, sure." Another hand-wave - Sam was clearly not a 'details' person.

"Umm..." Elle cleared her throat. "I guess I should... d'you need me to do anything else?"

"You've gifted us with quite enough already," Sam said, "you're free to go." Olive gave a nod when Elle glanced over at her, her eyes flicking from Elle to Sam and then back again.

"Thank you. You're all done for today."

Elle redonned her coat, reshouldered her bag, and left, an uncomfortable knot growing tighter in her stomach as she thought about just how thin and worn their composer looked. The man hadn't been out of the public eye due to some minor bout of sickness. Sam Miller was seriously ill.

 

"Relaaax... I'll be fine. I just couldn't sit at home hearing about this girl of yours and not come see her."

"She's not my girl. she's just... she's just Viola," Olive sighed.

"Yeah... all right," Sam said with a sidelong look at Olive. "Whaat? I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you've got starry inappropriate mentor eyes every time you talk about her. I mean, I get it now, totally, she's brilliant. Just... don't let Daisy catch you mooning after her."

"God, Daisy..." Olive sighed again, leaning her head with a thud against the piano lid. "Am I a horrible person if I say that I hope her plane crashes?"

"Oh, darling, no. Well, maybe." Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever, God would forgive you. What's she in LA for, anyway?"

"An audition for some show or movie, I don't know. And before you get your hopes up, don't. It's early stages yet and even if she did get it filming wouldn't start 'til next summer."

"So much for that. Anyway, with [Husband] bankrolling us it's not like even a voluntary exit would be good news..."

"Yeah. Like it or not we're stuck with her. Which means Elle will be wasted in the chorus while Daisy chews through all our scenery."

Sam gave a pragmatic sigh. "Well, it was nice to hear Viola sung as she should be at least once. Maybe we can make use of Elle when we're doing publicity revues - you know how Daisy hates those... Though you'll have to play it carefully..."

"Yeah, yeah..." Olive remained face-down for a moment later before gathering herself together and giving Sam a smile. "Don't worry about it - I've got everything under control."

"That's my girl - now, carry me home, woman."

 

"So, you were a big hit, sounds like," Lyle commented, stretching his legs out in front of him and reaching for his toes. "I heard Tom raving about you on a phone call to who knows who."

"Yeah, well, it was fun," Elle said. "But that's done now - Daisy's back tomorrow."

"Hey, you never know, given she's such a terror to work with... maybe they'll kick her out and bring you in instead."

"Yeah, nooot gonna happen, I'm afraid," Elle said with a shake of her head. "But look, it's been a really valuable experience. There'll be other times. Maybe Olive will think of me next time round."

"Yeah... I mean, how many people can say they've sung with Tom Vine and Amanda Bodak?"

"I'm not sure if rehearsals count," Elle said with a wry smile. "But I appreciate the sentiment. Still. Back to the grind." In truth, of course, Elle's workload would lighten considerably now that Daisy was returning, and not before time - her cash was running dangerously low.

"Yeah, welcome back to the trenches with the rest of us cannon fodder," Lyle grinned.

"It's like I never even left."

 

"Okay, Daisy, remember what we discussed... just use your normal accent, and keep the rhythm relaxed..."

"I cannot believe you're pulling this on me now." Daisy was not happy. "What, you get some new girl in and suddenly everything I do is wrong?"

"Going through the different options has always been part of the process, I just want to see how this goes," Olive reasoned calmly. Daisy's mouth set into a thin line, but all in all Olive was surprised at just how well this was going. Was it possible that Daisy was reacting reasonably to the obvious threat to her role?

"You're doing great," she added to reassure the other woman, then nodded at the pianist. "Okay, here we go..."

 

It was of some surprise to Elle to hear Daisy imitating her own Viola when she next had a chorus rehearsal with the other woman, but she tried to keep a straight face even as she felt a strange twist in her stomach - part satisfaction, part disappointment. A couple of the other dancers glanced her way expectantly and she had to play it off like it was no big deal.

In other respects the rehearsal was much like the others with Daisy - frequent starts and stops as she played up, long breaks in which she disappeared and had to be tracked down. Elle couldn't help glancing at Olive during these times, trying to discern something - anything - from her expression. The director was a consummate actress, of course, but she thought she could see the toll that Daisy's antics were taking on her through the tiny twist of her lips and the flare of her nostrils when she thought no one was looking.

Perhaps it was this, or perhaps it was just a slight wistfulness that they would have considerably fewer closed rehearsals from here on, that made Elle hover around behind the rest of the crowd after rehearsal. She was thoroughly torn about whether to actually speak to Olive, hesitating by the door as her fellow chorus members headed off down the corridor.

"Can I help you with something, Ms Parker?" Olive nodded to the pianist and then began to limp over towards where Elle was waiting. "You don't need to stay, you're done for the day."

"I know, I just..." Elle made a face. "I dunno." She shook her head. "G'night, I guess," she said lamely, making to leave, and feeling thoroughly embarrassed.

"Elle."

Very aware of the pink spots blooming on her cheeks, Elle turned slowly back around.

"I know it's hard, handing over the reins. You did some amazing work last week," Olive told her, her voice warm and reassuring. "And I won't forget that."

"Oh..." Elle shook her head, stepping out of the doorway to let the accompanist leave. "It's fine. I mean... it is what it is, it's okay."

"It sucks." Olive seemed to catch herself then, shaking her head and holding up a hand. "Sorry. Here you are being gracious and I keep ranting at you. I'm sorry."

"No, no..." Elle shook her head. "It does suck. But... I'm just so lucky to have had this experience. It was really valuable for me. Truly."

"It was good for everyone involved. I mean..." Olive glanced down, biting her lip bashfully before looking up again. "Anyway. Is that all you wanted to say?"

"Yeah. I mean, no..." Elle chewed briefly on her own lip. She stepped closer to the table where Olive stood. "Look, about Sam..."

This time she did see Olive flinch, and she looked around to check that the room was empty before speaking. "He was very impressed by you. Couldn't stop talking about that last song."

Elle nodded slowly. "Yeah. Um. Are you... is it just you taking care of him?"

"What? Oh, I... I stop by occasionally, yeah."

"Olive..." Elle frowned a little. Clearly she wasn't going to be fooled.

Olive shook her head, and for a moment Elle thought she was going to brush her off, but after a second she gave a shaky sigh, leaning more heavily on her cane. "Yeah, it's just me. It's not too bad, the good days still outnumber the bad."

"And what about you?"

"Hm? Oh, I'm fine..."

"Have you got someone to talk to? Some way to unwind? I know it can be... pretty hard."

"I've got this," Olive said, nodding to at the script on the table. "Nothing to take your problems off your mind like... more problems."

"Right. Well. If you need..." Elle made a face. "...someone to talk to, or whatever, look, forget it, sorry, this is stupid. I'll just... I'm gonna go."

"No, wait. That's... that's a very generous offer, Elle."

Elle hesitated, smiling tentatively. "Just... trying to help."

"Thank you. I... I haven't really been able to speak to anybody, Sam doesn't want people to know, and I want to honour that, but god, I just..." Olive took a deep breath, composing herself. "It's hard. That's all."

"Yeah." There was something the matter-of-fact way Elle said this that made Olive look up, and she smiled dryly. "My mom died," she said. "When I was seventeen. Of breast cancer. Mm, no, it's cool," she said, waving a hand when Olive's face twisted in sympathy, "it's fine, I just... I remember what it did to my dad. It's a lot to take on. Is he... what're his chances?"

"Well, they caught it early - Sam was always really careful about health stuff - but... it's pretty aggressive. I hate that they say that... aggressive. Like it's got a personality."

"Least it gives you something to hate." Elle's mouth flattened to a line briefly and she shook her head as if to disregard her comment. "Well. All I wanted to say was... I'm here. I dunno what good that is, I'm sure you have a million friends. But... Well, there it is."

"Thanks. That means a lot. I... I had been going to say something about this, the other night. But it didn't seem like the right time."

"The other night? Oh, after my work... you were going to talk to me about Sam?"

"I... yeah." Elle got the feeling Olive was still holding something back, but she shook her head. "I mean, because of the phone call, I thought you'd be speculating and I wanted to set the story straight."

"Ah, right. Okay. Well. I'm not going to say anything. I mean, I wouldn't've regardless."

"I know, I know. It was more selfish than that, I just wanted to talk about it with someone, well. With you."

Elle smiled a little in spite of herself. "Well." She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. "We can do that. Just... say the word."

"I could come by after you get off work sometime? It doesn't matter if it's late, I'm up at all hours..."

"Um. Sure. Just... any time. I'm on the late shift most nights - if you don't get me on my phone, that's where I'll be, same time every time."

"Okay, great. Um... great. We'll do that, then."

Elle nodded, very aware that she hadn't stopped blushing the whole time she'd been standing there. "All right. Well. I'll see you around, then."

"Mmhmm. See you."

Heart hammering in her throat, Elle left. I have no idea what just happened.

 

Olive thought she had been quiet. Sam was dozing on the couch, a half-finished score in his hands, when she had checked the time and realised that it was nearly midnight and Elle would be getting off work soon. She had waited several days before even entertaining the idea of meeting up with the young woman, but given that the thought was nearly always at the forefront of her mind, even when she should be thinking of other things, she knew she couldn't ignore it forever. She had risen and tucked a blanket over Sam's legs before grabbing her coat, and she must have missed him stirring because she nearly jumped out of her skin when he spoke. "That you off?"

"Fuck, Sam... don't do that to me. I thought you were asleep."

"I always wake up for you, baby," he slurred confusingly.

"Hey... you okay?" she asked, stepping closer to the couch. "You want me to help you to your room?"

"Mm, no, I'm good here. You go ahead, darling."

"I'm just going out for a bit. I'll be back soon, 'kay?"

"No problem."

With a quick kiss to his forehead she wrapped her coat around her and headed out, nerves jangling - and this time it wasn't just because of Sam's sallow complexion and the collection of pills on his coffee table.

 

"I see you've got a friend waiting for you."

To give her credit, Sandy's polite-but-cool behaviour toward Elle hadn't really changed, for better or worse, following her 'fifteen minutes' as Viola. Now, as she tipped her head behind herself toward the warmly dressed woman leaning on her ever-present cane outside, she looked more bored than jealous or irritated.

"Um..." Elle lifted her hand briefly to show Olive she'd seen her before turning a pained look back toward Sandy, who rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Just go," she said. "We're practically done, and you covered for me on Monday anyway."

With a murmured thanks Elle finished what she was doing and then trotted to the back to retrieve her things, emerging out onto the sidewalk a few minutes later. "Hi," Olive greeted her with a small smile. "How was your shift?"

"Long, panicked." Elle rolled her eyes. "Y'know, the usual. Are you okay?" she said immediately. "How's Sam?" It had been days since they'd agreed that Olive could come see Elle any time. That she'd turned up now had obviously made the younger woman wonder if something specific had happened.

"He's... y'know, a little spacey." Olive gave a tight smirk; she could deal with any end of physical problems, but Sam's occasional slips into confusion and bewilderment were harder to take. "The meds. Hopefully it's just temporary."

Elle nodded. "Well," she said. "I'm all yours. What d'you need?"

"Pie. And maybe some coffee."

"Sounds like heaven."

 

"...so I left a year early, scraping through with my undergrad on aggregate, and hitched to New York. I mean, not literally, I went home and sold a bunch of stuff first and then took the train, but y'know." Elle smirked briefly before sipping once more at her coffee and making a face. The pie at this place was amazing. The coffee was not.

They had barely sat down before Olive had started asking Elle questions - where she'd come from, how she'd got here - generic stuff. Elle knew that distraction might be just what Olive needed right now, and was happy enough to talk about such things, and kept up the chat throughout their 'meal'.

"And now here you are." Olive smiled, pushing the remains of her pie around her plate with a fork. "How many shows have you been in? Before this one, I mean."

"Three. All off-Broadway, though, and only one even had a decent run. Mostly I've just been making ends meet, open mic-ing and auditioning like a maniac."

"Well, it won't be long until you have your big break - I'll do whatever I can to make sure of that."

Elle smiled warmly. "You've done so much already. I really meant what I said, about this whole experience. As harsh as this week's been, here and there, I wouldn't give back playing Viola last week for anything."

"It's really been a joy watching you play her. If I could've held open auditions..." Olive sighed and shook her head. "Well. Just keep up the good work. I know that's an awful thing to say, I wish I had something more for you."

"Don't be. I know..." Elle chewed her lower lip. "You have to do what it takes to make this work," she said. "I get that. Really, I do. Don't worry about it."

Olive's eyes narrowed, though she merely nodded, setting down her fork with a sigh. "Sorry, I've made this depressing again, haven't I? Tell me more about you. What do you do for fun, when you're not working?"

Elle laughed. "Shit, seriously? Um... I go clubbing sometimes. But..." She shook her head. "There's really not much space in my life for fun. I mean, other than the show - that's fun for me. Gotta live the dream, right?"

"I guess it does get pretty crowded, especially when you're trying to balance a relationship on top of it all," Olive agreed, nodding.

Elle looked mildly confused for a moment, but then she chuckled, shaking her head. "Yeah, I suppose it would be. God, I can't even imagine trying to date right now."

"Oh, but I thought you were... right, yeah, no, who has time for that?"

The younger woman blinked, and Olive saw her mentally sifting back through old conversations. "Lyle. Hah. The irony," she said. "He did ask me out. Sort of. I think." She shook her head. "He's not really my type." She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not sure I really have a type, to be honest. I've just never... clicked with anyone."

"Oh, well, that's okay, I wasn't trying to imply... anything," Olive said. Elle noticed her cheeks were pink, though it could've just been from embarrassment. "Sorry, I just assumed. Which was stupid of me."

"No, no, it's fine - I suppose people must. God, they must think I'm some sort of blind idiot the way he works his way through the chorus..." This seemed to amuse Elle immensely and she chuckled to herself as she reached once more for her terrible coffee.

"As long as you're happy," Olive said with a small smile. "Who cares what the rest of them think?"

"Well, exactly, y'know? I mean..." Elle made a face that wasn't just caused by the coffee. "I know I should care. I know that not caring will probably kill my career one of these days. But Idunno. I really only care about the opinion of, y'know, heroes and idols, people I really respect. And those of course are the people I can't string two words together in front of." She did a mental double-take. "Well. At first, anyway. Apparently that fades." She looked up at Olive, then, with a strange expression, almost as though seeing her in a new light. She did still stammer and blush around Olive sometimes, of course, but tonight their conversation had been easy and flowing and, while she still had to psyche herself up every time she needed to talk to the director, much of her initial terror had fallen away completely to be replaced by... what, exactly? She still admired her a great deal, that much went without saying. But now Olive had become something other than Olive Ramirez, one-time next-big-thing, tragedy struck down in her prime, then reborn as an award-winning writer and director and now adding choreography to her wheelhouse... not that she wasn't still all of those things. But she was now... just 'Olive' as well.

"Hah, well. Glad to know there was at least some shine once upon a time," Olive commented with a smirk and a tip of her head. "Best you can hope for, really. 'Nothing gold can stay' and all that."

"I don't even know where to start with that," Elle said matter-of-factly. "And that definitely wasn't what I was trying to say. If anything the shine is brighter than ever."

Olive's smile widened. "Well, not that the stammering wasn't very endearing, but I'm glad it's passed. It's really nice talking to you. I feel... like a normal person for the first time in a long time."

Elle's gaze was drawn down into her coffee, a flush rising in her cheeks. "If you're trying to make me stammer again you're going the right way about it," she said. "I, uh, I'm really glad, though. That I was able to help, I mean."

"Me too. I'm just sorry I had to keep you out of your bed to do it. You must be exhausted by now..."

"Oh... I guess. I mean, I'm always pretty exhausted, to be honest," Elle said with a chuckle. "I can't remember what 'well-slept' feels like at this point. I have a feeling if I got eight hours straight at this point I might spontaneously manifest superpowers."

"Superpowers on top of that voice and that b--dance moves... you'd be unstoppable."

"Knowing me I'd get something useless like 'suits all hats'."

"Hey, that sounds like a pretty damn useful power, if you ask me. A well-deployed hat can be devastating in the right circumstance."

"Mm. Well. I suppose we'll never now."

"Unless you got a proper night's sleep."

"Neeeever gonna happen."

"Never say never!" Olive grinned. "It might, one day."

Elle laughed, shaking her head. "Yeah. One day. Maybe."

"Well, I don't want you to miss what little you are getting these days. C'mon, let's get you home."

Tonight, Olive insisted on the taxi, jumping in herself when it transpired that they were going in a similar direction, though they didn't live particularly close to one another. Elle tried to reach for her wallet when the cab pulled up, but Olive wasn't having any of it.

"Thank you again for the company, and the conversation," she told Elle as the other woman gathered her things together. "I had a really nice time."

"I did too," Elle said. "Really, any time. I, uh... I have the night off on Monday. I mean, not that you can know when you're going to want to chat in advance, and I'll be glad to see you any time, but..."

"I can do Monday," Olive said quickly, apparently disregarding everything else Elle had said. "We could go to dinner - real dinner, I mean, not pie. I don't want you thinking I live on nothing but dessert."

"Oh, uh... sure, that would be lovely," Elle said. "I'd really like that."

"Great, okay. Well. Good night for now, I guess," Olive said, and leaned in to press a kiss to Elle's cheek. The other woman blinked in surprise, but shot Olive a warm, if rather awkward smile, before near-stumbling out of the cab onto the street. Her skin tingled where Olive had kissed it, and she fought the urge to touch her fingers there as the taxi drove away again. Again she was left not entirely sure what had just happened, but she did know that Monday could not come soon enough.

 

"Please, Daisy, just consider it..."

"Jesus, Liv, don't you work me hard enough as it is? Is anyone else being expected to do this? Come on..."

With a grim sense of satisfaction Olive mused that at least on this occasion the whining was actually quite welcome. She did her best long sigh, falling onto the dressing room couch heavily and leaning her face into her hand. "All right," she said. "All right, we'll manage somehow. We can always just use the understudy I guess."

"Fine, whatever," Daisy huffed, staring into the mirror and playing with her hair. "Just don't bother me with it again. Honestly, Liv, I'm already doing you enough of a favour as it is."

Olive's fingers dug into the arm of the couch, but she managed an "I know, I know. And I'm really grateful for that, honestly. I just had to ask. You know how it is."

With a sigh of her own Daisy finally sat down, a little closer than Olive would've liked. "I'm sorry, hon," she said, hand immediately slipping to Olive's thigh. "I just... I get so tired with the rehearsal schedules; what with that and Hunter I feel like I don't have time for anything. y'know? And you're never around either - I would so have liked to be able to see more of you..."

"Well, you know. I've got a lot on my plate right now."

"Mm, well, at least I have you here now..."

Oh god, no... "Yeah?"

"Sooo we should catch up," Daisy went on, leaning in to nip gently at Olive's neck. Olive closed her eyes, about to protest, but as Daisy's hand began to slip higher she suddenly turned and captured the other woman's lips with her own, pressing her back against the cushions. With a sound of surprise that soon turned into a moan as she opened her mouth, returning the kiss enthusiastically.

It wasn't Olive's finest hour. Well, maybe from Daisy's perspective it was, since it had been a long time since Olive's attentions had ever been so enthusiastic, but Olive knew if the high-strung actress knew what was really going through her head as she fucked her on the dressing room couch she would have been livid. Bad enough everyone prefers Elle to her in the production. This would just be insult to injury...

 

Monday rolled around all too slowly, and when it did come, it crawled. Though Elle and Olive saw one another in rehearsals, of course, things were far too busy to be strange - which was just as well, because the more Elle thought about it in her quieter moments, the stranger it felt. To be fostering a friendship with one of her idols was one thing, but more than that, she had the feeling that, right now, Olive really needed her around, really valued her company. Though she had offered her time and conversation on this basis the previous week it had never occurred to her that things would actually pan out that way - Elle Parker and Olive Ramirez? Friends? The thought was just ridiculous. At once time even having the other woman as a mentor was a crazy thought. To be standing in her little bedroom staring at every piece of clothing she owned in the world and wondering what she was supposed to wear to dinner with said woman? Certifiable.

 

"Hey. Don't you look nice." Olive's own outfit was mostly obscured by her massive coat so that Elle couldn't really return the compliment - at least, not yet. She had ended up wearing a simple white button-down shirt (though what Olive couldn't currently see was that it was sleeveless) with skinny pinstripe trousers and a battered pair of two-tones. She'd thrown a suit jacket over this, put on some eye make-up, tousled her short mop of hair with some gel, and all-in-all felt like she looked like she'd tried very hard not to try too hard - which of course was exactly what she'd done.

"Um, thanks," was all she could say. Then added, with a sheepish smirk, "You could've waited 'til we were indoors so I could say anything other than 'nice cane' in return."

"I appreciate cane compliments... most people try to pretend it doesn't exist, after I've gone to all the trouble of picking out the nicest ones I can find." Olive grinned and started down the street, her free hand tucked in her pocket.

"Well, they probably don't notice it, in fairness," Elle said, pushing both hands into her own jacket pockets, hunching her shoulders as they walked. She was, as usual, underdressed for the weather, though it wasn't too cold tonight, yet. "I know I don't, most of the time. It's a part of you, really. I mean..." She made a face. "That sounds pretty awful, I guess what I mean is that it's like when someone wears glasses - you know they wear them, you always picture them wearing them, but you don't, like, notice them every time they walk into a room. Y'know?"

"Oh, sure, and that's fine. But if they got a new pair I'd hope I'd notice it, and try to say something nice, that's all."

"What if you were worried that your myopic friend might not want to be reminded that they can't see properly?" Elle probed gently.

"Well, in this hypothetical situation in this hypothetical universe I'd hope I knew my hypothetical friend well enough to know if they'd be offended by that," Olive said, glancing sideways at Elle with a smirk. "Besides, trust me, they already know they can't see. You don't just forget something like that."

"I guess it's just down to how easy you are to know, then," Elle said at length. "Do you think you're easy to get to know?"

"Me? Oh, I don't know... Maybe? As much as anybody is, I guess. I mean, I've got my secrets, but doesn't everybody?"

"Not me, but then I'm just very dull."

"That's definitely not true. Nobody wearing those shoes could be described as 'dull'."

"Hah, you haven't known the lindy hoppers I have, clearly."

"Oh god. You've just made me flashback to a college production of Shrew done entirely with swing dancers..."

"I'm reasonably sure I don't need to hear about that. Or I dunno, maybe I do, it sounds excruciating..."

"Trust me, it was."

Olive recounted the whole sordid tale over dinner at a small Italian restaurant a few blocks from Elle's apartment. Elle noticed that it seemed like the director had also changed her outfit specifically for dinner, as she was now wearing a beautiful cashmere sweater on which, she joked, she was almost sure to drip pasta sauce.

Elle jumped head first on the opportunity to hear more about Olive's early life and work, and had a follow-up question as soon as the first story was finished. The other woman was a good storyteller, animated and funny, and she showed no reluctance to share stories of her past with Elle, whatever her self-proclaimed 'secrets' might be.

"...and so then the director finally snapped and was like 'that's it! we're using little people instead of children' - well, he called them dwarves, but you know what I mean."

"Oh, Jesus, and did he?"

"No, worse." Olive grinned at Elle over her wine glass. "Puppets."

"My God."

"I know, I know! It was terrible. I think he had to take early retirement after that for some sort of breakdown."

Elle laughed heartily, winding a little more spaghetti around her fork and bringing it to her lips - some of it escaping at the last moment of course and requiring a little extra scooping and sucking to get into her mouth. "I knew spaghetti was a rookie mistake, and yet I made it," she said with a wry chuckle once the food was safely swallowed.

"You've been managing admirably," Olive told her, her cheeks slightly pink. "Just make sure you don't order the zabaglione - that might be pushing it a little bit."

"Noted. This is really excellent, by the way." Not to mention the most I've eaten in weeks. "Thank you."

"No, thank you. For agreeing to spend your evening off in my company. You're probably sick of my face by now."

"Not even slightly," Elle professed immediately. Glancing up from her plate, she found that Olive was already looking at her with a fond expression, and for a moment she found that she couldn't look away again her hazel eyes locked with Olivia's dark brown. She'd gotten to know the other woman's face quite well, actually, in recent weeks - her high cheekbones and full lips, the sweep of her jaw, the fine lines just beginning to appear around her eyes and mouth. She was truly striking, Elle realised now - years of photographs on Broadway gossip websites and old cast pictures didn't begin to do justice to the real thing.

"Well, that's good to hear, especially since I have a favour to ask..."

