S&A FIC: Love's Not Time's Fool
Title: Love's Not Time's Fool
Author: imaginethetruth [Marianne Willoughby]
Fandom: Slings & Arrows
Rating: PG13 - very mild R (Profanity and some sexual content)
Characters/Pairings: Geoffrey/Sloan, Geoffrey/Ellen, Geoffrey/Oliver
Summary: Sloan gives Geoffrey a little help in the romance department.
Disclaimer: All characters to Susan Coyne and Mark McKinney, the beyond fantastic writers of this series. I owe you two so much. <3
Author's Note: I wrote this during class. I have teachers that now want to kill me. I suffer for my art.
The phone rang obnoxiously, shattering the silence. Geoffrey gave it a withering look, willing it to stop. It didn't.
Sighing, he picked it up. “Yes?”
“Geoffrey Tennant?”
“Irrevocably.” He said dully, twirling the chord in his fingers.
“Huh?”
Geoffrey held the phone away from his ear, and inspected it curiously. “Who is this?”
“Oh, uh, Sloan.”
Geoffrey's eyes widened. “Sloan?” He asked incredulously.
The voice sounded puzzled. “Yeah. Uh, Ellen's ex-boyfriend.”
“Of course. Now how can I help you?”
“I want to talk to you about Ellen.”
Geoffrey was baffled. “Excuse me?”
He could practically hear Sloan rolling his eyes. “You know, Ellen Fanshaw. Thin, red-brown hair, blue eyes, the woman you love...”
“I'm sorry, but I really have to go.”
Sloan didn't sound bothered from this slightly rude response. “That's aight. I'll meet you at that theatre bar place at four. S'later.”
The line went blank.
Geoffrey stared at the phone, completely bemused.
“What was that all about?”
Geoffrey looked up. Oliver stood in front of the desk, peering curiously at him.
“He wants to talk to me about Ellen.”
“Why?” Oliver asked, raising his eyebrows.
Geoffrey stared at the phone, nonplussed. “Beats the shit out of me.”
“Well what else did he say?”
“He wants me to meet him at the bar later today.”
“And will you go?” Oliver asked pryingly.
“I don't know, stop being so pushy.”
“I think you should,” Oliver grinned mischievously. “Could be fun.”
The office door opened, and Geoffrey started.
“Who were you talking to?” Ellen asked curiously, looking around the room.
“Uh,” Geoffrey's eyes flickered from Oliver to Ellen. “I-”
She held up her hands, interrupting him. “Actually never mind. I don't want to know.”
Geoffrey shrugged, and Oliver sat down on the desk, smirking.
There was a slightly awkward pause in which they sort of glanced at each other. Ellen was wearing a cobalt colored sweater. She looked lovely in blue...Geoffrey shook himself. “Do you think we should talk about last night?” He asked bravely.
She bit her lip and moved closer to the desk. “Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Geoffrey waited.
“See, the thing is, I'm not sure if I can make a decision about this right now.” She peered at him anxiously, gauging his reaction.
“About what, exactly?”
Her brow furrowed as it always did when she was confused. “You know...about us, I guess.”
Geoffrey thought about this for a minute, resting his chin on his folded hands. “What about us?” He asked finally, looking up at her.
Ellen's expression was a mixture of surprise and indignation. “Geoffrey, we...we slept together.”
He nodded, his gaze unwavering.
“Surely that means something to you.”
Geoffrey shrugged. “It's not like we've never slept together before.”
Oliver who had done a excellent job keeping quiet up until now, snorted.
Ellen looked almost hurt. “Yes, but-”
Where does this leave us?” Geoffrey asked calmly.
“I don't know,” Ellen's voice shook. “Give me today to think about it.”
Geoffrey nodded slowly and she took a deep breath.
“Right, well...I'm going to go home and rest up for tonight. I'll see you in a few hours.”
She left quickly, her face turned away from him.
“Well that was well handled,” Oliver said sarcastically, hopping off of the desk.
Geoffrey buried his head in his hands. “Please go away,” he groaned.
