"Waiting for the Hint of a Spark"
By: singyourmelody
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, just the plotlines. Title is from Death Cab for Cutie's song "I Will Follow You into the Dark" (which is amazing and wonderful and I highly recommend!)
Author's Note: So, after many reviews. . . I have decided to do this one shot, as a continuation/conclusion of "Near to You" and "Where I End and You Begin." The focus here is mainly Christina-centric, with undertones of Will and Phoebe. "Near to You" was all about Phoebe and Will, "Where I End and You Begin" was about both couples, and this story is mainly about Christina and Dylan. So it's a trilogy of sorts. Anything in italics is supposed to be a flashback. Thank you so much for all your reviews and I hope this provides a satisfying ending!
Christina Beardsley opened her eyes slightly, squinting into the sunlight that was breaking through her bedroom window. She really didn't want to wake up to today. In fact, she had been dreading it ever since she heard the big news.
Phoebe and Will were getting married. She was happy for them. She really was. They deserved to be together and to be happy. It was just that if they were getting married, she would have to go home. And if she had to go home, she wouldn't be able to avoid seeing him.
What did she expect really? He was going to be in her life no matter what. She couldn't really avoid seeing him forever, right?
They had made it through the first two years of college great. What had always been an honest friendship had laid a solid foundation for a relationship. She already knew his faults and he already knew her damage. There weren't any secrets. No hidden quirks. It was open. It was good.
So what happened? Sometimes she still asked herself that question. But only when she was feeling depressed. It always made her feel worse. Because, honestly, she didn't know what had happened. She guessed it was because she was tired of his constant screw-ups and he got bored with her high standards.
"Why did we come to college if we can't have any fun, Christi?" he had asked her once. She didn't realize he was unhappy until that moment. And by then . . .
"There were so many problems, it was pretty much over," she said to herself, pulling her pillow over her head.
She wasn't ready. To face the past. Or to face him.
0-0-0
It was going to be a small wedding. Phoebe and Will had never been ones for spectacle and as maid of honor, Christina was glad to not have to deal with too many relatives. She already had enough duties running around making sure everything was perfect. He wasn't there when she arrived home and she was grateful that she didn't have to face him for the first time in so many years with her entire family standing around, watching.
He decided not to stay at their house, but rented a hotel room instead, Will informed her. She breathed a sigh of relief, ignoring the look Phoebe and Will exchanged.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
0-0-0
Christina knew she couldn't escape him entirely. After all, she was walking down the aisle with him. As they bustled around the church the night before the wedding, putting the finishing touches on the aisle decorations, he sauntered in. Christina nearly dropped the flowers she was holding when she saw what he was holding. A tall brunette with green eyes almost the exact same shade as her own.
Will and Phoebe raced up to where he was standing, exchanging hugs as he introduced her. Her name was Cynthia. He met her at work. They'd been together for several months and they are happy. Cynthia looked behind Will and Phoebe to where Christina was standing. As soon as she saw her, she let go of his arm and hurried over to Christina. Like a waterfall, Cynthia's words spilled out of her, "He had told me so much about you and I can't believe I am finally meeting you and really this is going to be so great. You will have to tell me absolutely everything about him when you two were growing up!"
Christina took a moment to survey his new girlfriend. She thought briefly of a conversation she had had with him one day many years before.
"Okay, so if you weren't dating me, would you be with a blonde or a brunette?" Christina asked playfully as they walked to class, hand in hand.
"Definitely blonde. I can't help it. I'm a sucker for those beautiful golden locks," he had replied simply.
"So, if I dyed my hair brown, that'd be it for us, huh?"
"Yup. Sorry. I'm only in this for your hair," he smirked.
"How very Hannibal Lector of you."
He stopped walking then and took a step closer to her. Slowly he leaned down and whispered, "'Hello Clarice,'" as she squealed and threw her arms around his neck.
Christina was so immersed in her thoughts that she almost fell over when Cynthia, who was still talking, reached over and hugged her. As Christina stood there, being hugged by his new girlfriend, she finally looked up at him. His chocolate brown eyes bored into hers and for a moment, Christina couldn't remember how she lived without seeing those eyes everyday. How she lived without him for so long. And she had to wonder how her heart was ever going to recover from this whole encounter.