"Huh? Oh, um, sure, anything."

 

Olive outlined her request, and it was all Elle could do not to respond too eagerly. Another chance to be seen as Viola and accompany Olive to swanky parties?

There was just one thing. "Daisy... isn't she going to be pissed?"

"Are you kidding? The idea of working any more than she absolutely has to? Besides, I've already talk about this with her and it was her idea."

"Really? Huh. Well... I'll be delighted t- Oh, no, shit... I can't. My job." Elle's shoulders visibly slumped as the realisation hit her.

"You'll get paid to do the previews," Olive said, frowning in disappointment herself. "Not tons, but it's something..."

"I appreciate that, but my boss doesn't have a good record of letting his evening staff cut back their hours. He'd probably fire me." With a long sigh, Elle stared back down at her near-finished plate, fighting the sudden and highly embarrassing urge to cry.

"Shit... hey, listen, don't be upset. We'll figure something out."

"Yeah." Elle already sounded pretty defeated - even the arrival of the dessert menu couldn't cheer her up.

Olive was quiet after they ordered, her brow furrowed in thought. After a few minutes she excused herself and disappeared from the table; when she returned she was smiling again. "So," she said as she sat down, "how'd you like a new job?"

Elle blinked. "I, um. Excuse me?"

"I've been trying to get Sam to hire an assistant for ages now - he's got piles and piles of stuff that needs to be organised and digitised and then thrown the hell away. It might not be as many hours as the restaurant gig, but it'll pay decently, and that with the previews and the understudy wage should be enough..."

The younger woman's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

"...is that a good question or a bad question? I'm only serious if it's the good kind..."

"I can't believe it. Hang on..." To Olive's mild bemusement, Elle pulled out her phone, typing on it briefly and then putting it away again. "I'm all yours," she said.

"Wow, um, okay. Why don't we go to Sam's tomorrow after rehearsal and we can hash things out then?"

"Sure thing." Elle looked infinitely happier now, if rather dazed, as she dug into her gelato. Olive smiled to see the young woman more upbeat, savouring her tiramisu and a final glass of wine - an indulgence, she knew, but tonight was worth celebrating, wasn't it?

As the night wore on and their espressos arrived - a world away from the terrible diner-coffee. Elle grew a little more serious again. "Thank you so much for this," she said. "I know that... funds must be tight."

"Don't worry. I wasn't making empty promises - you will be paid."

"I just don't want to make things harder."

Olive gave a tight smile. "It's okay. Having you there will only make things easier - on both of us."

"I'll be glad to help in any way I can."

The other woman shook her head, then leaned her elbows on the table, looking at Elle with an expression of disbelief and adoration. "Honestly, where did you come from? You're an angel, Elle. Really."

"I, uh..." Elle was understandably a little embarrassed at this, and both smiled a little and pulled her lower lip between her teeth at the same time, dimpling her cheeks and resulting in an expression that was nothing short of adorable. "Thanks."

"No, thank you. I thought I was going to crack under all the stress and pressure, but just having you around... well, it's made a big difference."

Elle shook her head. "You won't crack," she said in a decisive tone. "The show is going to be great, and you're going to take care of Sam. Olive, you're amazing. I knew you were talented, and a good director and choreographer, but..." She shook her head. "This past couple of weeks, I can't even tell you what they've meant to me. And getting to know you better, it's been... I'm here for anything you need."

Olive ducked her head bashfully, though Elle could still see her grin. "Mm. Well, right now I need you to help me finish this tiramisu, or I'll never be able to show my face here again."

"You don't have to ask me twice."

 

With Elle's help the tiramisu was finished, and with Olive's help the bill was paid, and soon enough they were back out on the street wandering in the vague direction of Elle's apartment, albeit at a very slow pace, as if neither woman particularly wanted the evening to end.

They finally reached Elle's door, and hovered there a while finishing their conversation about favourite performances of their favourite songs, Elle eventually breaking them off with, "I would say come up for a coffee, but I have a roommate and I never know when she's going to be in," she said, making a face at how young and immature she was sure this made her sound.

"Oh, no, that's okay - I remember the days of pissy roommates well," Olive assured her, without making her feel too juvenile. "Besides, I'm sure that espresso will keep me buzzing for hours yet."

Elle grinned. "I can still sleep at the drop of a hat these days, espresso or no espresso. So um. I guess that's us. It's been a really nice night."

"It has." Olive shifted from one foot to the other, looking suddenly shy. "Well. I'll see you tomorrow."

The other woman nodded. "Bright and early." Perhaps because Olive had last time, in the taxi, or perhaps just because it seemed like the thing to do, Elle leaned in and pressed a kiss to the other woman's cheek before standing back quickly, as though worried it had been the wrong thing to do. "G'night," she said, turning to fumble her bottom door open. Olive was still there when she finally got it open and stepped inside - was it Elle's imagination that she looked a bit lost? When she saw Elle look at her, however, she smiled, raising one hand in a quick goodbye wave before turning and limping off down the street.

 

Elle was thoroughly relieved to learn at the next day's rehearsal that Sandy had said nothing to anybody about her 'appointment' the previous night. Unfortunately, she had to check this by asking Lyle, which meant telling him everything and left him scarcely less of a danger himself - mostly to his inability to whisper properly - and she had to ban him from discussing the topic until they could get away themselves for lunch, at which point Elle had to field his incessant and in some cases ridiculous questions.

"So wait, what'd she say about us? The chorus I mean? No, wait, what'd she say about me. I mean, not that you want to talk about work on a date, but still..."

"Actually, you came up - she thought we were a couple, which, we- hey, hang on, Lyle, it was not a date. Don't be weird."

"I'm not being weird! It sounds like such a date."

"Okay, well, it wasn't." Elle made a face, and Lyle seemed about to leave the topic, but she found herself continuing to talk. "Even if I wanted it to be, which, I don't even know where to start with that, I think we'd know if Olive Ramirez was into women."

"Would we though?" It seemed if Lyle wasn't going to get to date Elle himself then discussing her not-date with Olive was the next best thing. "Think about it - have you ever seen her linked with anyone in the papers?"

"Well, back in the day there was Sam, but obviously then he came out, so... But when she was on the stage there were totally pictures of her an Daisy out with guys, I swear there were..."

"Yeah, because those can't be conveniently cooked up for PR purposes. What?" Lyle exclaimed when she gave him a look. "I'm just saying!"

"Well, it doesn't matter," Elle said. "I'd know if it was a date. It's not like that. I'm... helping her out - Daisy's refused to do preview performances at events, and Sam needs an admin assistant apparently, so."

"Just because you're working together doesn't mean you can't also hook up. I mean, look at me. I don't let that stop me."

"No, and look where that gets you, besides, she's my boss, and she's like fifteen years older than me, and she's this legend and I'm a- why am I even having this conversation with you? It wasn't a date, and it would be weird. I'm not even gay." In fairness, you're not really anything.

"Hey, no need to get all defensive," Lyle said, pointing a fry at her.

"Oh my God I am not being defensive!"

He grinned. "It's okay, Elle, I accept you for who you are. It makes sense, now, why you'd turn me down."

"I swear to God, Lyle, I will actually hit you..."

 

"Okay, so... I've called ahead, Sam knows we're coming - I mean, he knew anyway, and I come by pretty much every day after rehearsal regardless, but he knows you'll be coming as well, and I figured we'd just chat today, there's no need to get stuck straight in or anything, so don't worry if you haven't prepared..." Olive paused in the corridor of the apartment block, giving Elle an apologetic smile. "Sorry, sorry. I'm overthinking this, aren't I?"

Elle smiled, and shook her head. "I've done office work before," she said. "I was never a PA, but I'm not a luddite. Just can't get office jobs to fit in with rehearsal schedules. I'll work it out." Honestly, she was pretty sure helping Sam with his admin was going to be the least confusing part of all of this.

"I'm sure you will. Okay, c'mon, we're almost there..."

Their entrance was greeted with a "Hey, gorgeous!" from the other room; upon entering the lounge they found Sam at his piano, dressed in one of his usual natty outfits. "Or should that be gorgeouses? What's the plural of gorgeous? Oli, you're the writer, you tell me."

"I'll tell you when you're showing off," she said dryly, hanging her coat and then limping over to him for a brief exchange of cheek kisses.

"Oh, that never happens, when would you get the chance? So, Ms Parker, we meet again."

Elle grinned. "It's an honour, Mr Miller," she said. "I really appreciate this opportunity."

"Please, call me Sam. And I appreciate the opportunity to get Oli off my back about 'getting with the digital age'. I still don't see what's wrong with my system," he protested.

"Your system is not so much a system as a carefully-managed circle of hell," Olive said, gesturing to the piles of paper perched on every horizontal surface. "I can't find anything without a meticulously-written map and two homing pigeons."

Elle giggled a little at this, thoroughly embarrassed at how nervous it sounded, but then, she felt as though she was getting a peek into the private friendship of two people she'd idolised from afar for years. Try to be less of a dork. Come on.

"Ach, you're just trying to have her rustle up all my originals so you can sell them on eBay and make a killing. Admit it."

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm doing," Olive said, her tone deadpan even as her lips curved into a smile. "And I've paid her extra to learn to forge your signature as well."

"I knew it!" Sam slapped a hand down on the keyboard, making an awful noise, and turned around. "Just for that, you're on tea duty. Do you drink tea, Ms Parker? Chamomile? Earl Grey? Gingseng?"

"Um... anything, I'm good with whatever," Elle said, too momentarily bemused to make a decision on the topic. "Um, something fruity I guess? Or Chamomile?"

"You heard the lady - something fruity. Shouldn't be too hard to find in this household, eh? I'll have the same." Olive rolled her eyes and headed for the kitchen, leaving Elle and Sam alone together in the living room. The composer pushed himself up from the piano bench and moved to take a seat in a comfortable-looking armchair; even this was littered with papers. "So, how were rehearsals today?"

"Oh, uh... good, yeah," Elle said with a nod. In truth, they hadn't been too bad - Daisy had been comparatively calm and easy-going and the chorus were getting along very well with some new material that had been produced the previous week. "We're loving the new bit in the gardens."

"Oh good. And how's Crazy Daisy these days?"

Elle chuckled. "Not so bad," she said. "She seems to have settled down a bit since her break, for whatever reason." To Elle's considerable relief, she didn't add - she'd been rather worried that the older star was going to be a nightmare when she got back, particularly to her personally. "I mean, she's still..."

"Daisy."

"Hah, yeah. She's still Daisy. But she's been okay."

"Well, I should hope so, after the work Olive puts into keeping her happy. Just as well I'm not the director, I don't think I could bite that particular bullet week in, week out."

"Mm, I guess she does need to give her a lot of attention."

"Oh sweetie, you don't even know the half of it."

Sam's enigmatic statement was not to be explained at that time, as Olive reentered the room with mugs of tea for them both, sitting herself down on the couch next to Elle and pulling out her diary. "Okay, so - I thought we should go over Elle's hours and main duties, just so we can get a plan in place for the next few weeks. Sound good?"

"Great," Sam said, as Elle nodded her agreement, reaching into her bag for her own diary.

 

They'd soon hacked out a rough schedule that worked with both rehearsals and Elle's new commitment to attend some events with Olive, though those were only a few at this point. Her 'duties' were a bit more nebulous - for all that Olive acted horrified by the mess of papers Elle got the feeling she was just as keen for Sam to have some companionship when she herself wasn't able to be there. Still she talked through what Sam wanted from the process anyway, keen to at least plan to get some proper work done.

"I know that Olive has told you that I'm having a hard patch just now, health-wise," Sam said to Elle as they wrapped up, "but I don't want you to worry about that, okay? You are not here to be my nurse." He shot a warning look in Olive's direction at this too. "Just worry about this mountain of paper."

"And not getting stuck underneath it - I'm going to have to pick up a St Bernard from the pound just to make sure you two aren't trapped by some fluke Playbill avalanche," Olive said dryly.

On this light note, Sam announced that they were done for the day, only telling Elle what her hourly wage would be as they left.

"Sorry I can't afford more," he said, "you're doing me a real favour here."

As the door closed behind them, Elle was still stunned. Working not much more than half the hours she had at the restaurant, she would be bringing in the same money.

"It's, uh... been a while since Sam lived on tips, huh?" she said with a wry grin in Olive's direction.

"Sam has never had to live on tips in his life," Olive said with a roll of her eyes as they made their way back towards the elevator. "It's just as well he has relatively modest taste or he would've burned through his earnings by now."

Elle chuckled, leaning back against the wall of the elevator. "Thanks for this," she said. "I think part of me would have died if I'd had to turn down singing for you."

"Ah, so you're not completely immune to the theatre drama - good to know," Olive said, grinning.

"Aw, come on, I'm still a Broadway hopeful just like the rest of them. I just... started out differently."

"No, no, I know. I remember being convinced I would've done anything to make it..." The other woman trailed off, gazing at Elle for a long moment before giving herself a shake. "Anyway. I hope this works out. And if it doesn't, just say. I know Sam can be a bit much to take sometimes."

"He'll be fine, trust me." Elle nodded. "No problem."

The elevator pinged and they found themselves in the lobby - Elle knew from previous conversations that she and Olive were off in opposite directions. "Well. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon. Must be nice not having to get ready to go the restaurant."

"God, yeah - dunno what I'm going to do with myself." Elle chuckled. "Maybe just sleep forever."

"I'll be looking for reports of a masked superhero on the evening news."

The other woman laughed. "Hatted, please."

"Of course, how could I forget. Well." Olive seemed to give herself another shake, then, and nodded to Elle. "Bye for now."

"Uh, yeah. See you." Elle gave a nod, hesitated, made to step forward a little, and then thought better of it, just pushing her hands into her pockets with another nod. "Bye."

 

Elle's new life, as it were, should have been perfect. Rid of the horrible restaurant job, she now spent her mornings in rehearsals for What You Will and her afternoons at Sam's, sorting through the famous composer's backlog of scores and scripts and getting to hear the stories and anecdotes attached to each one. She saw Olive as well, of course, both at rehearsal and at Sam's, though the director seemed to be even busier now than before, attending dinners and nights out with critics and other bigwigs in the hope of drumming up press for the musical as opening night grew nearer and nearer. Yes, Elle should have been thrilled, but she couldn't help but feel that something was missing.

The highlight now, of course, were the nights when she accompanied Olive out to an event. There were only a few solos that were really appropriate for such places, so she found herself doing the same two or three songs over and over again, but nevertheless it was wonderful to be out enjoying society - and Olive's company - and Elle silently thanked who-knew-who for Daisy's unenthusiasm for the concept. Daisy, of course, didn't need the exposure.

 

"Okay, so you'll be singing just after Will gives his welcome, so we've got a few minutes if you want a glass of wine or something," Olive murmured as they entered the hotel lounge. "Though I'd be on hand early, they always like t--"

"Well, well. Don't you two make a lovely couple." Of all the people Elle had expected to see at this particular event, Daisy was pretty far down the list, and yet here she was. "What a handsome little drag king you make, Elle!"

That was the other benefit to these events - since she was, after all, in a cross-dressing role, there was nothing stopping her from wearing her usual collared shirts and trousers to them - though she did own a solitary formal dress, wearing the same thing to every party would almost certainly get tiring, so she was saving it for when she really needed it.

"Daisy." Olive did not sound thrilled. "What are you doing here?"

"I was invited," Daisy said smoothly, leaning to press a light kiss to Olive's cheek. "I thought I'd come along and see your new little protégée in action. I wonder, does she get the same attention I do?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Elle has been very well-received so far," Olive said stiffly, "as I'm sure you'll see shortly. I hope you enjoy the party."

"Oh, I'm sure I will."

 

"[Lyrics I can't be arsed making up that would conclude one of Viola's speeches in song]"

One hand still resting gently on the mic, Elle relaxed as the applause washed over her - polite, but heartfelt from the delighted crowd. Some of the faces were becoming familiar, a few people who attended most of these sorts of soirées, and others she knew vaguely from elsewhere, too. Every time it got a little less nervewracking however, and again she was able to remind herself that actually, even without the lead role, this whole experience was proving invaluable to her.

As usual, Olive was there when she stepped down from the makeshift stage, and as usual she was unfailingly positive. "That was fantastic, Elle. Your phrasing was perfect in the second verse."

"One of these days you're gonna have anything bad to say about me," Elle said quietly, leaning into the quick hug Olive gave her - largely for show, she knew, since that's what Broadway People did, though she found that she always enjoyed the briefly closeness anyway.

"Nonsense. You're perfect." Olive flashed her a smile as she pulled back, then tipped her head towards the waiting crowd. "Shall we?"

"You lead the way."

Though Olive always tried to stay by Elle's side - she knew in order to spare her the worst of the schmoozing - there was always a point where they got separated and she had to navigate the room full of people herself. It always seemed easier with a glass of free wine in hand, so she made a beeline for the nearest waiter, making sure to thank him warmly for the glass.

"So. That was decent, I suppose."

Elle was already rearranging her face into a smile as she turned to see Daisy. The other woman had pulled out all the stops tonight, clad in a sparkling evening dress, hair piled artistically on top of her head.

"Daisy," she said. "Hi. And thanks. I know performing at these things isn't your bag but I want you to know I really appreciate the opportunity it's been for me understudying for you. It's been an honour."

"Oh, spare me the toadying, I can see right through your little attempts to butter me up." Daisy smiled thinly. "You might have gotten in good with Olive but I'm not so easily won over."

"I... really don't follow."

"Hey, I get it," Daisy said, holding a hand (the one that wasn't holding her champagne glass) up. "Get in good with the director, do her some 'favours' and hope she puts in a good word for you at your next audition. I've been there, believe me."

Elle lifted her shoulders. "Sure. I mean, that wasn't really how I was doing things but if I was, would that be a bad thing? I mean, that's no threat to you, right?"

"Oh honey. You're no threat to anyone."

The other woman smiled benignly. "I like it that way, honestly," she said. "I wouldn't want to piss anybody off."

"Just remember that," Daisy said suddenly, stepping a little closer to Elle and baring her teeth in a surprisingly intimidating snarl. "And stay away from Olive."

Elle leaned away from her a little. "From... I don't understand..."

But apparently Daisy wasn't going to explain further, as she spun on her heel and strutted off to some other conversation, inserting herself in the group with a charming smile and a laugh.

The other woman let out a long sigh, leaning back against a nearby pillar and taking a long sip from her glass. Even when she was letting Elle do the work for her, Daisy was a headache. She didn't even notice Olive arriving back at her side until the other woman spoke.

"Hey. Everything okay?"

"Hm? Oh... yeah. Fine. Just, uh... getting put in my place," Elle said with a glance toward their schmoozing lead.

"Oh for f... god's sake, I've had just about enough of her meddling..." Olive looked as if she was about ready to roll up her sleeves, despite the fact that she was wearing a form-fitting, knee-length dress - to the point where Elle reached and placed a hand on her arm.

"It's fine," she said. "I'm not here to please Daisy Lang."

"I know, I know, I just..." Olive sighed, then shook her head. "I'm just tired of her shit."

"Well. She's your star. So."

"She's the star. Not mine. You're..." The other woman dropped her gaze to the floor, then looked back up to Elle. "If I had the choice, you'd be my star," she murmured.

Elle felt her stomach flip over - she knew that, of course. Olive had said enough already that Elle knew that she was Olive's Viola of choice under different circumstances, but something about the way she said it now, the tone of her voice, the look in her eyes, made all the air leave Elle's lungs just for a moment, made her pulse skip. 'You'd be my star...'

Elle bit her lower lip. "I'm, uh... thanks."

"Mm. Anyway, don't feel as if you have to stay," Olive said briskly. "I know how interminably boring these functions can get after a while."

"Take off and leave you here to fend for yourself?" Elle smiled a little at the joke - it was Olive who supported her at these events, not the other way around.

"Well in that case, I think we could both use some more wine, don't you?"

Elle still had half a glass of champagne, but she took this as a cue to knock the rest of it back and then shot Olive a wry smile. "Looks like it."

"Wait here, then. I'll be right back."

 

If that had been it for the evening - a little singing, a little sniping from Daisy, a little wine while they made the circuit - Elle would have been happy. Of course it couldn't be that easy.

"Excuse me, excuse me ladies and gentlemen..." All heads turned to find Daisy Lang at the microphone, smiling sweetly down at them. "I've just been asked if I wouldn't mind doing a little number to entertain y'all and I thought, well heck, why not? But I'm so shy that I just couldn't do it all by myself, so I wondered if you might join me in enticing my favourite co-star back up on stage. Olive Ramirez, where are you?"

"Oh no... no no no," Elle heard Olive mutter close at her side. Impulsively, Elle reached for Olive's hand, wrapping her fingers around the other woman's and squeezing them briefly before grinning and more conspicuously ushering the other woman forward.

"There she is! Let's all give her a round of applause!" Daisy entreated the audience, sparing only a brief glare for Elle before turning her winning smile back on again. The audience obliged, obviously keen on this impromptu duet, and Olive made her way up to the stage, leaning heavily on her cane and shaking her head self-deprecatingly.

"Daisy, you shouldn't have," she said when she reached the mike, drawing a titter from the audience. "I'm far too rusty to do you any good up here."

"Nonsense, it's like falling off a log - so, a good duet... Oh, wait a minute," Daisy went on, pressing a hand to Olive's arm before turning to the band. "I don't even have to tell you guys, do I?"

As the band struck up the opening chords to the heartfelt ballad the crowd murmured appreciatively, and Elle felt another twist to her stomach. She had grown up with this album, of course, belted it out in the mirror every afternoon when she got home from school - for all that her aspirations then were to become an operatic contralto; a dream that was crushed by the maturation of her voice into a wider range but without the rare timbre and power that she needed, she had still grown up loving Broadway, and when she turned her sights there, it was Lang and Ramirez as Glinda and Elphaba - that perfect partnership, on-stage and off - that she thought of.

Olive was rusty, she supposed - certainly her voice wasn't quite as elastic, and it had taken on a slightly huskier tone with age and lack of use, but it was still rich and warm and a pleasure to listen to as she sang the opening lines, and Elle felt a part of her just slip into that voice like it was an old familiar friend.

I'm limited
Just look at me
I'm limited...

At some point during the song Daisy slipped a hand into Olive's, gazing at her with all the pathos she could apparently muster, her expression so heartfelt that Elle could almost forget the nasty tone she proven herself capable of not an hour before. Her voice and Olive's blended beautifully together, the soprano and mezzo lines weaving around each other, and Elle would have bet good money there were more than a few teary-eyed audience members as the band faded away, leaving them to finish in near-silence.

Because I knew you...
I have been changed for good.

Elle exhaled a breath she hadn't realised she was holding as the last notes trailed off, and there was a short silence before the crowd broke into rapturous applause. It took Elle a moment to catch up and begin to clap herself, her eyes never leaving Olive's face. She saw the other woman give a tight-lipped smile, tipping her head while beside her Daisy curtsied and waved as if she was still in character. Olive then shook her hand free of the other woman's and stepped back from the mike, oblivious to the calls for encores rising from the audience.

Falling back to the edge of the room, Elle swiped two fresh glasses of wine. She saw Olive descend from the stage, but the other woman didn't come find her, instead making a beeline for the door without so much as a backwards glance. Feeling like a complete idiot, Elle ditched the glasses on a stray table, barely a moment behind Olive in her pursuit, though she was stalled slightly when Daisy caught her arm as she passed.

"That's the kind of chemistry that doesn't just come from nowhere, kid," she said. "There's history there. There's a past there. Think about that."

By the time Elle got out onto the street, she felt sure the would have missed Olive, and indeed she almost had, for the other woman was in the process of hailing down a taxi.

"Olive!" Jacket still hanging from her hand, Elle trotted down the street toward her, her breath condensing in a cloud in front of her. The other woman stopped, but by the time Elle reached her she still hadn't thought of anything to say, and she found herself just standing in front of her, her expression almost comically concerned.

"Elle, shit, I'm sorry," the other woman said, making a face as she realised she had just abandoned Elle to her own devices inside. "I shouldn't have just left like that, I just... I needed some fresh air. And a taxi."

The younger woman shook her head. "It's okay, it's fine. I just... are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, just... that was weird. I haven't sung in front of people in a long time."

"You were amazing," Elle said with some feeling. "Really, you were."

"Thanks."

"But... it wasn't cool to put you on the spot like that. It felt... I dunno." Elle made a face, shaking her head. "D'you want to go somewhere? Get a coffee or something?" Almost immediately she regretted suggesting this - it was clear Olive wanted nothing more than to be by herself. "'Course you don't, sorry, I didn't mean t-"

"Come back to mine with me?"

