It was half past 10:00 when Jeff pulled himself into the bathroom to begin getting ready for his morning date with Cheryl. He felt like hell and the dark circles under his eyes made him look like it too.
Despite his lack of actual distraction, his mind had stayed focused on keeping him awake. Overnight, his life had completely morphed into a fusion of who he had been and who he had to become. Annie was home; the group had toasted her return. She was truly back. It wasn't like last time.
That is where his thoughts began to sour. Sitting in the bar, surrounded by their friends, it was easy to stay reserved, rescinding into the role of the collective, not such a familiar position for his infamous ego. He could've remained impassive, but Annie had made it impossible.
She was bright and engaging, magnetic energy pulling her into focus. It was as if Jeff had suddenly forgotten three whole years; how time had been the only way to mend his wound, like skin healing over shrapnel.
He thought it had been easy, teaching himself that Annie had just been an old friend, that they were always supposed to part. For three years, he had been reminding himself that her silent and sneaky exit was proof that her feelings had not mirrored his, that he had over-embellished emotions of loss at her choice. Jeff knew that he was angry at her for how she left things. Even now, he was more certain of that fact.
But every fiber of his body had forgotten when she was looking at him and smiling. The subtle blushes of Annie's face as she regaled some epic, albeit biased, tales of the Greendale Seven, made his stomach tighten. Her gentle laughs had his heart hammering in his chest, and he reeled to remember it once he returned home that night.
He was still full of anger, but it was as if he had no room for it when he wasn't thinking about it. All these years later and Annie Edison could still shake him without a token's show of effort. Once he had come to that realization at 4 in the morning, it had been hard to get any sleep.
It was impossible for him to quantify his current state of irritation; still, he forced it aside as he began getting ready. Cheryl didn't deserve his disgruntled disposition, not when things were going so well.
He'd made eyes at her a time or two passing her by in the office before he'd been found out as a phony. They had known of each other, but Jeff had been a hot-shot at the time, unable to look at just one woman for more than 5 minutes. Just the same, he knew that if he had approached her back then he clearly would've made an ass of himself.
He wasn't a full person back then, just a string of materialistic cliches, lacking any substance, nearly barren of neglected potential from years of harsh cynicism. At that point in his life, the thought of trying to find some kind of belonging with friends seemed like a cheesy punchline in some cartoon he'd seen once upon a time. He hadn't actually thought it possible because no one had tried.
Jeff attempted to shake the tension from his thoughts. He wasn't that person anymore; he felt settled and comfortable; of course, still put together the picture of confidence, but he no longer felt like he was striving for that same vapid and monetary emptiness as he had before Greendale. It was a good thing Cheryl hadn't truly gotten to know him back then.
He pushed himself from his daze, internally reminding that she wanted croissants and though Jeff was not a man known for carbohydrate indulgence, he gave in for distraction's sake. Despite his utter lack of sleep and sluggish demeanor, he efficiently pulled himself together. It was greatly in part to the fact that he pre-gamed caffeine for his brunch date with a speedily slammed cup of black coffee, bitter and scalding like the feelings he constantly seemed to be swallowing down.
Jeff was suddenly despairing at the realization that even after four years of attending and five years of suffering through employment as a teacher at Greendale, he still had somehow not managed to pay his karmic penance while he sat, eating brunch with his girlfriend as she decided to occupy their conversation with questions about the recently returned Annie, the only topic he was desperate to avoid. He had initially tried to shrug off her curiosity but found her insistence too sincere to be dissuaded without his refusal seeming revealing of his disinterest, at least to his overwhelmed thoughts. They were simple enough inquiries, nothing indicative that she was suspicious of his tense demeanor, mostly she wondered after Annie's backstory, having heard the origin of every other Greendale Seven member.
"So, I know she grew up nearby and went to high school with Troy before she had her 'Adderall episode'." Jeff subtly rolled his eyes to hear how much Britta had apparently divulged to Cheryl about Annie's checkered introduction into Greendale. "But Britta didn't delve in too deeply about her family. I'm surprised Annie would be staying with her instead of them, after having been gone for the past three years." Cheryl took a slow sip of her coffee, her green eyes open and inquisitive as she looked to Jeff for clarity.
