A/N: So, for everyone who's been wanting a long Nic/Spiederman moment, here you go. I think this might be my favorite chapter of them all, with the park scene, but we'll see. Still looking for names, too.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
Nic woke up the next morning, leaning on Tra's shoulder, covered by an old cashmere throw blanket.
"Crap," she muttered, looking at the wall clock. "I have 30 minutes before I'm late." She stood up, stretched, and hurried back to her bedroom to get dressed.
As she walked into her office 25 minutes later, dressed in gray Chanel pants and white Diane von Furstenberg button-up, Nic sipped her coffee and sat down in her winged-back chair, staring off into space. The office was big, with views of the entire city, but it was a building in the back corner that always caught her attention: G-Major.
"Uhh, Miss Quincy, you have a visitor," her young and naive assistant, Natalia, said timidly through the speakerphone. "It's your brother."
"Send him in," Nic yawned, kicking off her shoes underneath her chrome and glass desk.
Tommy pushed her glass doors open and sat down in one of the chairs in front of her. "Hey."
"Hello," she said coolly. "What brings you to the illustrious offices of The Chronicle?" she asked, logging onto her desktop.
"A few things," he replied, just as coolly as her. "First, something serious."
"That sounds daunting," Nic mused.
He leaned forward and stared at her intently. "Nic, what happened to your book?"
"I wondered how long I'd last before someone brought that up," she replied.
"It's just that, when you left, you'd finished it and we were all so excited and here we are, two years later, and nothing?" he said. "That's weird."
Nic sighed and leaned back. "One night, one drunken night, I accidentally erased the entire thing," she explained. "It was stupid but now, I'm kinda glad it happened."
"I was hoping you'd say something along those lines," he smirked, now leaning back in his own chair. "See, I've been talking about this with Darius a lot lately and with everything that's happened to Jude, we're thinking she needs a biography."
"You're serious?" she said dryly. "You all want me to write her life story?"
"Actually, we think you writing it is the best option," he reported. "See, we all know Jude's pretty reserved unless she knows you, so it's more likely for the deep stuff to come out if you're digging for it rather than someone else."
"Hmm," was all she said, considering the option. "It's fluff writing, which I kinda hate, but it's promising. I love Jude, it allows me to do nothing while I'm technically working, and it gets my mind off the other crap that's inside it."
Tommy smiled happily. "So you'll do it?"
"I guess," she agreed. "I'll call Jude with details later."
"Nice," he said. "So, how are you?"
"Not now," she warned him. "I've got articles to read and people to fire, alright? I'm totally fine for the time being, Thomas."
He stood up. "Fine. If you need anything, we're at the studio all day and Lex and Sophie are with Maria, so we'll be around." And with that, he left her office.
Jude was sitting in studio A, waiting for Tommy to show up, ready to work on a new song she'd been writing based on the Nic/Spiederman/Monica love triangle called 'Where It All Went Wrong.' She'd only let SME see the music for it so far, not the lyrics, because she knew Spiederman would understand the concept and it was a fight she was trying to hold off on.
"Hey," Tommy said, breezing into the studio a few minutes later. "Sorry I'm late but it took a bit to convince Nic to do your bio."
"She's doing it?" she asked excitedly. "Yay!"
Tommy sat down at the soundboard and played back the rough track of 'Where It All Went Wrong' that they'd worked on the day before. "When do you plan on letting the guys hear this?" he asked over the vocals. "I mean, after today, you're done and all I'll need is their music set to it."
"I know," she muttered, "but it's a sad song. I mean, I'm telling it in the point of view of the girl who got screwed over when the ex-girlfriend came back. I don't think Spied's gonna take it so well."
"You're right," Tommy nodded, "but he's gonna have to hear it sooner or later, girl."
"I know," she sighed as the door to the recording booth slid open and the band walked in. "You guys ready to finally hear the words?"
"Yeah, dude," Spiederman nodded, sitting on back stools with the guys. "Go on."
Jude took a deep breath and nodded to Tommy, who flipped a switch, and she began to pour her heart out into song.
