warnings - angst, grief, mentions of major character death, sort of internalized homophobia, implied intimacy
story summary - after michaela leaves, francesca finds her open wounds from her husband's death navigating to her soul. loneliness overcomes her until michaela sends her a letter stating her return to scotland. however that visit back changes and destroys everything in order as other things than wounds begin to open.
chapter summary - michaela returns to the kilmartin estate and francesca forms into a nervous mess. just as she calms down, michaela begins to turn away again. a confrontation occurs and on michaela's first day back, they already distance from each other. that is until michaela joins francesca's room to apologize.
word count - 2.03k
Chapter II
The carriage had stopped in front of the Stirling house. Francesca waited by the front gate, wearing one of her best dresses. It was a silver-blue with floral accents on a tailored jacket with the same color. She wore white, lacy gloves that ended where the jacket sleeves began. Her shoes also matched the color. They had a short heel, half an inch, with a pure silver floral embellishment on the toe box. The ribbon was thin and neatly tied into a bow. Her neck was joined with a pearl necklace tied in with lace. Her hair tie styled the same way. Her earrings were pearl as well.
Michaela stepped out of the carriage. She was wearing her usual type of dress; nothing fancy but easy on the eyes. It was a very dark green, close to a black. The accents covered the neckline of the dress, and those were pure black. Also pure black were her gloves. Tall and velvet. They went all the way up to the middle of her bicep. On top of her right glove, she had a dark emerald green bracelet. Her necklace matched this color, they were a part of the same collection. Her heels were also black and had a more pointy edge than Francesca's. She wore darker seamless tights under her dress to exaggerate the boldness of the colors.
Francesca had never seen Michaela look so attractive before.
It was awkward at first, the silent strut that Michaela had done as she walked towards Francesca. The lack of eye contact caused by Francesca not wanting to keep her eyes on Michaela. She didn't understand why she kept feeling her heart beat a little faster. It beat a little too fast. Then Michaela broke the silence as she usually did:
"I suppose you read my letter." Francesca suddenly felt as though Michaela's voice was louder than before. (It wasn't). She also felt as though her classy British accent had gotten stronger. (That also didn't get any stronger).
"I did." Francesca managed to utter out with great effort. Her eyes finally steadied onto Michaela and everything began to quiet down.
"I thought of just showing up, honestly." She paused, getting some air, "But I didn't. I know how much it bothered you when I just came up last time."
"How thoughtful of you, Michaela." Francesca felt a little bit of annoyance at the mention of the past. Why should Michaela reminisce of something before such a cruel act of going against her own word? She brushed it off though, not wanting to spoil the moment. "Shall we go inside? It is an icy morning and I have been waiting out here for a little while."
"I was waiting for you to say that," she smiled to herself, "I have just stepped out of the carriage and I am feeling the cold bite at me."
Francesca and Michaela walked towards the front of the estate. Francesca opened the door and stepped aside for Michaela to walk in. When she did, she followed right behind and shut the door, locking it immediately after she did so.
"It is just the same as last time . . ." Michaela said under her breath, looking around the house. Francesca felt something build in her chest, she couldn't put a finger on what it was.
"Hm," Francesca responded, rather dryly. Her mind was so full of what she would say before Michaela's arrival, now she found that it was blank. In the corner of her eye, Michaela had turned towards her. The smile that was once plastered over her face became flat.
"Are you alright, Francesca?" Michaela asked, leaning against a table. Her hand grasped at the edge of it, coating in dust as she did. As she felt the dust stick itself to her hand, she pulled it away and looked at it. She knew something was off. Francesca had to have everything dusted and polished daily.
"Of course. You've arrived." Francesca responded, keeping her eyes away from Michaela as much as possible again. "Shall we catch up in the parlor?"
"That sounds lovely." They began to make their way out of the foyer and towards the parlor, silent. When they had reached it, they stepped inside and settled themselves onto the sofa. Michaela's eyes never left Francesca, and Francesca's eyes never met Michaela.
In interest, Michaela's head had tilted, waiting for Francesca to say something. It seemed like that would take forever.
"Are you sure you are okay?" Michaela said, a small hint of disappointment colored her voice. She hoped that Francesca would at least try to start a conversation.
"I've never been more sure than I am now." Francesca finally gave in and turned her eyes towards Michaela. Her eyes scanned over her face and just then she noticed that she was doing what she feared most; she was spoiling the mood. "I mean it, my friend is here again." She felt the knot in her chest untie the moment she said that. As Michaela smiled at her in response, she felt a new one form in her stomach.
Sensing a small relief in Francesca's demeanor, Michaela had relaxed on the sofa. ". . . And I am here with my friend" she responded, her eyes moving from Francesca's ginger hair down to her hands. Her fingers were tangling with each other and tapping at her dress when they'd let go of one another.