That stomach flip again. "Um. Sure."

Elle didn't know what to say in the taxi. She balled her jacket up in her hands, her eyes moving between that and the woman sitting beside her. Olive seemed distracted, though occasionally she would shoot Elle a warm smile, declining to say much of anything herself until they reached her apartment building.

"Here we are," she announced, paying the driver and then climbing out of the taxi. "Come on up."

It was a well-kept modern apartment block, a night porter nodding them past as they entered. Olive was only on the second floor, but obviously took the elevator anyway. Her apartment was a stark contrast to Sam's: whereas his was cluttered and stuffed with furniture hers was minimalist, almost bare, with long white curtains over the windows and several pieces of boldly-coloured modern art on the walls. Elle noticed a handful of musical theatre memorabilia - a Playbill here, a tastefully-displayed Tony award there, but certainly not so much as to scream 'former Broadway star'.

"Nice place," she said, more to break the silence than anything else - anyone could see it was a nice place.

"Thanks. Can I get you something to drink? I've got coffee, orange juice, wine..."

"Anything's fine - whatever you're having," Elle said, moving over to the seating area Olive waved her toward, throwing her jacket over a chair back and sitting carefully down on the dark leather couch, which, while pristine, was nonetheless very comfortable. Olive nodded and disappeared through a doorway that Elle assumed led to the kitchen and was gone for several minutes before emerging with two glasses of wine.

"I've put the coffeemaker on," she said, offering a glass to Elle, "but I figured I probably cheated you out of at least one glass of free booze with my early departure."

"Don't worry about it," Elle said, though she took a nervous gulp of her wine anyway. "Um. So. Daisy. That was... a thing."

"That was Daisy," Olive sighed, sinking down to sit at the other end of the sofa. "She likes making a scene, she likes being the centre of attention, she likes embarrassing me... so when she can do all three it's ideal."

"She's kind of... possessive of you, isn't she? I really hope I haven't made things difficult for you."

Olive waved the words away. "No, no, it's fine. Honestly I don't even know why she cares any more, she's always telling me how she's moved past everything and is on her way to bigger and better things."

"Well. I guess when it comes to you she hadn't moved on. She was very careful to put me back in my box tonight, remind me that you two have history. Which, I mean, I knew that," Elle went on quickly, raising a hand. "I don't know what she was getting at, but I..." She shook her head. "I don't want to piss anyone off. You least of all."

"Is that what she said to you? God... I thought she was just being jealous over her part." Olive made a face and took a deep sip of her wine, looking both embarrassed and angry. "I'm sorry, Elle, honestly I am. I was trying my best to keep things deflected off of you, but apparently not well enough. I'm sorry. I'll talk to her tomorrow, set her right."

"Set her..." Elle's brows drew together a little. "I think I'm missing something here. But look, best just... I wouldn't want her thinking that every little thing she says I come running to you; that could do me no favours in the long run..."

"No, of course not. I'll... deal with it, somehow. I promise."

"Olive." Elle shook her head. "I'm really okay. If she feels threatened that's only a problem if she's being threatened," she went on, her tongue somewhat loosened by her few glasses of wine. "She isn't. She shows up at rehearsal and she's still Viola. As miserable as she could make my life I'm a big girl and I'll have been through worse. Really. Don't worry about me. You have bigger shit going on."

"Yeah... yes, of course," Olive said, apparently finding it harder to elucidate her thoughts after the same amount of wine. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply you couldn't handle it. I just don't want you to have to, especially over what is functionally nothing. That's all, not that I thought you needed to be protected."

Functionally nothing. "Functionally nothing." Shit, I did not mean to repeat that out loud. In an attempt to recover, Elle nodded vociferously. "Sure, sure, of course. I get that. I just... really, I just don't want to add to your burdens, y'know?" But seriously, what would 'functionally something' look like? What does that even mean?

"You have only ever made my life easier and better, Elle. You don't need to worry about that."

"Right. Well. I'd like to keep it that way."

"Believe me, so would I," Olive said with a self-deprecating smirk, tipping back her wine glass. "D'you want some more?"

"Hm? Oh. Sure."

Their coffee apparently forgotten for now, Olive got up to retrieve the wine bottle and top them up. She paused along the way to fish her phone out of her coat pocket and fire off a quick text to Sam - 'just checking in' - before rejoining Elle on the sofa. "I'd say we should have a toast but I honestly don't know what we'd toast right now."

Elle thought for a minute, and then lifted her glass with a tentative smile, "To clean slates and next times?" she suggested.

She had meant it as a quasi-uplifting thing to say, but Olive's wan expression didn't seem that uplifted. The other woman nodded all the same and clinked her glass lightly against Elle's. "Cheers."

A little deflated, Elle's eyes left Olive's as she sipped at the wine, and she slumped back a little on the couch. You're not helping. You should've just gone home.

They chatted for a few minutes more about inconsequential things, and then Olive got up again to get their coffee, obviously keen to get Elle out of the apartment. Elle noticed that her limp was more pronounced now - was it because of the cold, distraction, or was she just being paranoid?

Suddenly quite sure that every moment she stayed was a moment too long for Olive's liking, Elle pushed up from the couch, and when Olive returned - hands free - presumably to ask how she wanted her coffee, Elle was standing near the door, donning her jacket.

"I should go," she said with a tight smile in Olive's direction. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't've imposed."

"Oh." If possible, Olive's expression fell further, though she soon replaced it with a passable smile. "It wasn't an imposition at all. I invited you, remember?"

"Yeah, but." Elle heaved a quiet sigh. Wrong again. "I just..." She shook her head. "Just..." Just don't know what I'm doing here? Just don't want to leave, and yet the longer I stay the weirder it feels? Just don't know who I am to you - or even who you are to me any more? In her confusion the look she shot Olive then was completely unfiltered and totally helpless.

"Oh, Elle..." Olive limped forward and reached out for the young woman's hands, though she stopped short of taking them, obviously hesitant to touch her without her permission. "I'm so sorry I've pulled you into all this. Let's just... let's just call tonight a clusterfuck and leave it at that, okay?"

Hands rising automatically to clasp Olive's, Elle shook her head. "I can handle the odd clusterfuck," she said, trying for a smile. "I'd rather be in it and here with you than out of it and not," she said. "I'm not running away, I swear - I said I was here for you and I meant it. I'm just trying to be... what you need. And I'm not sure what that is."

"I don't know either," Olive admitted, hands squeezing Elle's tightly. "But I'm awfully glad you're here."

Elle smiled, and then, in an impulsive move that surprised even herself, she stepped closer, pulling her hands from Olive's to wrap her arms around her in a sudden, though careful, hug. Olive gave a small gasp of surprise but didn't pull away, instead slipping her own arms around Elle's waist to return the embrace. Elle's senses suddenly filled with Olive - her touch, the sound of her breathing, her fresh, pleasant scent - she could feel her pulse racing for no good reason and she heard herself suck in and release a long breath in a shaky sigh. Clearly Olive realised her presence was making the young woman uncomfortable for she loosened her arms, then pulled back, reaching up to tuck a lock of her hair behind one ear.

"Um. If you're going to go at least let me call you a cab, I don't like to think about you walking home this late at night..."

"I'm sure I'd be..." Elle stopped herself when Olive was already opening her mouth to respond. "...Sure. Thanks. I appreciate it." She checked her watch. "Though at this time of night in this part of town that probably means we have time for that coffee after all," she offered wryly.

"Well, that can certainly be arranged. Let me make the call and then I'll get us some mugs. Milk, one sugar, is that right?"

"Sounds perfect."

Elle didn't take her jacket off, but she did sink back down into the deep couch with a long sigh, some of the tension draining back out of her body. The coffee couldn't come a moment too soon, she realised as she felt her eyelids drooping.

"I've kept you out too late, haven't I?" Olive said as she returned with their mugs, taking a seat next to Elle once again. "I'm sorry. I hope you won't be too tired for tomorrow's rehearsal."

"Mph, no, I'm fine," Elle said, forcing herself to perk up a little. "I'll be fine. Obviously getting soft, what with all these normal nights' sleeps."

"Well, once performances start you'll be back on the night train again, I'm sure."

"No doubt."

They lapsed into silence then, each woman sipping at her coffee and wrapped up in her own private thoughts. The minutes stretched out, and it wasn't until Olive felt the other woman's shoulder come to rest gently against hers that she realised Elle had in fact dozed off completely, coffee mug cradled precariously between her hands on her lap.

Carefully Olive turned to extricate the cup from Elle's hands, though of course that left her with two mugs and no way of setting them down without jostling the other woman. She quickly downed the rest of her own coffee so she could at least set that aside, and then sat quietly with Elle's still-warm mug in her hands until she heard her phone buzz with the taxi notification.

"Elle? Hey, wake up, sleepyhead..."

With a start, Elle straightened up almost immediately, blinking and rubbing her face. "Jesus, sorry, sorry." She shot a wry, weary smile in Olive's direction. "Dead on my feet, apparently. That the taxi?"

"Mmhmm. You going to be okay to get downstairs?"

Elle chuckled. "I'll be fine," she said, pushing to her feet. "Thanks."

Olive nodded and stood as well, still awkwardly grasping Elle's coffee mug. "Well. Sorry again about tonight. And thanks for your hard work."

"Mm, don't be sorry." Elle hesitated, then said, "Honestly, any amount of drama tonight would have been worth hearing you sing."

"Oh..." Olive blinked, then gave Elle a shaky but genuine smile that made her stomach do that reserved-for-Olive deliciously uncomfortable somersault again. "Thank you, Elle."

She grinned, shook her head. "Any time. Really. Well. G'night, then."

"Good night."

 

"Okay, I can't take it any more, out with it!"

Olive looked up from her laptop in confusion, frowning at the man on the other end of the sofa. "Out with what?"

"With whatever's been making you mope around like... a sad clam!"

"Wow. Sad clam. There's a reason I do the writing and you just do the tunes, Sam."

"Yeah, yeah, enough deflection - you. moping. why. Is this a Daisy thing?"

Olive groaned. "No. I mean yes. I mean... I've been avoiding her lately, a bit, which I'm sure will come back to bite me in the ass before long..."

"I'm sure, but you're well on top of all that, aren't you? So to speak? What's new?"

"Nothing." When Sam prodded her with his foot Olive made a face. "Hey, I wasn't lying - this isn't a new thing, per se. It's... ohgodit'ssoembarrassing..."

"I knew it!" Sam crowed triumphantly. "It's your Viola."

"What? Bullshit, Sam, you did not 'know it'."

"I knew from the first time you talked about her that we would have this conversation," Sam asserting folding his arms and nodding firmly. Then he grinned and leaned forward. "So what happened? Did she jump you?"

"Jump me? Jesus, no, nothing like that! She's not interested, it's just a completely lame one-sided crush that makes me look like a ridiculous cougar," Olive groaned dramatically, dropping her head back to rest on the armrest behind her.

"Like hell is she not interested," Sam said flatly. "I mean, not that I'm saying you should go for it, that would be a terrible mess. But there's no way a cute little butch like her wouldn't eat you right up if you gave her the go-ahead."

"Those meds are affecting your brain - either that or you've finally gone crazy. She's most definitely not interested. At least, not like I am. God why am I such a freak?"

Sam pursed his lips in an expression that was a perfectly infuriating combination of sympathy and impatience. "You're blind," he said. "Don't get me wrong, she might be too, but regardless. Seems to me like the only person who knows what's really going on here is Crazy Daisy - that benefit the other night was totally her pissing all over you in front of Elle - if you'll pardon the expression."

"What?" Olive lifted her head again to scowl at her friend, though as she considered the idea her expression slackened. "...shit, do you really think so?"

"Bet on it. She may not have lost Viola, but she knows she's losing you."

"She hasn't 'had' me for years!"

"You think she knows that?"

"Ugh."

"Quite." Sam tipped his head to the side. "'Crush'?" he quoted now, diverting the conversation backwards somewhat. "Well, I suppose if that's all it it's just as well you're letting it pass by. No point taking any stupid risks for a crush."

"Wait, what, I don't..." Olive screwed up her face into a pout. "What?"

Face a picture of innocence, Sam lifted his shoulders in an elegant shrug. "You've obviously turned Elle's head, whether you can see it or not. If you made a move and then lost interest once you'd notched your bedpost..." He tutted and shook his head. "So y'know. It's probably best you just mope a while and get over it. I'm sure she'll lose interest again when she sees it's not gonna happen."

"Wait, I didn't say I just wanted to 'notch my bedpost' with her - I really like her! If this was just a physical thing it wouldn't be half as hard, believe me."

"So is it a 'crush' or not, then?" Sam shot back.

"I don't know what the terminology is! What do you want me to say, I'm falling in love with her?"

Her partner observed her levelly for a moment. "I don't know, are you?"

"Jesus, Sam." Olive looked away, her cheeks burning. "She's a baby."

"She's a remarkable young woman whose talent is matched only by her compassion," Sam said. "Very much like someone else I know."

She was quiet for a moment, then nudged him with her foot gently, still staring fixedly at the wall. "Shut up."

Sam did - for a few seconds. Then: "Plus, have you seen those arms? And I bet she has abs to match..."

"Sam! You're not helping!"

"Helping to what? I never said anything about 'helping' - I'm dying. Oli, I get to say whatever I like, remember?"

"You are the worst. The absolute worst."

"Mhm? What will you do without me?"

"Probably live a happy life free of meddling or interference. Speaking of which - don't you dare say anything to Elle."

"Not a word."

 

Based on her conversation with Sam Olive was fully expecting her next encounter with Daisy to be fraught with drama; as such, she was just about bowled over when she arrived at the other woman's spacious apartment to find her putting the finishing touches on a prettily-set table, the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen. "...did I show up on the wrong night?" she asked, frowning and then glancing at the clock on the wall.

"Not at all," Daisy said smoothly, trotting over to press a kiss of greeting to Olive's cheek. "I just thought it had been a while and it might be nice to eat together."

"Oh, um, sure. I guess we can go over revisions over food..."

"Olive," Daisy stopped her. "I swear I'll be good and we can go over everything tonight, I promise. But can we... just have dinner together first? Just... be you and me for a bit?"

Olive blinked, wary, but nodded. "Sure."

 

Soon they were both sat down over what was actually a lovely home-made chicken casserole. Olive had never understood how someone with no apparent enthusiasm for food managed to cook such delicious meals, but then, Daisy had always been something of a walking contradiction.

"This is really nice, Daisy," Olive commented after a time, reaching for another piece of bread. "I can't remember the last time somebody cooked for me."

"I should do it more often, then," Daisy said. "Hunter's always away on business right now anyway."

"That must get lonely."

Daisy shrugged. "I go out a lot. But I wouldn't mind staying in with you."

"It's always nice to have friends you can stay in with," Olive said carefully.

Daisy glanced up quickly, but didn't take the bait, just smiling benignly and continuing to push her food around her plate. More and more impressed - and a little suspicious - Olive continued to eat, taking careful and periodic sips of her wine.

 

As promised, Daisy sat down to go through their notes after dinner. She was clearly determined to be on her best behaviour, catching herself even when Olive knew she wanted to roll her eyes. As such, they got through things surprisingly early; normally it was midnight before Olive was able to extricate herself from the apartment but when she glanced up at the clock it was barely nine o'clock. "So... that's us. Guess that's a new record."

"Looks like. Want another glass of wine?"

"Oh, no, I'd better not..."

"Oh, go on," Daisy entreated. "Stay a while - Hunter won't even be home tonight."

"No." Olive surprised herself with the vehemence of her reply. "I don't want to do that tonight, Daisy." Or any night from here on out.

Daisy's eyebrows winged upward. "You..." She shook her head. "But Liv..."

"What do you even want from me, Daisy? Attention? Affection? Nostalgia?"

Daisy sighed, leaning across the table and reaching for Olive's hands, though she didn't quite reach them. "I just want... us," she said. "You and me. Together. However we can work that out."

"Us? Together?" Olive couldn't help but let out a laugh of disbelief. "Daisy, you're with Hunter now. And you're regularly horrible to me, and you make me jump through a dozen hoops just to get through one rehearsal, and you don't even have the first clue what's going on with me because we never, ever talk..."

"So tell me," Daisy said. "Really, Liv - I miss you - I want to do better."

"Daisy, I just... I can't. You can't just make up for years of terrible treatment with a chicken dinner."

"Years? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh come on! After my injury you just... conveniently disappeared - stopped calling, stopped coming by. It wasn't 'til I was getting recognised as a director that you swanned back into my life."

"And now I - not to mention Hunter's money - am basically propping this production up single-handedly," Daisy said, her voice hardening as she pushed to her feet.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm just saying, I feel like however long I was gone, it's not like I haven't been making up for it."

"Is that why you've been acting so terrible to me? Because you resent having to 'make up for it'?"

"Terrible? I'm not the one who's mooning around after some twelve year old and trying to give her my part!"

Olive gasped and pushed herself up as well, feeling a little unsteady on her feet. She gripped the arm of the sofa tightly. "Elle is a genuinely talented actor and if she's earned your part it's because she's worked for it, not because I 'gave' it to her."

"Do you don't even deny it? Unbelievable - you know Hunter will pull out, don't you? I don't need this - you need me."

"The part is yours, Daisy - I'm not giving it away," Olive sighed. "Elle is going to stay in the chorus, and you're going to get all the acclaim, just like you want."

"So Elle just gets you, then." Daisy's mouth twisted into a bitter smile of defeat. "Why do I feel like I'm getting the raw end of this deal."

"Nobody 'gets' me, Daisy. All Elle has been to me is a friend, which is frankly what I need right now, not somebody who will screw me when her husband's out of town. So sorry to spoil the competition, but it's not happening." Cheeks burning, Olive turned and grabbed her cane, making her way to the coatrack as quickly as she could.

"She could have it, y'know."

Olive stopped, but didn't turn at this. She heard Daisy sit back down at the table, chair legs scraping on the floor. "She could be Viola. If I could have you. You could keep the money." Her tone was dull, lifeless, as though she knew this couldn't work but was saying it anyway. "I should never have let you go."

"You can't just trade things for love. You have to earn it." Olive shrugged on her coat, taking her cane up once again. "Goodbye, Daisy."

She heard the smash against the door after she closed it behind her - a glass, she thought. Daisy had always had a flair for the dramatic.

 

Elle was browsing Facebook - was this what people with normal lives and time on their hands did all day? - when the email notification popped up. Noticing it was from Olive, she clicked over without a second thought.

Hey. I know this is out of the blue and I don't expect a response, but I just wanted to say thank you. For everything you've done over the past couple of months. Getting to know you has been wonderful, and I hope that you consider me your friend. If you ever need anything, I'm here for you, no questions asked. -O.

Elle frowned. It wasn't that the sentiment wasn't welcome - not to mention touching, but Olivia had always been very appreciative of her throughout their acquaintance - friendship? - she supposed it was officially that now. But why at this moment? Her response was typed and sent before she could even think about it.

Is everything all right? Are you okay? D'you need company?

She considered calling the other woman, but it seemed Olive was at her computer because a reply came not long after.

Everything's okay, I'm fine, I'm sorry for the dramatic email out of the blue. Just had a difficult conversation with Daisy during which she reminded me how lucky I am to have people like you and Sam in my life. I'm probably not very good company right now, but thank you for the offer. -O.

Right. Of course it was about Daisy. Elle wasn't sure why this gave her a sick, heavy feeling in her stomach, but it did nevetheless. She almost didn't reply but then she realised how weird that would be, and she managed to type a tiny fraction of what she felt, but the only part of it that she knew how to express:

You're a good friend. I'm here for you too.

She stared at it for a couple of minutes, blankly, before hitting send.

Olive's reply when it came, half an hour later and with several typos scattered throughout, was surprising.

You wqant to play hooky tomorrow with me? Cacel rehearsal and go do something fun/

Elle chewed her lower lip thoughtfully, staring at the screen. Her fingers hovered over the keys, ready to type a polite reply, but eventually she picked up her phone instead, dialling Olive's number.

"Elle, hi, I was just about to call you." Yep, there was no doubt about it - Olive was drunk. Or at least tipsy. "Did you get my email?"

"I did, yeah."

"Great. So. What do you think?"

"I think you should drink some water and go to bed."

"El-le. I'm fine. But I really need a break, and I want you to come with me."

"There's no afternoon rehearsal the day after tomorrow," Elle observed matter-of-factly.

"But that's two days away. I want to get away now. If I see Daisy again I might snap and that would be bad for the show. And for Daisy. And possibly me."

"So reschedule Daisy - there's chorus work tomorrow too." Elle sighed, sitting back against the wall. "Look, do what you need to, but if you cancel tomorrow you are going to feel bad about it. Tell me I'm wrong."

There was a long pause, and some crinkling and crunching from the other end of the line. Finally, "will you come with me the day after tomorrow?"

"I'll come and see you any time you like," Elle said with some conviction.

"We could go to Atlantic City. Or Vermont. Have you ever been to Vermont? It's gorgeous."

"Um... sure," Elle said, pretty convinced that it was about fifty-fifty whether Olive would even remember this conversation the next day. "Olive?"

"Mmhmm?"

"You sure you don't want me to come over?"

"You don't want to come over. I'm drunk and covered in Cheetos. I didn't even know I had Cheetos."

Elle giggled in spite of herself. "I can handle a few stray Cheetos. Just... tell me you're okay."

"I'm talking to you, so I'm okay," Olive said with complete conviction. "Just the sound of your voice makes me feel better."

A sudden lump rose in Elle's throat, and she settled down a little on the bed, pushing her laptop over to the unused (and paper-strewn) side and closing the lid. "Well, I'm here for as long as you need me. Though you might have to call me back; I don't have unlimited minutes," she added with a chuckle.

"You don't? Okay, hang up, I'll call you back." There was the sound of movement from the other end, and then Olive's voice again, hushed. "I promise."

"Olive, get yourself a glass of water before you call me back, 'kay? Humour me?"

"I don't know how well that'll go with my bourbon and Cheetos, but okay. Just for you."

"Thank you."

They hung up, and Elle half expected that she wouldn't receive a return call - that Olive would drink her water and think better of her drunken phone conversation or, perhaps more likely, simply fall asleep wherever she was.

She was just about to shut her laptop down and get ready for bed when her phone rang; when she dove to answer it she heard Olive on the other end, the smile evident in her voice. "Hey you."

She couldn't help smiling herself in response. "Hey yourself," she said. "Did you get that water?"

"As ordered. I even drank some, though that wasn't in your instructions."

"I feel like it was implicit."

"Was it though? That's the first thing to learn if you ever want to become a director, you can't assume anything. You have to tell them... tell them everything."

"Well, I'm not a director of course so I wouldn't know that, but I can tell you now I did want you to drink the water."

"What, do you work for the water lobby? I drank the water!"

"Mm. Well. Good. You comfortable?"

"I guess," Olive said with an expansive sigh.

Elle found herself smiling a little at this - she could picture Olive's expression. Where was she? Curled up in an armchair? Lounging on her big, deep couch? Was she already in bed? "What's on your mind?" she asked now.

"Oh, a lot of things. How I let myself get into this mess being first and foremost among them."

Elle was, of course, unsure what 'mess' Olive was referring to, though it was a safe bet it had something to do with Daisy. "It'll be fine once we're rolling," she said vaguely. "She always settles down once a show's actually on its run, doesn't she?"

"Yeah." Olive sighed again. "Yeah, usually. If we can actually make it to opening night."

"We will. The show is amazing, and so are you."

"The show'd be better if it had you. I'd be better if I had you too."

Elle chuckled, for all that she felt a tiny twist in her stomach at Olive's choice of phrasing. "Hey, you have me," she said reassuringly. "I'm here for you, remember?"

"Mmhmm... I know, I know. You don't think it's weird?"

"What's weird?"

"Us being friends. I'm your boss, after all. Technically. Some people would say that's weird."

The younger woman frowned a little. There were plenty of relationships like that in Broadway - after all, as far as anyone knew Daisy and Olive were friends, and she knew plenty of choreographers and writers and directors who had come to know some of their cast members very well. Nevertheless, she wasn't about to contradict the other woman. "I suppose..."

"So you do think so? Oh god, I knew it, I'm the creepy director, fuck..."

"What? No, Jesus, Olive, I didn't mean... you're not even slightly creepy."

"I did just drunk-dial you. Email. Whatever."