0-0-0
"Do you know what today is?" he asked as he played with a piece of her long blonde hair.
"What day is today?" she said.
"Today is exactly eight months from the day you kissed me for the first time," he said..
"Um, excuse me, but I think it was you that kissed me."
"Nope, definitely the other way around. You were all over me," he said, his voice raspy.
"I'm pretty sure you kissed me. And you were mad at me when you did it. So that means that you must have really wanted me."
He thought for a moment. "That's probably true. As I recall, you called me a drunk."
"I was just angry with you when I said that," she defended.
"No, it was a good thing."
"What? Why?" she questioned.
"Because, it was a bit of a wake-up call for me. You always call me on my crap."
She smiled. "That's why you love me. I'm a crap caller."
"Exactly. That's why we fit. You call me on me crap and I teach you how to have a good time," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Oh really?" she questioned, raising one eyebrow.
"Yes, really," he said, pulling her close to him and kissing her forcefully. She laughed into his mouth before giving in completely.
0-0-0
The pastor was twenty minutes late, but eventually they were ready to start the dress rehearsal. Walking down the aisle, Christina stared directly ahead. There was a pretty little stained glass window showing a picture of Jesus with little children sitting in his lap and on the grass below. Although she had never been a very religious person, Christina had always loved that story. She fixed her eyes upon the little kids who looked so joyful sitting at Jesus' feet and couldn't help but feel a little jealous. When she was little, everything was so simple. She didn't have to worry about family situations or be haunted from the relationship she could never quite shake off. She didn't know any better back then. But she also didn't know him. Pulling her eyes off the window, she glanced at him and saw him staring directly back at her. Was it worth it? She asked herself as she took her place at the front of the church. Was any of it worth it?
0-0-0
"What are you doing?" she said, desperately trying to keep her voice even.
"It's not a big deal, Christi," he said, as he looked around his dorm room. The room was completely trashed and the floor covered with empty beer bottles.
"Yes it is. Stop doing this. Stop always screwing up! Don't you get it?" she said, practically yelling.
"Yeah I get it. You're always on my case about something. So would you just stop? You're not my mother," he was yelling at this point as well.
"No, I'm not. But I do love you," she said, her voice cracking a little more with every word.
"What?" he said, his eyes getting wide.
"I, um. You heard me," Christina said, fumbling for words.
"You love me?" he questioned.
"Yeah, I do."
"That's the first time you've ever said that to me."
"I know."
"I mean, usually I say it and then you say, 'Thank you,' or 'Mmhmm,' but never 'I love you too.'"
She took a step closer to him and lightly touched his cheek with the back of her hand as she said, "I love you too."
0-0-0
"And then you kiss the bride, the music starts, and the processional goes back down the aisle," the pastor said, gesturing every part of the sentence with his hands. By this point, Christina had accustomed herself to being in the same room with him. She was actually handling the entire situation better than she had expected. But now she would have to physically touch him. Before she knew what she was doing, she was moving towards him and his outstretched arm.
"Christi," he breathed out so that only she could hear. She laced her arm through his and tried to focus on not tripping over her own feet. When they reached the end of the aisle, he pulled her aside so that they were hidden from view of the others in the sanctuary.
"Do you think we could talk sometime? I mean, in between all this craziness?" he asked, uncertainly. In all her years of knowing this boy, now man, she had never seen him this uneasy.
In a way, it calmed her as well. They were adults after all. This was awkward but they could handle it, right?
"Yes, I think that would be good," she said quietly.
"Tonight?" he questioned.
"Sure. Oh wait, I have Phoebe's bachelorette party tonight after the dinner." At this statement, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"Don't get any ideas! We are keeping this party clean!"
"Now Christi, where is the fun in that? I guess they don't make parties or partiers like us anymore, huh?" he said, smiling.
She laughed, surprising herself. "No, they definitely don't." They stood there for a moment.