Jeff sighed softly and shook his head. "There's not much to say beyond that they're not close." He didn't want to divulge Annie's personal business beyond what Britta had already blabbered, but he couldn't remain entirely impassive as he remembered how lost Annie had been when he first met her, so strong and resolute, but undeniably damaged by the lack of familial support, something he sympathized with, more than he would ever admit. "Her mother kicked her out when she wanted to go to rehab directly after high school. Last I heard, they still weren't speaking."
"Oh, poor Annie." Cheryl solemnly shook her head. "Still, good for her." Her tone perked up with admiration. "I mean, she may have had to go it alone, but she chose to live according to her own terms by prioritizing her health. That's not an easy sacrifice, especially when you're just starting out." She pulled apart her croissant.
He shrugged. "We all have dysfunctional relationships with our families. I think it kind of united us."
"And you?"
Jeff tried not to stare at her too intently as he immediately ran calculations of whether they were there yet. How much was he willing to get into the topic of William Winger? "Mild case of neglect. Nothing too woeful. Who isn't without some kind of baggage?"
"Family baggage is its own kind of obstacle. It shapes who you become, how you perceive things."
He deflected. "How much can it differ from romantic baggage?" He lifted his brow.
"Like a divorce?" She acknowledged before shaking her head and taking a sip of her coffee. "It's different once you're a fully formed person. Romantic baggage can make you unsure of other people, family baggage makes you unsure of yourself."
"I guess I'll have to take your word for it." He offered.
"I doubt you have no tragic romantic backstory." She accused.
Subtly, he cleared his throat and truthfully answered. "There's not much to tell… even less. I was always more interested in entanglements, situationships, I guess. If sex was involved, romance wasn't."
Cheryl felt some warning, like a tug, and it propelled her to ask, "And romance without sex?"
The tension surrounding Jeff pulsed before dissolving into sardonic humor. "Well, there always is the Dean." He laughed. "It's more of a platonic, unrequited romance."
She forced out a smirk. "He really does try."
Jeff grinned while shaking his head. "He seriously needs to find somebody."
"So, you don't have that at all?" He looked back at Cheryl as she continued. "No serious exes? No cautionary romances?" He shook his head. "How is that possible?"
He exhaled. "You know how I used to be. It wasn't really about connecting with people." She looked at him for a moment and he offered what he could. "My first and last real relationship as an adult was with a professor during my first year. It started casual and then we were pulled in to sign contracts,"
"So, Annie wasn't kidding about that?"
Jeff tried not to tense at hearing the one name he wanted to avoid when talking about romance. "No, she wasn't. It started a riff between Slater and I, but we ended up dating. It was nice, comfortable even. She kind of blindsided me with a break-up, but I eventually got over it."
"So, nothing beyond that?"
He shrugged. "I had a few 'casual acquaintances' and then of course there was that year with Britta." Cheryl nodded, not threatened in the slightest by the odd friendship she had come to understand and actually find amusing. "But never any real relationships."
"So, you're telling me that you have no romantic baggage?" He faltered at her phrasing; his idea of it somehow changed, now that he was reminded of soft blue eyes, infectious smiles and kind touches that could effortlessly turn him inside out. "Then what made you change?"
"What do you mean?"
"What made that guy decide to give up the one-night stands and transactional orgasms?" He laughed at her bluntness. "I'm serious. What made you Brunch guy?"
He couldn't keep Annie's face out of his thoughts, but he tried to stick to the truth, even if it meant omitting specific details. "A few years ago, I had this moment where I really looked at my life and I envisioned what it might be like if I could have an actual future with someone." He shook his head. "My baggage wasn't about romantic partners, but more about the question of if it could work, if there was even a reason to try? But then I realized I was asking the wrong questions. It could work, it's not common, but it's possible; but did I have what it takes to be that for someone?"
"So, no one put that question to the test?"
He thought briefly and diplomatically. "In the past, I haven't dated anyone that made me ask that question and certainly none of my past entanglements have answered it."
"Does that make me your romantic crash test dummy?" Cheryl inquired with a humored brow.
Jeff barked a brief laugh in surprise. "Boy, and I thought I was cynical."
She shrugged. "Occupational hazard."
