Dearest, [a Carol one-shot]

Dearest,

"Dearest, there are no accidents,"

Carol's words stung a painful point, digging deeper against her chest with every word, in every thought, and hope, and disappointment. Carol had a grasp on her she could not sever even if she wanted to, and she wanted to, in truth.

So when Abby handed it to her — the letter, smelling like Carol, and nothing more — Therese felt weak. There was a tug, she noticed, which she had never experienced before. Not with Richard, nor with any of her former affairs, all of which led her to Carol.

She was right all along. Accidents never existed with which to begin. But seeing her, then, Carol, her Carol, and no one else's, explaining how she and Harge had finished the process, how Rindy would be staying with him, with Carol being granted regular, supervised visits, and how Therese had blossomed beautifully in the past few months, it felt lacking of sense.

She wondered if it were all it was — a beautiful, wonderful accident meant to draw them closer, then to part them for a beautiful, wonderful conclusion.

Carol asked if Therese wanted to occupy her new house with her, ensuring that it was big enough for two. Therese stopped at the thought. There it was — all she had ever wanted, hoped.

And it was a difficult offer to refuse, but she did.

"No, I don't think so."

"and he would have found us one way or another."

Carol insisted Therese join her for dinner — a few colleagues would be with her in the Oak Room at nine, if she were ever to change her mind.

Therese had words. An answer, and questions — too many, really — about them, about if Rindy would ever be permitted to leave Harge, or if Carol had any regrets, or disappointments, and if it was worth the trouble, loving her. But upon looking back, her eyes meeting Carol's with utmost sincerity, and confusion, they all died on her lips, leaving her breathless, and with a lump on her throat.

"Well," said Carol, "that's that."

It was the same answer, her exact words upon being convinced to purchase the train set Therese so admired. Therese remembered those few minutes every morning at Frankenburg's, tidying up earlier just so she could have a few moments watching the small locomotive make its rounds.

It was what she wanted when she was Rindy's age. She guessed, then, that it might be in a storage space somewhere at Carol's, as Rindy had not been with her for some time.

Therese felt despondent, but all Carol could do was stare at her, watch her from the opposite side of the table as though a thought was bubbling from inside. There was admiration, and loneliness, and what Therese felt, spoken for her.

"I love you."