It's
hard to just stand by
Watching
the effect she has on you
We
were so good together
So
I know this can't be true
And
yet I'm left unnoticed
As
it's her face you seek in the crowd
I
guess you'd never know it
But
I wanna scream out loud
(Chorus):
She
walked away from you
And
I put you back together
She
said she'd never come back
That
she'd be gone forever
And
now she's standing here
I
guess forever's not that long
The
day that her plane landed
That's
where it all went wrong
How
come you never showed me
Who
you really are
Looking
on as you leave with her
Has
left a disastrous scar
I'm
not gonna sit back and wonder
What
she's got that I don't
I'm
not gonna call and beg you
And
plead? Trust me, I won't
(Chorus)
At
her beck and call
She'll
break your heart again
The
only difference is
I
won't be there in the end
(Chorus 2x)
As Jude finished singing, Tommy watched in anticipation for the reaction he'd get from Spiederman. Wally and Kyle sat on their stools idly, waiting to hear what their fearless leader would say. Jude refused to turn and face him, afraid he'd lash out.
"Wow," he finally muttered. "So, is that what you guys really think will happen? That I'll choose Nic and leave Monica just hanging?"
"It's just a song, Spied," Jude reminded him nervously. "I make them up as I go."
"Please," he scoffed lightly. "This might be made up, dude, but don't deny it's what you all want to happen. It's practically your wet dream."
Tommy rolled his eyes. "Vin, get over yourself, why don't you? I mean, yeah, I'd absolutely rather have you marrying my sister instead of Wally's cousin, but you're not and I've accepted that. So have Jude and the guys. Stop making yourself the victim here."
"Stop talking down to me," Spiederman countered bitterly, standing up. "I'm gonna go," he said hastily, throwing back the door. "Call me when you have a song that's accurate." And with that, he left them all in his dust of fury.
"Hey, I'm gonna go out for a bit," Nic told Tra later that night. "Do you need anything?"
Tra, who was sitting on her couch, occasionally dozing off, shook his head."No, I'm good," he yawned, turning down the volume of Yo Momma. "Have fun."
Nic wrapped a scarf around her neck, tightened the belt on her gray wool coat, and left her apartment. It was incredibly cold outside, but it had been a long day and she needed to start thinking about Jude's biography. Every time she'd gotten stuck back when she'd been writing her novel, she'd drive her car to a little park just outside the city, with a single slide and a three-person swing set. It was always empty and she sometimes wondered if anyone else ever even knew it was there. Except for one person.
"What are you doing here?" she asked into the dark night when she found Spiederman sitting on the bottom of the slide, a cigarette in his hand. "That's a bad habit, you know."
"No kidding," he murmured, stamping it out underneath his Converse. "And I'm here because you've only been back for four days and you're already ruining my life." He paused. "Again."
She smirked triumphantly and sat on one of the swings, slowly pushing herself back and forth. "I only do that because you let it happen, Spied."
"No, I don't!" he cried out furiously, his breath escaping from his lips. "God, Nic, you just can't waltz back into town with some celebrity fiancé and pretend like everything is gonna be all Mayberry."
"Why does it bother you so much that I'm engaged?" she asked him pointedly. "In case you've forgotten, you're the one getting married next weekend."
"I know," he nodded, "but I'm not the one skipping around, crashing engagement parties, leaving the bride in a pool of self-consciousness; that, Nicole, is you."
"Can we not play the Blame Game for once?" she asked tiredly, pumping her legs a little harder, causing her to go higher. "I mean, my God, we've spent the last 96 hours straight fighting and bickering and eventually, it's just got to stop."
Spiederman opened his mouth to respond, but then stopped and sighed. "I know," he finally gave in. "We're adults now, aren't we?"
"Ha, speak for yourself," she laughed half-heartedly. "I have zero intentions of 'growing up,' or whatever that is. No, I think I'll stay 16 and a half forever."
"Come on, Nic," he said, sitting down in the swing next to her. "You're getting married; growing up is inevitable."
"No, growing old is inevitable," she corrected. "Everything else is just a state of mind." She leaned over and ran a hand through his ever-messy hair. "Seems to look as though you think so, too, Vincent. Or is it just 'Vince' these days?"
"Funny," he said dryly, pushing her hand away and then pulling it back to examine her ring. "It's nice."
