Shane's Second Self-Termination
By Felicia Ferguson
Uber-Long Author's Note: this is a Twitter challenge fic of sorts. During the SSDRewatch of Higher Ground, a discussion evolved around Oliver's saying Shane quit "more than twice." Now, all fanatic POStables know, she quit once in the pilot and once in From Paris With Love. 1+1 still equals 2 (regardless of Common Core math), which means 2 by itself is not "more than twice." So, either Eric meant to say "more than once" or only "twice" and the two got mashed together, or there's a missing resignation lurking in the canon. After I offered to write the missing scene, Andrea added a certain item Oliver had to use to woo Shane back to work (no spoilers), hence the "challenge."
After careful study of the SSD canon (yes, I'm strict like that), I decided Edge of Forever is the only place where I could see Shane quitting again. The story also needed to follow Oliver's parameters of Shane's quitting behavior, "Ms. McInerney, you have a habit of self-terminating whenever you are confronted with a situation you can't control." (Again, yes, I'm strict like that—it makes the puzzle that much more challenging and fun for me to put together!) Unfortunately, given these self-induced parameters, this turned out a LOT more angst-ridden than I originally intended. So, be forewarned. Tissues may be needed.
Oh, and you can also partially thank (or blame, depending upon your reviews, lol) JoBlaz for this one—she prodded the muse for another fic before the movie airs. Although the angst meter is off the charts, I do hope y'all enjoy, and I'd love to hear your thoughts!
As always, I own none of the characters. They belong to Martha Williamson's gifted mind. I simply thank God for giving them to her and that she's okay with me playing with them.
Shane sat curled into the rocking chair, as far away from Oliver as possible without having to move. In truth, though, she couldn't move. The fifty-caliber emotional rifle he just fired squarely in her heart paralyzed everything except breath and thought.
She had stewed all weekend over Oliver's canceling their ballroom dance showcase. As they bumped into each other walking to the DLO, tension arced between them, simmering for a moment only to spark with words, flare with looks. Not even Rita's impromptu interest in roller skating and her upcoming participation in the Miss Special Delivery pageant could alleviate it for long. And like embers popping from a campfire, it singed anyone who neared them.
Shane flinched as Rita and Norman's unease and wary observation flitted through her memory. They were collateral damage in a newly launched war, ducking and searching for cover as she and Oliver each fired word salvos, honed to pierce the thickest of armor.
They had somehow cobbled together enough professionalism for the meeting with Vanessa and Caitlin and later car ride to the Little Switzerland General Store. But once alone on the porch, the tension again screamed, ready for the release of the next volley. And what a skirmish it had been, bloody, shattering, and emotionally devastating.
She had told him he was easy to forgive, but now as her heart lay in pieces, wrecked by his words, his accusations, and finally his withdrawal she wasn't so certain. He was angry. She accepted that. He was in pain. She could forgive that. But his harsh, contemptuous tone, throwing her care back in her face, questioning even their friendship was not so easily accepted, nor forgiven.
Silence sat between them, broken only by his beloved bird song. Shane swallowed hard as reality crashed over her. I can force the truth on him, but I can't make him accept it. And I can't keep watching him torture himself. I lo—care about him too much.
And I can't allow us to tear apart the team.
The only answer was: someone had to leave. And that someone had to be her. Oliver was, after all, the section leader, and she was the last hired. Pain twisted her heart at the realization.
Rita and Norman were more than co-workers. They were dear friends. And as with Oliver, she had never had any like them. To leave their friendship, their love, would be devastating. But remaining with the strain between her and Oliver, and likely experiencing yet another emotional blood-letting, would be even more so—and to more than just herself.
No, it had to be done.
Hands clenched in her lap, Shane took in a quick breath. "I can't keep watching you do this to yourself. I'm quitting, Oliver." The words tumbled from her lips in a rush pushed out before they could be recovered or denied.
He said nothing. But really, did she want him to respond at all? Her declaration had the possibility of setting off another hail of words—one she wasn't certain she could survive. No, silence was better. Safer. Let them each lick their wounds in what little peace they could find.
A steady scrape of boot against gravel and Vanessa's soft, remorseful, "hey" wrenched them from the strained calm. Smothering her anguish, Shane pulled herself back to the work. She was a professional. She would finish this letter delivery. And then she would leave.
Vanessa asked after Caitlin. Shane responded, offering compassion in the face of Vanessa's own pain, attempting to redirect her to good memories of the sisters' shared childhood.