Michaela had begun to move her hand towards Francesca's, but it felt as though a chain had held her back. Her hand was hovering over Francesca's, not daring to move. Almost as if Francesca noticed this, her hand moved closer to Michaela's. They could feel the warmth of each other's skin. Yet, just as Francesca reached out more, Michaela hesitantly pulled back. Francesca's eyes followed her as she stood up.
She smoothed out her skirt and fixed her gloves. "Shall we request for some dinner? I am quite hungry and it is getting late. Or perhaps we-"
"No, Michaela." Francesca muttered quietly, making sure it was still loud enough for Michaela to hear. "Why can't you ever stay in one spot?"
Michaela stayed silent and guilty.
"You said you'd stay-"
"Francesca, please . . ."
"No! No, Michaela! You said you would stay. You didn't." Francesca cried, "You can't even stay now!"
"No, I can't. I'm sorry. It's just . . . I don't know. Something about you just makes me lose my boldness. I've held it in since that night John introduced us; the stain that you have left on my mind. My heart even. You contradict my wrongs and make them rights."
"What are you even talking about, Michaela?"
"I think you know." Michaela answered, "I also think that we should take a moment to ourselves. It's my first day back and we have already quarreled."
Francesca hesitated for a moment and then finally gave in. "I think that would be a good idea." She stood up and walked in front of Michaela. "You remember where the guest room is, I hope."
"Yes, I do."
"If you need any food there's some in the kitchen. Just take it back to your room if you want to, just pick up the mess." Francesca said, making her way out of the parlor and upstairs.
"Thank you, Francesca. Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
. . .
Despite being in her room and reading a book for a good few hours, Francesca still didn't grow tired. As long as the thought of distressing Michaela popped up in her mind, she wouldn't get rid of her energy. She wondered what Michaela was doing. Was she reading as well? Was she too thinking about the argument? Did she also regret it?
Francesca shut her book and stood up to put it back on her shelf. After it was put back in it's spot, she stood in front of the door and stared at it. She thought about it for a few moments and then she went to go open it.
As she did, she saw Michaela standing there with a fist up to knock on the door. Michaela stared at her for a few seconds, thinking of what to say.
"I-" they both started. The overlap had broken the awkward tension between them and had left small, tired smiles plastered on their faces.
"You first," Francesca said.
"Okay, well . . . I wanted to say I'm sorry. I guess I just wanted to be this weird version of myself that you would want to be around. I thought it would cancel out how I left, honestly. I realized it kind of doesn't. I left you after John died and I shouldn't have; you needed a friend by you and I couldn't even do that." she paused, "It's like something is always holding me back around you. You're such a fluid person and for some reason I still contradict myself. I grew so sensitive towards you. That's what I had talked about in my letter. My feelings were so affected by you."
Francesca gazed at Michaela in awe, she finally began to understand what Michaela meant. It made her understand her sudden temper and close-mindedness. "Do you want to join me?" Francesca asked, stepping away from the doorway. Michaela nodded quickly and stepped in. Before shutting the door, Francesca looked down the halls, just in case someone had randomly entered her house. No one was there.
She put her back to the door and stared at Michaela. Michaela had stared back, their eyes never leaving eachother.
"You had something to say?" Michaela said, continuing the conversation.
"It's basically what you said."
"Basically. . ."
"Well, I guess I just pushed myself down for so long because of John. I loved him, I still do; despite his departure. Yet, as we spent more time together I felt as though I had betrayed him. I was . . ." Francesca paused, looking for ways to say her next words carefully, "I was beginning to fall for another. I was beginning to fall for you."
Another silence broke out between the conversation. Michaela began to smile to herself, tears almost instinctively coming to her eyes. They never fell, they just coated her eyes in one glossy layer. Francesca kept her back against the door, watching Michaela carefully. She watched as she kept the tears from dripping down her cheeks and as she strutted towards her.
"You began to fall for me?" Michaela asked in a hushed whisper, bringing herself closer to Francesca.
"Almost immediately."
An urge came across both of them. Francesca was surprisingly the first to act on it. She took her back off of the door and quickly moved towards Michaela. She wrapped her hands in her hair and kissed her.
Without a sense of hesitation, Michaela had kissed back, grappling onto Francesca's waist. It was now Michaela's back against the door as Francesca had kissed her hard, hungry and tired of waiting. Michaela pushed herself closer to Francesca hungry for so much more; Francesca's lips were soft and delicious. It didn't help her case when Francesca urged her tongue into Michaela's mouth. She didn't think it could get any better.
Francesca led them away from the door and towards the bed, laying Michaela on top of it gently. She crawled over her, kissing her with a more sloppy and hungry nature. Michaela knew things would escalate as Francesca sat her up and tugged at her dress zipper . . .
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