"Christi, I –"
"There you two are!" Cynthia said, appearing from inside the sanctuary. "Christina, Phoebe is looking for you. She looked pretty stressed, something about a last minute dress fitting for one of the bridesmaids." Cynthia reached out and looped her arm through his, in the same place Christina's just was.
"Oh, right. I better go find her. I will talk to you later then," she said, looking directly at him. She could feel his eyes follow her as she hurried to find Phoebe.
It was good that they were talking again, Christina contemplated. Now, hopefully, they could find a way to be friends. Or step-siblings. Or whatever the heck they were before. She could do that. She could be his friend. So why did her arm still feel tingly in all the places it had been in contact with his?
0-0-0
The wedding was perfect. Phoebe cried and although he would never admit it, Will had a few tears of his own. Six years together and Phoebe and Will were finally husband and wife. Helen and Frank sat in the front pew and the combined family took up the following four rows and a large portion of the reception hall after the ceremony.
"Phoebe, I could not have picked someone more perfect for my brother. Keep him in line. And keep each other happy," Christina said as she raised her glass. "To Will and Phoebe."
The rest of the room responded in kind, "To Will and Phoebe." As Will and Phoebe danced their first dance as husband and wife, Christina stood along the back wall watching. Three dances later, she grabbed a bottle of alcohol, slipped off her heels and headed for the gardens behind the reception hall. They hadn't had the conversation yet. And she couldn't tell if she was relieved or disappointed.
She didn't notice Will and Phoebe watching her.
"Is she going to be okay?" Phoebe asked Will, as they danced close together.
"I hope so."
"They are supposed to be together. I just know it," Phoebe said quietly.
"I agree. So you know it. And I know it. We just need to wait for them to figure it out," Will said, pulling his new wife a little closer to him. "Have I told you how beautiful you look?" he asked.
"Only about thirty times since the ceremony," Phoebe responded, laughing.
"Well I mean it. There is just something about this dress and you in this dress. You should consider wearing it full time. To work, the movies, out to lunch. . ."
"Will, I can't wear this dress all the time. If you had your way, I think you'd have me wear my wedding dress to bed!"
But Will just shook his head. "No, no. I can definitely think of something else for you to wear to bed! Hey look," he said, gesturing to the door. Phoebe turned her head and saw him heading towards the door that Christina just walked out of. She turned back and smiled at her husband, planting a light kiss on his lips.
There was a gazebo covered in flowers and Christina took advantage of the open air, sitting on a bench and enjoying the sunshine.
"Well, it's official. This DJ sucks."
Christina's head snapped up as she looked at him. He stood there, just taking in her appearance. Her heels were discarded and lying next to where she was sitting. Her usually perfect hair was disheveled and there was an open bottle of white wine sitting next to her. I must look ridiculous, she thought to herself. After a moment that was just a bit too long, she squirmed uncomfortably.
"Why do you say that?" she replied.
"Who plays 'You Were Meant for Me' by Jewel at a wedding? Doesn't he know that's a song about a love lost? Not exactly wedding material," he replied, plopping down next to her on the bench.
"Didn't know you were such a Jewel lover," she remarked sarcastically.
She hadn't even noticed the music before, but as they sat there, listening to the faint guitar melody wafting in from the reception, she had to agree with him. Lyrics like "I know you loved me and soon I know you will see, that you were meant for me and I was meant for you" didn't exactly fit Phoebe and Will's situation. But the lyrics did match theirs.
"How's the advertising biz these days?" he asked quietly.
"It's fine. I'm working my way up the corporate ladder."
"Always the businesswoman," he said.
"You forgot 'strong' and 'independent,'" she said, trying to be light.
"Ah, of course."
"And your gallery?" she asked. The last she had heard about him, from Frank, was that he was opening his own art gallery for independent artists. Frank of course didn't really approve of his choice, Christina could tell.
"Good. It's been good. We've been getting a lot of press lately and I'm booked with exhibits until early next year," he replied. It was strange to hear him talk about his own business. She was struck by how grown up they actually were.
"Cynthia seems nice. Are you guys pretty serious?" she asked, not really wanting to know, but desperate to keep conversation as to avoid silence.
"Christi, you know me. I'm never serious. Right?" he said, a hint of accusation in his voice.