"That's not creepy." Was it? It had been confusing - a little worrying. But nothing Olive had ever done had seemed inappropriate to Elle. "Olive, you've been nothing but good to me," she said now, with some feeling. "I dunno what you saw in me that day in rehearsal. But I'll never forget this experience, any of it, or what you've done for me. And I hope-..." Elle a made a face, unsure of the right words for what she wanted to say, or even what that was. "I hope we'll always be close," she finished lamely.

Olive heaved another huge sigh; Elle could hear her shifting on the other end of the line. "Yeah. Me too."

"Hey, where are you right now?" Elle asked, a slight diversion in the conversation.

"Mm, in bed. Couldn't face being upright any longer."

"Good. Was worried you would fall asleep on the couch and wake up in some weird position. Never good when that happens."

Olive gave a low chuckle. "Thanks, Mom."

"See, now that is creepy."

The other woman snorted with laughter then, her introspection and worry from minutes before apparently forgotten, and the sound sent another nice-but-weird flutter through Elle's stomach, and the strange, niggling feeling that had been growing inside her since the day Lyle had joked with her about Olive suddenly, finally bloomed into something she recognised. Shit...

She realised she'd been silent, staring at the wall in front of her in a sort of sick realisation when she heard Olive speak again.

"Where are you right now?"

"Hm? Oh... In bed. Well. On bed, I guess. It's about my only item of furniture, though, so..."

"In bed? Oh, I should probably let you get some sleep..."

"Well, like I say, I've been here all evening, it's not like I'm in pyjamas or anything," Elle said quickly. "I mean, but it's late, though. But I don't mind. I wouldn't be asleep yet anyway. Either way."

"Either way..." Olive trailed off, then seemed to shake herself awake again. "Okay, but you'll have to entertain me. I'm not good for anything right now."

"Entertain you? Like, how?"

"I don't know... tell me a story. Sing me something."

Elle giggled a little nervously at this. "Um... okay. But I'll have to be quiet," she said, running through her mental repertoire, which had suddenly emptied of ideas. Something gentle; something classic, something slow...

At length, she grasped at the first song that floated to mind - one she'd loved as a kid - and barely above a whisper, her voice low and breathy for fear of disturbing her roommate, she began to sing.

When I fall in love it will be forever
Or I'll never fall in love
In a restless world like this is
Love is ended before it's begun
And too many moonlight kisses
Seem to cool in the warmth of the sun

When I give my heart it will be completely
Or I'll never give my heart
And the moment I can feel that you feel that way too
Is when I fall in love with you...

The other end of the line was silent for several seconds when she finished, and she almost thought that the other woman had fallen asleep to her serenade. Then, quietly, "that was beautiful, Elle. Thank you. I... should go now, I think."

Elle cleared her throat, as much to try to move the lump from it as anything else. "Mhm? I mean, sure, okay," she said a little huskily. "Sleep well. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Mmhmm. G'night, Elle."

Elle hung up with a long sigh, heart in throat, a thick, heavy feeling coming over her limbs as she allowed the realisation to set in. Lyle had been right - sort of. He'd just got things the wrong way round. It was Elle who was interested in Olive - all this time, right from when they'd met - hell, right from when she was a teenager seeing her for the first time on a Broadway stage. I'm such an idiot.

For once eschewing getting ready for bed properly, Elle just pulled her clothes off and climbed under the covers, leaving her laptop to send itself to sleep in its own time. Curling into a ball, Elle closed her eyes and fought the urge to cry - not because she was sad, exactly; she was far too pragmatic for that - but more as a way to release the sudden swelling of emotion that had revealed itself to her. Count your blessings. At least you've never made a fool of yourself.

 

It was through the intervention of some divine angel that Olive didn't feel worse today - an angel named Elle. She remembered bits of their conversation from the night before, including the repeated instruction to drink some water, and she assumed that was what kept her feeling human the morning after.

Of course she also remembered the song, and the swell of emotions that it had inspired, and the quick goodbye she had had to make lest her desire to blurt out her feelings to Elle overwhelm her common sense completely. Pretty sure I avoided making a fool of myself. Just.

"Okay, from the top!"

For her own part Elle looked to be on good enough form, the confidence in her own abilities that she'd gained from playing Viola, albeit briefly, still shining through in her performance. Olive wasn't sure if it was her imagination though that the younger woman looked up to meet her eyes less often as usual. She tried not to worry too much about this, though it was almost impossible not to, and by the time the rehearsal drew to a close she was feeling like a nervous wreck. Luckily there was a break before the afternoon's session with Amanda, Rick and Daisy - she didn't think she could face it without an hour or two to compose herself first. Elle didn't stop to say hello on her way out as she often had before, but the rehearsal hadn't been over long when Olive's phone buzzed with a text message.

How're you feeling?

Olive almost dropped her sandwich in her haste to reply.

Fine, fine... surprisingly fine, actually, thanks to your good influence. Thank you for that. And sorry again.

Don't be. Do you you still want to do something tomorrow?

That was good, right? If Elle had brought it up on her own she couldn't be too weirded out...

Yeah, of course. Maybe not Vermont, though, it's five hours away and I don't drive.

That did sound a little on the ambitious side for an afternoon. Catch you at the end of rehearsal?

Sure, sounds great. See you then.

 

Elle was still smiling down at the last text from Olive when Lyle sat back down with their food, and she looked up guiltily, putting the phone aside.

"Should I be jealous?" he quipped, setting her meal down in front of her and then plopping into his seat. "I bet you never smile that way at my texts."

"Hm? Oh..." Elle just grinned nervously and shook her head, very aware of the blush that was rising in her cheeks.

"Elle! Don't play shy with me - did you finally hook up with someone?"

"No! Jesus, Lyle, I was just making some plans."

"Plans to hook up?"

"Flexible plans to spend some time together - most definitely not hooking up."

"Uh huh." He opened his bag of chips and crunched several of them down before speaking again. "So who is it? Someone from the chorus?"

"No." Elle frowned, realising that she was already well into a hole that was only going to get deeper if she didn't stop digging it. "Just Olive."

"Olive." Lyle looked as if she had said 'Kim Jong Un'. "You're hooking up with Olive?"

"I am not hooking up with anyone, oh my God, Lyle. How often to I have to say this?"

"Until I believe it, which will be never, because I saw your smile just now!"

"That was..." Elle shook her head, pulling her food toward herself. "That didn't mean anything. I swear, Lyle, we are not hooking up," she said, a note of dejection creeping into her voice. "We're just friends."

"Whoa whoa whoa." Lyle's eyebrows shot up. "But you don't want to be? 'Just' friends, I mean."

Elle's mouth flattened to a line, and she looked up at Lyle with a warning - and a plea - in her eyes.

"Wow, uh... well I can't say I blame you," he said then carefully. "But I guess I can see why that'd be... complicated."

"Please, Lyle, I don't want to talk about it. I'm... still processing stuff right now."

"Yeah, okay, sorry... Sorry."

"S'fine."

"When you do want to talk about it, you can. With me, I mean," he said awkwardly. "I'll even try not to be an insensitive jerk."

"It's cool, Lyle. Thanks. I just..." Elle shook her head, staring down into her fries lest she look at him and start crying at the expression of compassion and concern she knew he was wearing right at this moment.

"Yeah. So hey, Amber got some cheap tickets to Kinky Boots tonight, you wanna come? See what the hype's all about?"

"I dunno, Lyle; I'm working this afternoon and I'm totally wiped out."

"Okay, well, we'll keep one aside for you just in case. Just text me if you change your mind."

"Yeah. I mean, yeah, thanks."

"Sure. No problem. Hey, Elle?"

"Mhm?"

"She'd be lucky to have you. Well. Anybody would."

Elle nodded slowly, managing to look up and give Lyle a tight smile. She didn't say anything.

 

"What did you do to that poor girl?"

Olive was barely through the door before Sam had fixed her with an accusatory gaze, and she held up her hands to deflect him. "What in the world are you talking about?"

"Elle Parker left not ten minutes ago following an afternoon's work where she was so withdrawn and introspective that I swear for a little while I thought she was the one who had cancer," Sam said with his usual flair for hyperbole. "And when I said she should hang on and say hi to you when you got here? Could not see her for dust. Ergo: somehow, this is your fault."

Olive groaned, resisting the urge to turn and go right back out the door again. "I may have gotten slightly drunk and called her late last night..."

"You drunk dialled her?"

"Nothing happened! At least, I'm like ninety-nine percent sure that nothing happened, we just talked for a bit..."

"Well, whatever you talked about, something most definitely happened."

"Fuck..." Olive frowned, distractedly sweeping several tissues, empty drink bottles and receipts into the trash. "But she just texted me today after rehearsal to make plans for tomorrow. Why would she do that if she doesn't want to see me?"

Sam pursed his lips, looking confused now. "I have no idea," he said. "She definitely didn't want to see you today. You're sure you didn't profess your undying love or somesuch?"

"No... no!" Olive said, with more conviction. "I hung up before I could do anything that stupid. Right after I made her sing for me," she added guiltily.

"You made her... how adorable," Sam said, shooting her a withering look. He pointed an accusatory finger at her. "You," he said, "are a menace." Then, "What did she sing?"

"WhenIfallinlove," she muttered, looking like a sulky child.

"Wow. I mean... wow. Pleeease tell me that wasn't a request."

"No! Of course not, I'm not a complete idiot!"

Sam narrowed his eyes as though he might contest this. "And what exactly are you doing tomorrow?"

"I don't know, just meeting up... I thought maybe we could go to a matinee or something, you know, something where we wouldn't have to talk too much."

"Hm." Sam didn't seem to know whether he hated or liked this idea. "Well. In any event, just... don't break my assistant, okay? I'm used to having her around now."

"This from the man who swore up and down that he didn't need anybody," Olive said, eager to shift the focus off herself and her antics over the past few days. "Who was right, me or you?"

"Are we really not past cheap points scoring? You would make a dying man admit he's wrong?"

"If it means I'm right? Always."

"You're a hard woman."

"Well, this hard woman is going to make you dinner tonight, so I hope you're ready." She scooped up the grocery bags and began to limp towards the kitchen.

"I don't think anyone's ever really 'ready' for your cooking..."

"Shut up it's going to be delicious."

"I'm sure. Oh, speaking of delicious, you promised you'd tell me about last night with Daisy. That sounded... interesting."

"Oh god. I had just about managed to forget, why must you bring it all up again?" she wailed.

"Oh my God, what happened?" Sam pressed in a comically aghast tone, following her through to the kitchen. "Did she tie you up?"

"No, but don't give her any ideas. She wants to get back together, somehow, and tried just about every trick in the book to get me to agree to it."

"What a piece of work."

"Yeah. Hence the drinking, and the... comfort-calling."

"And the serenade."

"That helped too."

 

And the moment I can feel that you feel that way too
Is when I fall in love with you... ugh, why did I sing that what was I thinking...

With a sigh of frustration Elle put aside the book she was trying to read and turned off the light, though she knew she wouldn't sleep for some time yet. She hadn't been able to face seeing Olive that afternoon; though she had wanted nothing more than to do just that. But she knew that if she had seen her today she wouldn't have been able to keep her feelings from showing, and that would've been the end of that.

As it was, she had 'til lunchtime tomorrow to get her head straight. Or at least to pretend convincingly.

 

"Hey, so, ready to go?" Olive grinned, leaning heavily on her cane.

"Sure," Elle said as she shouldered her bag, "although I don't know what we're doing so I had no idea what clothes to bring..."

"Oh, right, no, I should've said... you've got skis, right? And a snowsuit?"

"You're very funny."

"I know, I'm hilarious. C'mon. Follow me."

 

Olive had strongly considered her matinee plan, all the way up until the point Sam had talked her out of it late last night. 'The last thing either of you want to do is see more theatre. Do something different! Have fun!'

Elle kept up a nervous chatter in the taxi, first giving a running commentary of that morning's rehearsal and then starting to Olive questions about it. The director responded distractedly, though warmly, staring out the window until the taxi finally pulled to the curb. "C'mon. Our first stop is here."

The first stop turned out to be the Hell's Kitchen Flea Market, which was bustling despite the fact that it was just coming on up on lunchtime. Doubtless most of the people crowding the walkways between the stalls were tourists, but Olive didn't seem to mind, merely turning and grinning at Elle and beckoning her out of the cab. "I thought maybe, since you only had a bed, you might be looking for some more furnishings..."

"Oh..." Elle smiled hesitantly. "I mean..." She emerged from the cab. "My room's barely any bigger than the bed is," she said, though her eyes were obviously still drawn to the crazy hodge podge of tents and stalls.

"Okay, well, we'll have to look for very tiny sofas, then."

Elle hesitated. "It'll be nice to look at stuff," she said, "but I mean... I really can't afford furnishings right now, and I know what you're going to say and you've been super generous with me but I really can't let y-"

"C'mon, let's just look," Olive said, taking Elle's hand and tugging her towards the crowd. "That's half the fun anyway."

Look they did - the flea market had an insane array of various bits and pieces, some antiques, some wildly fascinating pieces and an awful lot of total junk.

"'Vintage bricks'?" Elle lifted one of the objects in question. "Are these guys for real?"

"Haha, yeah... oh shit, do you see how much they cost?" Olive exclaimed, eyes widening at the price tag. "Who'd pay that much for a brick."

Elle shook her head in bemusement, putting the brick back where it was and moving on to squint at the ornate wrought handles of the old-fashioned flat irons further along the same stall, being marketed by the beeswax-pointed-moustachioed vendor as 'great for paperweights or doorstops'. Olive followed, picking up several old keys and turning them over in her hands, stealing surreptitious glances at the other woman when she was sure she wasn't looking. On one occasion she was caught, the other woman glancing up just as she did, and their eyes locked for a long moment and Olive could swear... but then the moment had passed, and Elle was raking through a box of old fan club badges, chuckling with amusement at her finds.

"Oh, wow, you'll appreciate this," she said to Olive suddenly, turning and holding up the badge in question - it bore the iconic picture of the green, black-hatted girl with the white one talking in her ear. "The 'official' fan club, no less - I was a little too old to want to be in a fan club by then, but I suppose I can make up for that now..."

"Seriously, don't, that's so embarrassing," Olive protested, secretly a bit tickled.

"Oh, I'm buying it, it's fate," Elle said, pulling out a buck to pay for the badge and pinning it to her lapel. "I'll wear it proudly," she said, "right next to my heart." Her eyes twinkled in amusement, but Olive flinched slightly and the younger woman's expression sobered, just subtly, before she covered up her slip with a broad grin. "So, where to next?"

"I think food is the next order of business, and my stomach agrees."

 

They had their pick of cuisine - there were food trucks parked all over the market, everything from Vietnamese pho to tacos, freshly made and wafting delicious aromas across the concourse. Olive insisted on paying - 'Since this was my idea' - and soon they were sitting down at one of the small tables in the shade of a tree, their meals spread out in front of them.

"I feel like we should have a gingham tablecloth," Elle commented with a chuckle as she opened one of the tubs of noodles. "I bet there's one on a stall somewhere in there."

"Yeah, but it's probably been priced four times what it's actually worth by one of those moustachioed nitwits," Olive grumbled, setting out a stack of napkins.

"Aww, you didn't like the hipster parade?"

Olive made a face. "I am definitely, as they say, too old for this shit."

"At the ripe old age of thirty seven?" Elle raised her eyebrows sceptically. "Please, there are aspiring steampunkers in there with moustaches almost as old as you."

"Now that's a disturbing thought. Shush and eat your noodles like a good girl."

Elle hesitated - the comment was crying out for a 'yes, mom' joke, but as her eyes met she found that she couldn't quite bring herself to make it, resisting Olive's apparent attempt to draw attention to the age gap between them - or so it felt now, at any rate, to this newly-awakened Elle who saw Olive as anything but a mother figure. A moment later Olive dropped her eyes to her food and began to eat, her cheeks just slightly pink, though it could have been due to the unusual heat of the afternoon.

They ate in companionable silence, broken only occasionally to comment on this or that food dish, to swap tastes of something or to make some comment about their surroundings - it was a good place for people watching and even after they'd finished their food they sat picking at leftovers and watching the world go by.

"I've got something else planned for us to do," Olive said eventually, "but it's not 'til a little bit later, so I guess it's just as well there's so much to see here."

"I was going to suggest we walk around a little again," Elle said, "but not if it would worry your leg..."

"No, no, I'll be fine. I'd love to go for a walk."

 

The weather was crisp and cool, though not so cool as Olive was expecting, such that walking was actually quite a warming activity and she had soon shed her coat, Elle electing to carry it for her and brooking no argument on the topic.

They wound their way through the rest of the market, occasionally separated by the crowds of people but always finding their way back to one another before too long. Elle's giggle of delight when she found that there was in fact a whole stall dedicated to chequered tablecloths and similar accoutrements sent a mixture of adoration and guilt through Olive, though she was a good enough actress to hide them both under a mask of friendly amusement.

Eventually they had seen all the market had to offer, and after checking her watch Olive ushered them towards a taxi, sighing with relief as they sat down in the back.

Elle apparently missing nothing, an expression of concern immediately falling across her features. "Are you all right? Your leg..."

"Oh, no, it's fine... just the usual aches and pains. Nothing to worry about."

The younger woman made a face, clearly annoyed with herself for suggesting physical activity now.

"Hey," Olive said, reaching over to put a light, reassuring hand on her knee. "I mean it. I know my limits."

She felt Elle's leg tense a little beneath her touch, though she only chuckled in response. "Sorry, sorry."

Drawing her hand back, Olive gave a small smile and turned to gaze out the window, the lump in her throat making it difficult to speak.

"So," Elle said, half-utterance, half-sigh. "What's next?"

"Well, I was planning on it being a surprise, though you'll probably guess soon enough..."

"Oh, that's fine, then, I'll wait and see..."

The taxi pulled up alongside the Hudson River; as soon as they stepped out Elle spotted the tall, elegant schooner tethered by the pier, looking like something straight out of a history book. She turned to Olive with a tentative grin. "Seriously?"

"I've always wanted to do it, but never got the chance," Olive said with a shrug and a smile, though her expression faded a moment later. "You don't get seasick, do you? I should've checked before..."

"No! No, I don't get seasick - actually I love boats."

"Oh, good. Well, it looks like they're already letting people on - we should climb aboard."

It being a week day in fall, the tour was not entirely packed with people, around two dozen in total embarking with them. They found comfortable enough seats and were given blankets for their laps by the friendly crew - one for each of them, though Elle secretly wished she could have shared one with Olive. They were even more delighted when the crew came round with glasses of champagne, and Olive grinned, turning to the young woman and holding her glass up for a toast. "To... new journeys?"

"Cheers," Elle said, touching her glass to Olive's, still looking slightly bemused at their surroundings.

They had soon departed the pier and were gliding smoothly over the water - Olive's worries about seasickness were unfounded as the gentle rocking of the boat was barely noticeable. Most of the other passengers were couples, it seemed, cosied up with one another as they took in the breathtaking skyline, from a vantage point that few, even residents, had seen before.

It was a beautiful view, and for some time the two women said nothing, letting the chatter of the tour guide fade into the background as they sipped at their drinks and watched the world go by. At length, Olive felt the other woman shift beside her and a moment later Elle's cool lips pressed to her cheek.

"Thank you," she said. "This is perfect."

Olive blinked, her fingers wrapping tightly around her glass. "You're welcome," she said somewhat hoarsely, hoping it would be covered by the light wind around them. "I'm glad you like it."

Cheeks burning, Elle fell silent again, gazing out across the bay. They were approaching Staten Island and the Statue, and as they regarded the towering woman it became clear that the sun was setting, painting the sky with pinks and oranges in long strokes.

"Today's gone by far too fast," Elle mused aloud.

"I know what you mean," Olive murmured. "It's been a nice break, but it doesn't seem nearly long enough."

"I meant-..." Elle caught herself, tailing off and looking away suddenly. "Yeah. Well. There's still a little day left to get home and relax."

"Mm. Do you want to- nevermind, sorry, forget I said anything."

"No, go on."

"I was just going to ask if you wanted to come to my place after this, I was just going to get some takeout..."

"Sounds great," Elle said, a little too quickly. "I mean... if you didn't mind the company - you've put up with me all day so far..."

"Not at all. I mean, it's been wonderful spending time with you."

"Olive..." Again, Elle caught herself short, shaking her head. "You too," she said, though it was clearly not what she originally intended. The other woman set her glass down carefully and turned towards Elle, her expression hesitant.

Whatever she was about to say, however, was cut short by the insistent buzzing of her phone; with a flash of irritation she dug it out of her pocket and answered it with a curt "What?"

A moment later her cheeks paled and she nodded, unseen by the person at the other end of the line. "Yes, of course, I'll be there as soon as I can. Thank you. Thank you for calling me."

It was obvious what had happened - or to whom, at least. "Is he all right?" Elle asked immediately, putting her own glass aside, "what happened?"

"Something about his blood pressure dropping - I think he might have passed out," Olive replied in a careful, steady voice. "He's awake now but they're keeping him in the hospital overnight for monitoring."

"The boat's on its way back in," Elle said reassuringly. "We'll be there in no time."

"Oh, no, Elle, you don't have to come..." the other woman protested weakly.

"If you want to see him alone that's fine," Elle said in an even tone, "but please let me come to the hospital with you. You don't have to do this alone."

Olive nodded, and a moment later reached out to take Elle's hand, grasping it tightly as she looked back towards shore. "Thank you." The other woman's fingers wove through hers, locking them together.

"We'll be there soon."

 

All told it took them about an hour after the phone call to get to the hospital; from the pier they jumped into a taxi, stopping by Sam's apartment to collect things like clothes, toiletries and a few of the works in progress that Elle knew about. Upon reaching the ward where Sam was staying Olive insisted that Elle come too, still grasping her hand tightly as she had been whenever she wasn't occupied by filling out forms or gathering together an overnight bag.

Sam was sitting up in bed and favoured them with a warm grin as they appeared, though he was paler than Elle had ever seen him.

"My two favourite girls," he said. "Pull up a chair."

"Don't you try to sweet talk us," Olive told him sternly, setting the bag down at his bedside and then moving to give him a fierce, brief hug.

"Have I been bad somehow? I just went for a really long nap..." Sam tried with a comically innocent expression. As soon as Olive pulled back he reached out a hand to Elle to exchange a kiss on the cheek with her too, to her mild surprise. "But enough about me, tell me all about your day."

For a moment Elle thought Olive might not play along, but then the other woman was pulling out a chair and sitting down, gesturing for her to do the same. "We went to the markets - you know, the ones where they try to sell you people's trash for way too much money by calling it 'shabby chic' and 'vintage'."

"Sounds delightful. And did you to the matinée in the end or did Olive find something more imaginative for you?" Sam directed at Elle.

"Um, actually yes," she said, "we went on a schooner cruise of the bay - I'm afraid that's why we took so long to get here, sorry."

"Oh, pfft, I'm only sorry to have disturbed your afternoon - you've both been needing some quality time together for... well, forever," Sam said with a wave of his hand, ignoring Olive's warning look.

"Um..." Elle wasn't sure how to respond to this, and in the end just chuckled and nodded.

"Don't be sorry," Olive said then, "we're just happy to see you. Elle wouldn't let me come alone, she wanted to be here so much. So see, now you've got two people fretting over you."

"Mm," Sam said, only half listening, his eyes still on Elle. Belatedly, he processed this. "Oh, that's really sweet - of both of you. But really you should both go and enjoy your evening - I'll be fine here overnight and you can go back to fretting about me tomorrow - think of this as respite."

It was obvious that Olive didn't want to go, and equally obvious that Sam, despite his fatigue, wasn't going to be swayed. In the end the two women stayed a bit longer, helping him settle in, laying out his notebooks and pencils, before finally giving in and packing up their things to go.

"Hey," Elle murmured, reaching to take Olive's free hand again as they left the ward. "He's right. He's in safe hands tonight."

"I know, I know, I just don't like the thought of him being all alone in there. It's so... sterile."

"He's wiped out; I really don't think he's going to be awake for much of it," Elle said, tightening her fingers briefly around Olive's. It was only then that the older woman seemed to realise they were holding hands; she glanced down as they waited for the elevator and gave a tight smile before squeezing Elle's hand back.

 

Olive's apartment shouldn't have been a very long taxi ride from the hospital, but they hit traffic, and it was almost an hour later that they finally arrived back at her pristine, airy home, weary and anxious.

"I think all my takeout menus are in the kitchen, I'll just go get them," Olive said, leaning on her cane as she limped past the sofa. "I'm sorry, I know you must be starving."

"Oh, I'm... yeah," Elle said with a grin, "pretty starving. But I'll live."

