Title: Stop The Clocks.
Rating: T.
Summary: You think life was difficult as a teenager; try growing up.
Notes:
This is long.
Like 10,000+ words long.
So I've split it into two chapters; both will be posted tonight though.
There are a lot of time jumps but I had a few years to fill, sorry. Hopefully it reads nicely. It's completely un-betaed so any mistakes are mine and mine alone.
I started writing this at 14:00 today and it is now 20:41, so I probably have missed some was written to the album "Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds.".
I changed a few things from the preview I showed you earlier; simply to line it up correctly with the timelines.
I would just like to say a big, big thank you to all those who still read this and encouraged me to continue it, finish it, whatever. You're all great and I hope everything you wanted when you started reading this has come true for you.
Act i.
Filtering through the dusky morning mist, claiming the window, the sunlight made its way into a shared bedroom. Its fingertips tickled the blinds, hovered across the carpet and slowly climbed up onto the high bed.
It was almost like it was examining the room, carefully tracing the outline of the furniture, taking in the imagery on the wall of diplomas and pictures and awards.
Bravely, it climbed higher, stroking the cheek of the woman in the bed. Like a soft sigh over delicate features, tenderly gazing over full lips and flickering eyelashes.
Mornings in New York were rarely this peaceful. The streets below were filled with screaming taxi drivers, shopkeepers rushing to start the day, business men and women chattering into cell phones as they held steaming cups of coffee; too tired to be polite, too engrossed in their own lives to see someone else's.
Spencer held her breath.
She watched from the loft high windows, looking down at all the people who were rushing around with their lives. Sometimes, she wanted them to look at her, because they would be envious, they would stop for a moment and just wish that their lives were as nice as hers.
They'd see the coffee in the pot, the low hum of jazz on the stereo as she got ready in the morning.
They'd see the charming mess of the living room, shoes not in the rack by the door, a jacket over the back of the couch rather than the hook.
They'd see a bottle of wine, two glasses and cartons of Chinese; forgotten on the table, ignored when the urge to be touched and to touch in return became too much.
They'd see a home.
Spencer's eyes darkened.
They wouldn't see a family though, not yet.
But soon.
Soon.
"Hey beautiful," a voice called from behind her, making her body jolt in surprise. She didn't turn her head, instead waiting for strong arms to embrace her body and a silky voice to invade her senses.
Sometimes, her fiancé was too predictable.
As two arms wrapped around her, Spencer let her body lean back; despite the difference in height. She wasn't worried in the slightest about letting Ashley hold her weight; she always would without question.
"Good morning, darling," she replied back, smiling when the woman embracing her giggled into her neck. She loved these relaxed moments, where all she had to worry about was Ashley falling asleep on her back or her coffee being ignored in favour of kisses.
"Darling?"
"It's sweet," Spencer replied, turning around and facing a sleepy face. "You look exhausted."
"I call you beautiful and this is how you repay me?" The woman pouted, fixing Spencer with a look that spoke volumes. In return, Spencer rolled her eyes at the woman's behaviour.
"You know I think you're gorgeous, Ashley," she placated her girl. "I'm just saying if you want to stay in bed today then you can."
"Mmm," brown eyes flickered closed, a peaceful look overtaking tired features. Spencer let her eyes kiss the sheer beauty that was Ashley Davies. Even with bed head, sleep in her eyes and a face creased from pillows she was still as breathtaking as she was when they were teenagers.
She felt her heart leap, knowing this woman was hers, for now, for always. Like a crescendo in an orchestra her heart lifted, making her stomach twist, making her breath catch.
She was hers, always.
"Go on, baby."
"I wish. But the bar doesn't run itself and I have to go down and check on the delivery. Dave has a habit of over ordering supplies and I'm throwing more food out than I'm serving."
"Don't you have a manager to oversee all these things? You work so hard."