“Fine,” Oliver sounded miffed. “I will. But it's nearly four now so you should get going.”
Geoffrey massaged his temples and prayed for patience. When he finally looked up, Oliver was gone.
The clock read 3:46. Sighing, Geoffrey hauled himself to his feet and left the theatre.
**************************************
Sloan was waiting for him at the bar. He was grinning, and Geoffrey sat down, he slid him a pint.
Geoffrey mumbled a halfhearted “Thanks” and downed it in three gulps.
“Easy man,” Sloan laughed. “S'only four.”
Geoffrey shrugged. “I have a show tonight. The drunker I am, the better.”
“Oh that reminds me, fuckin' fantastic show last night,” Sloan said enthusiastically, thumping Geoffrey on the back. “Really incredible. That strip scene was really great.”
Geoffrey smiled. “Finally someone appreciated it.
“Like I'm not gay or anything,” Sloan grinned, holding up his hands. “But man, it made the dude almost human despite all that crazy shit he did!”
Geoffrey was liking Sloan more and more. “What exactly did you want to talk about?” He asked.
“In a minute. Another round?”
“Sure, but this time I'm buying.”
*********************************
“I want to apologize,” Sloan said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I shouldn't have shouted at you guys last night. That wasn't cool.”
“You're forgiven,” Geoffrey smiled encouragingly. “But what was that about?”
“I'll tell you in a minute. First tell me what happened last night. I saw you guys leave together.”
Geoffrey sighed, tracing his finger around the rim of his glass. “What do you think happened?”
Sloan shrugged, clearly missing the rhetorical element of this question. “I dunno. You coulda just driven her home, or somethin'.”
Geoffrey rolled his eyes. “Please. When I drive Ellen home we always somehow manage to end up in a bed with our clothes on the floor.”
Sloan laughed. “Yeah I figured. So you guys like slept together then?”
“Mmhmm.”
“That's great!” He said ardently. “It's awesome that you're back together.”
“We're not,” Geoffrey said sullenly, calling for two more pints. “And I don't know if we will be.”
Sloan rolled his eyes. “Why?”
“It's complicated.”
“Okay,” Sloan said suddenly, turning to face him. “You love her right?”
Geoffrey nodded slowly.
“And she loves you. I know she does.”
Geoffrey nodded again.
“Then what's the fucking problem?”
“I don't know,” Geoffrey said simply. “I don't know.”
*******************************************
“Jesus Christ,” Sloan groaned after Geoffrey finished telling him about the conversation in the office. “Why the fucking hell would you say that to her?”
Geoffrey shrugged. “It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”
Sloan sighed, running his hands through his short cropped hair. “Okay, uh...does the sex mean anything to you?”
“It means everything to me.”
“Great! Then why the fuck wouldn't you say that?”
“Okay calm down,” Geoffrey said patiently, raising his hands. “Don't get hysterical.”
“Sorry man, it just kills me. Okay. Why did you say it didn't mean anything to you?”
Geoffrey pondered this one for a long time as Sloan patiently waited, drinking his beer.
“When I woke up I was alone,” Geoffrey said suddenly, looking Sloan directly in the eye. “I've never woken up alone before.”
Sloan gulped. “Well,” he said slowly. “That would explain it.”
Geoffrey didn't say anything.
“Why do you think she did that?”
“She's angry with me,” Geoffrey said instantly, realizing for the first time that it was true. “I lied to her, and even though she knew I was right, she still hated me for it.”
“Why did you lie?”
“It was for the good of the play,” Geoffrey said wearily. “She knew that and she did what I told her to do, even if it was a little unethical.”
“Fuck Geoffrey,” Sloan said angrily, making Geoffrey start.
Geoffrey raised his eyebrows, confused by this sudden outburst.
“What means more to you? Ellen, the woman you've been in loved with since forever, or some shitty play written by a dead guy?”
Geoffrey sat motionless. “I don't know Sloan. I don't know.”