"Thanks," she whispered, looking at it herself. "It reminds me of my mom," she added. Cause it was hers, she said to herself. "Was Monica's ring expensive?"
"No idea," he answered honestly. "My mom literally took my credit card, went to the Valerie Snow shop, and came back with a ring Monica likes."
Nic stared at him in shock. "You really didn't pick it out? You trusted Lindsey enough to do it for you?"
"I guess so," he shrugged. "I'm not exactly Mr. Jewelry, you know."
"You picked this out," she reminded him quietly, pulling the cross necklace she always wore out from underneath her cashmere sweater. "Gave it to me for Christmas."
"I remember," he assured her. "That might be my favorite present I've ever bought."
"It's definitely the favorite I've ever gotten," she smiled. "I don't want to start a fight here, but do you ever wonder what we'd be doing right now if nothing bad had ever happened between us?"
Spiederman looked at her sadly. "Yeah, I guess so."
"I think we'd probably be sitting in my apartment, cause we're too lazy to buy a bigger one, watching old episodes of Nip/Tuck, stuffing ourselves with pumpkin pie."
"See, I always think something different," he responded. "I see us at Jude and Tommy's, playing with the kids. All four of them."
"Four kids?" she laughed out loud. "That's a lot, especially for people who never wanted any."
He rolled his eyes. "No, Sophie, Lex, Isabelle, and our one and only kid," he explained. "A boy, preferably. Possibly named something really sweet."
"Cameron," she interrupted. "Cameron Spiederman; that's a name I like."
"Yeah, I like that," he agreed slowly. "Call him 'Cam,' teach him how to play."
"Does Monica want kids?" she asked him. "I mean, no offense, but I see her as the girl who wants 2.5 kids with a golden retriever and white picket fence, you know? Will she be able to adjust when you guys go on world tours?"
Spiederman shrugged. "We don't really talk about it that much. I mean, Darius is working on a big Jude/SME/Mason tour next winter, but it's still in the works. I've told her about it and she got upset, but it's not like I can say no or anything, you know? I mean, it's my job and it's my life." He looked down at his feet, almost too scared to ask his next question. "What happened to you in Paris, Nic?"
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Well, before you left, you were set to publish your book and two months into your absence, I read in The New York Times that it wasn't coming out and that the literary world would have to wait a while longer for your genius."
She was quiet. Did she dare tell him the truth, that she'd stupidly erased it one night after trying to drink him away? No. Lying was better. "I didn't like it anymore," she finally answered. "It just wasn't something that interested me anymore and I'm working on something new now."
"Oh, yeah?" he said. "What is it?"
"Jude's biography," she chuckled. "Tommy pitched the idea to me today and I agreed."
"Weird," he reacted. "I mean, no offense, I'm sure it'll be great, but you're not a biographer, Nic; you're a novelist. You write far-off stories you make up in your own imagination."
Again, she was quiet. "Yeah, well, people change, I guess."
"I guess," he repeated. "So, Kwest mentioned going to a karaoke bar tomorrow night. You and Tra going?"
"He's actually going to Australia tomorrow morning," she told him. "To shoot another Mountain Dew commercial with Shaun White and Danny Cass."
"That's cool," he nodded. "Well, you should still come. Rules are that we can't do anything by Jude, SME, or Boyz Attack and everyone has to perform."
Nic smirked. "Sounds like a good idea."
"So, what's this Tra guy got that I didn't?" he asked after a short silence. "I mean, why is it you can settle down with him but you couldn't with me?"
This caught Nic off-guard. She knew the real answer, but in telling him that, she'd have to tell the truth about not being engaged, and that wasn't set to come out until the morning. "I don't know, to be honest, Spied. I guess then I felt like I was still too young and too naive to commit to something so big and so exclusive, you know?"
"Yeah, I get it," he nodded knowingly. "Not that I didn't love you, cause I did, but I think we would've regretted it in the end."
His words hit her like a ton of bricks. We would've regretted it in the end. It was like hearing she wasn't good enough for him, then or now.
"So, excited about the big wedding?" she asked, abruptly changing the subject. "According to Tommy, who I must say I'm surprised is an usher, it's gonna be huge."
Spiederman scoffed. "Yeah, huge and a pain in my anus."