"Yeah, but she's on holiday with her boyfriend for another four days. As soon as she comes back I'll take some time off, we can plan where we're going to go on our honeymoon."
Spencer couldn't help her giddy reaction; she rocked up onto her toes and smiled so hard she felt her teeth ache. She moved her hands up from where they'd been holding onto Ashley's arms and tangled them into long hair.
She wanted the kiss to be slow, to tell Ashley she couldn't believe they were doing this; they were getting married. But, instead, she crashed her lips against pink ones and sucked hard on Ashley's bottom lip. For her efforts, she received a moan and manicured nails dug into her shirt, holding on tightly.
Panting, she pulled away, running a tongue over her bottom lip and letting her eyelashes flutter at the taste of pure Ashley on her.
Ashley sent her a look and moved her hands so that they were at the bottom of her shirt. With a raised eyebrow, Ashley pulled it from Spencer's body and began leaving hot, wet kisses along the swell of her breasts.
Yeah, all those below, all those people?
They'd be envious if they saw her life.
Act ii.
It hadn't always been kisses and roses and talks of weddings.
She watches as Ashley pulls on her white shirt, tucking it into her grey trousers and moving away to start with her makeup.
After high school came college.
Sure, predictions were they would last the distance. That the relationship would stand the test of time and fight long and hard through the tough times.
They were fated, meant to be; soul mates.
But the reality was that it was hard.
There were things such as deadlines, mid-terms, and essays.
They'd tried so hard to last, they really did. Ashley would travel from Chicago where she was studying Business to Spencer in California; and Spencer would travel the i80 to get to her.
But the pressures of money and workloads and friends; they all tied together to make one big mess.
They were too young to cope with it, Spencer reasoned. Too young to hold a relationship and get a degree and make friends and start living an adult life; especially with over 2,000 miles between them.
She remembers the phone call clearly. How she'd phoned to see how Ashley's night out was only to be met with her girlfriend sobbing down the phone, crying out how much she missed her and how college was useless if she had nobody to home to at night.
They'd ended their relationship there, almost two years to the day.
She remembers she was sat on a bench in Oval Park. It was heartbreaking, she remembers that classmates were walking past her as she held her stomach, tears rolling down her cheeks.
Ashley's voice haunted her. I love you so, so much Spencer. But I can't keep hurting like this. And neither can you.
She'd agreed, of course she'd agreed. They both spent too many hours of the day pining over one another when they should have been living their lives.
That didn't mean she didn't feel her heart snap in two.
A year after graduating, Spencer found herself in the city of New York. She was there with an on/off girlfriend, Heather, looking at job opportunities.
She and Ashley had drifted apart, finding it too difficult to continue talking.
Six months after their breakup, Spencer had to unfriend Ashley from Facebook. Her ex had been tagged in too many places with the same girl to not be suspicious.
Two months after that, Spencer saw that Aiden had liked; Ashley Davies is in a relationship with Hannah Jordan.
A month later, Ashley saw that Aiden liked; Spencer Carlin is in a relationship with Heather Samuels.
She'd received a private message from Ashley, congratulating on her relationship and wishing her all the best on her Psychology degree.
Spencer had replied a polite thank you, and wishing Ashley luck on her thesis.
After that, there was no contact at all.
She loved California; but she needed a break. After college, she'd gone back home for a while, but the memories had hurt too much.
Her parents' divorce.
Her father's new girlfriend.
Ashley.
And so she'd uprooted again, moving across the country to New York; desperate to try her luck somewhere else.
The fates were smiling on her that day.
She was leaving a high rise red brick building, a new contract for a job in her hand, when it had happened. Heather had texted her that she wanted to meet for a coffee and Spencer had an idea how that was going to turn out. Heather was lovely, beautiful and sweet; but they both knew she deserved more.
She stopped on the sidewalk, tapping at her Smartphone in reply, when she had felt a presence behind her. She knew enough about New York to tuck her phone into her blazer pocket, holding it tightly and she moved to walk away.