“Okay look,” Sloan leaned forward, sounding angry. “I got pissed off last night because after everything you told me about how much you loved her, you guys still haven't gotten your shit together. I HATE that. And I'm not used to being the grown up, so fuck you.”
“Wow,” Geoffrey said, perplexed.
“Yeah,” Sloan agreed, calming slightly. “Wow is right. IF you can't see that you and Ellen are supposed to be together, then you're a fucking idiot.”
“But what makes you so sure?” Geoffrey asked, running a hand through his messy hair.
“I just know it,” Sloan said simply. “I could see it in her eyes when she talked about you. I could hear it in her voice. And although it ripped me apart, I knew she was right. She needs you, Geoffrey. I don't know if she knows, but fuck, I sure do.”
“When I look at her,” Geoffrey's voice shook slightly. “I see two women. I see her the way that she is now. Lonely and bitter. But I also see the woman I fell in love with. Beautiful and passionate and sensual...an artist of the heart.” He stopped and quickly turned away so Sloan wouldn't see the tears filling his eyes.
“Why don't you just tell her that?” Sloan's voice was surprisingly gentle. “You fuckin' love her, man.”
“Maybe it's because I'm scared of losing her. Again. I don't know, but honestly, it scares the shit out of me.”
“You don't get freaked out too often either, huh?”
“If you mean like nerves, then no. Very rarely.”
“So that just makes this even scarier for you, huh?”
“Yup,” Geoffrey said honestly. “That's very insightful, Sloan.”
“What's that mean?” Sloan asked, cocking his head to the side.
Geoffrey grinned in spite of himself. “It means that you're very good at picking up on things.”
Sloan smiled widely. “Well, even I have my moments times. And you know what else this 'insightful'-” he chuckled at his use of the word. “-dude thinks?”
“Hmm?”
“It's time to tell Ellen. This is what you need to do...”
*********************************
Half an hour later, Geoffrey found himself walking back to the theatre. He wasn't aware of where he was going, and he could barely feel his legs moving beneath him. His mind was oddly quiet, almost as if his thoughts were waiting apprehensively.
The doors of the theatre opened and he found himself walking down the hall towards the dressing rooms.
“Geoffrey,” Henry Breedlove waved at him, his costumer clucking as several pins fell from his sleeve.
Geoffrey barely inclined his head towards Henry.
“No surprise changes tonight I hope,” Henry called after him, and then dropping his voice to a mumble, said, “Otherwise I quit.”
In a trance, Geoffrey found himself in front of Ellen's door. Her name jumped out at him from the sign.
When he turned the handle, he fell back into reality. Everything was louder, and he remembered why it was that he was there. Taking a deep breath, Geoffrey forced himself through the door.
Ellen sat at the table, gazing at the mirror. From her red swollen eyes and the vigor with which she was applying make up to her nose, he could see that she had been crying.
“Oh, she sniffed, throwing aside the brush. “It's you.”
Geoffrey nodded, and moving behind her, tendering placed a hand upon her shoulder.
“Haven't you ever heard of knocking?” Ellen asked, blowing her nose.
“Why are you crying?” He asked gently.
“Oh,” she lowered her eyes. “It's nothing, just nerves.” She stood up and grabbed a pair of silver earrings from a small table in the corner of the room.
Wordlessly, Geoffrey followed her, and placed his hands on her waist. “Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments,” he said softly into her ear.
Ellen took a deep breath, and slowly turned around. “Oh fuck off Geoffrey,” she sighed, but her voice was weak and lacked conviction.
“Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds,” Geoffrey continued, his voice growing stronger. “Or bends with it's remover to remove. Oh no! It is an ever fixed mark-”
“Geoffrey,” Ellen said pleadingly, her blue eyes filling with tears. “Please. I have a show in an hour, and I have to get ready. Please don't-”
“Ellen,” Geoffrey said softly, moving closer and gently brushing a tear from her flushed cheek with his thumb. “The play can wait. Right now, this is about you and me.”
