Disclaimer: All recognizable The Bold Type characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including, but not limited to Freeform. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fan fiction story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No financial gain is associated with the publishing of this story. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Note: A one-shot that had been hidden away on my hard drive. –dkc

Coming Home

The Carlyle's marriage didn't survive Iceland. And Safford hardly survived without Jacqueline. Jane Sloan survived without Safford, but she felt adrift without the people she cared most about.

"Did you ever think you would be back here again?" Kat asked as she, Sutton and Jane walked into the atrium of the Safford building.

"Certainly not as an employee under the Safford umbrella," Jane shook her head.

"I must say you are less wide-eyed than your first day as a Scarlet writer," Sutton added.

"Ah, the jaded writer returns to the fold and is unimpressed by the fine trappings that come with being associate editor of Safford's travel and leisure magazine," Jane mimicked a documentary film voiceover.

"Let us remind you that the wide-eyed, baby Jane had to be dragged away from gawking at a certain editor-in-chief that day. Would you like us to take you by the chairman of the board's office to stage a reenactment?" Kat smirked.

"Funny."

"We love you," they both said as they hugged Jane on the escalator.

"Go to work," Jane smiled. "I can find my own way to my floor and office."

"Wish it was at Scarlet, babe," Kat said. "All you have to do is say the word and we would have to back in a heartbeat."

"This is about growth, remember?" Jane released them both as they stepped off the escalator.

"Good luck, tiny Jane."

Jane took a deep breath as she set off in the direction of her new office.

…

The space was well-apportioned and tastefully decorated. In fact, it reminded the writer more of her former boss's office than of her own when she had been finally given one in this building. She still couldn't believe the hefty pay increase from that job to this one. And a much better office, too.

There was some sort of commotion out in what amounted to a bullpen in the main office, but unlike at Scarlet, the office here didn't have glass walls and doors to make whatever it was obvious.

She stood suddenly when she saw her new editor making his way through her office door and then her stomach began dancing when she saw the woman beside him.

"Jane, it appears a special visitor to our floor is here to see you," he said, clearly he had been caught off guard by this. "I'll leave you two to catch up."

"Thank you, Jeremy."

That voice. Jane could feel goosebumps crossing her skin as her stomach continued to do the rumba.

"Jacqueline."

The warm, welcoming smile that graced the former editor's face made Jane relax. Her stiff posture relaxed even if her nerves didn't.

"Hello, Jane," the blonde said, nodding at the chair in front of the desk as if she needed permission to sit.

"What are you doing here?" the writer asked, returning to her own seat.

"I work here," Jacqueline's quirked eyebrow had been missing for far too long in Jane's life. "You had heard, of course."

"That's not what I meant," Jane shook her head, blushing. "What brings you to my office? I didn't think you knew I was—"

"Coming back to Safford? I am chairwoman of the board, Jane. And even if I weren't, I think I have friends that would share that kind of news. What is curious is why you hadn't told me."

The look she was given left Jane speechless. She couldn't form words. What she could form were memories. Her mind went back to a night six months prior:

She shouldn't be texting her former boss this late at night and certainly not when she had been drinking.

Any recommendations for someone in the midst of a crisis of confidence? she wrote.

Anyone I know? the response came back immediately.

I thought this would be easier.

Jane was lying in the floor in a hotel room in Milan. Her head was starting to spin.

Nothing is ever as easy as it seems.

I wanted to write and travel. I never imagined I would be writing about travel.

You're doing a fantastic job of it, Jane. For someone who had no experience in travel writing, you quickly found your voice.

You have been reading it? Jane was surprised by this revelation.

Of course I have. One doesn't stop reading their favorite writer just because they are on a different continent, Jacqueline's reverence for Jane's writing came as a surprise to the latter.

Are we currently on different continents? Jane wondered both internally as well as with her moving thumbs.

If you are asking if I am still in Iceland, no. Where are you now? Where did your heart take you after Italy?

The curiosity about Iceland would have to go without saying. The last thing the younger woman wanted to do was ask her mentor about her marriage when too much alcohol had been consumed and she wasn't certain why she desired the answer.

I am still in Milan. Hence the crisis of confidence, her fingers continued.

You're still in Milan?! I'm in Rome. We could meet.

You say that as if they are the same place. I don't want to bother you. What are you doing in Rome?

It's a three-and-a-half-hour train ride, Jane. Not a bother at all. I came to Rome to see an old friend, Jacqueline responded.

You were still supposed to be in Iceland, right? I haven't dreamt that you extended your visit, have I? At this point it all could be a dream.

Yes.

And that was it. Jacqueline didn't elaborate.

…

"Jane?" Jacqueline's voice brought her back to the present.