"Spencer," the voice was husky, covered with desire.
"Ashley?"
"God," Ashley had whispered, eyes filling with surprise as the woman turned around in front of her. "Oh God."
"Ashley?"
"What are you doing here, Spencer? In New York."
"I applied for a job."
"In New York?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Honestly? I don't know," she frowned, looking at her ex. If anything, she'd grown more beautiful. The years hadn't made her harsh but instead seemed to have mellowed her out. Her hair was straight, her body covered in professional attire (a black blouse and dark slacks.)
"God, it's really you."
"Yeah, I guess it is."
Spencer smiled sweetly and let Ashley take her hand carefully.
"Can we start again, Spencer?"
She remembers how bold Ashley had been, but how her eyes had nervously flicked all over the street, unable to look at Spencer's face in fear of rejection.
Instead of replying, Spencer had pulled her closer and held on to Ashley as tight as she could.
Act iii.
Paula closed the door quietly to her elderly mother's bedroom. It was still early, just after seven in the evening, but Mary had found herself becoming weak after a long day and had started retiring early to bed.
She moved quietly down the hallway (passing pictures of herself and family) making herself a cup of English tea in the limited light of the kitchen, before moving into the sitting room; ready to settle down for the night herself.
She knew this wasn't a proper life, even now in her late forties; she should be socialising, not living at home with her mother.
But for Paula this is how it had worked out, this is the life she had made for herself and her stubborn attitude made sure she didn't change that.
After the divorce, Paula had moved back to Ohio, too afraid of showing her face back in L.A after disowning her own daughter and refusing to change her ways. The divorce hadn't been as long as she thought it would be in fact it was the aftermath that had tired her soul.
The accusing eyes of neighbours, people who questioned why she would leave such a decent man and such a lovely little family. The constant nagging of her family, friends, neighbours; telling her, no demanding her, to go back and work on her marriage like a proper woman would.
But worst?
The worst was how they agreed she'd done the right thing, abandoning her daughter because of who she loved.
The worst was her mother who never told her what she was doing was a mistaking.
The worst was cutting contact with Spencer.
But, it seemed, cutting contact with one child meant she had to sever ties with them all. Glen had married a young woman named Gabrielle, according to Arthur, and were expecting a second child this year. Clay had moved in with Chelsea, they now lived in Columbus and were happily engaged.
But she heard all of this second hand.
Because she was simply too ashamed. Too ashamed to pick up the phone and just apologise to her sons, to her husband - to her daughter. She didn't want to be vulnerable, to be told she was wrong; because she wasn't wrong. Her opinions were her own and she wouldn't be told what to feel.
Her family knew that.
She thought that probably made it worse.
Because even now, Paula knew, deep down in her heart, that if she picked up the phone Spencer would continue talking to her like a daughter would, she'd forgive her if she could only apologise.
Because Spencer was all the good things that she wasn't.
It was a Wednesday when the postman came with it.
It was a cold day at the beginning of March but she'd been sat outside, breathing in the crisp air and warming her hands on a cup of tea and honey. She hadn't needed to go to work that day, having told the hospital she would do the night shifts and the earliest shifts in exchange for Monday to Wednesday off.
The postman, George, had meandered up the path and handed her the stack of letters the house received.
She'd flicked through them listlessly.
She'd stopped though, at the prettily decorated card in the middle.
She hadn't opened it then and instead placed it on the mantle in the living area. Her mother had opened it first, scoffing quietly before phoning Glen.
(He never asked to speak to Paula.)
But now.
The envelope was mocking her, the off-white colouring, the gold decoration, the cursive handwriting on the front; all of it was making a spectacle of itself on the mantle.
It had come in the post three days ago and she had held it in her shaking hands, already knowing exactly what was on the inside and feeling a weight in her stomach. Her knees had started to shake and she'd felt lightheaded, the paper in her hands feeling a lot heavier than it should have done.