Ellen's eyes widened and her lower lip trembled. “Oh Geoffrey, I can't have this conversation right now. I'm not-”
“Ellen for once just listen to me,” Geoffrey said quietly, but forcefully. And to his surprise, she nodded.
“Last night meant everything to me,” he said seriously, his voice growing slightly husky. “And I want to give this another shot.”
“Geoffrey,” she said, her voice breaking. “Today I made up my mind to let you go. It's just not going to work. Not after everything that's happened. And not with us working here together.”
“I can't let you do that,” Geoffrey said in a voice so low, it was nearly a growl. “I love you.”
“Please, listen to me-”
“No,” he said firmly, grasping her wrists. “You listen to me. I thought about you for eight god damn fucking years. That's a long time when you're in a god damn asylum. And that may not seem like a lot to you, but it fucking does to me, so you believe me when I tell you that I love you and despite the fact that I acted like a fucking idiot this morning, I really do care about you more than you know. And I'm not letting go of anything.”
Her face was utterly blank for a long moment, and then to his immense surprise, she actually smiled. “Okay,” she said tenderly, touching his cheek. “Okay.”
“Thank you,” he said softly, and taking her face in his hands, leaned down to kiss her.
Next to the door, a ghost stood watching. Smiling sadly, Oliver took a deep breath and let go.
*******************************************
EPILOGUE
“Hey Sloan,” Geoffrey grinned into the phone. “I just wanted to say thank you. For everything. Ellen and I are back together, and I'm moving in to her place tomorrow. Hey, who knows how long it's going to last, but right now we're completely and inexcusably happy. Thanks for not letting me fuck up my life again and for showing me what I couldn't see. I'll see you around. By the way, free tickets to Macbeth whenever you want.”
A few miles away, Sloan knelt down on one knee. “Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?” He pulled out a sparkling ring. “Thou art more lovely and temperate. Marry me, Tuesday?”
Tuesday shrieked with excitement and flung herself at him. “Oh my god, hell yes!”
Sloan grinned into her mass of dark hair. That Shakespeare stuff worked every time.
Finis.
Author: imaginethetruth [Marianne Willoughby]
Fandom: Slings & Arrows
Rating: PG13 - very mild R (Profanity and some sexual content)
Characters/Pairings: Geoffrey/Sloan, Geoffrey/Ellen, Geoffrey/Oliver
Summary: Sloan gives Geoffrey a little help in the romance department.
Disclaimer: All characters to Susan Coyne and Mark McKinney, the beyond fantastic writers of this series. I owe you two so much. <3
Author's Note: I wrote this during class. I have teachers that now want to kill me. I suffer for my art.
The phone rang obnoxiously, shattering the silence. Geoffrey gave it a withering look, willing it to stop. It didn't.
Sighing, he picked it up. “Yes?”
“Geoffrey Tennant?”
“Irrevocably.” He said dully, twirling the chord in his fingers.
“Huh?”
Geoffrey held the phone away from his ear, and inspected it curiously. “Who is this?”
“Oh, uh, Sloan.”
Geoffrey's eyes widened. “Sloan?” He asked incredulously.
The voice sounded puzzled. “Yeah. Uh, Ellen's ex-boyfriend.”
“Of course. Now how can I help you?”
“I want to talk to you about Ellen.”
Geoffrey was baffled. “Excuse me?”
He could practically hear Sloan rolling his eyes. “You know, Ellen Fanshaw. Thin, red-brown hair, blue eyes, the woman you love...”
“I'm sorry, but I really have to go.”
Sloan didn't sound bothered from this slightly rude response. “That's aight. I'll meet you at that theatre bar place at four. S'later.”
The line went blank.
Geoffrey stared at the phone, completely bemused.
“What was that all about?”
Geoffrey looked up. Oliver stood in front of the desk, peering curiously at him.
“He wants to talk to me about Ellen.”
“Why?” Oliver asked, raising his eyebrows.
Geoffrey stared at the phone, nonplussed. “Beats the shit out of me.”
“Well what else did he say?”