But then came a voice—the one she once loved to hear recite Shakespeare or extoll the virtues of their work. Even after the harsh, biting words of earlier, it could still slice at her show of concern, cutting her with a quick correction. Jaw clenched, she shot him a heated look. She'd thought he'd exhausted his verbal artillery but, apparently, a few grenades remained.
And she knew she'd made the right decision.
They could not go on like this.
Not even the work would survive.
As Vanessa and Oliver followed Maggie into the store, Shane hung back, silently volunteering to find Caitlin, but really needing time to regroup to finish her last dead letter delivery with some amount of professional decorum. Caitlin was soon located, and they joined Oliver and Vanessa in the store with Maggie.
Shane's emotional equilibrium restored, she listened as Vanessa and Caitlin confessed their presumed roles in their father's death, restoring their relationship. Would restoration ever be a possibility with Oliver? Could their devastation be healed? And if so, what would it take? Time? Apologies? Forgiveness?
And yet, despite all the words between them, as Carrie's letter passed from Maggie to Vanessa to Caitlin and ended in front of Shane, she couldn't help but look to Oliver for approval. He was the one who read letters aloud. Not her. His slow, definite nod of approval did little to encourage her heart, though. He would allow whatever was best for the sisters now that the letter had been properly delivered.
They were silent on Carrie's guided hike toward the Edge of Forever. Shane walking ahead and Oliver trailing behind, holding the urn. She glanced back from time to time, unable to keep herself from checking on him, making sure he was still there. Would she do the same after she left the DLO? And how long would she look for him in her life only to not find him?
They stood as Vanessa and Caitlin sat by the campfire. Hands in her pockets, Shane watched the sisters pleased for their reconciliation and grateful to end her DLO work on such a positive. She could feel Oliver beside her, quiet, contemplative. The tension and anger between them had banked overlaid by a despondent sorrow. She had accepted her resignation. And so had he.
Then, something appeared in her peripheral vision. A stick like Vanessa and Caitlin's. Shane pulled her hands out of her pockets and accepted Oliver's wooden olive branch. She chanced a glance to him and read the tentative plea in his eyes, his wary apology. And she smiled. Perhaps they could bandage each other's wounds and survive to move forward.
She watched her marshmallow brown under the flame and considered the future. She would have to forgive him, but how and when?
The sisters talked in hushed words, recalling their first attempts at making the treats, as Shane pulled her marshmallow out of the fire. Locating Maggie's s'more-making bag, Shane tugged out two graham crackers and slathered the sugary confection on one of them, then glanced around for the remaining ingredient.
Again, something appeared in her peripheral vision. She looked up. Oliver held out a thick square of chocolate. A tentative question lurked in his eyes. Will you stay? Please.
Shane took in a deep breath and blinked back sudden tears. Yes, she could stay, but what would it look like if she did? Could they ever be partners again?
She ate her s'more in silence, feeling Oliver's eyes flick to her and away. When she finished her treat, she wiped the sticky goo from her fingers then helped the sisters pack up. Within minutes, they were back on the treasure hunt, and off to find the place where their father waited for their mother.
This time, Shane trailed behind them, needing space to feel this new reality with Oliver, to settle their likely work relationship in her heart. Together, but separate. She could do this. She would do this. If for no other reason than because he asked. And because she truly couldn't bring herself to leave him.
Shane slowly walked toward the rock stairs, watching the trees, the birds, anything but Oliver's determined progress ahead of her. When would she be able to look at him with ease again? Without the heart wrenching memory of the words that were forever between them?
She watched each step as she picked her way up the rocky incline, swaying and weaving as her balance shifted, and wished she'd chosen different shoes for this delivery.
She could do this. She wouldn't let herself fall.
And then an empty hand appeared. Oliver's hand. Shane looked up. His eyes remained tentative, expectant of being hurt once again, but his open hand offered peace and a restoration of what had been.
Shane's lips flickered in a quick, thankful smile as she took his hand and climbed the rest of the way. Yes, they could survive their war and, yes, in their peace, could learn to be partners again.
So, as the sisters questioned the final benediction, Shane offered one of her own to Oliver. "You know, Mr. O'Toole is very good with words and recitations. And he is a man of faith after all."
As Oliver recited a passage Shane had never heard, his soft, vulnerable confession supplanted and soothed his earlier condemnation and dismissal. She watched his face as his lips formed the words and sensed the return of her peace and compassion.
In both, she found the words she needed to heal.
I forgive you, Oliver. And I hope one day you'll forgive me, too.
Final note: Andrea's challenge was to have Oliver woo Shane back to work with chocolate.