"Not what you want?" she guessed, swinging slightly again.
"It is," he replied, "but I've got nothing to do with it. At all," he added for emphasis. "Like, her parents are doing everything and they're so uptight and conventional about it all. Like, we're both only children, so they decided I could choose the ushers and she the bridesmaids."
"What's so horrible about that?" she asked as a thought crossed her mind. "Oh, duh, Jude."
"Bingo," he confirmed. "Monica doesn't really have any guys friends, other than Wally and Kyle, so she's fine. I, on the other hand, have a female best friend and she wouldn't even listen to my reasoning about Jude. It's so lame."
"Sounds like it," she agreed quietly. "Well, it's only one day and you can include Jude in all the pre-wedding stuff, you know?"
He laughed. "You'd think, since it's my wedding, but no, her parents dictate all that stuff, too. Rehearsal, and the dinner at their house after, is confined to those in the wedding party and that's it."
"Is this a wedding or a pre-arranged marriage?" she joked. "I haven't even met Tra's parents, let alone allow them in on the details."
"How did he propose?" he wondered aloud. "All I heard was that it was in Switzerland with his friends."
Nic started to panic. She'd never thought about how to answer that question, but, growing up Quincy, she'd learned to lie along the way. "It was really cheesy," she started. "We had been skiing all day at this fabulous resort and it was getting dark and snow was falling," she added. "Shaun and Danny had gotten off the lift in front of us and as soon as we landed, he got down on one knee, pulled out a red, velvet box and popped the question." There, that sounded pretty realistic, if she did say so herself. "What about you? Was your proposal super romantic and old-fashioned?"
"To the book," he grinned. "After my mom gave me the ring, which I still don't really know much about, I planned this big dinner at the loft and asked her over cheesecake and wine."
Nic gagged sarcastically. "And I thought Tra was a sucker; Spied, that's so lame."
"Yeah, but it's totally Monica," he shrugged.
"Kyle was right," she muttered impulsively.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.
She shrugged. "She's changed you, Spied; massively. I mean, since when do you do things for anyone other than yourself? And I don't mean for that to sound like you're self-centered, but when have you ever let someone else's ideas dictate your own?"
"Since you left," he admitted adding a little sting to his voice. "It became quite clear that my ideas weren't good enough, so they changed."
"I thought we weren't gonna do this anymore?" she interrupted, afraid to hear him reveal anything else. "You know, be adults and move on?"
Spiederman sighed. "Fine."
They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, her swinging and him just lazily rocking back and forth in his swing.
After a while, her cell phone rang. "Hello?" she answered, not paying attention to the caller ID, a habit she really needed to break.
"Nic, where are you?" Tommy demanded. "You promised Sophie you'd start teaching her to speak French tonight."
Nic winced. "Oh, yeah," she remembered. "Uhh, ask her if I can take a rain check for Thursday?" she requested. "I know, I suck, but now's not a good time."
"Alright," he agreed. "I'll tell her you're working, but when she hates you in the morning, don't blame me," he warned, hanging up.
"Who was that?" Spiederman asked. "Your brother?"
"Always," she nodded. "My French is much better than his and Sophie wants to learn, so I offered to teach," she explained. "Except, I forgot, so I'm doing it Thursday."
"Princess Memory strikes again," he teased, referring to an old nickname he'd given her back in the day for her lack of memorization skills. "Good to know some things never change."
"I guess," she laughed. "So, how goes work?"
Spiederman tensed up, thinking about Jude's new song. "Not so good," he answered honestly. "Dude wrote a not-so-nice song that I'm not looking forward to recording."
"Why?" she asked with interest. "You've always liked her stuff."
"Yeah, well, her stuff usually doesn't delve into my life," he snapped. "The song is what it would be like from Monica's perspective if I chose to be with you instead of her; that she won't be there to pick me up when you hurt me again."
"Ouch," she murmured. "I'm not sure if I should take that as an insult or if I should feel sorry for Monica in this hypothetical reality."
He sighed, watching his breath in the cold air. "It's whatever. Unfortunately, it's a good song, so not doing it would be really stupid on my part."
"At least you're a big enough person to realize that," she whispered.
