Fic - Fidelity
May. 27th, 2014 12:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ruby_of_trinity posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
secretidentityKate had a guyfriend once. He was almost her boyfriend, but then he wasn't. They're still friends. Sorta? On FaceBook? It's...complicated.
“What are you, then?” Jordan demanded, more frustrated than angry. “A lesbian like them?” It wasn’t accusatory, not exactly, but the near-shouting didn’t help. Too thunderstruck to answer, Kate simply stared.
Speaking to people as if not on the verge of a panic attack was something that had to be learned, but as a nurse, it was something of a prerequisite. Maybe she didn’t mind patients so much because they were usually too ill to encroach on her personal space and the intimate details of her personal life. One of a handful of close friends- one of three who were male- and the other single holdout in their Bible study, talking to Jordan had never been difficult. They had clicked immediately, and would sit off to one side, chatting about topics that would leave the rest of the group hopelessly confused. Which made all this so much more of a shock.
“You are, aren’t you.”
“No,” she managed at last. “Why would you ask me that?”
He shrugged, face reddening as he looked at his shoes. “I dunno. I just… I like you, Kate. I really thought you liked me.”
“I do,” she told him earnestly. “You’re one of my best friends.”
“So why did you just tell me ‘no’?”
Why had she? The response had been pure reflex, a knee-jerk reaction with no conscious thought involved. Jordan was a lovely human being, a wonderful guy. They had a lot in common. They could easily cohabitate for the next fifty years or so except… The look she offered was fragile, apologetic.
“Because I can’t say ‘yes’.”
“Why not?” He seemed so utterly bewildered, she felt rather guilty.
“Because.” It wasn’t a reason, but it was all she had. She could never explain- not to him, not to anyone- that marriage was not something she could ever commit to. The thought of marriage, of sex, did not excite her. The thought of...sleeping with...Jordan was both surreal and repulsive. Sharing an apartment with her best friends was more than enough for her. Anne and Emmy might be romantically involved, but that had never been an issue. She’d never minded sleeping alone.
“...you sure you just don’t like guys?”
Kate made a face. “I like guys fine. I just don’t want to sleep with them.” There. She’d said it. Jordan’s expression clouded over and sagged.
“Then why did you say you’re not a lesbian?”
“Because I’m not.” Now she was getting frustrated. “I’m not… I’m not anything. All those jokes about being called to singleness were true. I’ll never be married, have a family, and that doesn’t bother me. Why does it bother you?”
“Because I wanted to be your husband.”
For some reason, she hadn’t been expecting that. Now she did feel guilty. “Jordan…”
“I’m sorry,” was all he said before turning and walking away.
--
She had never told him, never hinted at it, but when Emerald had been shot and Emmy spent over three months at the hospital, he put two and two together. She was amazed more of her friends hadn’t made the same leap of logic. He still had a house key and more than once she and Anne had come home exhausted in every sense of the word to find the house clean, a vase of fresh flowers on the table, and several casseroles in the refrigerator. Evidently Jordan had volunteered to play delivery boy for the church. He had never been directly involved, but was always at the edge of whatever was going on, like a stage hand waiting in the wings. Although Anne could have easily done it herself, she seemed glad for his help in wrestling the hospital bed through the door and in setting it up.
“You’re sure you don’t love me?” he asked again, a week after Emmy had finally come home. “I could help. You wouldn’t have to do this all alone.”
“I do love you,” she insisted, “and I’m not alone.”
Jordan was not super, didn’t know or understand the mechanics of a vigilante team. He’d asked her once if it was like being in the military? She supposed it was, in a way. They were a small, tight-knit special ops unit, deep in each other’s pockets, and bonded in a way that could not be defined as “friends” or “family” or even “lovers”, though she’d never gotten physical with her partners. Their relationship was amorphous and often blended and blurred so that it was impossible to separate one from the other. Even if he agreed to a celibate union, how could she explain that marrying him would feel like cheating on her friends?
“I know you don’t need my help, but surely you could use it?”
Part of her wanted to say “yes”, to try to add him to the triad, but knew deep down that it couldn’t work. Not really. Not in a way that would make him happy.
“I’m sorry,” was all she could say. “I don’t think this is something you can help me fix.”
Conceding defeat, he nodded in a sort of half-bow. “Alright. But if you ever do need me…for any reason...”
Kate nodded. “I’ll call.”
--
Her world had grown quite small. Losing Emmy had caused the universe to implode. Losing a friend had meant losing a job as well as half of her life. Even her home had shrunk from a three-bedroom house to a studio apartment. She still loved Anne, and knew Anne loved her, but a wall had gone up. Both of them were tired of crying, and the only thing left to do was to put on the mask, strap on the armor, and try to go on. Their lives were quite separate now, and Anne had moved into her own place across town. Ellie had offered each of them a room, but Kate didn’t think she’d ever be that desperate.
With Anne suddenly all but out of her life, Jordan had emerged from the wings to help her carry boxes up three flights of stairs. The familiar question hung unspoken between them, though he didn’t say it outright. He knew better. Instead, he only asked her:
“You sure you want to be alone?”