“He wants me to meet him at the bar later today.”
“And will you go?” Oliver asked pryingly.
“I don't know, stop being so pushy.”
“I think you should,” Oliver grinned mischievously. “Could be fun.”
The office door opened, and Geoffrey started.
“Who were you talking to?” Ellen asked curiously, looking around the room.
“Uh,” Geoffrey's eyes flickered from Oliver to Ellen. “I-”
She held up her hands, interrupting him. “Actually never mind. I don't want to know.”
Geoffrey shrugged, and Oliver sat down on the desk, smirking.
There was a slightly awkward pause in which they sort of glanced at each other. Ellen was wearing a cobalt colored sweater. She looked lovely in blue...Geoffrey shook himself. “Do you think we should talk about last night?” He asked bravely.
She bit her lip and moved closer to the desk. “Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Geoffrey waited.
“See, the thing is, I'm not sure if I can make a decision about this right now.” She peered at him anxiously, gauging his reaction.
“About what, exactly?”
Her brow furrowed as it always did when she was confused. “You know...about us, I guess.”
Geoffrey thought about this for a minute, resting his chin on his folded hands. “What about us?” He asked finally, looking up at her.
Ellen's expression was a mixture of surprise and indignation. “Geoffrey, we...we slept together.”
He nodded, his gaze unwavering.
“Surely that means something to you.”
Geoffrey shrugged. “It's not like we've never slept together before.”
Oliver who had done a excellent job keeping quiet up until now, snorted.
Ellen looked almost hurt. “Yes, but-”
Where does this leave us?” Geoffrey asked calmly.
“I don't know,” Ellen's voice shook. “Give me today to think about it.”
Geoffrey nodded slowly and she took a deep breath.
“Right, well...I'm going to go home and rest up for tonight. I'll see you in a few hours.”
She left quickly, her face turned away from him.
“Well that was well handled,” Oliver said sarcastically, hopping off of the desk.
Geoffrey buried his head in his hands. “Please go away,” he groaned.
“Fine,” Oliver sounded miffed. “I will. But it's nearly four now so you should get going.”
Geoffrey massaged his temples and prayed for patience. When he finally looked up, Oliver was gone.
The clock read 3:46. Sighing, Geoffrey hauled himself to his feet and left the theatre.
**************************************
Sloan was waiting for him at the bar. He was grinning, and Geoffrey sat down, he slid him a pint.
Geoffrey mumbled a halfhearted “Thanks” and downed it in three gulps.
“Easy man,” Sloan laughed. “S'only four.”
Geoffrey shrugged. “I have a show tonight. The drunker I am, the better.”
“Oh that reminds me, fuckin' fantastic show last night,” Sloan said enthusiastically, thumping Geoffrey on the back. “Really incredible. That strip scene was really great.”
Geoffrey smiled. “Finally someone appreciated it.
“Like I'm not gay or anything,” Sloan grinned, holding up his hands. “But man, it made the dude almost human despite all that crazy shit he did!”
Geoffrey was liking Sloan more and more. “What exactly did you want to talk about?” He asked.
“In a minute. Another round?”
“Sure, but this time I'm buying.”
*********************************
“I want to apologize,” Sloan said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I shouldn't have shouted at you guys last night. That wasn't cool.”
“You're forgiven,” Geoffrey smiled encouragingly. “But what was that about?”
“I'll tell you in a minute. First tell me what happened last night. I saw you guys leave together.”
Geoffrey sighed, tracing his finger around the rim of his glass. “What do you think happened?”
Sloan shrugged, clearly missing the rhetorical element of this question. “I dunno. You coulda just driven her home, or somethin'.”
Geoffrey rolled his eyes. “Please. When I drive Ellen home we always somehow manage to end up in a bed with our clothes on the floor.”
Sloan laughed. “Yeah I figured. So you guys like slept together then?”
“Mmhmm.”
“That's great!” He said ardently. “It's awesome that you're back together.”
“We're not,” Geoffrey said sullenly, calling for two more pints. “And I don't know if we will be.”
