One More Time For Old Times' Sake
The Ownership contract sat on the breakfast nook table between them unsigned, a pen next to it that neither of them was willing to be the first to touch. They both avoided looking at it, and at each other.
They’d spent weeks slowly drafting it in modifications to the consideration contract. And today, the date it was to be signed on, it sat on the table between them.
They hadn’t said they were going to sign it in so many words—that was just the standing assumption of consideration until said otherwise. They hadn’t said otherwise. They’d rather avoided talking about it at all.
“Maybe we should have some more coffee,” said Clara with shaky false cheerfulness, standing and heading towards the kitchen.
“Clara,” Ezri sighed.
She held the edge of the island in a white knuckled grip, leant on it. “Fuck,” she mumbled, hair falling her in face, which at least meant she didn’t have to look at Ezri. She felt sick.
“Come and sit.”
She didn’t remember deciding to obey; she was just at the table again, staring at the contract she knew it would be unfair to sign. She didn’t know how they’d gotten this far without saying that—then again, the instinct that had her at the table before any thought crossed her mind was exactly how.
Maybe that was enough. Maybe she could learn, eventually, to reduce everything else down to that—to be what Ezri wanted, and to be happy with it. She could be that now. But she couldn’t enjoy it for long. She had needs for a level of darkness Ezri was not willing to reach, needs not getting met in ways that were messy to define; Ezri needed a dynamic too tight for the flux and fluidity and ebb and flow and playing off each other that Clara craved.
“You don’t want to sign it,” Ezri said gently, like it wasn’t obvious.
“Do you?” If Ezri had signed it, Clara would’ve picked up the pen. Instinct would’ve kicked in. She wasn’t willing to be the one who made the case for it being a good idea. But if Ezri had quietly signed it, if she’d tried to convince her—she would’ve relented.
She didn’t blame her for not signing it.
“No,” said Ezri. “I don’t.”
Clara swallowed. “So what do we do?”
“What we probably should’ve stuck to in the beginning,” said Ezri, with a fond stroke of her cheek. Clara couldn’t look at her. “Find you someone else.”
“I love you,” Clara said, and she did. But it wasn’t the love Ezri wanted. It wasn’t the love Clara wanted to give an Owner.
“I know,” said Ezri, because that was Clara’s first concern. Her second, “And I love you. And I think we’ve both already tried our best to make that be enough.”
“So what now? I mean—someone else. I know. But what… else. Until then. And how—how do you want to do that.”
“Well,” said Ezri. “I am open to some options. My first suggestion would be we essentially go back to square one. You’re here as a graduated trainee. I am finding you an Owner. We should probably cut anything more than a training relationship—an actual one, admittedly not what we had—or else we’ll just… drag this out.”
Clara nodded. They couldn’t quite just go back to square one, but she understood the intention. “So you’re my trainer, I graduated, we’re in the transition period of you selling me.”
“Yes,” said Ezri. If she caught the slight emphasis on selling, she didn’t note it.
“Okay.” Deep breath that didn’t quite reach her lungs. “How do you want… okay. Finding me someone else.” She didn’t need the wording twice. “In the normal way?”
“Roughly.” Ezri paused, her hand settling over where Clara’s was drumming nervously at the table. “I know, we can’t actually go back to square one. I know you too well. I care too much. That’ll affect how that search goes. Your file was complete when we began the consideration contract and I think it's still basically accurate now; I’ll make some minor adjustments. If there’s anything you want to change, you can look at it again.”
Clara nodded. She hadn’t been about to cry, until Ezri was holding her hand. Barely holding. Resting her own hand on, running her thumb over the back of it. Fuck, this wasn’t how… this was supposed to go. She didn’t know what to call it. Break up sounded weird. They hadn’t officially been in a relationship; they were considering one—and it wasn’t… the sort of thing that ended in a break up. Nor was this release or dismissal; it wasn’t official enough; it wasn’t one sided. She was leaving Ezri as much as Ezri was leaving her, but they weren’t on equal ground yet. They probably never would be; whether or not they were compatible to do this every minute together, this was who they were. If Ezri commanded, and she would, Clara would obey.
“Not tonight,” she said. “I don’t want to deal with it tonight.”
“Clara…” She said her name like correction was coming, but faltered.
Clara, looking defeated, knelt next to her and rested her head in Ezri's lap, who sighed and stroked her hair. “Tomorrow,” she said. “We should deal with this tomorrow.”
Ezri looked at her. “We have to face it eventually.”
“Tomorrow,” Clara repeated.
“Tomorrow,” Ezri said, and pulled Clara up to her, and the kiss was I’m sorry and guilt and regret and longing and wrong, and it didn’t really manage to ruin the sex they said they wouldn’t have, anyway.
In the end, Ezri always broke the rules for Clara.