"I never said that you weren't serious. You can be very serious. I've seen it before," she replied, her own voice low and bitter.
"Aha. So we finally come around to the fight."
"What? No, I didn't mean—"
"Christi, we need to talk about it."
"When did you become 'Mr. Discuss My Feelings'?"
"I'm not. I only discuss them when something matters to me. And believe it or not Christi, after all these years, you still matter to me. I don't know why, but I have never been able to get you out of my head." Her eyes grew wide at this statement. "I probably never will," he said quietly.
"What's there to say? We fought, we broke up. We were done. You left me. Left our school. And I was finished with you, with the friendship. With the relationship. With all of it," she said, standing and pacing the floor of the gazebo.
He smirked. "Now, now, you could never be completely done with me, Christi. I was your best friend. I'm the one who held your hair back when you were puking and taught you how to drive stick and would go to three different stores to find that Ben and Jerry's ice cream you love. I'm pretty much engrained in your memories. So you'll never be completely done with me."
"Well, I'm glad to see your cockiness hasn't left you at all. But here's what I don't get. You were the one who wanted out. So why are you trying to open this whole thing back up again?" Christina said, trying to keep focused.
"Nice try, Christi. I wasn't the only one who wanted out and you know it. This was more mutual than I'm sure you'll ever admit. Because you can't be wrong right? I have to be the wrong one. Just like always."
"That's completely unfair. You knew I wanted to be a better person. And that I wanted you to be better too. You knew that when we got together. And you loved that part about me. So you can't turn it around and blame this on me now," she said, her voice rising with every word.
"I'm not trying to blame anybody here. I just wanted to talk about it," he said, holding up his hands defensively. They stood there, just staring at each other.
"I wanted you to accept me for who I was without always trying to fix me, Christi," he said so quietly she couldn't be sure she heard him correctly.
She didn't have an answer for that. Mainly because she knew he was right. She did always try to fix him. But back then, she thought it was for his own good. Now she wasn't so sure. They stood in silence for a few moments. Finally Christina said, "You never answered my question."
"What question was that?"
"Why are we doing this here? And now? Why aren't we just leaving it unspoken like we have for so many years?"
"Because I'm tired of that. We never were like that. Like other couples who had secrets and couldn't be their real selves with each other. I was never afraid to be myself with you, Christi. Even when I couldn't do that with other people. I miss that. I miss—"
He paused, as if contemplating if he should finish his sentence.
She took a step closer to him.
"You," he whispered.
"Oh, Dylan" she said, saying his name for the first time in over two years. With one swift movement her hands were cupping his face and—
"Christina and Dylan! Mommy and Daddy want to see you."
Christina and Dylan jumped apart and turned to look at five-year-old Abby Beardsley, their half sister. She was still dressed in her flower girl dress and had been jumping up and down throwing flower petals all day. The floor in Phoebe's dressing room was covered ever before the ceremony even started and afterwards, Abby went up and down the aisle picking up the petals so that she could throw them all down again.
"I think we have to take more pictures," Abby said as she sighed. "I told them that I don't want to take any more pictures, but then Mommy promised me I could have some cake soon, so I think that more pictures will be okay." She turned around to head back into the reception. "Are you coming?" she said impatiently.
Dylan laughed. "Yes, Abby we'll be right there in a minute. Why don't you go try some cake and let us know how it is?" She seemed content with that answer and happily skipped off to stick her small fingers in the perfectly decorated cake.
Christina punched Dylan in the arm. "Now there will be little Abby prints all over the cake, silly."
"Ouch. Girl can still punch," he replied, rubbing his arm.
He reached out and took Christina's hand in his own. But the moment had been broken. Christina's logic had returned and she asked, "What about Cynthia, Dylan?"
He groaned. "Always the sensible one. Or is it stupid?"
"Excuse me?" she said, taking a step backwards and crossing her arms.
"Don't you ever want to just follow your heart, Christi? And forget the consequences for one moment?"
"So you're looking for one moment with me before you drive back to whatever city you live in now, I don't even know, with your precious girlfriend, who by the way is pretty much an exact replica of me, but with brown hair! Her name is even 'Cynthia' for crying out loud, Dylan!"