She knows now, after opening it, what she should do; but she doesn't. She can't.
It's been too long.
She remembers how she had tried at first, to save her marriage, her family; but the seeds had already been sowed and her beliefs, her morals, although lighter now hadn't changed.
They'd asked her to, told her she'd be welcome back if she could open herself up.
But she couldn't.
She remembers that she had tried so hard, she remembers how she had almost come to accept her daughter, but in the end, she found it too hard to face LA again.
She knows she missed too much to start again.
Graduation.
Glen's first child.
His second.
Clay's proposal.
Arthurs' new woman.
And where had her morals gotten her? She laments, staring at the envelope, the soft sunset making it glow a warm yellow.
She'd lived a hollow life, scowling along with her mother when gay marriage bills were passed, wishing she could make herself change.
Wearily, she picks herself up from the chair and shuffles across the room, almost afraid of what she is going to read. Though she knows, she has it memorised.
She opens the top, making sure she unfolds the paper carefully and she holds it up in front of her.
"Dear,
Miss. Paula Spence & Mrs. Mary Spencer.
Together, we are delighted to announce our engagement.
On the 15th September 2016, we cordially invite you to celebrate with us, the wedding of;
Miss. Ashley Davies & Miss. Spencer Carlin."
Below are details of where in New York they will be marrying and the time and date; six months from now.
Her mother has already decided against this, answering Glen's phonecall about her attendance and claiming flying from Ohio to New York at her age is too dangerous and that Paula won't be attending either.
As she reads the card once more, she doesn't think New York is truly that far away.
Act iv.
The party was well underway and Spencer moved her hips to the music pouring in from the backyard. She bumped her hip playfully into Ashley, grinning at the giggle she got in response.
A young band Ashley had found on open mic night were performing, covering well known songs and entrancing the intoxicated crowd that covered Aiden's terrace.
Aiden had done exceptionally well for himself after college. His scholarship had opened up several opportunities and he'd played professional basketball for five years, before he retired early. Instead, he set up his own gym and offered free basketball classes to underprivileged kids in the area.
His charity work plus his own success had earnt him enough that he could settle happily in Manhattan with Kyla. The two having gotten together only a year earlier.
"Hey Spencer, can you help?" Kyla called out from the kitchen which led out to the backyard, where, it seemed, the entire of Murray Hill were partying.
"Uh, no," Ashley interrupted, wrapping an arm around Spencer's waist and pointing a finger at her cousin. "I think you'll find this is our engagement party, Kyla. So, just, shut up."
Spencer smiled at her drunken fiancé.
"Yeah Ky, I'll come now," she called merrily. "Hey Ash, go and find Aiden."
The young woman opened her mouth to reply, but was distracted quickly by the band playing a Stone Roses cover. Oh God, she loved The Stone Roses.
Classic.
With her woman sufficiently distracted, Spencer made her way through the doors to help Kyla. She quickly found her near the drinks cabinet, inspecting a bottle of tequila.
"What do you need me to do?"
"So, Ashley let you come and help then?" The two women stared at one another before chuckling well naturedly. "No, of course not. Where is she?"
"I sent her to look for Aiden."
"Oh," Kyla grinned and held up the bottle of tequila. "Shall we?"
"So, like, why haven't you proposed to my cousin yet?" Ashley argued, slumping down in the chair next to the tall man. He looked across at Ashley, a frown in the middle of his eyebrows and he worked out what he was supposed to say to that.
"Uh, hey Ash. How are you holding up?"
"Uh, shut up. For real, why haven't you?"
"Ashley, you're twenty-five. Why are you still saying 'for real' anyway?"
"Because this is serious business, Dennison. I know serious business, I have a degree. I went to college and everything."
"You're drunk aren't you?"
"Yup."