"I hope so. I couldn't take another hospital visit today."

Elle followed Olive on through to the kitchen, leaning back against the counter, brows drawn together in an expression of compassion and sympathy as she surveyed the other woman.

"I've got... Chinese, Indian, Greek, um... Mexican, sushi..."

"Oh, I want to say... Mexican?"

"All right." Olive passed the appropriate menu over, shuffling the rest together and sticking them back in the drawer.

Elle glanced down her options, quickly making a selection, and soon they were sitting on the couch to wait for their food to arrive.

"So," Elle said. "Thank you. Again. For today."

"Oh, you're welcome... I'm glad you enjoyed it," Olive said with a distracted smile. "I... had a really good time as well."

"So..." the younger woman tried again. "I'm gonna suggest maybe we put some music on and sit in a contemplative silence? Just to forestall any discomfort when that happens anyway?" She shot Olive a wry smile.

"Elle..." Olive sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm terrible company right now, and you don't deserve that."

"Hey, no, you're not, it's okay." Elle turned a little where she sat, leaning across the couch, though she didn't touch the other woman, just resting her weight onto her hand between them. "I just meant... I get needing quite time. And I'd like to keep you company, if you want me. Or, if you don't, I'll leave right after dinner. But I don't want you to feel like me being here means we have to be, like, constantly talking or whatever. I'm happy just to... be here with you."

"I don't want you to leave," Olive said immediately, and there was something in the way she said it that made Elle hope that she didn't just mean tonight. The older woman stared at her for a long moment, then turned away quickly in order to push herself up from the sofa. "Do you have any requests?" she asked, and it took Elle a moment to realise she meant music.

"Huh? Oh, well... at a time like this I guess I'd say some easy listening - jazz, at any rate. But I'm biased; for me it's always been that, classical, and show-tunes. I'm kinda predictable."

Olive smiled and nodded. "I think I can probably accommodate that."

"I'm sure."

 

A few minutes later they were both seated on the sofa again with their food, a bottle of wine - 'no beer, I'm afraid' - and the rich tones of Elle Fitzgerald playing over Olive's excellent sound system.

True to her word, Elle didn't try to make conversation, just eating in silence, though Olive occasionally heard her humming softly along with the music. It took Olive some time to relax, but eventually she seemed to deflate a little, sinking into the sofa and leaning her head back against the cushions, her meal half-finished in her lap. At length Elle finished her own food and pushed to her feet. "You done with that? I'll take stuff through."

"Mm, thanks," Olive said, rousing herself enough to gather her things together and hand them up to Elle.

The younger woman moved between the lounge and the kitchen area a couple of times, removing their leftover food and the attendant paraphernalia before returning to Olive's side. Olive barely noticed at first but as the Elle settled back down on the couch, pulling her legs up with her, she seemed to be a little closer than before, though it could have been her imagination.

"So..." Olive smirked as she leaned one arm on the back of the sofa. "Ready to go back to work tomorrow?"

"Oh, lord..." Elle leaned her head back, apparently either not noticing or not minding that it rested against Olive's arm. "I am. And yet..." She sighed. "It's been nice to have a rest. From everything. Just for a little while."

"I'm sorry it couldn't be longer," Olive murmured, gazing down at the other woman.

"There'll be longer breaks." Elle chuckled. "Some day."

"Mm... some day," Olive agreed. "What's wrong with us, that we'd choose this life?"

A slow smile spread across Elle's face as she stared back at Olive. "Because there's nothing else like it?"

"No, there really isn't. You know, I actually thought about changing careers completely, after my accident."

Elle's smile twisted a little in sympathy. "What would you have done instead?"

"Oh, god, that was the problem, I had no idea. I couldn't imagine being in the theatre any more, but I couldn't imagine anything out of it, either. I went so far as to apply for an accounting class before I came to my senses and decided to stay on the Great White Way however I could."

"And then it turned out you could write. And direct. And even choreograph."

"I guess I picked up a few things while I was up on stage squawking my lungs out," Olive said modestly.

"More than a few - and I don't have to tell you that you never squawked."

Olive smiled warmly. "I'm just sad we were never on stage together... I would have loved to sing with you."

Elle was silent for a long moment, and Olive was confused until she saw the slight shine that her eyes had taken. "If you'd told me when I was fourteen that Olive Ramirez would one day say that to me, I would have told you it would be the best thing ever," she said. Then she shook her head. "But she wouldn't know the half of it."

Impetuously Olive leaned in to hug the other woman, ignoring the twinge her leg gave at the sudden movement. She felt Elle stiffen, just briefly, in surprise, but then she sighed quietly, resting her chin on Olive's shoulder, reaching her own arms out but finding in the awkward position they were in, sitting on the couch with Elle's legs folded beneath her, that all she could do was rest a hand on the other woman's thigh, the other brushing across her side but not really finding purchase in a way that felt natural.

"You were a great idol, don't get me wrong," Elle murmured. "But I'm happy to have lost you as an idol to have gained... this." She shifted a bit to sit less awkwardly, and her hand smoothed gently up Olive's leg - did she even notice what she was doing, the way her thumb was tracing idle spirals on the older woman's leg that sent a distracting array of sensations coursing through her.

"I'm glad too," Olive said somewhat hoarsely, "even though I'm not sure what... this is." Had she really said that aloud? Ohshitohshitohshit...

She had said it out loud, and it certainly got a reaction.Elle drew back slowly, her expression carrying the same quiet dread that Olive felt. "I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I didn't mean... to make things complicated. I didn't think... I'm sorry."

"No, Elle, you didn't do anything wrong," Olive rushed to assure her, "it's me who should be sorry. I didn't mean... I didn't mean that this was your fault. It's mine. But I swear, I'm not going to make things strange, I couldn't bear to lose what we have..."

Elle was talking over the other woman in her eagerness to smooth things over, already talking before Olive had finished. "I'm just being a stupid kid, I swear, I didn't even know I could feel like this about someone, it just... happened. I can... go if you want."

"No, don't go, I-- wait, what?"

Elle shook her head. "I just..." She took a breath, and the words came out in a jumble - "I thought it was just because I admired you, because I wanted to be you for so long. Even when Lyle made fun of me it didn't click, just... the other night on the phone, I realised... Look, I know I'm probably just a kid to you and honesty I probably have even less experience than you think, so please just... put it down to my stupidity? I'll get over it. I won't let it affect our friendship."

"Affect our... Elle, are you... do you have feelings for me?" Olive held her breath, staring into the other woman's eyes as if she could read the answer there.

Elle's brows drew together in confusion. "I thought that's... what else did you think I meant?"

"I thought you just thought of me as a good friend. It's what made my feelings for you so hard to bear."

The younger woman stared for a long moment, clearly completely thrown, and behind those hazel eyes Olive watched her sift back through every conversation, every look, every touch, just as she was herself. Then, without any further hesitation, without another word, Elle leaned in and once more closed the gap between them, this time with her lips on Olive's. With a surprised but delighted gasp Olive returned the kiss, tightening her arms around Elle's waist until they were pressed close. The kiss was clumsy but sincere, a tiny moan escaping the other woman's throat, though Olive had a feeling it denoted a release of the tension between them rather than undue excitement. She felt Elle's hand come to rest on her thigh once more, gripping it lightly.

After a moment Olive pulled back, grinning, and raised one hand to cup the younger woman's cheek, which was warm against her palm. "I can't believe... I feel like I should ask you to pinch me, this must be a dream."

Elle shook her head, leaning into Olive's touch. "I'm pretty sure if one of us is dreaming it isn't you," she said. "Look at the facts."

"What, that a gorgeous, talented young woman like you would be interested in an aged cripple like me? Definitely sounds like my dream."

"You are neither of those things," Elle said with conviction, reaching to tuck Olive's hair behind her ear - yes, it was slightly flecked with grey, the face she was gazing at a little lined around the eyes and mouth, but as stunning at Olive had been on stage at the turn of the century the woman she saw had only grown more beautiful with age, and through her knowing a little of what went on in her mind.

Olive blushed, smoothing her thumb over Elle's cheek briefly before leaning in to kiss her once again. The other woman tasted of wine and just the barest hint of spice from their meal, her lips smooth and soft against Olive's.

Elle was a little less ungainly, now, her returning kisses better timed, more natural as she grew more familiar with the other woman, her hand still smoothing back and forth across Olive's thigh as she opened her mouth a little, tongue flickering out tentatively. Olive shivered, sliding her hand to cup the back of Elle's head, her short nails scratching lightly against her scalp and neck and feeling an appreciative tremble for her trouble. At length Elle shifted again, twisting slightly to let Olive bear her back against the couch so that she could wrap her own arms around the other woman, hands snaking up across her back.

"Is this okay?" Olive asked breathlessly, pulling back to gaze down at the other woman. "We're not going too fast for you? Because we don't have to do this right now if you don't want to, I--"

Her words were broken off by another fierce kiss from Elle, though she pulled back again a moment later, her expression serious. "I'll be honest," she said. "I'm kind of terrified - of all of this. I don't know what it means, and... I've really never done this before. Or, well, any more than this, anyway, much, and never with a woman, but... the moments when I'm least scared are the ones when I'm kissing you, so... I think we're okay. If you are."

"I'm more than okay," Olive told her with a fond grin, "as long as you are. I just want you to be happy, and to feel comfortable. We don't have to do anything else and this would already be the best night of... the last long while, at least."

Chewing her lower lip, Elle reached for Olive's hand. "I think... that maybe tonight... could just be this? Just, with everything that's happened today, I don't know, it feels like..." She shook her head. "A lot. A lot for one day. Too much. I want to remember all of this. Vividly. I want to give it... space." She paused. "Does that make sense?"

"Of course, of course... like I said, this is more than enough." Olive threaded her fingers with Elle's, giving her hand a squeeze. "Just being with you makes me so happy."

"Could we just..." Elle sat back toward the other end of the couch, tugging Olive toward her. "Lie a while? Just like this?"

The older woman nodded; it took a minute for her to find a comfortable way to lie, both with her leg and the desire not to squish Elle completely, but soon they were lying closely pressed to one another, Olive stroking the younger woman's hair softly.

Elle made a contented sound not a hundred miles from a purr, giving a sigh that was at once happy and also just a little shaky. "I remember that night I woke up and I'd fallen asleep leaned against you," she murmured. "I remember, the whole way home I felt like I could still smell you - that sounds gross, I mean in a good way, and I thought..." She shook her head. "I don't know what I thought, then. A lot of stuff suddenly made a whole lot of sense when I realised."

Olive gave a low chuckle. "I'm afraid I didn't have the excuse of not realising what my feelings were. I was just happy for any snatches of time with you, the chance to be close to you however I could."

A pause. Then, "For how long?"

"I don't know, I suppose... well I had always found you attractive, but I think it was when I heard you sing 'Maid or Man' that I truly began to fall for you."

Elle chuckled. "That song..."

"They were my words, but the way you sang them... you really got what I meant, and I just thought, someone who understood that sentiment, about the uncertainties of love and identity... well. It endeared me to you."

"I don't know how much I really understand about anything..."

"You understand more than you think. You're incredible, Elle." Olive leaned in to bump her nose against the other woman's.

"I am a hardworking chorister with a long slog ahead of me and only half a toolbox to make it with. You are incredible."

"Mm, well. I don't know about that, but I'm glad you think so."

"Oh, come on. At my age you were already playing your first leading role. And since then you've built up a whole new career. That's pretty incredible."

"You'll be leading before too long, mark my words. Whatever you do after this... I know you'll be the star."

Elle sighed quietly, and shook her head. "I can't really think about that right now," she said.

"Why not?" Olive asked curiously.

"I just... I can't really think about what happens after this show. I'm not... suited to this life," Elle confessed. "Not really. I like security, I like things to be planned out and organised. It's not a very good temperament for a performer. I deal with it by... stoically not looking ahead."

"Oh." Olive seemed somewhat surprised by this, leaning in a moment later to brush a light kiss over her cheek. "That's okay. We don't need to talk about that now. Or ever, if you don't want to."

"Mph. Well." Elle smiled a little and shook her head. "It's pretty easy not to think about that stuff right now," she offered, leaning to touch her nose to Olive's. "I've got plenty to distract me."

Olive smiled back. "I still can't believe this is really happening. When Daisy accused me of throwing her over for you I thought she was crazy."

Elle chuckled a little, though she sobered a moment later. "So, you and Daisy..."

"Oh, you didn't know. I just assumed it was one of those rumours that everybody had heard by now..."

"Mm, no. I mean, I was starting to wonder, with what Daisy said, and... but I mean, I don't think it's a commonly held suspicion."

"Oh. Hm. Wait, what did she say to you?"

"Just that comment she made, at the benefit. At the time I didn't really think about it but I guess later, after how you reacted... I dunno, in retrospect I guess it's kind of obvious."

"Yeah..." Olive gave a heavy sigh, shaking her head. "We were... involved, way back when, and then recently, when she joined the cast, we sort of... fell back into old habits, I guess."

"Right." Elle frowned thoughtfully. "So you and her... I mean, will you still."

"Oh, no, I've already broken it off, I couldn't deal with her any more," Olive hurried to say. "That night I called you, I had been round to her place, and I just knew that even if you and I weren't going to be more than friends I couldn't keep playing her games."

"Right. That was... a weird night. God, was that only two days ago?"

"Seems like years, I know."

"Forever." Elle smiled a little, leaning in to kiss Olive again. Olive kissed her back, and then kissed her again, and as the seconds ticked by their embrace grew a little more breathless, a little more involved, until Olive was trailing her hand down the other woman's side, her fingers tracing spirals over her ribs and stomach. At length, Elle pulled back with a gasp, reaching to trap Olive's hand beneath hers. "We, uh..." She chewed her lower lip a little, fingers curling around Olive's.

"Sorry, sorry," Olive said, giving a small shake of her head. "We weren't going to do that, I know. I'm sorry, I swear I'm not trying to pressure you."

"No, no, I know, it's just... hard. I, um." Elle shook her head. "I really want to. I just... I feel like it'll just be this blur, later, and..."

"You're right. We should wait. I want this all to be perfect, for both of us."

The other woman nodded, moving her hand from where it covered Olive's to slip around her waist, snuggling closer. Olive kissed her cheek and then reached up to tug one of the cushions into a more comfortable position before settling down next to the young woman. "Are you comfortable?"

"If you are."

"Mmhmm."

"I think I could stay here like this forever."

"I don't know about forever, but I do like it here," Olive said, chuckling.

"This is a pretty awesome couch."

"It was more the company that I was referring to..."

"Hm? Oh, I guess that's okay too..."

Olive laughed again, nipping at Elle's earlobe. "High praise indeed."

Yelping quietly as Olive's teeth caught her skin, Elle giggled impulsively, leaning in to nuzzle into the crook of the older woman's neck. With a sigh Olive closed her eyes - she was far from sleepy, but she was content. Elle settled back down again soon enough, slipping an arm around Olive's waist and settling down, closing her own eyes.

"Y'know... if you wanted, you could stay the night," Olive suggested then, not wanting to sleep all night on the sofa but not wanting Elle to leave, either. "Just to sleep."

Elle's eyes opened. "You think?" She tensed a little. "I dunno, I..."

"No, no, it's okay, it was just a suggestion."

"I'd like to - I'd really like to, I just..."

"That's okay," Olive reassured her. "You don't need a reason."

"To be honest..." Elle said slowly. "I can't think of one. And... I'd really like to wake up with you."

"Are you sure? Because we'll have chances to do that. Lots, I hope. We don't have to start tonight."

A slow smile spread across Elle's face. "I guess at that rate we could equally say... why not start tonight?"

"Are you sure?" Olive asked, trying to keep the giddiness out of her voice. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd love to, but... only if you're sure."

"I'm sure I want to stay close to you. I'm not ready to go home."

"Okay. Well, I think I can handle lying here a bit longer. Let's see how you feel when we have to shift, okay?"

"Oh, um..." Elle gave a wry smile, shaking her head. "Sorry, sorry, I assumed we would... nevermind."

"What?"

"I thought that if I was spending the night, we would... move." Elle's cheeks were bright red now.

"Oh!" Olive pulled back, smiling down at the other woman. "Good idea. C'mon, let's move."

 

Olive's bedroom was as classy and well-appointed as the rest of her apartment, simply decorated and dominated by a large, exceedingly comfortable bed that loomed in Elle's imagination like a monolith in spite of her intense conviction that at this moment there was nowhere she would rather be than with Olive, under any circumstances.

"I, um, usually sleep in a little less than this, but I think under the circumstances it's probably not the best idea..." Olive joked, rummaging through her wardrobe to pull out two large oversized t-shirts and tossing one to Elle.

"Right. I mean, yeah, sure, of course..." Elle picked up the teeshirt, balling it up in her hands. "I'll just..." She backed a couple of steps toward the en suite. "Be right back, then."

"See you soon."

 

The teeshirt reached about half way down her thighs, which was enough, Elle supposed - she wasn't exactly self-conscious about her body, and in fairness Olive had seen more of it than this on plenty of occasions in rehearsal. And yet thinking about wearing this to bed with the other woman, their bare legs brushing together, the loose shirt riding up in the night... A shiver of anticipation went through the young woman and she wondered not for the first time whether this was the best idea. Face it, you are not going home. You're here now. Go with the flow.

Olive had already changed when Elle re-entered the bedroom; she stood somewhat awkwardly by the bed, her 'bad' leg half-hidden by the mattress. "You all done?" she asked, and at Elle's nod limped for the bathroom, flashing the other woman a nerves-tinged smile as she passed.

Elle glanced around the room, and after a moment's thought quickly headed through to the kitchen, fetching them both glasses of water, returning to the bedroom just as Olive did.

"Conscientious as usual, I see," Olive commented with a smile, flipping off the overhead lights so that the bedside lamp was the only illumination in the room.

"Is that usual? I suppose it is..." Elle mused, unable to prevent her gaze from flickering to Olive's leg as the other woman climbed into bed. It was both better and worse than she had imagined - smooth and toned except for a twisted mass of scar tissue centred on the side of her knee and spreading across her calf and thigh. If the other woman caught her look she didn't remark on it, merely patting the 'empty' side of the bed with one hand.

"If you've changed your mind, I can always go sleep on the couch..."

Elle shook her head. "If I had, I would be the one sleeping in the lounge," she said. "And I haven't. And won't." With that, she climbed into bed alongside Olive, turning onto her side to face the other woman.

"Well, good. I'd miss you if you were all the way out there," Olive said with a grin, reaching out to clasp Elle's hand.

"I miss you when you're all the way over there," Elle murmured, shifting closer. "This bed is enormous."

"I know, I usually have it all to myself," the other woman quipped, leaning in to nuzzle Elle's neck.

The other woman sighed happily, leaning into Olive's touch and reaching to slip her arms around her. "Mmglad we're doing this," she said with a little smile. "I think I would've been miserable if I'd gone home tonight."

"I would've missed you horribly. But Elle, if there's ever any part of this that you want to wait on, or... anything, just say, okay?"

"I promise," Elle said quietly, a smile in her voice as she leaned to kiss the other woman. Olive gave a soft sigh, her free hand coming to rest on Elle's side, and she felt her squirm a little beneath her touch, eyes fluttering closed as her kisses deepened, just a little.

Eventually Olive pulled back, her cheeks slightly flushed. "Um. Well. If we're going to get any sleep tonight, we should probably... try to do that."

"Right. Right, yes." Elle nodded. "Absolutely. Sleep."

"Mmhmm..." Olive smiled and leaned in for one last kiss. "Sleep."

 

Sleep was surprisingly easy to come by. It had been a long day for both of them and once they settled into a position that was comfortable for them both, Olive nestled back into Elle's strong arms, they had soon drifted off. Olive's alarm was set for early the next morning, with more than enough time to wash, have breakfast and stop by Elle's place for fresh clothes before rehearsal, but she still woke up before it, perhaps because she wasn't used to sleeping with someone else in the bed with her, or perhaps because Elle's warm hand was presently trailing delicious and decidedly unchaste spirals across her upper thigh. The younger woman appeared to be at least half asleep, her breathing still shallow but steady in Olive's ear, though the surety of her movements suggested that she was at least a little aware of what she was doing.

Though she knew it would only make it harder to stop she decided to enjoy the moment for a bit longer, though as Elle's ministrations continued she couldn't help but squirm a little where she lay, her own breathing growing more ragged as the other woman's fingers found their way beneath the hem of her t-shirt. The point at which Elle woke properly was probably far more obvious than the younger woman realised - her breath shifting, her hand beginning to tremble a little where previously it had instinctively known exactly what to do - but Elle didn't stop, and Olive didn't stop her as her fingers trailed up across her smooth stomach, counted her ribs, swept across the curve of her hip. It was a delicious torture, but eventually Olive could take no more, groaning and pressing her own hand over Elle's where it rested just below her hip. "...morning."

"Morning." Elle's breath tickled her ear, her mouth then finding her neck, her speech a little slurred in her sleepiness. "You feel amazing..."

"Mm, you don't know the half of it. Sleep well?"

"Very," Elle purred. "Though I think I might've had a lot of... dreams..."

"Oh?"

"Mm. Woke up..." The other woman trailed off, giggling and burying her face against Olive's neck. "Well. Let's just say I think I went to sleep pretty... tense..."

"Ah." Olive felt another delicious rush race through her and tried not to squirm. "Well. I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Define... better..."

"Less tense?"

"I didn't say I was less tense," came the sleepy response, and Elle was slipping her hand out from beneath Olive's to run it up her side again. "Don't think my dreams helped at all with that..."

"Hmm," Olive hummed, closing her eyes and tipping her head back on the pillow. "I don't know if you're helping right now, either..."

"I, um..." Elle's voice - and her breath - wavered a little. "I don't think I'm trying to," she said huskily.

Swallowing heavily, Olive shifted, turning over until she was facing the other woman. "Elle..." She trailed off into a groan as the other woman's hand slid over her hip. "You don't want to wait?"

"Not another minute. Not unless you want to. Olive, I... God, I feel like something inside me will break if we don't..."

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" Despite her light-hearted words Olive's heart was pounding as she leaned in to kiss Elle, daring to slip a hand under her shirt and against her skin, drawing a gasp from Elle, who returned her kiss with a quiet, slightly desperate moan.

Olive had wanted this to be a memorable experience for the younger woman - for them both, actually, but there were no candles or roses here, no soft music or mood lighting, just the early-morning light peeking in through the curtains and their slightly sweat-damp skin under trembling, exploratory hands. Elle was clearly torn between nerves and excitement, her whole body trembling as her kisses grew deeper, more feverish, hands roaming across Olive's sides and stomach.

Olive's touch was more sure, of course, though there were nerves there as well. It was she who first dared move beyond the 'safe' areas of shared touch, sliding her hand up to cup the other woman's small, firm breast and getting another gasp for her trouble, followed by a long, low groan as Elle buried her face against Olive's neck. "Jesus....

"No, just me," Olive chuckled, taking the opportunity to slip her knee between the other woman's legs. Elle stiffened briefly in surprise, but a moment later she let her body lead the way, her hips shifting against this new resistance, and her lips were on Olive's again, kissing her deeply. Now it was Olive's turn to groan against the other woman's lips, her thumb flicking over her nipple until it was hard. Delving her tongue into Elle's mouth, she moved closer, pressing her thigh between her legs until she felt the younger woman shiver with anticipation.

Elle didn't seem to know what to do with her own hands, or was perhaps so distracted she'd temporarily lost her way, but instinct took over then and one palm moved smoothly up across Olive's breast, cupping it gently. Olive moaned again, and seemed to take this as some sort of signal, her hand leaving Elle's breast and slipping down over her stomach until it reached the waistband of her underwear. Slowly she slid a finger beneath it, running it along the sensitive skin there while at the same time catching Elle's lower lip in her teeth and tugging it gently. Elle... whimpered - there was really no other word for the sound of desperate arousal that escaped her at this, and she rocked her hips against Olive's hand, her own hand grazing slightly roughly up over the older woman's breast.

Again, Olive's best-laid plans of a slow and careful seduction were dashed; her hand slid lower, over the sparse patch of hair until she felt Elle's wetness against her fingers. Elle moaned against her mouth, hand stilling as everything seemed to centre on that one place, on Olive's fingers, on their slow, slick movement as they began to circle against her.

Olive felt her own arousal build as she listened to Elle's small vocalisations and breathy moans, her own hips shifting with the same rhythm as her hand. Elle seemed to take this as a hint, her trembling hand creeping down the other woman's stomach, pausing at the waistband of her underwear. Olive kissed her deeply, then pulled away, giving a small shake of her head. "Wait."