He nodded, remembering all too vividly how much it was. "The intended outcome of a crash test dummy is solely to withstand the crash; I'd like to think we both have higher hopes in mind than merely surviving a relationship." He shook his head and grabbed her hand. "I'm not intending to crash; I just want to give this a try." She watched him very closely and he felt pressured to shrink under the focus of her attention.
Cheryl channeled her work lens, hoping to see all the faults and inconsistencies with his story. Quickly, she abandoned her pursuit, knowing Jeff to be apathetically honest, as if he couldn't be bothered to lie, not if it meant meticulously following the threads of his own fabrications.
Looking back at her coffee, she faked disinterest. "Were you able to nurse that headache?"
He defeatedly sighed. "I was barely able to maintain it, but I swear the remnants are lurking somewhere." Jeff laughed.
"How was work yesterday?" Concern filled her voice. "By the time I had gotten to the bar, you looked exhausted."
He shrugged with a sigh. "It was an insufferably long and emotionally draining day."
Annie gulped from her smoothie as Duncan continued to offer his assistance.
"You know, sometimes car salespeople respond less aggressively towards men." He said tentatively as he extended his good-natured offer to Annie. From instinct, he looked over to Britta and could see the pause in her expression, as if he was barely toeing the line between slight offense and criticizing social prejudice.
The younger brunette shrugged nonchalantly, unable to mask the humor in her voice. "I may not be a man, but with that accent, I doubt they might consider you much more masculine."
"Is that racist?" Ian looked at Britta for a moment, not as if to tattle, merely to inquire.
She turned with a flick of her short blonde hair and dubiously stared at him. "Regardless of nationality, you both are Caucasian, so no, it's not racist. Presumptuous, maybe; prejudiced, clearly; likely?" She offered him a sympathetic shrug as she lightly sized him up. "Undoubtedly."
"I bet Jeff is a good tool against car salesman." Duncan said offhandedly and Annie loathed the instinctual clench in her gut.
"Jeff is a good tool; full stop." Britta laughed lightly at her own joke.
Annie replied to Duncan's suggestion. "I don't know. Jeff's arrogance could easily elicit a negative response. I mean, who would want to give him a good deal?"
Britta hummed in contemplation. "I wouldn't be so sure; Ian might be right." He grinned at her acknowledgment, and she continued. "After all, Jeff does fluently speak asshole." Annie smirked. "He's probably out with Cheryl though."
Annie quickly waved it off, trying her best not to be perturbed. "I can handle it. I mean, I don't want to bother them."
"I doubt they'd mind." Ian thoughtfully added. "Actually, Cheryl would probably be the most helpful."
Though Britta agreed, the distress that briefly flashed behind Annie's eyes convinced her to change the subject. "Eh, you've got this." She nodded to Annie.
She responded with a sincere smile. "Yeah, I do."
Unsurprising to the trio, Annie was more than perfectly capable of formidably haggling with the thoroughly charmed used car salesman to purchase a four-year-old black sedan with only 30,000 miles, nearly $4,000 under her budget. The man didn't even have a chance to realize he'd been had before she was already signing off.
Annie triumphantly swung her newly acquired key chain around her index finger as she turned on her heel and grinned at Britta and Duncan with a confident smirk. "So, what about Senor Kevin's on me?"
"We should try and see if Frankie and Mel are free for lunch?"
A genuine smile reappeared on Annie's face. "I hope so. It was so great catching up with Frankie that I hardly had the chance to meet Mel."
Britta nodded. "She's great; you'll love her."
"I'm sure." She nodded. "Though not as much as Frankie." Annie beamed thinking of Frankie's contented and relaxed demeanor from the night before. "How long have they been together?"
Britta thought for a moment. "A little over two years."
"Well, it's working." Annie chimed in with a grin. "I've never seen Frankie so happy."
"How can you tell?" Duncan ventured, not overly familiar with the superior he had hoped to never be noticed by.
"Subtle variations in her expression." Annie offered. "Her entire aura has changed."
Britta added. "She's much more comfortable being personable now."
Annie nodded in agreement with the other woman, neither one noticing the confusion on Ian's face. "I noticed; though I must say, I'm a bit surprised. I can't say I ever pictured her with someone who seems so easy going."