"I'm a musician and good music to me is like a good book to you," he explained. "It may not share our opinion, or it may insult us, but good is good and you have to go with the flow."
She chuckled. "Well said, Vincent." She looked up at the stars. "Remember the first time we came here?"
"How could I forget?" he asked, thinking back to the night.
"Nic, if you don't drive faster, I'm gonna pee all over your leather interior," Spiederman said as they drove home from dinner outside the city.
"Oh, I'll just pull over," she sighed, turning into the park's small lot. "Here, a park; there's bound to be a bathroom here, or at least a Port-A-Potty."
They got out of her Mercedes and walked around, noticing only a swing set and slide. It was quaint and quiet, something they weren't used to from the playgrounds in downtown Toronto.
"This is cute," she muttered as he went off to find a place to relieve himself. "Dark and secluded, no kids to drive me crazy."
"You could write here," Spiederman offered as the two of them plopped down on the ground when he came back. "And I could play. It's a nice place."
She leaned on his shoulder and sighed. "I love you."
"Is that so?" he joked, playing with her hair. "Well, I guess that's okay cause I love you, too."
"I've never said that to a guy before," she admitted quietly, breathing in his Polo for Men scent.
"How come?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her to lay back on the grass. "Devoid of all human emotion?"
"Funny," she said, poking him in the stomach as she leaned into his embrace. "No, I've just never wanted to. Never meant much to me."
"Everything that happened with your parents really tore you up, huh?" he asked protectively.
"Yeah," she admitted. "I was losing family members like a socialite loses her shoes. Letting myself get close is scary."
He held her tight. "Well, I'm not going anywhere, I promise."
"Good," she whispered, closing her eyes.
"We slept here that night," he said. "Cold and rainy, but when we woke up, the sun was shining and birds were chirping."
Nic stifled a laugh. "I wouldn't go that far, but yeah, we spent the night here." She stopped and looked at him. "Have you ever brought Monica here?"
"Nope," he answered honestly. "I know this might sound lame, but I still consider this our place, even if you and I are history."
"History often repeats itself," she muttered under her breath.
"I'm a musician, Nic," he pointed out. "I have bionic hearing." He sighed. "And history only repeats itself when something is left undone."
"Don't you ever wonder if we were left undone?" she asked curiously. "I mean, like we never reached our full potential as a couple?"
Spiederman shrugged. "Sure, I do. But I also wonder what it would be like if Pokemon were real or if there was cheese-flavored soda. It's not realistic, Nic."
"People used to say that space travel was unrealistic, too," she told him. "Do I completely repulse you?"
He stared at her pointedly. "No, but it's over and done, Nic. You and me are over and that's that. I'm getting married in a week and you in a month. Our time passed; you pushed the clock."
"Oh, good, another fight we weren't going to have," she muttered, looking away from him. "Spied, you already admitted it: we would've regretted it in the end."
"But you didn't even try!" he exclaimed, standing up now. "Things got tough and you bailed! You're exactly like your brother except he had the balls to own up to his mistakes!"
"Tommy and I left for totally different reasons!" she yelled, standing to face him. "He left to do the right thing for Sophie and I left because I was scared. Saying he had the balls to come back isn't fair because he didn't leave on his own; he had to! Coming back was easier for him than it was for me!"
"If you believe that, you're the most naive human being I know," he smirked coolly. "Even I know that leaving Jude was incredibly hard for him and he still regrets losing that year with her."
She shook her head slightly. "Do you think I don't regret missing those two years I was gone? Do you think I was happy in Paris? Please! Spied, I was miserable the entire time I was there!"
"What about Tra?" he shot back. "You met your fiancé there!"
"Six months ago!" she screamed. "For 18 months, I had take-out every night for dinner; I watched re-runs of Nip/Tuck; I wore flip-flops all the time because you once said I had cute toes! Come on! Don't pretend you were the only one hurting here!"
He threw his head back and laughed harshly. "If you were hurting, it was your fault, Nic! If you hadn't left, we wouldn't be doing this!"
"I quit!" she yelled, backing away from him. "I'm not gonna waste my time fighting a dead war."
Another looming silence played over them as she sat at the top of the slide and he took a seat at the bottom.