With that she began to kiss her way down the other woman's body, frustrated that she hadn't thought to remove her t-shirt but too impatient to bother with that now. She caught Elle's nipple through the thin fabric of the shirt, sucking at it insistently before releasing it to continue her downward journey. Elle shifted restlessly beneath Olive's touch, hands looking for something - anything - to touch and finding their way to cup Olive's head, fingers winding through her hair.

When Olive had kissed every inch of Elle's toned, taut stomach, she withdrew her hand for a moment, hooking her fingers in the waistband of her underwear and dragging it down, over her hips and thighs. Elle was more than happy to help to wriggle out of the clothing, though less than coordinated about doing so under the circumstances, feet tangling a little at the last hurdle, though at length the underwear was discarded on the floor and Olive was nudging the other woman's legs apart and settling down on the mattress, ignoring the twinge of protest her leg gave at the uncomfortable position. With one hand she stroked Elle's leg, her lips pressing lightly up her inner thigh. Elle's breathing was shallow, ragged, her hips still shifting a little, unconsciously perhaps, as her anticipation grew.

Eventually Olive could wait no longer, and as her intentions were clear she assumed that Elle would have protested long before now if she wanted to stop. As she trailed her kisses up to their destination the other woman moaned aloud again, immediately arching against her even before she began to lap with her tongue, gently at first and then more assertively, in long, smooth strokes. There was no clever work to be done here, no teasing or changing of pressure, and this was for the best, as Olive didn't think she could hold herself back now that they had begun the relentless drive to the edge, Elle twisting and sighing as her climax grew. She came suddenly, and hard, bucking against Olive such that she needed to wrap an arm around her to hold her still.

When the younger woman's movements had stilled to the occasional tremor or twitch Olive carefully pulled herself up the bed, caressing her adoringly and planting an enthusiastic kiss on her lips before collapsing on the pillow next to her. Elle lay still for a few long moment before turning to curl against the other woman, slipping her arm around her. "That was... wow."

"Wow indeed," Olive echoed with a grin. "That was incredible."

"You are incredible. I just lay there."

Olive turned to kiss Elle's cheek. "You taste amazing. You sound amazing. You feel amazing. You are amazing."

"I can't believe that actually happened. Is happening." Elle shook her head. "I just. Like, almost literally can't believe it."

"Well, it is. Hopefully it'll sink in soon."

"Mm. Maybe." Elle's hand had begun to trace the contours of Olive's side, now, up and down, slowly, but gradually gaining purpose. Her skin still singing, Olive shivered under the other woman's touch, leaning in to place another kiss on her cheek.

"You know, if you'd rather wait, that's okay," she murmured. "I don't mind."

Elle shook her head, leaning to touch her lips lightly to Olive's. "I want to," she said as they parted, though her hand did tremble just a little as it trailed down across the other woman's hip, sweeping briefly closer to its eventual goal.

"I want you to too," Olive replied hoarsely; a moment later she was jolted out of the delicious haze by the sound of her alarm going off. With a muttered curse she stuck out one arm, flailing until she managed to hit the 'off' button. "Damnit..." Elle chuckled, her hand gripping Olive's hip a little nervously, and she turned her head to press her face into the pillow, suddenly shy.

"Hey... maybe we should just get up," Olive said, though every fibre of her body was crying out to stay in bed with the other woman. "Don't want to be late to rehearsal or anything..."

Elle groaned. "But..."

"Hm?"

"I... God, it's embarrassing, but I really want to do this while I'm... in this zone." She pulled back a little, her expression trepidatious. "That sounds awful, doesn't it? Like I have to psyche myself up? I just..."

Olive smiled, sliding closer under the sheets and wrapping an arm around Elle's waist. "Trust me, this won't be the only time you're in the zone. I want to do that to you again. And again. And... you get the picture."

Elle smiled reflexively in return, then, after a hesitation, ventured, "Olive. You're... this is... serious, right? I mean, I don't mean, like, pick out a ring adopt a cat serious but, I mean... we're not... messing around here. Are we?"

"Oh god, no. I mean... yes. I mean..." Olive pulled back, her expression solemn. "What I mean is, Elle, I'll take whatever you're comfortable giving. I am serious, about you and about us. This isn't just a fling. Unless you want it to be."

"I don't," Elle said, shaking her head. "I want... I don't even know what I want, I want so much."

"Well. We'll figure it out together, yeah?" Olive said, bumping her nose against the other woman's.

"Mm. I mean, yeah." Elle smiled. "Okay. Let's go... rehearse." And pretend like everything in the world hasn't changed.

 

What followed was the strangest day Elle could remember having. She and Olive showered hurriedly, eating a quick but filling breakfast before jumping in a taxi together. When they reached Elle's place Olive dropped her off - they both agreed it might look just a bit too suspicious if they arrived together - and she managed to get her things together without her roommate questioning where she had been before heading for the studio.

The rehearsal went... well, all things considered. Elle felt barely able to concentrate but fortunately the songs and dances were more or less automatic at this point.

Both she and Olive were good enough actors that they kept from making anything too obvious - she hoped. After the rehearsal finished Olive immediately packed up and left, and of course she couldn't just run after her, unless...

"Hey! Olive! You forgot something!"

Olive turned to see Elle jogging along the corridor, cane in hand. She smiled. "Ah, thank you. I would've missed that."

"Yeah, I'm, uh... surprised you managed to forget it," Elle said with a tentative grin.

"Well, you know, my head's just all over the place right now. Had a pretty crazy night last night."

"Oh yeah?" Elle played along, tipping her head to the side.

"Crazy-good, I mean. I met someone really special." Olive had to keep from grinning too widely.

"Well, um." Elle cast her eyes downward, shy now. "I guess it's a shame she's working this afternoon. But I hear she's free later tonight."

"Yeah? Well, I'll have to ask her over for dinner. Or out. Or whatever she wants to do."

Elle glanced behind herself, and then stepped a little closer, reaching to hand over the cane, quite deliberately brushing her fingers against Olive's. "I think she probably wants to stay in."

"Then I'll see her around... seven?" At Elle's small nod Olive grinned again and stepped reluctantly back. "Okay. I'm off to get Sam from the hospital, then I've got a meeting with Hunter and some of the other funders."

"Hunter..." Elle blinked. "Hunter Kale is an investor." If Olive thought that Elle already knew this little fact, she now knew otherwise. "'Course. Um." She nodded. "Cool. Well, I'll see you at seven at your place?"

"Can't wait." There was movement behind Elle and so Olive adjusted her cane and turned, heading off at what she hoped was a normal pace.

Elle turned to see the one person staring at her that she least wanted to have witnessed the scene in question.

"Some last-minute instructions to the understudy?" Daisy curled her lip in the figment of a smile. "It must have been good news, Olive looked so happy..."

"Uh... Well, Sam's..." Shit, she couldn't use that excuse either. "She's just off to see Sam," she said with her best innocent shrug.

"Well. She'd better smile while she can, because she won't have much reason to after this afternoon's meeting."

Elle blinked. "I don't... follow."

"Oh, didn't you hear? Some new investment opportunities came up out west and Hunter's thinking of diversifying."

The colour left Elle's cheeks. "Daisy... please. You can't."

"Oh no? Our lawyers were very clear in the contracts they drew up - both the talent and the money can walk at any time, if they're unhappy with how they're being used."

"What have you got to be unhappy about?" Elle pushed, "You have everything."

"You have no idea what I do or don't have," Daisy snapped, "or why I should or shouldn't be happy."

"And you have no idea why this show has to happen - please, Daisy, this isn't about you - or me, or even Olive. What You Will needs to happen. Don't ruin it over some... whatever this is."

"Oh, it's just another stupid show - there are dozens that flop every season," she said with a wave of her hand. "It'll do Olive some good to learn that it hurts to not get what you want."

"This is not about what Olive wants." Elle felt tears spring up in her eyes. "Daisy, please, I swear, if you knew... even you would want this to happen. You have to trust me."

"Why the hell would I do that? You just want a chance for me to twist my ankle so you can get your big break. Well guess what? I'm not interested in helping some little baby butch ingénue stomp all over me and mine."

"This is not-... this is not about that!" Elle felt a note of panic creep into her voice. "Look, I'll quit. I'll quit the cast."

"What?" Daisy raised her eyebrows, a coy smile playing over her lips.

"I'll quit the show - the understudy, the chorus, everything. You stay, and get Hunter to keep his money in, and don't fuck it up for Olive and Sam and you'll never see me nipping at your heels. Or... stomping, or whatever. I swear."

"Hm. What an interesting proposition. I'll think about it."

Elle sucked in a breath, and shook her head. "There's no time to think about it. Not if this is about this afternoon. Daisy, please. Tell me to do it, and I'll do it. But don't fuck me around. This isn't about you and me; it's about Olive, and Sam, and if Hunter pulls out this afternoon she will never speak to you again."

"What makes you think I want to speak to her?" Daisy couldn't hid the waver in her voice, though her eyes were hard. "What makes you think I care about that at all?"

"You care. If you care a tenth as much as I do, you care a lot."

This seemed to be the final straw. "Fine," Daisy nearly spat out, "you quit, and get as far away from this production and Olive as you can, and I'll convince Hunter not to pull out. But if I hear anything about you moving in on her, that's it."

"Far... from Olive, I didn't-"

"Do you want this production to go on, or not?"

Elle tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it wasn't going anywhere. She nodded. "Fine," she croaked.

Daisy's smile was chilling. "Well then. I guess the show goes on."

Without me. Elle considered it a considerable achievement that she made it all the way to the bathroom before breaking down. After she managed to clean herself up she returned to gather her things, and found Lyle waiting for her in the practice studio.

"Elle, hey, I know you've gotta run but I just wanted to- holy shit, what happened? Are you okay?"

"I, uh..." Elle shook her head. "I'm gonna have to go home for a while. I can't really talk about it."

"Go home? You mean... home-home?"

"Yeah, home home. I'm gonna have to quit the production."

"What? Oh, fuck, Elle, that sucks! I mean, I'm really sorry, but... fuck!"

"Yeah, Lyle, please, don't, I'm barely holding it together here. Just... gimme a hug and tell me you'll hold the fort, 'kay?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course." He put his arms around her and squeezed her tightly. "You need anything, you just give me a call, all right? I mean it."

"Yeah. Yeah, thanks hon."

 

When seven thirty rolled around Olive started playing back the conversation in her mind - they had agreed on seven, right? She had been pretty giddy but she remembered that much, that they had set a time for Elle to come over and it had been seven o'clock. Slightly concerned, she sent off a text, and then another one, and by eight thirty she was calling Elle's phone, which went straight to voicemail.

Now convinced that something was really wrong, she did the unthinkable and dug out her roommate's number from the emergency contact information on her employment contact. What the young woman told her was both reassuring and devastating. Elle wasn't injured or hiding in her room. She was just gone.

Desperate, Olive phoned the only person she could, listening to the tinny rings of her phone as she paced back and forth across her living room. "Please be awake, Sam, please..."

"...mmello? You caught me mid-nap I'm afraid, cognitive abilities might be... fuzzy..."

"Sam, did you see Elle today?"

A thoughtful sigh. Then, "Nope. Was I meant to? Oh, I suppose I was... I confess I just didn't remember, Oli, sorry - is something wrong? I thought things were..."

"She's gone, she's just packed up and left, Sam, and I don't know where she's gone, and she's not picking up her phone..."

"Okay, okay, Oli, now, don't panic, all right? How long has she been gone, what was she like when you saw her last?"

"I don't know, I don't--" Olive forced herself to take a deep breath, balling her hand into a fist as she sat down on the sofa. "I guess since this afternoon, the last time I saw her was at rehearsal and things were... fine. They were good, we made plans to see each other tonight. Why would she do that if she was just planning on running off? Oh god, it was me, wasn't it, I was this creepy pervert abusing my power and she quit rather than tell me no, shit, shit..."

"Hey, hey, don't, Oli, you know that's not true. I saw you two yesterday, she's crazy about you. Whatever's happened, this is not your fault. Just... give her time. I'm sure you'll hear from her, 'kay? You want to come over?"

"Oh, no, you're still recovering, I should let you rest..."

"And you can help me do that by making me tea and keeping me company. And reassuring me that I know you're not sitting at home alone drinking yourself into a panicked stupor. Here. Now."

"Okay. Right. I'll be there soon."

 

As had happened several times in the past Olive had cried herself parched on his shoulder - a thinner, bonier shoulder than before, perhaps, but a reassuring presence all the same. She had then made tea and sat quietly as he dozed, trying not to drive herself crazy with speculation and worry. Elle was gone, but beyond that she didn't know anything, so assuming the worst was fatalistic. And all too easy to do.

Word, when it came, was of little comfort. Both Olive and Sam received apologetic emails the next day. She had to go home to Ohio for a few months, she had to quit the show and her job, she was very sorry. No mention of she and Olive, of what had been beginning between them, no forwarding address or home phone number. Just a resignation and an apology.

Olive had sent replies, of course. She had tried to keep them short, carefully worded, not too desperate, but she couldn't help asking - why? was it something I did? - and apologising, over and over. Eventually when no further communication came she had to admit that perhaps she was never going to get an answer, as frustrating and heart-breaking as that was.

So, as a healthy alternative to contemplating her apocalyptic love life and Sam's declining health she threw herself into her work in the final run-up to previews and hopefully their big opening night. Luckily Daisy seemed inclined to behave herself, which was good, since with her understudy gone and only a few weeks to go there wasn't much to do about a replacement if one was needed.

By the opening night of previews, Olive felt a lot more focussed than she had in a very long time. She also felt a lot lonelier, but then, maybe that just went with the territory.

Things were as ready as they could be, under the circumstances, and it was with grim satisfaction that she stood in the back as the overture rolled out over the audience and the curtain lifted. You made this happen. For better or for worse, you know who you can rely on from now on.

 

...all-in-all, there are still some kinks to work with the pacing, and Miller's score is a little flabby in places, but What You Will has the makings of something truly great. See it now so you can say you were there.

Elle closed the window, sitting back with a sigh and slumping back against the headboard she had leaned against most of her young life, sitting up reading, listening to music, surfing the internet well into the night, left largely to her own devices by parents who loved her dearly but were never sure quite what to do with their strange, serious, precocious child.

Well. It happened. It opened without you. You made it happen.

It should've made it all worth it, knowing her sacrifice had worked and the play had gone off, in the end, but somehow the victory seemed flat. She had known she was bound to come across some bullies in New York, self-important theatre people who liked to throw their weight around and intimidate younger, more vulnerable newcomers, but she had never seen herself as their victim. Until now.

Would Daisy go on to torture more young choristers? She didn't have a history of it - her persecution of Elle had been short-lived and pointed and not really anything to do with the show in the end. She was reasonably sure she hadn't been directly responsible, through her silence, for more hapless chorus members like her being dominated and bullied by the older star.

But I lost Olive. She could have got another job - hell, she could have got another career; she was already very well-regarded in her new position as a copy-editor at the local newspaper. She was pretty sure there would never be another Olive. That had been a one-time thing.

She still had the other woman's emails saved in a special folder, and when it was really late at night and she was feeling especially maudlin she liked to torture herself with them, reading them over and over and composing replies in her head that ranged from dramatic to heartfelt, none of which she could actually send, of course, in case somehow Daisy got wind of them.

In her darkest moments, she thought about dying - not killing herself; Elle was far too practical and far too sensible and, well, frankly, just not really depressed enough for such a consideration. But she did think about some ill fate befalling her - a road accident, some freak occurrence that removed her from the situation entirely.

Mostly, though, she thought about sleep. She slept as often as she could for as long as she could, as though catching up for the years of good nights' sleep she missed in the city. Her greatest wish was that she could just fall asleep and wake up months from now, refreshed and healed.

 

The show was Broadway-bound - there was no question of that. The question was whether Sam was going to live to see it open there. He was in and out of the hospital regularly now, and it was only Olive's now more flexible schedule that allowed him any time at home as she dedicated most of her days to looking after him, with the help of the hospice care nurses who regularly came by to monitor him.

This meant, of course, that when she did make it into rehearsals it was both a respite and an added stress, and she was torn between keeping her tightly-wound nerves at bay and trying to catch a nap on one of the couches in the break room whenever she could.

Daisy, at least, had been better. There was no question that the improvement in her conduct had correlated with Elle's exit from their lives, a fact that had rankled at first, but in the longer term the easing of that particular strain had been welcome and recently they had even returned to more cordial, or a least civil, discourse. Whatever their history Daisy knew her well, and was clearly becoming aware that there was something going on with Sam, and though she hadn't pressed for more details, she was most certainly wearing kid gloves around Olive.

Crying in the bathrooms wasn't a habit Olive had meant to pick up, but somewhere along the line it had happened - periodically her emotions would overwhelm her and she would lock herself in one of the stalls and weep until she could get herself together again. Normally she picked times when most people were busy with dance rehearsals or, like today, when she thought everybody had gone home for the afternoon and she was alone.

It was only when she heard the door swing open that she realised she was mistaken, and she hurriedly pulled off a few pieces of tissue paper, dabbing her eyes as whoever it was turned the faucet on and kept it running, the quiet sloshing sounds indicating that they - presumably she - was washing her hands and splashing her face.

Seconds stretched out and Olive realised that she could be trapped in there for quite some time - it was probably for the best if she just faced whoever it was head on. Taking a few deep breaths, she flushed the tissues and then opened the stall door, coming face to face with--

"Daisy. What in the world are you doing here?"

The other woman looked a little pained. "Waiting for you to come out?" she ventured.

"Well, you've smoked me out. What can I do for you?" she asked, stepping up to the sink and turning it on, under the pretence that she had actually being using the toilet, not just hiding in it.

"If you want to talk about Sam, I'm here." Daisy paused. "I know there's something, and I know... that it must be serious. I just..." She gave a long, rather shaky sigh. "I know we're not... friends. Any more. Or anything. But if you need someone."

I do need someone. I need Elle. Olive gave a tight smile, running her hands under the water and then reaching for a paper towel. "Thanks. That's very thoughtful."

"I'm really sorry," Daisy said then. "I mean. For everything. All the trouble I've caused. I swear I'm over it now."

"Daisy, it's fine."

"It's not. But..." Daisy smiled tightly, nodded. "Sorry," she said, "sorry, I wasn't going to make this about me, I'm gonna... go. But honestly. If you ever want to talk. It would be the least I could do."

"Do you have time for a drink?" Honestly, Daisy was one of the last people she wanted to talk to, but she needed to talk to someone and she didn't know if she could do it without alcohol.

"Um. Sure."

 

It was the same old bar and the same old clientele, but it still felt strange to be here - Olive couldn't remember the last time she'd been out for a drink that wasn't some ridiculous party or benefit or publicity occasion. Actually, she could - the night she and Elle had gone out with some of the other cast, the night Elle had overheard her on the phone and they had shared a moment in the bathroom.

"...live? Um, hello?"

Olive looked up to find Daisy staring at her; she gave a guilty smile. "Sorry, got caught up in a daydream."

"I was just asking what you wanted to drink. I'll get the first round."

"A G&T, I guess. Long."

"You got it," the other woman said with a tight smile. Soon enough, she was returning to the booth Olive had found with her drink, as requested, and a glass of red wine for herself.

"Thanks." Now that they were actually sitting there, face to face with one another in the booth, Olive couldn't remember why she had invited Daisy out. You need to talk, remember? You can't keep it all bottle up inside forever. "I, um. I guess you've probably noticed Sam's not been around very much."

Daisy nodded slowly. "And that when he is around he... doesn't look great. No one's said anything, but..."

"Yeah. He's sick. And getting sicker. It's..." Olive trailed off, barely able to give voice to the word. "Cancer. He's got cancer."

"Jesus." Daisy clearly wasn't surprised by this news, but it didn't make it any less upsetting to hear. For all that she and Sam had never seen eye-to-eye, she had known him as as long as Olive and he had, and worked with him - quite successfully in most cases - on numerous occasions. "Olive, I'm so sorry."

Olive shook her head, clearly not wanting - or ready for - such sympathy. "He didn't want people to know, didn't want their pity, but now... I'm going to have to start telling people, if they're going to have the chance to see him before... before he's gone."

"Fuck." The colour had drained from Daisy's face, and Olive was surprised and thoroughly thrown to see that the other woman's eyes had filled with tears. "Fuck, Olive..." She brought her hand up to cover her mouth briefly, fingers balling into a fist as though she was trying to hold her next words in. When she did speak, what she said was completely unexpected. "Elle Parker. She knew, didn't she."

"What?" Olive blinked. "I mean... she did, yes, but I don't know how you heard about that..."

"I didn't, I just... Fuck..." Daisy actually dropped her face into her hands now, her tone one of sudden, dreadful realisation. She mumbled something that Olive didn't hear, then lifted her head to say it again. "I swear that I didn't know. What I did... I would never have done it if I'd known, she was right about that."

"What do you mean, what you did? What did you do, Daisy?" Olive asked, unable to keep her voice from growing higher, more pinched.

"You're going to hate me." It wasn't even an entreaty, just a statement of fact. "I told Elle that Hunter was thinking of pulling funding. God, even at the time, I remember she told me, she said I wouldn't if I knew all the facts but I thought... I don't know what I thought."

"Wait, when was this?"

Daisy swallowed, finally meeting Olive's eyes, her own pleading, bright. "I just couldn't bear watching the two of you, seeing what I'd lost, what I'd fucked up. I thought, with her gone..."

"You drove her away?" Olive realised she was gripping her glass tight enough that she worried about it shattering, and peeled her hand off it slowly. "You're the reason she left?"

"She said... she wanted a promise I wouldn't leave, wouldn't take Hunter's money, she offered, and I..." At length, Daisy nodded. "I took her up on it. Yes. Jesus, Olive, I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking about anyone but myself, it was completely wrong, I know that now, and I-"

"Jesus Christ! I knew you were twisted, Daisy, but I had no idea -- do you even realise what you've done? The one person I had to confide in, who made me feel better about my best friend dying and the enormous amount of stress I'm under, and you drove her away because you were jealous. Fuck, I can't even... what is wrong with you?"

"I know. I know - but she was right - if I'd known about Sam I swear I'd've never-"

"What, it takes someone dying to get you to act like a decent human being? Fuck!" Olive downed the rest of her drink in several gulps, feeling her head begin to pound. "I quit."

"No, no, God, no, Olive, don't - listen, if anyone should quit it should be me," Daisy said, trying to bodily block Olive's exit from the booth, her words spilling out at speed. "You can audition for replacements, I'll step down, I'll make sure Hunter keeps his money in, I'll do whatever it takes, I swear. Don't let what I did ruin this for Sam."

"The show will go on without me."

"Not how it should. Please, Olive - at least just take a break 'til I've been recast."

Olive resisted the urge to throw her glass at Daisy - now that it was empty it would probably count as aggravated assault. "I can't talk about this with you right now. Get out of my way, please."

Daisy said nothing, her expression still imploring, but she did move aside and let Olive past.

Elle. I have to get in touch with Elle. "Stay away from Sam. And me," she instructed the other woman brusquely. "I'll talk to you when I'm ready."

"I..." Daisy broke off, perhaps sensing that there was little point in her trying to say anything, even a good bye, and then Olive was gone.

As she emerged onto the street her first act was to pull out her phone - half-thinking that she would phone or text or email Elle then and there, but the thought was put out of her mind by a missed call from Sam's home phone and, more worryingly, a text informing her she had voicemail - something Sam never left.

"Hi Olive, it's Nancy here." The carer sounded distinctly less cheerful than usual, her voice carefully modulated. "Sam had another turn this afternoon. His blood pressure dropped dangerously low and we've taken him into [hospital]. He lost consciousness and I'm afraid he hasn't woken up yet. If you could give me a call on..."

"Fuck." Breaking into the fastest limp she could, Olive waved her cane for a taxi. Calling Elle was going to have to wait.

 

Sam never woke back up.

It had been peaceful, at least, in the end. He'd slipped unconscious sitting writing on the couch, apparently - trying to cut some of the 'flab' out of his orchestration, it looked like, and... that was it. First unconscious, then a coma, and then he was gone. Olive knew she should be relieved; his pain had been getting worse and worse and she had become more and more worried he was going to die in agony or barely aware of his surroundings.

Of course, she couldn't help but think back to their last conversation, just that morning, before she headed in for rehearsals for the day. It had been a thankfully lucid patch, and they had joked around as if nothing was amiss before she had gathered her things up to go. Their parting had been nothing remarkable - 'I'll be back later'/'You know I'll be here' - and yet Olive couldn't think about it without crying. She couldn't do anything without crying any more.