"I know what you mean." Britta laughed. "When I first met Mel, I definitely did not picture her as Frankie's girlfriend."
"Well, obviously not." Ian laughed. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have encouraged Jeff to hit on her, only to get rejected."
"What?" Annie's eyes grew wide as her jaw went slack with delighted humor.
Britta nudged Ian with a glare. "Hey, don't tease Jeff about that. It was the first time he'd tried to ask anyone out since-" Seeming to think better of her words, Britta cleared her throat. "In a long time." She shrugged away her verbal misstep. "Besides, although he was mortified, he handled it pretty well and Mel just laughed it off with him."
"What did Frankie say?"
"Not much," Britta smirked. "I think she was too afraid to wound his ego any more than it already was."
"Well, that's ridiculous. It's not as though her lack of interest could be blamed on him." Annie chided.
Britta nodded. "It wasn't so much that she's gay, but that she was Frankie's girlfriend that made him embarrassed." She offered a congenial shrug.
"Oh, pff." Duncan interjected. "I think he was just in shock to realize that he and Frankie have the same taste in women when they're so vastly different from one another." He shrugged.
"He'd be lucky to share anything in common with Frankie." Britta scoffed.
Annie wanted to talk about anything else besides Jeff's taste in women, so she feigned boredom with the topic. "Can we table this enthralling discussion for another time; I'm starving."
Jeff had only just got into his car when his phone started to ring. He didn't even need to look at the screen to know it was Britta; she was the only person in his life that relied on calling instead of texting. He groaned as he ignored the call. She was supposed to be out car shopping with Annie, and he internally cringed at the idea of being invited to the outing. He couldn't admit as much, knowing he would be proclaimed the bad guy.
The group's prior night had barely been tolerable; even if it had felt like a pleasant reminder of fonder times, it had been like a dissonant whiplash, as though he'd been robbed of his newly gained sense of equilibrium.
As his phone pinged with both voicemail and text notifications, he released a painfully weighted sigh, like a choked breath that had been caught in his throat for the past three years, full of a thousand unspoken words. He felt lost, like his mind and heart had been poisoned by an avalanche of cruel thoughts and feelings he'd struggled against too long to ignore. It seemed entirely unjust that his community expected his world to keep spinning without pause, nothing more than business as usual.
Reluctantly, he listened to the message and viewed his texts with an indignant huff. Britta had ragged on him in the voicemail to bring Cheryl and join the group for lunch. Her text mirrored the sentiment, adding that they would be meeting up at Senor Kevin's with Frankie and Mel.
It seemed ironic that practically overnight, his entire perception had shifted at a 180 degree angle, swapping from a deeply entrenched desire to see Annie again, to actively avoiding her at her return. Still, it hadn't truly been overnight, instead over the span of several years of suffering through a stubbornly stagnant silence.
He sent a brief and blunt reply, insisting he was too busy grading papers. It was of course, a complete lie even so, he had come to take more care and initiative in his profession as an educator at Greendale. Still, he decided he would use the afternoon to get a leg up on the upcoming week's assignments for class; after exhausting his frustrated energy at the gym. He was determined to productively waste his weekend; not in hopes of bettering himself, but to run himself ragged enough to clear his mind before sitting at home in even more silence, hell-bent on clearing the cruel contemplations that were desperate to keep clashing against his consciousness; anything to clean the murky feelings that seemed doomed to persist.
He needed to self-regulate if he wanted to be able to see Annie again with an at least passable pretense of effortless apathy. The closer it got to Pierce's five-year memorial, the more he would be expected to see his old study group. He suddenly felt deep nostalgia for the version of himself that had entered Greendale, almost a decade prior, that cynical man who knew nothing of love, and thus ignorant of the pain that came with its absence.
Annie had nodded Britta on to extend the invitation to Jeff for lunch, all the while, knowing with complete certainty that he would find an excuse to decline. She feigned gentle disappointment when she was proven correct, but in truth, she was full of understanding relief. This was her fault; Jeff had failed to conceal his quiet irritation at her return. He was entitled to it. Annie had come home with absolutely no warning, despite knowing better; still, the sad reality was that she'd been utterly ill-equipped to mend the schism she'd forged between them. She had returned without any word because every collection of clumsy syllables she could muster were so pathetically inadequate to encapsulate the depth of her self-appointed disappointment. She should never have let so much time pass between them in stark silence.