Aiden chuckled to himself, wrapping a strong arm around Ashley's shoulder and pulling her into his side. He slapped him half-heartedly, muttering about how he smelt of sweat, before leaning against him, the dizziness catching up with her and her eyes started to droop.
Together they watched the band play, the people mill around, drinking, eating, and congratulating Spencer and/or Ashley whenever they saw them.
It was perfect.
Almost.
"Aiden?"
"Mm?"
"Does Glen talk to Paula?"
"I don't know," he replied, shrugging and displacing her head at the same time. "We don't really talk about that sort of stuff."
"Oh."
"Why?"
"Spencer – she," Ashley sighed and sat up slowly, letting her brain catch up with her body before she continued. "She wants her mom at the wedding. Like, she sent her an invitation but – fuck, my head is spinning."
Aiden sat up and grabbed the bottle of water he was drinking, handing it to his friend. "Here."
"Thanks," she took a swig and held the bottle between her knees. "She hasn't even replied, you know? I mean, it's her daughter's wedding day and yeah, I get it, she doesn't like me. But, what, what about Spencer? She should be there for her, right?"
"Yeah she should," Aiden agreed. "Have you spoken to her?"
"Are you mad?" Ashley scoffed, picking at the label of the water. "She'd crucify me through the phone. And, it's not even me who wants her there. She made Spencer cry so many times, I don't like her. But, you know, it's Spencer's day. I want it to be perfect."
"It's your day too, Ash."
"No," she shook her head, a smile tugging on her lips. "No, see, I don't have to marry Spencer to have a perfect day. It's always perfect."
"God," Aiden laughed loudly and pushed Ashley away, laughing harder at her swaying motion. "No more drinks for you, Shakespeare."
"So, what did you need help with really?" Spencer looked through her lashes at Kyla. They'd been in the kitchen a good fifteen minutes, and as much as Spencer needed the break, it was also rude to disappear at your own party.
Even if it was held at someone else's house.
"Uh," The woman started, adding more ice to her vodka tonic. "I don't – This is stupid."
"Go on..."
"Ashley told me earlier about, you know," she cringed, closing her eyes tightly when Spencer didn't respond. "God."
"Told you what, Kyla?"
"About," she took a breath. "About you not, you know, being able to – to have a baby."
Silence overtook the kitchen and Spencer felt the entire air fly out of her.
She felt like she had when they'd been sat in doctor's office, only two days earlier. They'd been trying to conceive for nearly thirteen months through an anonymous donor; but Spencer couldn't.
Or, in Doctor Kershaw's words, the chances were very slim.
Money had been spent, more money that they probably had.
But they wanted this, craved this. They wanted to be wives, mothers; they wanted a family.
She can see now, how Ashley had sobbed into her open hands and how Clay, who had come from Columbus to oversee their case with Dr. Kershaw, had moved from around his side of the desk and embraced them both; apologising profusely – like it was his fault.
No words were spoken and Kyla looked up fearfully, "I'm sorry, Spencer. I shouldn't have said anything."
"No," she shook her head and placed her hand over Kyla's. "Don't be sorry."
"I am though," Kyla sounded like she was talking underwater, tears clogging her voice. "I know this is a stupid time to bring it up and, I don't know, it's probably the vodka making me do it. But Spencer, I'm here if you need anything alright?"
"I know, Kyla. Thank you."
Act v.
The venue was sorted, the after party was sorted, invitations were sent out, dresses were bought, both bridal parties had hen parties ready and waiting; all that was missing was her own family.
Spencer curled her body around Ashley's, her palm resting on the woman solid collarbone and her own leg hitched over Ashley's. She knew the woman wasn't asleep, she could tell by her breathing, but Spencer also knew Ashley wasn't going to start talking unless Spencer wanted to.
She ran her nose along the soft skin of her fiancés neck, inhaling the fragrance she had come to love almost as much as the woman who held it. She tightened her grip and felt Ashley move closer to her, humming softly as she turned to face her.
