Something Gained: Chapter One
Summary: Eve, hearing rumors that Clare is homeless, invites her to stay with her.
Eve Fletcher & Clare Pierce
Rating: T (for now).
word count: 1334
AO3
Eve would never say that she and Clare Pierce are friends.
Well, no, wait, that isn’t strictly speaking true. If someone ever asked, Eve would of course say that she and Clare are friends. Except that no one ever asks, and it isn’t like they’ve ever spent time together outside of work – they don’t work together, but whenever Eve notes that one of her seniors might do better in a facility (and their children listen to her advice), she calls Clare to see if they can be situated with hers, so they’ve talked a lot – and in all honesty, Eve knows in her heart of hearts that Clare doesn’t think of them as friends, so it’s not really fair of her to say that they are, if someone did ask—
But Eve thinks fondly of Clare. She does. If they spent time together, she’s sure they could be friends. They just haven’t. And she’s been so busy with Brendan – and she expects that Clare is so busy with her daughter (Frankie? She’s pretty sure her name is Frankie?) – that she hasn’t ever reached out. Now that she maybe could reach out, she…hasn’t. It feels awkward. Like maybe she should have reached out before now.
So she doesn’t.
Um.
Hasn’t.
And then…. Well. Eve doesn’t know exactly how to explain what happens, but it happens, and she takes a chance, and maybe it’s a bad idea, but it’s….
It’s something. Certainly unexpected! But something.
~
The rumor finds Eve first – Mrs. Pierce got kicked out of her house – and it takes a few minutes before Eve realizes that they’re talking about Clare. Then someone sees her curled up on one of the stoops outside of an apartment complex, leaning up against the outer wall, and dozing really late one night – or maybe it was really early one morning; who could tell? – and the rumor shifts – Mrs. Pierce is homeless – and Eve doesn’t really believe that at all, but she worries.
Eve calls Clare later that day to look into the possibility of Roy Rafferty finding a room (there’s no way George will agree to that, but she checks ahead anyway, just in case, because she’s always liked Roy and feels absolutely horrible about sending him somewhere else), but she can’t…. She can’t figure out how to say it, can’t figure out how to ask – Clare, do you need somewhere to stay? – because they’re not close at all, and if Clare really needs a place to stay, she has to know someone else she can stay with, and that’s probably what the stoop thing was, and…and….
And she doesn’t ask. She can’t get the words out. She doesn’t know how. It’s…it’s impossible. Just like she can’t bring up her own divorce or Ted because…because that’s different. That’s very, very different. And she can’t…she can’t talk about that, she can’t, she doesn’t know Clare that well, and she doesn’t want to impose, and—
Then Eve sees Clare sitting on the stoop.
Then Eve sees Clare calling an Uber.
Then Eve…follows the Uber (she really shouldn’t, she really shouldn’t, she’s just concerned) and sees Clare heading into the assisted living facility where she works at a time that makes absolutely no sense, unless there’s an emergency, and she’d seen Clare acting more than a little bit drunk, and besides, there aren’t any ambulances or flashing lights or sirens, and….
And Eve is suddenly hit with the thought that Clare might be…might be sleeping in the assisted living facility.
And Eve makes a phone call.
~
Clare doesn’t want to answer the phone.
For a lot of reasons, the primary one being that she is very drunk, and she was just celebrating someone retiring from being here, and she is extremely tired (and extremely pissed), and really, she just wants to curl into a bed and fall asleep. And she knows where an empty bed is. And she can finish her letter to Sugar and—
And the phone doesn’t stop ringing. It’s insistent in the way that only phones can be insistent, and it’s annoying, and it’s obnoxious, and she can hear someone down the hall start moaning because phones shouldn’t be ringing right now, everyone should be asleep, and—
Fucking fuck shit fuck.
Clare should know better than to answer the phone because that means someone knows that she’s here – or will know that she’s here, if she answers – but she’s tired of hearing that endless droning whine of the ringing, so she pads down on bare feet to her office, fumbles with the keys, uses the wrong one a couple of times, and then tugs the door open and—
For a second, the ringing stops. Clare lets out a breath. Turns to shut the door and go back to the room she’s sharing with one of their residents (she’s got dementia, no one will believe her if she says anything, and Clare just wanted a fucking bed and not a fucking pullout couch; she’s an adult; she can feel the fucking difference; they aren’t the fucking same), and then the ringing starts again, and she picks up the phone, growls into it, “What the fuck do you fucking want?”
“Um.”
Clare doesn’t even recognize that voice. It’s not enough to go on. She can’t think straight. “Who the fuck even is this?”
“Eve, Eve Fletcher, um, I saw you going into the, um, you’re there, and I-I-I-I thought that, um.”
Clare blinks a few times, brows furrowing. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Eve. Eve Fletcher. From the Haddington Senior Center?”
Nothing. Nope. Nada. Zilch. She’s got nothing.
“I…I talked to you about Roy Rafferty—”
“Why are you fucking calling, Eve?” Clare growls out, because she doesn’t feel all here, and she doesn’t want to be on the phone with anyone, and she would like to get the fuck to sleep (it’s a wonderful book), which means she has to deal with whatever the fuck this is before—
“Clare, do you, um. Do you need a place to stay?”
Clare’s eyes narrow. “No, I don’t need a fucking place to stay, Eve,” who she still doesn’t remember, but that’s okay because there are a lot of people she doesn’t remember, doesn’t need to remember, “I’ve got a fucking place to stay, and I want to go the fuck to sleep—”
“Oh, okay.” There’s silence for a second, but Clare can still hear the other woman breathing on the other end before Eve finally continues, “Because I thought you might be there because you couldn’t find anywhere else to sleep.” Eve’s voice is soft and gentle, so achingly soft and gentle. “I’ve got an extra bedroom. You don’t….” She takes a deep breath, lets it out, as if she is the one who’s exasperated. “You don’t have to stay there. If you don’t…if you don’t want.”
There are a lot of things going on that Clare doesn’t fucking want, like maybe her entire fucking life, like maybe being kept the fuck away from her fucking daughter, so the idea that she would even— “You think I want to fucking stay here?”
Eve’s voice is so gentle, and she hates it.
“No,” Eve says, “I don’t think you do. That’s why I called. I….” Another pause. “I wanted to give you another option.” Hesitation, and then, “I’m right outside. If you—”
“Quit asking what I fucking want, Eve.” It’s then that Clare remembers the name, remembers why it sounds so familiar, and she says, “You’re the…the…the….” She snaps her fingers, trying to remember the word, can’t remember it, and tries something else instead, “You’re the bitch who runs the senior….” One more snap, a huff of annoyance. “The place. With the seniors that don’t need to be here.”
“Haddington Senior Center,” Eve says, gentle. She sounds almost happy when she says, “Yes, that’s me.”
Clare doesn’t consider. She’s not really thinking right now, and that’ll probably come back to bite her later. “Fine,” she mutters. “I’ll be right out.”
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