Annie shrugged off Britta's annoyance with Jeff as she and Duncan teased his suddenly dutiful attitude towards his vocation in education. "It's good that he's prioritizing his classes. Go easy on him." She smirked. "Besides, I'm excited to get a chance to know Mel better over lunch."
Britta emphatically nodded. "You're right. It will be much more fun this way. Girls' lunch!"
Duncan's posture slumped with further awkwardness before Britta seemed to suddenly remember his presence. "Well, and Ian, of course." She shrugged, giving him a teasing smirk. "Close enough."
"Hey!" He whined, humor peeking its way into his tone. "Offense, very much, taken."
Annie slightly giggled. "It's a compliment. It must have something to do with your posh English disposition."
Duncan scoffed, rolling his eyes. "As Brits go, I'm about as far from posh as possible." He lifted his head up with playful superiority. "Not that I'd expect either of you Yanks to be able to distinguish the difference between such nuances."
"I'm only teasing." Britta smirked as she nudged him, subtly taking his hand.
Even though it had all been in good fun, Duncan couldn't even attempt to keep the pretense of offense, instantly melting at the blonde woman's sincere attention.
Despite her inner turmoil, Annie couldn't help but soften ever-so-slightly at the sight, entirely unaccustomed to Britta willingly seeking out any amount of PDA. Even so, it had been more than three years, and Britta seemed to genuinely enjoy her blooming relationship with Ian Duncan. "Thanks again for the help, and the ride. I appreciate it." Annie unlocked her new car with the subtle chirp as she pressed her key fob. "I'll meet you guys there."
Annie felt a bittersweet sense of relief driving separately from the pair. The tension that had been bearing down on her in an ever-tightening vice grip had nothing to do with Britta and Ian; the former had been incredibly kind and accommodating since her return, while the latter had seemed to both soften and mature in the four years since she'd last seen him; that final day of the study group's fifth year at Greendale.
Annie did her best to shake away the melancholy memories of that emotionally conflicting day in Borchert's lab, but still she could never forget the sinking feeling of pain piercing into her chest, as she tried to ignore the ruinous realization that she'd been standing in quicksand for longer than she could fairly justify. In truth, that was the first farewell between herself and Jeff.
Once she had Winger-speeched her way through, setting aside her sharply stubborn feelings, she'd made a promise to herself to take that first step, to run away while she still had some semblance of control over her own feet. She couldn't yield to the sand that she was drowning in, that threatened to swallow her whole; she couldn't continue to waste her affection, her energy and her youth to being less than a last resort. She deserved better, and more than anything she finally wanted to want better for herself.
And yet, somehow, all these years later, and she was driving to the same lunch spot, defeated at the realization that even when she'd finally had better, it hadn't been enough, nothing at all like what she wanted. The internal conflict that had been crushing her from the inside out, her most foolish folly that she couldn't reveal was the reluctant understanding she'd recently stumbled across; since she was 18 years old, she'd only ever truly wanted one man. Seeing the world, pursuing her greatest passion and discovering herself, had done nothing to quell that never-ending ache that had burrowed into the pit of her stomach.
Only now, Jeff Winger, the eternal bachelor had finally appeared to give up the game, and find himself a beautiful, intelligent and pleasantly friendly girlfriend that he seemed to sincerely respect and care about. It filled Annie with the smallest sense of bittersweet self-satisfaction that she'd always been right to assume that deep down, he had so much love to give and a secret longing to settle down. She was truly happy for him.
Was she also heartbroken? Undeniably, but if there was one thing she'd learned after nearly a decade, it was that those two feelings weren't mutually exclusive when it came to her friendship with Jeff Winger. Happy and heartbroken; that was the crux of the Annie of it all.