Sloan rolled his eyes. “Why?”
“It's complicated.”
“Okay,” Sloan said suddenly, turning to face him. “You love her right?”
Geoffrey nodded slowly.
“And she loves you. I know she does.”
Geoffrey nodded again.
“Then what's the fucking problem?”
“I don't know,” Geoffrey said simply. “I don't know.”
*******************************************
“Jesus Christ,” Sloan groaned after Geoffrey finished telling him about the conversation in the office. “Why the fucking hell would you say that to her?”
Geoffrey shrugged. “It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”
Sloan sighed, running his hands through his short cropped hair. “Okay, uh...does the sex mean anything to you?”
“It means everything to me.”
“Great! Then why the fuck wouldn't you say that?”
“Okay calm down,” Geoffrey said patiently, raising his hands. “Don't get hysterical.”
“Sorry man, it just kills me. Okay. Why did you say it didn't mean anything to you?”
Geoffrey pondered this one for a long time as Sloan patiently waited, drinking his beer.
“When I woke up I was alone,” Geoffrey said suddenly, looking Sloan directly in the eye. “I've never woken up alone before.”
Sloan gulped. “Well,” he said slowly. “That would explain it.”
Geoffrey didn't say anything.
“Why do you think she did that?”
“She's angry with me,” Geoffrey said instantly, realizing for the first time that it was true. “I lied to her, and even though she knew I was right, she still hated me for it.”
“Why did you lie?”
“It was for the good of the play,” Geoffrey said wearily. “She knew that and she did what I told her to do, even if it was a little unethical.”
“Fuck Geoffrey,” Sloan said angrily, making Geoffrey start.
Geoffrey raised his eyebrows, confused by this sudden outburst.
“What means more to you? Ellen, the woman you've been in loved with since forever, or some shitty play written by a dead guy?”
Geoffrey sat motionless. “I don't know Sloan. I don't know.”
“Okay look,” Sloan leaned forward, sounding angry. “I got pissed off last night because after everything you told me about how much you loved her, you guys still haven't gotten your shit together. I HATE that. And I'm not used to being the grown up, so fuck you.”
“Wow,” Geoffrey said, perplexed.
“Yeah,” Sloan agreed, calming slightly. “Wow is right. IF you can't see that you and Ellen are supposed to be together, then you're a fucking idiot.”
“But what makes you so sure?” Geoffrey asked, running a hand through his messy hair.
“I just know it,” Sloan said simply. “I could see it in her eyes when she talked about you. I could hear it in her voice. And although it ripped me apart, I knew she was right. She needs you, Geoffrey. I don't know if she knows, but fuck, I sure do.”
“When I look at her,” Geoffrey's voice shook slightly. “I see two women. I see her the way that she is now. Lonely and bitter. But I also see the woman I fell in love with. Beautiful and passionate and sensual...an artist of the heart.” He stopped and quickly turned away so Sloan wouldn't see the tears filling his eyes.
“Why don't you just tell her that?” Sloan's voice was surprisingly gentle. “You fuckin' love her, man.”
“Maybe it's because I'm scared of losing her. Again. I don't know, but honestly, it scares the shit out of me.”
“You don't get freaked out too often either, huh?”
“If you mean like nerves, then no. Very rarely.”
“So that just makes this even scarier for you, huh?”
“Yup,” Geoffrey said honestly. “That's very insightful, Sloan.”
“What's that mean?” Sloan asked, cocking his head to the side.
Geoffrey grinned in spite of himself. “It means that you're very good at picking up on things.”
Sloan smiled widely. “Well, even I have my moments times. And you know what else this 'insightful'-” he chuckled at his use of the word. “-dude thinks?”
“Hmm?”
“It's time to tell Ellen. This is what you need to do...”
*********************************
Half an hour later, Geoffrey found himself walking back to the theatre. He wasn't aware of where he was going, and he could barely feel his legs moving beneath him. His mind was oddly quiet, almost as if his thoughts were waiting apprehensively.