"I didn't purposely not tell you," Jane hummed while looking down at her desk. "Okay, maybe I was selective in who I told I was coming back here."

"Jane, it isn't as if you crashed and burned and had to ask for your old job back," the older woman winked at her.

"Hey, that was totally uncalled for!" Jane smiled broadly and it felt nice to have this kind of banter with her mentor again. Her stomach was also invaded by a swarm of butterflies when that bright smile gleamed back at her.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of, truly. This is a very good job. They wouldn't have hired anyone that wasn't top caliber. When I learned you were a finalist, I was surprised, but pleased."

"You knew?" Jane was incredulous. "And you want to know why I didn't tell you?"

"Touché. I suppose we both chose not to say anything. I mean it when I say there is nothing to be ashamed of. This is a huge step forward in your career, Jane."

"I was afraid you'd think I was giving up. That's why I didn't want to say anything. And we hadn't really spoken in the last two or three months. I didn't know how to begin that conversation. I didn't know if you even wanted to have that conversation."

Jacqueline sat forward in her chair and reached across the desk to take Jane's hand.

"I want whatever conversation you are willing to have with me. If anyone should be ashamed of anything, it is me. My behavior in Rome was unforgivable."

"No—"

"Yes, it was."

"Will you tell me how you ended up back here?" Jane softened her tone and immediately missed the hand that was no longer touching her own.

However, Jacqueline was lost in thought:

They sat in a beautiful spot in one of the few squares that wasn't packed with tourists. Rome was nothing like Milan. Jacqueline had been wearing sunglasses when Jane arrived, but they were placed aside once seated. Small talk was not something either found comfortable. It was agonizing to ask questions about one another's lives when they simply had no idea what the other was doing.

"Rome is a long way to travel to see an old friend," Jane stated.

Jacqueline tensed up noticeably.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"No, it's quite alright. I guess I wasn't anticipating us sitting down like this when I told you that. I suppose it's true in a way. I did come to see an old friend. However, that friend…she was being buried."

"Oh my god, Jacqueline. I am so sorry," Jane's hand shot out to take the hand of the woman across from her. They sat that way for a moment, blue eyes watching those hands in an attempt to keep composure.

"Thank you," she nodded. "She had been ill for some time. I had hoped to come here sooner, but Iceland took my attention."

"Had you been in Iceland all this time?" Jane asked as she tried to mark time in her own mind by how many cities she had visited, in however many countries.

"No, I went back to New York for a bit."

She didn't say more and Jane didn't ask.

No longer in her memory of Rome, Jacqueline returned to Jane's question at hand—how she ended up at Scarlet.

"Iceland was nice until it wasn't. I came back early. When Ian returned it was clear divorce was imminent and we got on with it. I was going to try at retirement, but I got a call from Richard saying they had called him to ask about the chairmanship and he declined. He told them they might try me. They wanted someone with Safford experience as the last three chairs post-RJ haven't had any sense of Safford's storied history. I had been sitting at home feeling sorry for myself for too long at that point and I said yes."

It hadn't been long after they met in Rome. What precisely Jacqueline was pitying herself for, Jane didn't know. When she last saw Jacqueline, she hadn't got that vibe from her at all:

As their lunch was coming to that inevitable moment when one of them had to either say goodbye or suggest they go somewhere else, Jane felt herself longing for something she had never felt in the presence of this woman before and that was physical comfort. She had often needed Jacqueline to give her moral support. But in this moment, it was far more than that. This terrified Jane. It had taken months, but she was finally in a place where she was coping with the lack of the editor in her life. Her response was to flee.

Just as she said she should be getting back to the train station, Jacqueline asked if she'd like to come back to her hotel. They were both immediately flustered and embarrassed.

"No, you're right. You've already given much of your day to me," Jacqueline assured her.

"Jacq—" Jane didn't know what to say. She didn't know what she wanted.

"I'll walk with you to the station. I'm not far from there."

They settled with the waiter and both donned sunglasses as they walked across the square and on to the train station.

"Let me know when you get back to Milan?" Jacqueline asked as they began to say goodbye. Jane nodded and looked up at the woman whose eyes she couldn't see, leaving her nearly unreadable. She took her own shades off to look at Jacqueline. The blonde was glowing in the Italian sun.

"It was really good to see you," Jane was nothing if not genuine.

"You as well, Jane. Don't give up on the writing just yet. It's topically different but that doesn't mean you won't find your niche. You're a good writer. Don't forget that. And if you do, I am only a call or text away."

"Thank you, Jacqueline."

They embraced. Jane wanted to hold on for dear life and yet also wanted to sprint the entire way back to Milan. As they began to separate, she decided it wouldn't be inappropriate to lean in and kiss the blonde's cheek. What she didn't know was Jacqueline had the same idea. As they turned, what was largely innocent turned into their lips meeting.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry," Jane immediately pulled back, her hand going to her lips.