It wasn't as though her feelings mattered in the least. She'd be lucky if Jeff forgave her. Some part of her couldn't help but think him an absolute hypocrite. Only he was entitled to hold a grudge when forced to swallow down the sour taste of avoidance. There was that part of her that was indignant and petulant enough to turn his tense and unwelcoming attitude back on him. This fraction of her heart was undoubtedly strong but ultimately dwarfed to her entirety. It was merely the thoughts of an immature and scorned 18-year-old. That young woman had always been so determined to be right, to always come out the victor, incapable of true, unyielding self-reflection; that young woman didn't know what it meant to have friends, to discover a chosen family. It had always been easier to serve herself when stuck in solitude, but once she realized how her actions and her words affected the group, she understood that being right on a technicality meant absolutely nothing if it hurt those she cared about most.
For as long as she'd known him, so much of Jeff Winger's truth had been shrouded in mystery, specifically the depth of his feelings; not just for her, but his feelings, in general. Jeff never liked to have people see just how much he cared; to the point, that Annie often wondered if he even knew. Still, despite his uncanny ability to hide away his heart behind an impenetrable wall, Annie understood that Jeff cared much deeper than he would ever admit, and far beyond what he could comprehend. And there wasn't a single doubt in her mind that she'd hurt him. It probably was nothing like the dozens of times he'd hurt her. Regardless, she had failed him as his friend.
Annie Edison would've never disappeared on Abed, Troy, Shirley, or even Pierce, for that matter; and she hadn't vanished on Britta, only Jeff. Over the past three years, she'd never fully lost touch with anyone in the group besides him. The simple and insufficient truth was that it was too hard. She'd been afraid to say goodbye to him again. So, like an optimistic coward, she believed it would be easier to run away and swallow down all of her indescribable feelings for him. She'd told herself that regret was the only option, the only digestible conclusion of their eternally unlabeled bond. Still, the questions persisted until they both fueled and hindered every breath in her chest. So, she came back to Greendale to return home, but it hadn't been her sole motivation, nor was it her greatest aim. Her heart ached for answers. Yet, it seemed she'd received them, even if they weren't the ones she'd wanted. Jeff had moved on; he was happy, finally with a woman that seemed in equal in both demeanor and life experience.
Annie's feelings towards him had never been taken more seriously than that of a simple schoolgirl crush. Even if she'd always known there was more depth to it, she'd never been able to convince him. So, she gave up and she could've been content with that, if not for the way he'd looked and spoke to her when he finally had to say goodbye in the study room, a week before she left for D.C. He'd broken protocol when he gave her another reason to hope, just before their farewell. None of it had ever been fair.
Annie let out an almost guttural exhale as she parked at Senor Kevin's, seeing Frankie and Mel exit a dark sedan just ahead of her. Everything would be fine. More than anything, she was happy to be back; she'd sincerely missed being home, and even if these past three and a half years had been a necessary diversion for growth, deep down, she'd always known that Greendale was where she belonged.
It was surprising to see Frankie so unbothered as significant details about her personal life were being discussed aloud as Mel animatedly told the story of how they'd met, nearly three years prior.
Annie eagerly listened with an easy grin and enchanted eyes that kept sneaking peeks at Frankie, so thoroughly moved by the quiet, yet undeniable affection with which she regarded her charming and vocal girlfriend. Frankie didn't have to say a single word for Annie to see that she was an absolute goner for Mel. She did her best to hold in her instinctual 'aws' as Mel recounted growing close with Frankie's disabled sister while working as a liaison and aid in her new care-home.
"So, Gertie and I were simpatico from the start. She loves crafting time and has the best laugh." Mel looked over and gently touched Frankie's arm. "I swear, that girl makes me feel like a professional comedian most days. I just instantly adored her, but some of the staff warned me about how severe and somewhat scary her sister could be." Mel gently squeezed her girlfriend's arm. "Some of the nurses would call her Frightening Francesca, because of how precise she was when going over Gertrude's routine with them and admin when she first moved her in. Safe to say, I was incredibly anxious to meet the woman who had everyone in the group-home running scared."
Annie, Britta and Duncan laughed at the sophisticated and stubborn woman's reputation. "But, then one day, I came to get Gertie ready to join our group for crafts. She started beaming like she usually does at that time of day, and I noticed Frankie dutifully sitting beside her." Mel turned her loving gaze towards Frankie, seeming to briefly forget the presence of her captivated audience as she continued. "And I was instantly struck by the deep affection in her beautiful eyes as she brightly beamed at her sister's joy. I immediately understood that the fear she had conjured in everyone was solely fueled by the depth of her love for her sister." Mel's stunning features scrunched as she teased her suddenly bashful partner. "You didn't scare me one bit."