The doors of the theatre opened and he found himself walking down the hall towards the dressing rooms.
“Geoffrey,” Henry Breedlove waved at him, his costumer clucking as several pins fell from his sleeve.
Geoffrey barely inclined his head towards Henry.
“No surprise changes tonight I hope,” Henry called after him, and then dropping his voice to a mumble, said, “Otherwise I quit.”
In a trance, Geoffrey found himself in front of Ellen's door. Her name jumped out at him from the sign.
When he turned the handle, he fell back into reality. Everything was louder, and he remembered why it was that he was there. Taking a deep breath, Geoffrey forced himself through the door.
Ellen sat at the table, gazing at the mirror. From her red swollen eyes and the vigor with which she was applying make up to her nose, he could see that she had been crying.
“Oh, she sniffed, throwing aside the brush. “It's you.”
Geoffrey nodded, and moving behind her, tendering placed a hand upon her shoulder.
“Haven't you ever heard of knocking?” Ellen asked, blowing her nose.
“Why are you crying?” He asked gently.
“Oh,” she lowered her eyes. “It's nothing, just nerves.” She stood up and grabbed a pair of silver earrings from a small table in the corner of the room.
Wordlessly, Geoffrey followed her, and placed his hands on her waist. “Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments,” he said softly into her ear.
Ellen took a deep breath, and slowly turned around. “Oh fuck off Geoffrey,” she sighed, but her voice was weak and lacked conviction.
“Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds,” Geoffrey continued, his voice growing stronger. “Or bends with it's remover to remove. Oh no! It is an ever fixed mark-”
“Geoffrey,” Ellen said pleadingly, her blue eyes filling with tears. “Please. I have a show in an hour, and I have to get ready. Please don't-”
“Ellen,” Geoffrey said softly, moving closer and gently brushing a tear from her flushed cheek with his thumb. “The play can wait. Right now, this is about you and me.”
Ellen's eyes widened and her lower lip trembled. “Oh Geoffrey, I can't have this conversation right now. I'm not-”
“Ellen for once just listen to me,” Geoffrey said quietly, but forcefully. And to his surprise, she nodded.
“Last night meant everything to me,” he said seriously, his voice growing slightly husky. “And I want to give this another shot.”
“Geoffrey,” she said, her voice breaking. “Today I made up my mind to let you go. It's just not going to work. Not after everything that's happened. And not with us working here together.”
“I can't let you do that,” Geoffrey said in a voice so low, it was nearly a growl. “I love you.”
“Please, listen to me-”
“No,” he said firmly, grasping her wrists. “You listen to me. I thought about you for eight god damn fucking years. That's a long time when you're in a god damn asylum. And that may not seem like a lot to you, but it fucking does to me, so you believe me when I tell you that I love you and despite the fact that I acted like a fucking idiot this morning, I really do care about you more than you know. And I'm not letting go of anything.”
Her face was utterly blank for a long moment, and then to his immense surprise, she actually smiled. “Okay,” she said tenderly, touching his cheek. “Okay.”
“Thank you,” he said softly, and taking her face in his hands, leaned down to kiss her.
Next to the door, a ghost stood watching. Smiling sadly, Oliver took a deep breath and let go.
*******************************************
EPILOGUE
“Hey Sloan,” Geoffrey grinned into the phone. “I just wanted to say thank you. For everything. Ellen and I are back together, and I'm moving in to her place tomorrow. Hey, who knows how long it's going to last, but right now we're completely and inexcusably happy. Thanks for not letting me fuck up my life again and for showing me what I couldn't see. I'll see you around. By the way, free tickets to Macbeth whenever you want.”
A few miles away, Sloan knelt down on one knee. “Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?” He pulled out a sparkling ring. “Thou art more lovely and temperate. Marry me, Tuesday?”
Tuesday shrieked with excitement and flung herself at him. “Oh my god, hell yes!”
Sloan grinned into her mass of dark hair. That Shakespeare stuff worked every time.
Finis.