"You should be sleeping," Ashley whispered, moving her hand to run along Spencer's spine. "You have that session tomorrow with that boy."
"Mm," Spencer replied. She wanted to sleep, it wasn't fair to her clients if she didn't turn up at work looking and feeling her best. As a social therapist, she had a duty to make them feel important and not just another person. But life was starting to creep up on her.
"Hm, baby, tell me what's bothering you."
"I can't," Spencer choked out, burrowing father into Ashley's skin.
"Why not?"
"Ashley, are you happy?" Spencer turned her head, looking into those deep eyes that she craved. "I mean, do I make you happy?"
"What?" Ashley furrowed her eyebrows, moving to sit up. She pulled Spencer with her and turned to flick the bedroom light on. "Spencer."
"I just, I ask so much of you Ashley," her eyes dropped to the bedspread. "You put up with my family, my mother. You're marrying me, despite never wanting to. You're so supportive of this baby thing. You pay for this wonderful apartment and –"
"You pay too, Spence."
"Not as much."
"What does that matter?" Ashley grasped at the hands in front of her, finding herself becoming increasing frustrated with this withdrawn woman. "Spencer, look at me."
Looking up, Spencer's stomach curled inwards at the tears and passion on the face of her love. She knew what was coming, the impassioned speech, but what she needed to know was one thing.
"Ashley, please. Just answer me, do I make you happy?"
"The happiest, Spencer."
"Even if I can't have our baby?"
Ashley's jaw dropped and she pulled Spencer to her roughly, wrapping her arms around her body and holding the woman as close as she possibly could.
"Spencer, I love you. I've loved you for as long as I can possibly remember. This is a minor hurdle, okay? There are other ways, adoption, fostering – God, I'll carry our child."
"What? But Ashley..."
"I know what I said, alright? But that was months ago," Ashley looked into blue eyes, making sure Spencer understood everything she wanted to say. "Of course I'd love to see you pregnant and yes, I am terrified I won't make a good mother. But baby, listen to me. If you want a family, if you want to be a mother, I'll make you one; do you hear me? Forget what I said before, about not wanting to be pregnant and about being afraid; I told you once I'd give you everything, and I will, I swear it."
"Ash," Spencer dropped her head, tears carving imprints onto her cheeks and she sobbed. "You would, you would carry our child?"
"Anything, I'll do it Spencer. I will."
They decided to wait.
The wedding was coming up and both Spencer and Ashley had careers they wanted to focus on. They both knew, children were not easy and Ashley knew she needed time to adjust.
The idea of Spencer being pregnant excited her in a way she never thought possible. The idea a life, a life of her child, would grow inside the woman she loved – God, that thought was amazing. And she knew Spencer would look perfect with a swollen stomach, with a little waddle as she walked.
Ashley could imagine it now, the cute tantrums of her blond haired daughter, the mischief of her blue eyed son; everything, she wanted it and it was perfect.
But right now, she wanted Spencer.
She wanted nights where she could take her out, wine and dine her and then take her back to their apartment and make love to her in any and every room they had.
She wanted to be able to sneak up on her, grab her and hoist her onto the kitchen counter. Wanted to push her skirt up around her waist and take her then and there.
She wanted to kiss her soundly and deeply and run her hand along the waistband of her workpants before slipping her hand beneath the lace and watching as Spencer fell apart around her.
She knew it was selfish, she did; but they had forever.
They would have a family, they would have the two children and the kitten and the puppy and whatever the fuck else Spencer asked for.
They would have the holidays to Disneyland. They would have the PTA meetings and the sleepless nights and the bedtime stories and she couldn't wait.
But she wanted to marry Spencer first. She wanted to have a honeymoon and have the first fight as a married couple and then she wanted the makeup sex and the apologies and the real life.
And then, when they'd had that and they'd done that; they would bring a brand new life into the world and love him or her endlessly.