"Wanna hear something funny?" he asked, breaking the quietness, as he pulled his Sidekick from his pocket.
"Always," she sighed, sliding down to him. "What is it?"
He pushed a few buttons and a familiar voice played through the speakers.
"Hey, it's me, and I know this is a really crappy thing to do right now, especially after last night, but I'm gonna take that crazy job offer in Paris. It's, uhh, permanent, so don't expect me to come home anytime soon. For now, I think it's the best thing for us because I'm not ready for what you're looking for and it's not fair to you." There was a long pause. "I love you, Spied, and I don't want you to ever doubt that. But, I want you to be happy."
"Why would you play that to me?" she asked quietly, wiping away a few stray tears. "More importantly, why do you have that saved?"
"Because for the first three months, I planned a dozen trips to Paris, looking to win you back," he explained. "And I used this as a device to keep me from it. You made it very clear that you weren't ready and I just had to accept that."
Nic was silent. "I have every letter you sent me from Jude giving you my address. All four of them," she laughed. "The first two are cute and nice, the second was horrible and sad, and the last was closure. You told me that you were over me and ready to move on and that you hoped I could, as well."
"And we did," he noted. "You and Tra, me and Monica. Funny how things work out, huh?"
"Hilarious," she said dryly. "Like it's funny that your hair doesn't look as though it's been cut since I left," she added jokingly, running a hand through his shaggy blonde hair once more. "I'm surprised Monica stands for that."
Before he could answer, a car drove by slowly, and it was as if the trance they'd been in for the last 45 minutes broke. He pulled his keys from his pocket. "I should go."
"Yeah," she muttered, looking to her Mercedes. "Me, too."
They walked to their cars quietly and when they got there, he looked at her once more before opening his door. "So, I'll see you tomorrow night, at karaoke?"
"Yeah," she confirmed. "Bye, Spied."
"Later," he said, ducking into his Jeep.
"Where were you?" Tra asked when Nic let herself back into the apartment 30 minutes later. "I woke up and you were gone."
She laughed. "I told you I was going out when you were watching Yo Momma," she reminded him, taking off her coat. "I guess it wasn't that important."
"Well, did you accomplish whatever you left for?" he asked, sitting up on the couch. "Any writing or anything?"
"No," she answered. "Spied was actually there when I got there and we spent the entire time reminiscing/fighting/talking," she explained. "It was, uhh, awkward, to say the least."
Tra mused a smile. "What did you reminisce/fight/talk about?"
"Our entire past," she replied, sitting down next to him. "About the break-up, our 'proposals,' Monica, having kids, my f-ed up life."
"Your life isn't so f-ed up, Nic," Tra told her. "I mean, you're a millionaire without trying, you have a family who adores you, and a job you actually like. Think about the people who don't have even one of those."
Nic sighed. "How come you always gotta knock me off my high horse?" she joked, leaning on his shoulder. "I know, you're right, but I'm a spoiled princess, Tra; I whine and victimize myself to get attention. Trust me, I know it's bad, but it's a habit; one of many I need to break."
"Oh, don't worry about it," he advised. "While things with this guy may not be going as you planned, good things come to those who wait."
"Blah, blah, blah," Nic muttered. "I just want to go back to Christmas Eve two years ago," she said. "It was the best night of my life."
"Why?" he implored.
"Jude and Tommy had me and Spied, Sadie and Kwest, and the entire G-Major everybody over at their place and we exchanged presents and it was just fun. Jude was still fat with Lex, Darius bought me satellite radio for my car, and Spiederman gave me this necklace," she said, fingering the cross around her neck. "It was just normal, for once in my life."
"God, that sounds so boring!" he cried out jokingly. "Christmas to me is boarding all day, getting drunk, and waking up to presents I probably don't need. Party, party, party."
"You say that now, but in two years, when I'm leading your intervention, will you be saying that then?" she teased. "So, have you packed?"
"I never really unpacked," he answered, standing up. "But, I am gonna go to bed cause my flight leaves at 7:35." He headed to his room before turning back to her once more. "I'll wake you to say good-bye, but I won't make you take me to the airport; I already called a car service."
"You're a decent guy, Tra Malcolm," she laughed, laying down on the couch, covering herself with an old cashmere blanket.