Frankie responded by simply touching Mel's hand that rested on her arm, wearing a soft smile.
"And, then what happened?" Annie earnestly leaned in, slightly forgetting about her enchiladas, that were no doubt starting to get cold.
Mel seemed to share a small, unspoken thought with Frankie before turning back to their audience. "Well, I did my best to not act hypnotized by her sweet smile and casually introduced myself. Much to my disappointment, it seemed her smiles were reserved for Gertie. She was all business to me as we both walked over to group. After Gertie joined in crafts, I walked Frankie to the entrance and caught her up on her sister's progress of integrating into our little community. She diligently asked questions about the facility and even interrogated me a bit about my history in caregiving."
Britta barked out a small laugh. "Yeah, that sounds about right."
Mel shrugged. "I knew she'd done the same thing to everyone else, and I appreciated that she cared so much. It's not easy to put faith in strangers to care for your loved ones."
"I eased up soon enough, once I saw how much my sister loved Mel." Frankie's bashfulness faded as she told a fraction of the tale from her perspective. "Mel pretty much immediately became my favorite staffer. I implicitly trusted her and reluctantly fell for her kind eyes and easygoing personality. We started to chat every time I visited Gertie and became surprisingly fast friends."
"Surprisingly?" Mel snorted as she nudged her girlfriend.
Frankie playfully rolled her eyes. "Well, Gertie had already been there for two months when we first met, and I still hadn't warmed up to anybody else. But I could see that for Mel, this wasn't just a job, but her life's work, her greatest passion."
Before Annie could further grill the women, it was shockingly Duncan who chimed in, eyes totally enraptured. "Who made the first move?"
Mel gave a soft chuckle before a playful tension filled her voice. "Ugh. Me. I knew if I ever wanted to earn one of those loving smiles, I couldn't wait around for her to ask me out. So, after three months of hardcore crushing, subtle fliting and noticing the way Frankie would sometimes stare at my lips when I spoke…"
"Agh, stop." Frankie briefly covered her face, and Annie marveled at the realization that even the most serious woman she knew was capable of blushing in embarrassment.
Mel gently laughed before continuing. "I waited around after my shift ended, so I could walk her to her car. She lingered at her door, so I took a pen out of my shirt pocket, grabbed her hand and wrote down my phone number, while she just quietly stared at me." Mel removed her hand to take a sip of her margarita.
"Ooh, bold." Britta remarked with admiration.
"Nice!" Duncan nodded.
Frankie lightly laughed. "You want to talk about bold? After she was done writing she said, 'In case you ever want to go get that drink.'. I was both confused and stunned as I asked, 'What drink?' Frankie looked at Mel to continue.
"I smirked at her and said, 'That drink you're dying to buy me.'" Mel triumphantly grinned. "Then I winked and sauntered off to my car."
"That's a power move if I've ever heard of one." Annie said, transparently impressed. She grinned, leaning even further in. "How long did it take for her to text you?"
Mel mischievously smirked. "She called me an hour later to ask me out on our first date for the next evening."
Frankie took her hand; clearly grateful the story had reached its conclusion, no longer subjected to the playful teasing as she smiled at Mel. "And the rest, as they say, is history."
Mel nodded. "Easily, the best two and a half years of my life." Frankie nodded in complete agreement.
"Damn, Mel!" Britta laughed. "You've got even more game than I originally suspected."
She chuckled. "I'm decisive in what I want, and Frankie's doesn't possess the strength to say no to me."
Frankie nodded, not the least bit offended. "Couldn't, even if I wanted to." She seemed to suddenly fall out of her starry-eyed reverie, as her eyes finally fell back on the others. "Oh, God. Enough about us." She seemed to quickly remember her usually stoic self. "Annie, you've been gone for more than three years; how has it been working for the F.B.I.?"
Annie was mid-bite, so she hurriedly chewed and swallowed her food, before clearing her throat. "It's been incredible. I can't lie, training at Quantico was definitely stressful. I thoroughly enjoyed my brief time in field work but feel like I've really found my place and fallen into the pace of working in our forensic science lab. After my yearly review, they wanted to promote me to Head Lab Tech in the Denver office."