She couldn’t even look up. “Yes.”
And that was the end of it.
“What are you, then?” Jordan demanded, more frustrated than angry. “A lesbian like them?” It wasn’t accusatory, not exactly, but the near-shouting didn’t help. Too thunderstruck to answer, Kate simply stared.
Speaking to people as if not on the verge of a panic attack was something that had to be learned, but as a nurse, it was something of a prerequisite. Maybe she didn’t mind patients so much because they were usually too ill to encroach on her personal space and the intimate details of her personal life. One of a handful of close friends- one of three who were male- and the other single holdout in their Bible study, talking to Jordan had never been difficult. They had clicked immediately, and would sit off to one side, chatting about topics that would leave the rest of the group hopelessly confused. Which made all this so much more of a shock.
“You are, aren’t you.”
“No,” she managed at last. “Why would you ask me that?”
He shrugged, face reddening as he looked at his shoes. “I dunno. I just… I like you, Kate. I really thought you liked me.”
“I do,” she told him earnestly. “You’re one of my best friends.”
“So why did you just tell me ‘no’?”
Why had she? The response had been pure reflex, a knee-jerk reaction with no conscious thought involved. Jordan was a lovely human being, a wonderful guy. They had a lot in common. They could easily cohabitate for the next fifty years or so except… The look she offered was fragile, apologetic.
“Because I can’t say ‘yes’.”
“Why not?” He seemed so utterly bewildered, she felt rather guilty.
“Because.” It wasn’t a reason, but it was all she had. She could never explain- not to him, not to anyone- that marriage was not something she could ever commit to. The thought of marriage, of sex, did not excite her. The thought of...sleeping with...Jordan was both surreal and repulsive. Sharing an apartment with her best friends was more than enough for her. Anne and Emmy might be romantically involved, but that had never been an issue. She’d never minded sleeping alone.
“...you sure you just don’t like guys?”
Kate made a face. “I like guys fine. I just don’t want to sleep with them.” There. She’d said it. Jordan’s expression clouded over and sagged.
“Then why did you say you’re not a lesbian?”
“Because I’m not.” Now she was getting frustrated. “I’m not… I’m not anything. All those jokes about being called to singleness were true. I’ll never be married, have a family, and that doesn’t bother me. Why does it bother you?”
“Because I wanted to be your husband.”
For some reason, she hadn’t been expecting that. Now she did feel guilty. “Jordan…”
“I’m sorry,” was all he said before turning and walking away.
--
She had never told him, never hinted at it, but when Emerald had been shot and Emmy spent over three months at the hospital, he put two and two together. She was amazed more of her friends hadn’t made the same leap of logic. He still had a house key and more than once she and Anne had come home exhausted in every sense of the word to find the house clean, a vase of fresh flowers on the table, and several casseroles in the refrigerator. Evidently Jordan had volunteered to play delivery boy for the church. He had never been directly involved, but was always at the edge of whatever was going on, like a stage hand waiting in the wings. Although Anne could have easily done it herself, she seemed glad for his help in wrestling the hospital bed through the door and in setting it up.
“You’re sure you don’t love me?” he asked again, a week after Emmy had finally come home. “I could help. You wouldn’t have to do this all alone.”
“I do love you,” she insisted, “and I’m not alone.”
Jordan was not super, didn’t know or understand the mechanics of a vigilante team. He’d asked her once if it was like being in the military? She supposed it was, in a way. They were a small, tight-knit special ops unit, deep in each other’s pockets, and bonded in a way that could not be defined as “friends” or “family” or even “lovers”, though she’d never gotten physical with her partners. Their relationship was amorphous and often blended and blurred so that it was impossible to separate one from the other. Even if he agreed to a celibate union, how could she explain that marrying him would feel like cheating on her friends?
“I know you don’t need my help, but surely you could use it?”
Part of her wanted to say “yes”, to try to add him to the triad, but knew deep down that it couldn’t work. Not really. Not in a way that would make him happy.
“I’m sorry,” was all she could say. “I don’t think this is something you can help me fix.”
Conceding defeat, he nodded in a sort of half-bow. “Alright. But if you ever do need me…for any reason...”
Kate nodded. “I’ll call.”
--
Her world had grown quite small. Losing Emmy had caused the universe to implode. Losing a friend had meant losing a job as well as half of her life. Even her home had shrunk from a three-bedroom house to a studio apartment. She still loved Anne, and knew Anne loved her, but a wall had gone up. Both of them were tired of crying, and the only thing left to do was to put on the mask, strap on the armor, and try to go on. Their lives were quite separate now, and Anne had moved into her own place across town. Ellie had offered each of them a room, but Kate didn’t think she’d ever be that desperate.
With Anne suddenly all but out of her life, Jordan had emerged from the wings to help her carry boxes up three flights of stairs. The familiar question hung unspoken between them, though he didn’t say it outright. He knew better. Instead, he only asked her:
“You sure you want to be alone?”
She couldn’t even look up. “Yes.”
And that was the end of it.