The show shut down, of course, with no word on whether it would ever reopen. It was generally known that Daisy, Olive, or perhaps both were leaving the production, though no one had any idea why (although of course there were plenty of guesses).

There was still so much to do, and to her horror Olive found herself unable to cope with all the responsibilities of sorting through Sam's estates and finances. She sat dully though meetings with accountants and lawyers, barely hearing a word they droned at her and returning to his apartment only to break down into tears again - not only for Sam, but for her own life, crumbling down around her.

There had been a small funeral and there would be a large memorial. Unable to face organising the latter herself, she allowed one of her 'showbiz friends' to step in - Grayson Kind, who, as his name suggested, was a sweetnatured man who had been their producer on High and Low and was one of the few exes Sam had spoken about fondly.

So she would have to go to that, but until then she thought she had earned a good hermiting. The days and nights seemed to melt into one long dazed and drunken stretch - for she started drinking earlier and earlier every day just to get through it.

 

Such it was that on the day of the memorial she was monstrously hungover, though since everyone was in dark glasses anyway she fit right in.

It was like being at the Tonys - the hall was filled with Broadway greats, from actors to composers and everyone in between. Sam had been a popular man and his death had come as a shock to most, and there were more than a few people already dabbing at their eyes as the music - Sam's music - died down and Grayson stood up to speak.

Olive was sitting in the midst of the crowd, surrounded on all sides, but she felt completely alone. Everybody was looking at her, she knew, and plenty of people had reached for her arm and offered their condolences as she had made her way to her seat, but all the same she was alone in the sea of people, alone with her overwhelming sadness and grief. When the time came for Olive's turn to speak, she walked in a trance up to the podium, barely registering anything, her little speech clutched in her hand.

"I, um. I just wanted to say thank you, first of all, to everybody who's come today. It's a testament to Sam that he had so many friends and loved ones, and I'm sure he would be thrilled to know you all came out today-" her words caught in her throat for a moment, "to remember him."

And so on, and so forth. Olive meant every word that she'd written, but even then it was hard to stay... 'present' for all of it, part of her separating away, protecting itself in a quiet cocoon while her voice droned on. She could hear several people in the audience start to weep during her speech, but she stayed dry-eyed, reading through her speech like she had a dozen times before at various awards shows. It was only when she reached the end and glanced to one side, looking for Sam, her partner in crime, that she felt the hot tears began to prick her eyes, and she had to hurry off the stage in order not to embarrass herself entirely.

There was a 'wake' of sorts after the memorial. Olive didn't want to go, but Grayson wouldn't hear otherwise, insisting she 'at least come for one'. At least the hair of the dog might make the pounding in her head go away, she reasoned, trailing after him to the makeshift bar that had been set up next door to the hall.

"This is really nice. Thanks for... doing all this," she told Grayson when they had both retrieved their drinks and settled themselves near one of the tables scattered around the room. "It's good everybody's getting a chance to... say good bye."

Kind shook his head. "It's the least I could do. Well. Almost the least." He hesitated, then ploughed on. "Olive, I heard on the grapevine that you're thinking of pulling out of What You Will altogether. Which I totally understand," he added, "of course you are, and you should, at least for a while, if you need to. But let me take up the reins while you gather your thoughts. I'm no director, but I can keep things ticking over, sign stuff, do all that boring organise-y stuff that just can't be put aside and ignored."

"Grayson, I don't know, I don't know if I want the spectre of that hanging over me," she said with a shake of her head. "That show has a lot of memories for me, not of all of them good."

He tipped his head to the side, frowning sympathetically. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. But just... think about it, yeah?" He reached to pat her hand. "The offer's there."

Olive managed a tight smile at this. "Yeah. Thanks. I'll think about it."

"All right." Grayson nodded, smiled in return. "All right. Well. I'll, uh, leave you to it," he said, standing as some other 'old friends' were approaching the table to give their condolences.

"Thanks..." Olive took a deep breath, swigging her drink and nodding to the newcomers. "Hey, thanks for being here..."

 

"Ms Ramirez, there's-"

"In the morning, Paul."

"But-"

"Tomorrow."

The metal wall of the elevator was cooling on Olive's face as she leaned against it, her head swimming as she hobbled out into the hallway toward her apartment. She hadn't had very much to drink, but it had been more than enough under the circumstances.

All she wanted to do was make it back to her apartment and crawl into bed, possibly forever, so when the figure in front of her door entered her field of vision she was perhaps more curt than she would otherwise normally be. "Whoever you are, this isn't a good time. Kindly fuck off."

Slowly, the person - who'd been sitting on the floor in the doorway, straightened to their feet. From off down the hall and with their face turned partly away, a tall, lithe frame and a knitted hat pulled down right over their hair and ears it was hard to tell whether they were male or female, at first - until, of course, they spoke, tone tentative, wry.

"Don't suppose I could at least wait inside for a taxi then?"

"Elle?" Olive stopped in her tracks for a moment before rushing forward; up close of course it was hard for her to mistake the young woman for anybody else and Olive's heart lifted in a hopeful flutter. "What are you doing here?"

"I, um." Elle smiled shakily, shaking her head. "There are like three different answers to that question," she said.

"God, I missed you so much... shit, I'm sorry, let me let you inside." She fumbled with her keys, unable to concentrate in her distraction, though eventually she got them into the lock and let them inside, turning to face the other woman as soon as the door had closed behind them. "Elle, I'm so sorry, I meant to call you, or email, I just... it's been a really bad time lately, I should've gotten in tou-"

Her words were broken off rather suddenly as Elle stepped forward to enfold Olive in a tight hug. Olive gave a small gasp of surprise, though of course she didn't pull away, leaning into the embrace and wrapping her own arms around Elle like she had just been thrown a lifeline.

"I'm so sorry I didn't come earlier," Elle murmured. "I wanted to, but I was scared that you hated me. I didn't want to make everything worse."

"God, Elle, no, I don't hate you," Olive replied with a shake of her head, still hugging her close. "I'm so glad you're here. So glad. I missed you so much."

"I wish I had been here - for everything. I'm so sorry."

"No, no, don't be. Elle, I talked to Daisy, and she told me... some of what happened." Olive pulled away, her expression uncertain. "I thought... god, the more I thought about it the more I thought she must be making it up, that it couldn't have happened that way. Please tell me it didn't."

Elle shook her head. "I don't know what she said, so I can't say. Anyway, it's not important. It was Daisy who got in touch with me in the end, urged me to come out when I didn't at first. I mean, I heard about Sam, obviously, and I wanted to, but I thought... and then she found me, said I should, so..." She shrugged, reaching to stroke a hand tentatively across Olive's cheek. "I dunno. It's not important any more. Or at least not right now."

"God, I missed you," Olive said again, the ever-present threat of tears making her eyes bright and hot. "Everything's been... shit, since you left. I'm so glad you're here."

Elle's hand found hers, now. "Come sit down," she said. "I'll make us some tea."

Somehow it seemed simple; Olive nodded and allowed herself to be lead to the couch, which she sank down onto obediently, letting go of Elle's hand so the other woman could disappear into the kitchen. She realised she was operating in something of a state of shock; things seemed fuzzy, muted, and she wondered for a moment if she could be hallucinating everything, having gone crazy from grief and insomnia.

Soon enough, though, Elle was back with their very real herbal teas, sitting down beside her, passing across her mug. Olive wrapped her hands around the mug, though it was still incredibly hot, but at least the heat woke her up a little. This didn't come with something to say, however, and she merely stared at the other woman for a long moment, taking in her features, her bearing, the little details she had begun to forget. Elle seemed scarcely less transfixed, her gaze rarely leaving Olive, roaming across her as though trying to recommit her to memory, to remind herself of every little detail.

"So you know about Sam," Olive said eventually, wanting to banish at least one of the elephants in the room.

"Of course." It had been everywhere - well, all the sorts of places Elle looked. "It must have been a shock. It sounds like... Well. It sounds as though it was quite sudden, in the end."

"Mm. He just sort of... slipped away." Olive found herself unable to look up from her mug. "I guess it was for the best."

"Were you there?"

"Um, yeah. He wasn't alone."

"Good."

"Mm."

"Olive..." Elle tried now. "I don't want you to think, by my coming back here..." She hesitated, then ploughed on. "I don't want you to feel pressured, to feel like we have to pick things back up where they left off. I'm here for you. I'm not here to demand anything from you. If we've missed our chance... that's okay."

The other woman looked up quickly, several emotions flashing over her features in quick succession. "I, um. I don't want to have missed our chance. I feel like we hardly had one, before."

A flicker of hope crossed Elle's face, and she reached to touch her hand to Olive's leg. "I don't either. But... I just want you to know, that's not why I'm here now. I'm here to be someone you can lean on, for as long as you need me. No obligations, no expectations."

Olive nodded slowly, her hand covering Elle's, grasping it tightly. "I'm... I'm kind of a mess right now, Elle. I don't want to put you through that, and I don't think..." She paused for a moment to take a deep breath and gather herself. "I don't think it would be the best time to pick up where we left off. But if you can be patient, and wait for me to get my shit together... then I'd really like to give it another try."

Elle shot her a brave smile. "Check on waiting, and on being patient. But I'm afraid that's a no-go on not putting me through this. I'm not going anywhere, not while you need me."

"God, you're like some sort of angel," Olive said, swallowing heavily. "What did I do to deserve you?"

There was really nothing Elle could say in answer to this. She withdrew her hand gently from beneath Olive's to bring her mug once more to her lips, before asking. "Um. That being said, I know this is an imposition but... I don't suppose you have a spare room I could use for a little bit? Or, I mean, just this couch would be fine if you didn't mind..."

"Oh, um. I don't have a spare room - you know what rent is like here - but I couldn't make you sleep on the couch. Not that you wouldn't be more than welcome to, it's not that I don't want you here," she hurried to say.

"This couch is more comfortable than half the beds I've slept in over the years," Elle said. "Honestly, it would be perfect, if it was okay with you. It's okay if not - Lyle will be happy to have me on his floor, I'm sure. I just... thought it'd be nice to stay close," she finished carefully. Was she starting to get an idea of just how comprehensively Olive was falling apart right now?

Well, she's seen your kitchen and the charming collection of empty bottles and lack of any real food, so... Olive nodded, grimacing a little as she realised how lonely and isolated she had let herself become over the past few weeks. "Sure. I mean, of course, if you don't mind, you're welcome to stay here. I knew I should've gotten one of those ugly IKEA sofabeds..."

"This will be fine. Really," Elle insisted. Really, I'll be near you, and that will be fine.

"Okay. Well. That's settled, then."

 

Elle had a bag with her - Olive hadn't even noticed it before despite it being a sizeable duffel bag - so there was nothing to stop them from simply preparing for bed, but in spite of the late hour they found that neither of them were quite ready to go yet, to stop just... being together in the same room for the first time in months.

They sat side-by-side on the couch, their mugs long since emptied and set on the floor out of the way. Slowly Olive seemed to edge closer, and closer, until she was shoulder to shoulder with the other woman, drawn to her warmth, her scent, her presence.

It seemed only natural, then, that Elle should turn to slip a strong arm around her, pulling her closer. Olive leaned into her with a shuddering sigh, nearly letting out a sob then and there, and Elle hugged her properly, arms enfolding her. Olive closed her eyes tightly, blocking out everything that wasn't Elle, concentrating on the comfort and reassurance she was providing merely by being there. She came all this way just for me. How do you even begin to thank someone for something like that?

There they sat - half lay, really - for some time, Olive leaned into Elle, the younger woman's hands smoothing gently across her arm on her far side, her breathing slow and steady and innately calming. Eventually the tears started - Olive didn't even realise it until Elle shifted, pulling a packet of tissues out of her pocket and offering them to the older woman. She mumbled her thanks and dabbed at her eyes and cheeks, wondering if there would come a time when she would just dry up. Elle held her in silence, not even murmuring the usual platitudes, just letting her cry.

Olive wasn't sure how long she lay there, but after some time the tears abated and and she sat up, rubbing a hand across her face. "We should probably think about bed," she mumbled. "I'll get some blankets for you..."

"Mm. I mean, yeah, thanks," Elle said with a nod. "I mean, you could just point the way and I'll sort myself out."

"Oh. They're just in the hall cupboard. Take as many as you like."

"Great. Okay." Elle nodded again and pushed to her feet. "I'll go get sorted out, then."

"Mm... sure."

Olive was still sitting on the sofa when Elle returned with an armful of blankets. She glanced up at the other woman as if just seeing her there for the first time. "Oh, sorry. I should... go get ready for bed."

Elle hesitated, unsure what to do with this new, lose Olive, so like the woman she knew and yet completely unlike her. "Just whenever you're ready," she said. "I'm not too tired if you'd rather stay up a while."

"Hm? Oh, no, it's okay." Olive pushed herself up from the sofa with a sigh. "Is there anything else you need?"

"Just use of the bathroom in a couple - I'll go when you're done," Elle said with an on-and-off-again smile. "Is there... anything you need?"

Just you. "Um, no. Actually, some water. I'm a bit... drained."

"I'll get it while you're washing up," Elle said with a nod, dumping her blankets on the couch and beginning to make something of a bed there.

"'Kay." With that, Olive turned and limped towards her room, feeling odd turning her back on the other woman but knowing that she wouldn't be good for much of anything if she didn't try and get some sleep.

She was soon settling into bed, and heard the sounds of Elle brushing her teeth and splashing water on her face, apparently having opted to wash up for bed herself before fetching the water. She appeared at Olive's ajar bedroom door with a knock a few minutes later, clad in pyjama bottoms and a worn show teeshirt, glass of water in hand. Olive pushed herself up, gesturing for Elle to enter.

"Thank you so much," she murmured, setting the glass aside before reaching out to take Elle's hands and tug her closer to the bed. "You're incredible, Elle."

Elle smiled shyly, shook her head. "I just want to help," she said, giving Olive's hands a squeeze. "I want to make things better, however I can."

"You do, just by being here."

The smile widened slightly. "Olive, the sofa's great and I've made it up now. But if you decide you... want company... I can do that. I mean. Just for cuddles. No funny stuff. I promise."

"Oh, um." Olive had to keep herself from replying too quickly. "Company would be nice."

The other woman nodded - Olive realised this must have been why she opted to brush her teeth and wash her face before rather than after fetching the water, for the light was already off out in the main room, and so Elle could just round the bed and climb in the other side. Olive immediately turned over, hands sliding under the blankets to clasp Elle's as she settled on her side of the bed.

"Where did you go, when you left?" she murmured. "Home?"

Elle nodded. "To live with my dad," she said.

"How is he? Your father."

"Well." A pause. "Sad. He's sad. But that's normal. He's fine."

Olive nodded - she could well understand how sad could become normal. She didn't know how it could be fine, though. "I'm sure he was glad to see you."

"Yeah, he was, actually," Elle said with a slight smile. "It was good to catch up with him again, reconnect, I guess. We never really... I mean, we didn't not get on, but I don't think we really understood each other very well, when I was younger."

"No?" Olive was moving closer, letting go of Elle's hands only to slide an arm over her waist. "How come?"

"I just wasn't really anything like him or mom," Elle said, shifting to slip an arm beneath the crook of Olive's neck as she drew near. "Even though I was pretty serious then I was always artistic, creative - they were both really... ordinary, I guess. They always supported me but they didn't really understand what I was about."

"You are extraordinary," Olive agreed, resting her head with a sigh on Elle's pillow. "It's not surprising they found it hard to relate."

"I wouldn't go that far," Elle said with a chuckle. "But it was okay. They always loved me, that was enough."

Olive nodded her understanding, closing her eyes and stroking her fingers lightly over Elle's side. Nothing had changed, really - Sam was still dead, the show was still up in the air, she was still a wreck - and yet everything felt different with Elle there. Maybe there is a light at the end of the tunnel after all.

Elle smiled, then leaned down and kissed Olive's forehead before shifting into a more comfortable position, making sure her arm wasn't going to fall asleep while trapped beneath Olive, clearly readying for sleep. It had been a long, gruelling day, and while she had had her share of sleepless nights Olive could already feel the heavy curtain start to descend. "G'night," she mumbled, eyelids drooping shut.

"Night."

 

It was late when Olive woke the next day; she could see the light streaming in through cracks in the curtains, throwing strange shapes on the floor. To her initial disappointment she found that she was in bed alone, the mattress beside her cool enough to indicate that Elle had been gone some time, but as her senses returned to her the scent of freshly made coffee wafted through to her and, on the back of that, the irresistible smell of cooking bacon.

Olive couldn't remember the last time she actually felt hungry. but as she lay in bed she could feel her stomach twist, and then give a grumble, as if her appetite had been summoned by the aroma of breakfast.

She emerged into the main room a few minutes later wrapped in a plush robe, her short bob ruffled and wavy from sleep.

Elle must not have heard her, for she didn't emerge from the kitchen until the coffee was ready, bringing the pot through and blinking in mild surprise to find Olive in there, though she quickly recovered and gave the woman a genuine, if careful, smile of greeting. "Morning," she said. "Just."

"Morning." Olive's smile looked pretty ghastly but she offered it anyway. "Something smells good."

"Ah, yeah, that's me," Elle said. "But also I made bacon."

It took Olive a moment to get the joke; belatedly she gave a dry laugh, shoving her hands in the pocket of her robe. "You should try standup, if you haven't already."

"I have not." Elle paused. "And will not. But thank you. Coffee?"

"I'll take a gallon."

 

The bacon came with eggs ('I didn't have time to make pancakes, sorry') and at that moment might have been the best thing Olive had tasted in weeks. She ate two servings and washed them down with several cups of strong black coffee, feeling more human by the mouthful. By the time she finished the meal she had begun to realise what a state she was in - holey t-shirt, stained robe, bird's nest for hair - and suddenly couldn't wait to get out from under Elle's watchful gaze. Elle, of course, seemed entirely unperturbed by Olive's appearance, merely attentive and caring to a fault.

"...do you have any plans for the day?" Olive asked eventually, combing her fingers through her hair and wincing as she realised they were probably covered in bacon grease.

The younger woman shook her head. "No one knows I'm in town yet. I'm all yours until I go public."

"Are you sure you don't want to see your friends? You must have missed them.."

"I did," she said, "but they can wait. It's not why I'm here."

Olive gave a lopsided smile. "I'm fully aware I'm not the best company right now, Elle. You don't have to feel obligated to hang around me all day."

"I, um..." Elle chuckled. "Nevermind," she said, shaking her head.

"No, what?" Olive asked, eager to find something to occupy the young woman so that she didn't grow bored and leave within the week.

"I just... Olive, I could sit and just look at you all day. I know that probably sounds creepy, but... I missed you so badly. If you want peace and quiet, I'll go. But there's nothing I want more than to be with you."

"Oh. I... I don't want you to go, either," Olive admitted, "but you have to promise that if you get bored or you want to do something else you will, okay?"

"Never happen," Elle said. "But I promise."

"Okay. Well, if you're going to stare at me all day I should probably have a shower. I'm a mess."

"You really are," the other woman said with a fond chuckle. "Right, well, you go do that - I'm gonna clear up from breakfast."

Olive nodded; she knew she should refuse the other woman's help, but frankly, even after the breakfast and coffee she wasn't sure if she had the energy. Just get in the shower, put some clean clothes on, and then you can see if you still have it in you to be a functional human being. Okay? Okay. "Thanks."

 

By the time she was out of the shower, dried and dressed, Olive felt a little more human, and breakfast had been completely cleared and tidied away. "Okay if I jump in too?" Elle asked as she emerged from the kitchen, her teeshirt rather splashed from water - though most of the dishes had just done in the dishwasher she'd washed up the frying pan and the more fragile items in the sink.

"Of course. I've put out a clean towel for you in there. Take as long as you like."

Elle disappeared, and for the first time since the previous night, Olive was left alone.

At first she tried to tidy up the apartment, though there wasn't actually that much mess, just a few pieces of mail scattered about the place. She then took a seat on the sofa, sighing as she thought back on the past twenty-four hours.

What would she have done if she had returned home after Sam's wake alone? Cried to herself? Gotten drunk? Or something darker? It seemed horrible to think on it now, in the light of day with a full stomach and freshly-washed hair, but she knew deep down that the previous night could have well gone very differently if it hadn't been for Elle arriving when she had.

Elle reappeared soon enough, jeans-and-teeshirt clad, still barefoot and drying her hair with a towel as she entered the lounge, shooting Olive that same careful smile. "So," she said. "I know I said I'd stick around all day today, but after a look in your fridge this morning I'm thinking maybe some grocery shopping should feature in somehow. You can come along, or I'll go myself, up to you."

"Oh... you shouldn't have to do that for me. I just let it fall behind a bit..." Olive grimaced; both she and Elle knew that wasn't exactly the truth. "I'll go, but you can come if you like. But you don't have to."

"Let's go together."

Olive nodded, then pushed herself up off the couch, padding over to where Elle stood, drying her hair. Without another word she wrapped her arms around the young woman's waist and leaned in, resting a cheek on her shoulder. "Thank you."

Elle wrapped an arm around her in return, the other taking a moment to toss the towel aside before joining the first. "Hey. No problem. Seriously."

"I wish I could just pull myself together, so you didn't have to see me like this..."

"Honestly I'm just happy to be seeing you. It'll get better again. I promise."

"Yeah. I hope so." Olive sighed and let herself luxuriate in the embrace for a moment longer before pulling back. "I'll go get my stuff together and then we can go?"

"Sounds great."

 

The nearest proper supermarket was several blocks away; Olive would've just gotten a taxi, but Elle remarked on the nice weather - which it was - and suggested they walk there, at least, to which Olive agreed for lack of a good reason not to, besides not wanting to be seen by, well, people. The market itself was mercifully quiet, their path around it largely unhindered by other shoppers as Elle pushed the cart ahead of them, mentally keeping track of meals for the next few days as they went. Olive noticed that she seemed to be assume that she would be around for these meals, which filled her with both relief and anticipation - maybe by then she would be feeling better and more able to offer Elle what she deserved.

They caught a taxi home, laden down with too many bags to make the walk comfortable, and the rest of the afternoon was taken up with putting things away and cleaning the old takeout boxes and rotten vegetables, much to Olive's chagrin. Elle also wordlessly loaded a few reusable grocery bags with empty bottles and disappeared off with them, presumably to the nearest bottle bank, though she said nothing about it and nor did Olive.

While she was gone Olive tried to make the apartment seem a bit more homey, though really all she did was open the curtains and windows to air out the place a bit and turn on some music before sinking down onto the couch, exhausted. She didn't even realise she'd fallen back asleep until she woke to the sensation of Elle sitting down beside her, hand slipping into hers.

"No more work today, I promise," she said.

"That was hardly work; I'm just pathetic," she said, leaning gratefully against the other woman.

"Still, pathetic or not, you did well," Elle said, squeezing her hand.

"At food shopping. I don't even know why I'm tired, I must've slept for twelve hours last night..."

"Maybe you've got some catching up to do," the younger woman suggested gently. "I'm glad," she added. "That you slept."

"I hope it wasn't too uncomfortable for you. I know I was pretty... clingy." Olive looked somewhat embarrassed, though she didn't promise not to do it again.

Elle shook her head. "That is not a problem," she said with a wry smile.

"Well, good," Olive said, moving closer, resting her head on the other woman's shoulder, "because I missed you, and it's nice to be close to you now."

With a sigh that was at once pensive and content, Elle turned and pressed her lips lightly, briefly, to Olive's hair. "I missed you too," she returned, not for the first time that day. "I'm so sorry that I left. At the time it just seemed like the only thing to do."

"No, no, Elle, I wasn't trying to make you feel bad. What you did... well, it was incredibly selfless and frankly, amazing. You don't have anything to be sorry about."

"Mm. Well. Still. I should have come back sooner. I did want to."

"You came back at just the right time," Olive murmured, squeezing Elle's hand. "Trust me."

"I'm glad."

 

They ended up watching TV for most of the late afternoon and evening - not normally a passtime that Olive indulged in, but it filled the space and gave them something to do, so on it went. It wasn't that things were awkward between them; on the contrary, they were surprisingly comfortable, but both women knew there were things they weren't talking about, and Olive, at least, wasn't ready to broach them quite yet.

Elle made a simple pasta dish for dinner, which they ate with water to drink, and Olive was given cause to ponder how long it had been that she had gone a day without alcohol. When bedtime rolled around, Elle didn't even bother making up the sofa.

