Mondays
by Jaded
Summary: Based off a prompt by kashmir1, who gave me the first line. A wee bit of drabble. Ten years after graduate Jackie and Hyde meet up again in Point Place for a melancholy occasion.
Disclaimer: Not mine. That '70s Show belongs to Carsey-Warner and whomever else.
She meets him on a dreary and murky Monday afternoon.
The expected thoughts run through her head: he looks older, a little bit tired around the eyes; he still has that ridiculous hair; he's not the same boy she fell in love with once. Maybe. She tells him hello instead of, sometimes I still miss you.
They sit on a park bench together. The green paint peels away under her hands like soft bark from a tree. Her nails pick at it absently. It's wet out but not raining. He drapes an arm just behind her back but not touching her and he feels like the warmest thing she's felt in years.
Weddings and funerals seemed to be the only thing anymore that brought them back together in the same place. These days it was more of the latter.
They catch up, talk about things that don't say anything: how her job's going; what ingrained societal injustices he's managed to thwart today. Nothing too personal because neither wants to ask questions that stir up old feelings. To perhaps admit to one another that maybe, just maybe, they were it would be counterproductive at this point.
"So what's up with the white coat? We're going to a funeral," he says, tipping his glasses.
"It's the only coat I have." Three years in Arizona will eliminate the need for outerwear, though she misses the fashion of it.
"At first when I saw you walking toward me I thought you were some kind ghoul."
"Ghoul?"
"Yeah, a ghoul. A poltergeist. A ghost." She hears the hitch in his voice, thinks she's dreaming it until she seems him averting her gaze.
She puts her arm on his knee, and in a flash she sees what could have been, a sped up reel of film with Steven by her side, sitting on a front stoop in the city, little curly haired children running around pulling each other along in Red Flyer Wagons, lollipops in their mouths. Steven's smiling at her with that face that was once only reserved for her. In this dream she is happy. Then the image fades and he jerks away from her, stands up, and begins to head towards the parking lot.
"Hey!" she calls out when he starts toward the car without her.
He doesn't speak for a moment, but stops. Turns around. "Don't worry your little princess fluffycakes head off," he says. "I'll wait for you."
He holds out his palm so she can take his hand. She wants to cry but holds it back. There will already be enough crying for one day.