"Why not in D.C.?" Duncan asked as he loaded up a nacho on his plate.
Annie took a gulp of her drink, trying to subtly school the slight anxiety in her voice. "There were many other staff with more seniority; plus, there was a vacancy in Denver as their Head Lab Tech was going to be retiring. I missed home, so I couldn't help but jump at the opportunity."
Britta set down her bean burrito as she swallowed. "What about that guy you were seeing? Darren, right?" Annie reluctantly nodded. "You guys were getting pretty serious; weren't you living together? How'd he take the news of your promotion?"
Annie swallowed another sip and continued lying through her teeth. The last thing she needed was her friends' pity. "Really well. I had to relocate pretty immediately, so we're still settling some details for the future."
Frankie lifted her drink to Annie. "Well, I'm really proud you jumped to take the promotion, and glad that you're back home." She nodded to her. "You have to schedule an outing with the group at The Vatican for introductions once Darren comes to join you."
"Will do." Annie shamefully nodded as everyone sipped their drinks.
"Mmh." Frankie swallowed and cleared her throat. "Which reminds me. Annie, you've become quite the success story at Greendale, and we've actually seen a 15% increase in interest in our Forensic Science courses. For the first time in Greendale history, we now have a surprising waitlist for the subject. I've been talking to Craig about possibly creating a Forensic Science club to offer a few credits to make up for some of our waitlisted applicants."
"Really? Do you need a club advisor?" Annie inquired with eager interest.
Frankie shook her head. "Easy there, Ms. Edison. You're already going to be incredibly busy heading your own department with that promotion. Don't offer to bite off more than you can chew. Besides, we've got a club advisor already, but he doesn't have quite as impressive a resume as you, so I was wondering if you would be willing to lend your eyes and top-notch expertise to look over the material in a type of peer review, and," Frankie paused before a tone of gentle pleading filled her voice. "Possibly grace us with your presence as a guest lecture, once or twice?" Annie's eyes widened and Frankie seemed to mistake her interest. "Only if it wouldn't be too much work. I know you're about to be indescribably occupied, but fortunately, as it is a club and not a full course, the meetings would be much sparser and most likely not within your typical work hours."
"Oh my God, yes, absolutely." Annie lit up at the opportunity to directly provide for Greendale for the first time in almost four years.
"Really?" Frankie sat up in her seat.
"Are you kidding? Anything to help the academics at Greendale. I'd love to be a guest lecturer. I have so many stories I could tell, both from my own personal experience, but even more from the talks they'd tell us in Quantico and at the Bureau."
"Yes!" Frankie curled her fist in excitement, before pumping her hand up in victory. "Take that City College!" Britta and Duncan rolled their eyes. "You know what Dean Spreck doesn't have? An actual F.B.I. agent guest lecturer!" Mel seemed to notice a glare they were receiving from the curmudgeonly manager, so she gently pulled her partner's hand down. Frankie remembered herself yet again as she regarded her table. "Sorry, it's just your contribution would be an enormous boon for Greendale."
Annie laughed. "I'm beyond thrilled to accept the offer."
Britta cleared her throat, subtly chiding Frankie with her eyes and the tone of her voice. "And, of course, it will be great to have you back visiting Greendale."
Frankie somewhat soberly nodded. "Oh, of course, absolutely. It'll be like having you on the Greendale Maintenance Committee."
"The Greendale Maintenance Committee?" Annie humoredly asked.
Frankie reluctantly nodded, slightly rolling her eyes. "I know. There was an argument to be made over the committee's name, since we were no longer saving Greendale, but maintaining it instead."
"Isn't that a bit confusing? Because it makes it sound like you're-"
"Maintenance workers?" Frankie finished with a fervent nod. "Trust me, I know, but I was outvoted."
Annie chuckled. "How quintessentially Greendale. It wouldn't be on-brand if it wasn't puzzling. I mean, you've seen the way the campus' buildings are named."
"Next thing on my list." Frankie sighed, as she took another somewhat threatening sip, garnering lighthearted laughs from all around the table.