Soon they were slipping under the sheets together, though Olive refrained from immediately curling up against Elle, wanting to prove that she was in some ways still a functioning human being. She rested her head on her pillow, staring intently at the other woman, resisting the urge to pinch herself to prove she wasn't dreaming.

"So. Um. G'night, I s'pose?" Elle murmured at length with a sheepish smile.

"Mm. Yes, sorry, I mean, yeah, good night," Olive said, cheeks burning. "I'll try not to sleep so late tomorrow. If you want to set an alarm I can..."

"Olive..." Tentatively, Elle reached out a hand to stroke the other woman's cheek, her hazel eyes filled with nothing but sympathy and, rather more intimidatingly, adoration. "We're on your schedule here. Across the board."

"Seeing as I seem to have completely lost track of my calendar I really don't know if I should be making the schedule here," Olive said nervously. "It's probably a bad idea."

"Tough," Elle said in a kind tone, reaching for Olive's hand. "Maybe you beginning to remember what day it is again is part of the plan."

"If I remember what day it is then I have to remember all the things I have to do on that day," she said, feeling her pulse jump anxiously. "And all the things I've missed doing."

Elle nodded a little. "I know," she said, fingers tightening around Olive's hand. "Take your time."

"Mm." Now Olive did move closer, burying her face in Elle's neck as she felt the tears well up in her eyes. She had made it through the whole day without crying - well, except for a few times on the couch at particularly heart-wrenching commercials - but it seemed she wasn't going to escape without at least one breakdown. Elle's arms wrapped around her; she held her in silence, without so much as a murmured of sympathy, hands smoothing up and down her back as she waited for her to either gather herself together or fall apart completely.

With the combination of deep, carefully placed breaths and Elle's strong arms around her Olive eventually got herself under control, though she only pulled back a little, still curled against the other woman. "Thank you," she murmured somewhat hoarsely. And then, "good night." She felt Elle's lips touch to her forehead, and then the other woman leaned across her a little to put out the bedside light before settling down, still wrapped around her protectively.

The next day Olive woke up a little earlier - it was still closer to lunch than breakfast time, but it was an improvement, right? To her surprise, she found that today, Elle was still in bed with her, though her sweet, minty breath on Olive's face betrayed that she had been up at some point and returned to bed afterward. This made cuddling up to her all the nicer, though of course a tiny voice in the back of Olive's brain reminded her that her own breath was not so fresh and sweet, and her hair was probably a state right now.

"Shut up," she muttered, screwing her eyes shut and slipping a leg between Elle's as she moved closer.

"Mph?" Elle's eyes fluttered open, meeting Olive's as she shifted closer, and she smiled tentatively. "Morning," she murmured.

"Morning. I, um... was just thinking out loud. Sorry."

"'Kay," Elle said - she'd only half-heard what Olive had said anyway. She leaned to kiss the other woman's cheek, arm slipping around her waist. "How're you feeling?"

"Mm... okay. Better than yesterday."

"Good. That's good."

"How did you sleep?"

"Pretty well. Thanks." Elle smiled slightly. "I feel kind of terrible, actually," she confessed. "I mean, I'm sad about everything that's happened, and I feel really bad for you, but I know that at the same time, I'm just so happy to be here with you. It's pretty awful."

"It's not awful. I'm glad that you're happy." Olive reached up to lightly stroke her fingers over Elle's cheek. "I'd hate to think you were miserable here. I'd have to send you away."

Elle smiled a little, but shook her head. "Unacceptable," she said. "I'm here to see you through this, remember?"

"Because you're an angel. I know."

"Because I love you." Elle blinked. "Shit, I..." She gave a wry smile, and shook her head, her cheeks reddening. "Olive, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that."

"You, um." Olive didn't have it in her to be overjoyed, exactly, but she did grin, swallowing heavily as she leaned in to bump her nose against the other woman's. "Wow. Didn't mean to say that because you've realised what a mess I am, or..."

"God, no, just... didn't want to lay all that on you at a time like this. It just slipped out - I guess I feel like I'm just saying it in my head, like, all the time, like on this constant loop in response to everything you say, and I guess I'm sleepy, and comfortable, and for a moment I just forgot that I... hadn't actually said it," she finished lamely.

"I'm glad you did. It means I can say it without sounding creepy. Or desperate."

Elle's eyes widened a little, and she pulled her lower lip between her teeth as she gazed in hope at the other woman.

"You're amazing, Elle. You are kind, and sweet, and talented, and generous..." Olive felt her throat tighten as she gazed at the other woman and fought to keep her voice steady. "And I'm so lucky you're here with me right now. And I love you for that, and a hundred other reasons."

Elle closed her eyes tightly, but they were still bright with tears when she opened them again. "Olive, I..." She gave a wry smile, and, words failing her, just leaned in to hug her tightly. Olive felt a wave of relief; she hadn't been thinking it as explicitly as Elle, perhaps, but now that she had said it she knew how true it was. I love her. And she's here with me. Things are going to be okay.

 

The next few days moved at once slowly and far too fast. That second day was the last one Elle let them sleep in, in spite of her assertions to the contrary - she didn't make Olive get up, but she herself rose from bed at half past nine and, Olive realised at length, made progressively more noise about the flat as the days passed so that by the fifth there was no staying in bed past ten even if she'd wanted to.

Olive spent as long as she could ignoring everything and everyone except Elle, but it became harder and harder not to see the neatly-stacked (and growing) pile of mail on the coffee table, and the post-it notes with phone messages scribbled on them that Elle stuck to the refrigerator door. Girding herself, she sat down one day and began to sort through her mail, pulling out the bills and legal letters from Sam's attorneys and discarding the catalogues and junk mail. The day after that she even worked up the nerve to turn on her computer and check her email, though she had to delete everything with the subject 'So sorry to hear...' or 'Condolences'. The last step was to call Kind and ask him, quite sheepishly, to take over the production for the time being. He was delighted, but knew better than to enquire further except to say:

"I, um. Took the liberty of doing a bit of a stock-take with your leads last week, actually," he said, sounding a little guilty. "You know Daisy's not coming back? I figured you'd be aware, but... d'you want me to start looking for a replacement?"

"Oh, I... I guess so, yeah. I mean. Yeah, I guess have a think about people. I... have one or two in mind, I'll send you an email."

"Great, that's great. How're you doing, Liv?"

"I'm... yeah, I'm okay," she said, and was amazed to find it was true. "Doing better."

"I'm really glad to hear that. Take care, okay? And I'll handle this for now, don't you worry - I'll let you know when we're ready to get rolling again, should only be a few days."

"Thanks, Grayson. You're a star."

 

Elle was back and forth from the apartment, sometimes along with Olive, and sometimes alone, fetching groceries, and in later days giving her 'a break from being stifled by me' by finally heading out to meet with Lyle and some other old friends.

They were overjoyed to see her, of course, welcoming her with open arms and free drinks and copious questions about where she had been and what had brought her back, but she fielded most with vague half-answers, not quite ready to talk about her situation, or about Olive.

Every evening, of course, she returned to Olive, and they climbed into bed together, sleeping side by side. In spite of their confessions of their feelings for one another they remained chaste, afraid to break the delicate balance they'd found, and keen that they not make any memories that would be forever tinged with the sadness of Tom's passing - any more than everything would be from now on ever, anyway.

Olive seemed to be improving steadily - spending time answering emails, rising at a decent hour, remembering to eat at regular meal times - though she was also increasingly distracted, staring for long minutes at Elle and brushing her daydreaming off with a 'nothing, nothing' whenever the young woman politely inquired.

Eventually it seemed she she reached some sort of decision, and one night after dinner she reached across the table, taking Elle's hands in her. "I need to ask you something, and I want you to take some time to consider it before answering me. Okay?"

"Um." Elle smiled nervously. "Okay..."

"I was talking to Grayson the other day, and he told me Daisy was leaving the show. I mean, I should've expected it, I half-fired her before, and she half-quit, so... anyway, anyway. We need a lead, and I want you to do it."

"You..." Elle's mouth opened and closed again. "I, um. Look, Olive, I'm not... I..."

"I just want you to think about it, okay? You don't have to tell me right now what your answer is," Olive said, frowning. "Just... think about it. You were so incredible during rehearsals, and I can't imagine anybody else in the role but you."

"I, um..." The young woman blinked. "Right. Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Then I'll do it." Elle shook her head. "No thinking required."

Olive blinked. "R-really?"

"Of course."

"Are you sure you want to come back to the theatre? I mean, don't get me wrong, I want you to, but I remember before, you said you weren't sure it was the life for you..."

"Doesn't matter. Viola is..." Elle smiled. "There's no part like it. If it's the last time I step on stage, it'll be to play her."

Olive squeezed her hands. "If you do this, you're going to be deluged with offers from other directors. It might be hard to get out then."

"Well, and maybe I'll decide I want to stay in showbiz after all. Or I won't, and I'll turn them all down."

"Okay. As long as you're sure you want this."

"I'm sure that if I said no, I would always wonder what it would have been like," Elle said. "I think that's sure enough."

"Okay. All right." Olive had been half-hoping Elle would say no, since it would give her another reason not to touch the production again, but she was still glad the young woman had agreed. She gave a tight smile. "You're going to be amazing."

The smile Elle shot her in return was hesitant, a little uncertain, but genuine nonetheless. "Here's hoping."

 

Elle was a shoe-in for the part - she knew all of Viola's lines and numbers, and had the added bonus of looking like she might well be Tom's sister. When rehearsals started up again she went along without Olive, though the other woman was interested to hear how they went afterwards.

She had offered to find a room to rent when it became clear that she was staying in the city, but though Olive had been verbally supportive of the concept if it was what she wanted neither of them had been terribly enthused about the idea, and though it was still 'in discussion', Elle continued to come home to Olive each night, and the large suitcase of clothes she'd brought back from a trip home a week or so after she'd first arrived was slowly working its way into a set of drawers in Olive's bedroom.

It was perhaps this slow creep that spurred Olive into taking yet another big step back towards normalcy and the real world - when Elle arrived back after a Friday night rehearsal she found the table set with flowers and candles, and Olive popped her head out from the kitchen, gesturing for her to take a seat on the sofa. "I'll just be a minute..."

Not long after she emerged, dressed in a rather more put-together outfit than she had gotten into the habit of wearing and carrying two glasses of wine, one of which she presented to Elle. "How was rehearsal?" she asked, leaning in to press a kiss to the young woman's cheek.

"Um... good. Thanks..." Elle said, smiling as Olive pulled back and following her across to the table. "Should I... go and change?" she asked. "I feel underdressed now..."

"Only if you want to. I think you look gorgeous already."

"Well, I'll be honest, I'm starving," Elle said, taking a sip of her wine.

"Then don't change - just take a seat and I'll get food on the table."

With a grin, Elle complied, though she still looked mildly bemused.

Dinner was nothing fancy - a roast chicken with mashed potatoes and vegetables - but Olive had done all the shopping and preparation for it herself, making the best of her time without Elle. They chatted about inconsequential things over dinner: the rehearsal, the news, a few pieces of gossip Olive had read in one of the Broadway columns. It was only once they had retired to the sofa with their wine that Olive sobered, setting down her glass and reaching for Elle's hands. "Elle, I just wanted to say how much it's meant to me to have you here the past few weeks. I was such a mess... I don't know what I would've done without you."

Elle shook her head. "You don't... I'm just sorry that I wasn't here before. I should have been here for your through all of this, right from the start."

"No, no, it's okay. It's meant so much that you would put up with me like this. I don't deserve you at all."

"Olive..." Elle tipped her head to one side with a warning frown - it wasn't the first time Olive had said something like that. "What did I say about that?"

"No, I know, I'm sorry, I just... well. I'm trying really hard to get things back in order, because I want us to be together and not in a looking-after-a-lunatic-in-an-asylum sort of way."

The other woman reached to cover Olive's hand. "That's never been what this is. Not then, not now. It's always been me being here for you during a bad time. I'm not your nurse. I'm just your. Well..." Elle cast her eyes down to her plate and then back to Olive's. "I'd like to say your partner."

"I'd like to say that too," Olive said, her lips curving into a smile.

"Then that's settled." Elle said. "I was just doing what any partner should."

"Well... thank you, all the same. And..." Olive trailed off, sliding one hand from under Elle's to her knee. "I'd really like to kiss you now," she admitted, and she heard Elle's breath catch a little in her throat, just like in an old movie.

"I'd... really like you to," she said in return, turning more toward the older woman with a hesitant smile. That was about all the talking Olive was willing to do on the subject, and she took the opportunity to lean in, tipping her head slightly and meeting Elle's lips in a soft, lingering kiss. Elle breathed in deeply through her nose, and she trembled a little as the kiss continued, tipping her head to deepen it.

Olive slowly drew her hand up the other woman's leg, parting her lips and delving her tongue between Elle's lips. She felt a shiver run through her - the same delicious shiver that ran through her upon waking in Elle's arms in the morning, feeling her lean, toned body pressed against hers. She felt as well as heard the moan Elle gave as their tongues made contact, and Elle leaned closer, a hand lifting to cup Olive's jaw.

It wasn't long before Olive was bearing her back against the arm of the sofa, her hand now finding Elle's hip, her side, stroking the thin sliver of skin beneath her long-sleeved t-shirt. Elle complied willingly with the other woman's ministrations, arching her back a little as Olive's hand crept beneath the hem of her top, shifting to weave their legs together - though at the same time, Olive couldn't help but notice, a strong hand braced against the hip of her bad leg, taking some of the weight off it, Elle never entirely thoughtless even as her cheeks were flushing in her excitement and anticipation.

Eventually Olive pulled back, her own cheeks hot and her eyes dark. "Elle, we don't have to... I mean, any time you want to stop w-"

She was cut off by Elle lifting up to kiss her again, deeply, though she pulled back then, shifting to sit a little. "I don't want to stop. I mean, unless you do. But... as comfortable as this couch is..."

"We could move," Olive said quickly, sitting back, though her fingers continued to trail over the other woman's skin as though she was afraid to break contact quite yet.

Elle leaned in for another quick kiss. "If you'd like to," she said. "I want..." She broke off with a sheepish chuckle. "Everything, I want everything."

"Then that's what I want to give you." Olive grinned and took Elle's hand, tugging her up as she stood herself. "C'mon."

Olive had gotten back into the habit of making the bed in the mornings; all her work was undone now as they tumbled onto it in a tangle of arms and legs and lips. Elle had lost her last vestiges of hesitation now, returning Olive's kisses with growing enthusiasm. Pushing up the other woman's shirt, Olive resumed her exploration of her sides and stomach, her fingers tracing ever-higher until they brushed over the sports bra Elle wore. Elle trembled at the sensation as Olive's hand cupped her small breast, but pulled back, and it became clear why when she pulled her shirt off over her head, and her bra after that - presumably wanting to avoid the awkwardness of even attempting to remove a sports bra with a less practical approach.

Olive grinned, bending to press her lips to Elle's bare shoulder as she smoothed her hands over her breasts. It was hard to believe that they had only made love once before - perhaps because she had dreamed this so many times since then, imagining the other woman's perfect body against her own, hearing the sounds she made echoing in her ears.

Elle purred in approval now, reaching to pluck at the hem of Olive's shirt and tugging it upward, keen to equalise the situation, it seemed. Olive didn't take much convincing on this account, and shifted in order to pull the shirt off, though she left her bra on, unsure whether Elle would be ready for this step quite so soon. Elle, apparently, shared no such uncertainty, leaning in to kiss Olive again as she slid her arms around her, hands immediately going to the catch of her bra. Olive's chuckle trailed off into a moan as Elle managed to unhook the clasp and slid her hands around to the underside of her breasts; it took her a moment to realise she still needed to shimmy out of the garment. As soon as she did so she fell back against the other woman, wrapping her arms around her and kissing her deeply, Elle's hands sliding up her sides, her back, exploring everything that had now been exposed to her touch.

"Mm..." Olive sighed and squirmed under the other woman's touch, almost (but not quite) too distracted to continue her own exploration of Elle's lithe body. Soon enough the other woman was pulling back again, this time to fumble with Olive's fly. Between them they unfastened it and then it was a matter of Olive rolling to her back and lifting her hips as Elle tugged her trousers down - her leg trembled with the effort but she didn't care, too consumed with anticipation to notice much of anything except Elle's hands on her body. Then Elle was leaning over her again, bearing her down onto the bed, her kisses growing ever deeper, the roaming of her hands more purposeful.

The first time her hand dipped below Olive's navel the older woman gave a gasp, an electric shiver running over her body as she delved her tongue between Elle's lips, and this was all the encouragement Elle needed to slip it lower and beneath Olive's underwear. She was all too ready for Elle's touch, and as the other woman's fingers slipped against her she groaned, her lips growing slack and still for a long moment. She heard a returning moan from Elle.

"God..." Elle shifted a little where she lay, closing her eyes against the chain reaction Olive had set off within her. "You feel..."

"Incredibly wet?" Olive said with a low chuckle. "That's what you do to me, Elle."

"It's amazing," Elle murmured, kissing Olive's cheek and then her lips again. "You're amazing."

"Mm, I'm pretty sure that's you," the other woman sighed, the tang of arousal on her breath.

"Is this okay? Is there... any particular way..."

"Just... like touching yourself."

It was, of course. Elle soon learned to read the signals she was getting from Olive to go faster, or slower, or harder, quickly learning what worked and didn't from Olive's symphony of gasps and moans. Soon the other woman was clinging to her, her lips slack against Elle's mouth as she felt her pleasure build, hips jerking against her hand until she stiffened in climax, letting out a loud cry. Elle's free arm wrapped tightly around her as she began to relax, her touch slowing a little, though she didn't stop until Olive caught her wrist and pulled her away.

"Ohgod," Olive muttered, burying her face in Elle's neck as the delicious aftershocks of her climax skittered over her nerves. "That was incredible. You're a goddess, Elle."

Elle reached for the rumpled covers to pull them over them both, shifting to wrap around the other woman. "I can't... I'm so glad that we got here," she said.

"So'm I. You're amazing." Olive pressed her lips to the nearest bit of Elle that she could find - her neck - and traced her fingers over the young woman's breasts, drawing a shiver from her, and a quiet moan.

"I missed you so much," Olive murmured then, turning to allow her hand to continue its path over Elle's toned stomach. "And I thought of that morning we had together... so often. How you sounded, how you tasted..."

Elle gave a quiet sigh, twisting to find Olive's mouth with her own. The other woman kissed her back slowly, her hand tracing spirals across her stomach, her iliac crest, her hips. Elle's kisses had lost their urgency, now, but not their intimacy, her tongue stroking softly against Olive's as her eyes closed once more.

Olive fell silent then, concentrating her efforts on re-learning the most sensitive spots on Elle's body, the planes and bends that made her shiver, the dips and curves that drew the loudest moans. When she began to tease open Elle's fly the other woman was hasty to help her, lifting her hips to slide both her pants and underwear off with Oilve's help. The other woman was soon dipping her teasing fingers to Elle's inner thighs; each impatient rise in the younger woman's hips was met with a release of pressure and a low chuckle in her ear.

"God..." she moaned eventually, and, "Please..."

The whimper in Elle's voice was enough to send another plunge of arousal straight through Olive, and it was all she could do to keep her movements smooth as she slid her fingers between the other woman's legs, circling ever so slowly against her, drawing long moans of appreciation from Elle with every breath she exhaled, her arms snaking back around Olive to hold her tightly.

After a few moments of this Olive captured her lips in a kiss as she slid a finger inside the other woman, giving a small moan herself at the sensation and feeling Elle shift her hips against her again, pressing closer, pushing her deeper, and as the seconds passed she managed to manoeuvre her thumb into position and began to circle with that, her finger curling inside. Elle swore under her breath as their lips parted, her breath growing shorter, her anticipation growing. Olive began to move her fingers more urgently now, her lips finding the sensitive skin of Elle's neck, her teeth grazing her earlobe. It wasn't long before she gave fair warning to the other woman - "I'm going to-" before her words were broken off by a cry as she came, hips bucking against Olive's hand, her muscles spasming around her finger.

Olive buried her face in Elle's neck, breathing heavily as she listened to her cries and felt her body's reaction. Slowly the other woman relaxed, and Olive drew back her hand, sending one last involuntary shudder through her.

Elle was still giving a little whimper with each aftershock that ran through her, turning to cling to Olive, weaving their legs together, for once slightly less careful than usual and causing an accidental twinge in the older woman's bad leg. Olive gave a slight gasp, though she didn't move away, merely shifting into a more comfortable arrangement and placing a kiss on Elle's cheek. "God, I love you so much."

Elle's grin was instinctive at this, reflexive. "I love you too," she said, nuzzling Olive gently.

"Move in with me." It was out of Olive's mouth before she knew it, but she didn't try to take it back, merely gazing at the other woman hopefully.

Elle blinked a little, though she took the sudden suggestion in her stride. "You mean I haven't already?"

"I guess you have," Olive replied, grinning. "So maybe I should've said... don't move out. Stay here. With me."

"Are you sure? You don't think we should... I don't know, be a bit more circumspect? Sensible, or whatever?"

"Oh... I mean, of course, whatever you want to do, love, you know that."

"I don't," Elle said with some feeling. "I really don't."

Olive let out a sigh of relief, leaning forward to bump noses with the other woman. "Me neither."

"So... I guess I should unpack the rest of that case, then, huh?"

"Mmph. Not right now. But soon."

"So... what now, then?"

"Um, well... I don't know about you, but I'm feeling a bit... sticky." Olive giggled. "So I was thinking I might take a shower..."

"We can hardly both do that." Elle paused. "Unless you'd like to both do that..."

Olive leaned in to capture Elle's lips in a deep kiss. "Now you're thinking."

 

Showering together was wonderful. Curling up wrapped in towels together was wonderful. Dressing, each stealing glances at the other, was wonderful. All in all Elle wasn't sure how much more wonderful things could get. Which was why she was surprised to awake later that night to the sound of Olive crying in the other room, though it was clear the other woman was trying to keep it muffled so as not to disturb her.

She debated whether to do anything at first, almost leaving Olive alone, but she couldn't quite make herself do that and in the end she got up, padding through to the lounge and waiting in the doorway for Olive to notice her.

Eventually the other woman looked up, blinking several times. "Oh, Elle. I'm sorry I woke you up - you should just go back to bed."

Elle shook her head. "I'm up now," she said, moving to sit beside Olive and reaching for her hand. Olive wiped at her face with the sleeve of her robe, sniffling a bit before leaning her shoulder against the other woman's.

"I'm sorry. I'm not crying because of us... I mean, I am a little, but not in a bad way..."

Elle turned her head to kiss Olive's cheek. "Talk to me," she said simply.

"I was just thinking how happy I was, and that made me feel bad," Olive said with a wry smile that showed she knew how ridiculous this was. "I was thinking of how happy he would be, if he knew you had come back and we were together, and how we'd never get to hang out, all three of us, and I just... I had to cry."

Elle winced in sympathy, dipping her head to rest it on Olive's shoulder. "Oh, love. I'm so sorry," she murmured, fingers lacing with Olive's.

"It's okay," Olive said, and she even halfway believed it. "At least this way I won't have to listen to him gloat." She felt herself tearing up again and lifted her sleeve to wipe at her eyes pre-emptively.

"Hey, c'mere..." Elle turned to pull Olive into her arms, pressing a light kiss to her lips before hugging her closer and resting her chin on her shoulder. "You never know, maybe he's out there somewhere watching us right now." She paused. "Though hopefully not this afternoon."

Olive laughed in spite of herself, her eyes bright as she nuzzled the other woman's cheek. "Y'know what he used to call lesbian sex?"

"Do I want to?"

"Oh, it's not that bad, just a little insulting... he called it 'foreplay that then stops'."

Elle laughed heartily at this, the vibrations resonating through Olive where they were pressed together. "Fair enough, I suppose. I'm not sure that's an insult exactly..."

"Oh, you know, it's not 'real' sex, that sort of thing. Not that he believed it, obviously. He just said it to get under my skin."

"Sounds like he succeeded," Elle teased with a chuckle.

"Mm..." Olive smiled, blinking back tears. "Yeah, I guess I'll never really get him out. Spend enough time and creative energy with a person and you can never really entirely leave them behind."

Elle nodded, drawing back to look at the other woman. "Damn right," she said. "And nor should you." She reached to cup Olive's face gently, wiping some stray tears away with her thumb. "And I know it's still hard and nothing's ever going to be the same, but... I'll be here for you. Through everything. I promise."

"What did I ever do to deserve you..."

"You didn't need to do anything. You're amazing, and I love you."

"I love you too. C'mon, let's go back to bed."