"Ah, Christina the Judgmental rears her ugly head."
"So you don't like Christina the Judgmental but you bring a Christina clone to your sister's wedding?"
"That's a bit harsh isn't it? Cynthia is nothing like you," he retorted.
"Do you care about her?" she questioned.
"Yes. But the relationship I have with her is nothing compared with what you and I had. Christina, I have had a lot of girlfriends since we split up and you know what? None of them have come close to you! I have not had a relationship that was anything like ours. And I've realized that I probably never will again. So I just buy my time. Try out a few new girls every so often, hoping to find one that fits. Or one who is at least a pale imitation of you. There you have it. I haven't been happy in any other relationship." He finished, stuffing his hands into his pockets and trying not to look foolish.
"So it's over?" Christina said quietly.
"I haven't told her yet, but yeah it's over. It was over the moment I walked into that sanctuary and saw you again. Are you happy now?" he said, a twinge of sarcasm lacing his words.
"You think I wanted to ruin your relationship?"
"I don't know if you wanted to, but you have!" Dylan said, throwing his hands in the air.
Christina studied his face for a moment before shaking her head. "Why did I think this was ever worth a second shot? Why did I think we had made a mistake?" She was yelling now and she pointed a finger to his chest. "Why did I ever think that for the past two and half years I was incomplete without you and that I had made a mistake? Clearly, this is what we were suppose—"
His lips covered hers, cutting off her remaining words, his hands gently holding her face. And she remembered why they were supposed to be together. She reached up, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck and burying them in his chestnut brown hair.
After a few minutes, the need for oxygen caused them to stop. He pulled back and set his forehead on hers. "This is it for me, okay?" he said quietly.
She nodded, "Me and you."
"Together."
"Are you sure it'll work?" she asked cautiously.
"Do you want it to?"
"Yes."
"Then we make it work, Christi. You've got more fight in you then anyone I know. We just need to be fighting to make it work instead of fighting with each other, okay?"
She laughed a bit, wiping a few tears that had formed in her eyes. He reached up and brushed away one that was running down her cheek.
0-0-0
"Is something burning?" Dylan asked as he pulled an extra set of sheets out of the linen closet.
"My soufflé!" Christina exclaimed, running from the bathroom to the kitchen, her wet hair flying behind her. She grabbed the potholders and opened the oven door. But it was too late. Dylan entered the kitchen and tried to find his girlfriend through the cloud of smoke.
"Christi? Christi? Are you in here?" he called, mockingly.
"Ha. Ha. Very funny. Right here, moron," she said, grabbing his hand with her potholder-covered one.
"That's strange, you don't feel like Christi," Dylan said. He sniffed twice. "You don't smell like Christi either. I have to admit, I don't think you're Christi."
"Oh who I am then?" she called teasingly, moving out of his grasp.
"Well, I think you might be the big bad wolf, dressed in a very sexy bathrobe," Dylan exclaimed, waving the smoke out the air and walking towards Christina.
"Shouldn't you be afraid of me then?" she asked.
"Always," he said, jerking his head backwards. He then made a quick movement, reaching to tickle Christina. She screeched and ran towards their bedroom, Dylan quick on her heels. He caught up with her in the bedroom doorway and they both tumbled onto the bed, as he kissed her passionately.
Pulling back to look at her for a moment, he said, "So what are we going to give Will and Phoebe for dessert?"
"I don't know," she shrugged.
"Did you really have to try to make soufflé?" he asked
"Hey, this is our first dinner party and even though it's only Will and Phoebe, I wanted everything to be perfect." He leaned down and kissed her again, this time more quickly and urgently.
"We could. Always buy. A cake." She said in between kisses.
"Buying a cake sounds good," he agreed, leaning down to kiss her once more.
End.
Thoughts? Reviews? Yes, please! Another note: I don't own anything related to "Silence of the Lambs" or Jewel or any of her music, including the always dramatic, but fun "You Were Meant for Me."
I also just wanted to add how much I have appreciated all of your reviews. I love knowing that someone is actually reading my stories. So thanks again to all and I hope you have enjoyed this trilogy.