Jacqueline found herself glad to have left her sunglasses on as they hid what she knew were momentarily closed eyes that took much pleasure in the accidental kiss.

"No, no, that was my fault," Jacqueline allowed Jane space and fully expected the woman to run.

"No, I misread—" the brunette stopped. Misread what? Everything? "Forget it. I should be catching my train."

"Goodbye, Jane."

"Bye, Jacqueline."

All this time later and sitting here remembering that moment was making Jane blush. She pointed out the obvious, at least it was to her: "They were wise to bring you back. We all knew this place wouldn't be able to function without you."

The smile Jane was offering was hiding something else, Jacqueline was simply trying to determine what. There was so much not being said between two women who had said a whole lot over the years.

"I have yet to find anything that can't function without me, including my boys, but thank you."

Sometimes I don't feel like I can, Jane thought.

"I should let you get settled in," Jacqueline spoke softly and with a touch of sadness in her voice. "I didn't mean to take much time. I just wanted to say hello and wish you luck."

"I appreciate that. From you, especially. It's good to see you, Jacqueline."

"You as well," the blonde made her way to the door and stepped through. "You know where to find me should you need anything at all. Anything."

Jacqueline was soon gone from the floor as the return to normal noise level suggested. Jane flopped back in her chair and much like she did on the entire train ride from Rome to Milan, she placed her fingers to her lips and got lost in the thought that she didn't know how she had functioned without Jacqueline nearby. She felt a sadness coming over her and as soon as she recognized it, her mood turned to anger and determination.

"Nope, not doing this again," she spoke aloud in her office.

Jane stood from her desk and made her way out the door and through the cubicles and desks toward the elevator. She punched in the number and waited impatiently for the door to open. A familiar face sat at the desk as she stepped off the elevator and toward the office she sought.

"Oh, hell no," came a sputtering Andrew who stood but could not get around the desk before Jane had let herself into the office behind him, closing the door behind her and flipping the lock.

When she whipped around, Jacqueline stood with her hip leaning against her desk. She looked as if given a few more minutes she may have been in tears.

"I am not going to dance this dance again," Jane stated.

"Dance?" Jacqueline stood to her full height and took a step toward the resolute writer.

"Don't. Just don't. You know what I'm talking about. You don't have to tell me what happened in Iceland. You don't have to tell me that it was your mentor who died and you buried in Rome. You don't need to explain why I didn't hear from you after that trip. You don't have to tell me why I, of all people, got a personal welcome from the chairwoman of Safford. But what you do have to admit is that you know precisely what dance I'm talking about."

Jane had covered the ground between them and was now staring at her once boss with a determination that was not foreign to Jacqueline.

The older woman nodded.

"Thank you," Jane took a deep breath and then pressed her lips to those of the woman she had thought about more in the last several months than she did in the years they saw each other every working day.

This was no accidental kiss. There was determination behind it. There was clarity. And they both wanted it. They wanted it a bit too much, having to pull back a bit when they realized how quickly it was escalating.

"Before I ask you if Andrew is dead out there, what made you follow me?" Jacqueline asked.

"Every day that has passed since I got on that train in Rome, I have kicked myself for not turning around and going to you, letting you kiss me however you wanted no matter how much it scared me. Every day I have wanted to have that moment to do over. I know there are a lot of gaps to fill in and important conversations to have, but I was not going to go another day regretting something that I had in my power to do and simply chose not to."

Tears started streaming down Jacqueline's cheeks. Petite hands found their way to warm skin, flicking each tear away.

"What is it?" Jane asked as she pulled Jacqueline against her.

"I never thought I would feel your lips again."

Light kisses and soft sighs were soon joined by occasional bursts of giddiness and disbelief.

"One of us should check on Andrew and I think it's best it not be you," Jacqueline remarked.

"One of us is going to have to have a discussion about boundaries with Andrew and I think it's best that be you," Jane squirmed out of Jacqueline's grasp. "Also, I need to get to work. I wouldn't want to get fired in my first day."

"We'll talk later?" the blonde walked Jane to the door.

"Yes, of course."

Leaning forward to unlock and open the door for Jane, Jacqueline made a point of pressing a kiss to the younger woman's pulse point, leaving her speechless.

"Thank you for stopping by, Jane."

Andrew had been standing staring at the door when it opened and nearly fainted as she saw his boss's kiss-plumped lips pulling away from the writer's neck.

"Come in here, Andrew," she tilted her head to the side and waited for him to follow. "Have a seat. I think it's time for you and I to have a chat."

-finis-