#i rewrote it but im honestly still trying to figure out what’s missing

[quinn-pop]

shoutout to that one mtdd confession comic i drew last year that i never posted because uhh

it was unscripted so the ideas were pretty disjointed and it showed a lot. anyway:

[rmtndew]

All I’ve Ever Known ~ Chapter 4

Summary: Fiona’s life is a shattered fraction of what it used to be. She’s trying to navigate her new normal when she meets Detective Marshall, who gives her something more to look forward to.

Pairing: Marshall and OFC.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions of death, cancer.

A/N - This was intended as a short drabble but it got out of hand and became a multi-chapter story instead. It’s my first Marshall fic and the first fan fic that I’ve written in over a decade. The title comes from the song ‘All I’ve Ever Known’ from Hadestown: ‘I was alone so long, I didn’t even know that I was lonely. Out in the cold so long, I didn’t even know that I was cold. Turned my collar to the wind, this is how it’s always been. All I’ve ever known is how to hold my own, but now I want to hold you, too.’

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Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

I woke the next morning ten minutes before my alarm went off. At first I couldn’t figure out why and tried burrowing back into my warm bed to get my last few minutes of sleep back, but then my phone alerted me to a new text and I realized that’s what had woken me up. I sighed. I knew it was Darcy. Sometimes she woke up early with big ideas for her store and texted them to me, asking my opinion. She met me when I was working in interior design and any time she entertained the idea of having a dine in section, she’d send me pictures of what she wanted and ask how feasible it would be. Most of the time they were way too grand to fit into her pre-existing building. Other times she’d talk about a small coffee shop to encourage more people to come in and pick up their own orders and cut back on our deliveries. But I couldn’t see how renovating a portion of the store, buying new equipment and hiring extra employees to run a coffee shop would lower costs just by maybe cutting back on some deliveries. 

I was planning on ignoring the text until after I’d actually gotten up, but when another came through I knew it was best to just go ahead and nip it in the bud before she sent me an entire magazine’s worth of photos. But when I hit the home button on my phone I saw that the texts hadn’t come from Darcy. I had to squint against the brightness of the screen to make sure I saw the name right. Marshall.

I sat up and turned on my lamp, then looked at my phone again, reading the texts from their previews. 

Hey, it’s Marshall. I had a great  time yesterday. Sorry I was falling asleep on you. Can I make it up  to you this weekend?

Sorry. You’re probably sleeping. It might take more than coffee to make it up to you now. Dinner?

I suddenly felt wide awake and was no longer irritated by my few minutes of missed sleep. I would have gladly given up several hours for those texts. I decided not to reply to them right then, though. I wanted to make sure I’d had enough coffee to formulate a comprehensible reply and not look like I was drunk texting him, which I had a history of. My conversations with Darcy at five in the morning were proof of that. 

I got up and went about my morning routine like usual, trying not to wake Mom. When I made my way downstairs, I poured a cup of coffee and sat at the table. I sipped it, thinking about what to say to Marshall. I wrote and rewrote the text half a dozen times before finally having something I felt okay with, then I sent it.

Hey Marshall. I had a great time, too. You don’t have to make up for anything but I’d still like to have dinner with you. What day did you have in mind?

My heart was thudding from nerves and excitement. I was so focused on trying to calm myself down that I almost didn’t hear Mom when she walked in.

“Morning, sweetie,” she said, grabbing a coffee cup.

“Good morning,” I replied, then jumped slightly as my phone vibrated on the table. I tried not to look too enthusiastic as I grabbed it. 

Does Saturday work for you?

“Darcy again?” Mom asked, pouring coffee for herself. 

“Um...no, actually.” I tried biting back a smile but it didn’t work. “It’s Marshall.”

Her eyes went wide and she smiled back. “He’s writing to you at six in the morning?”

“He actually wrote me earlier. He asked if I wanted to have dinner with him Saturday.”

She sat down at the table beside me. “What did you tell him?”

“I haven’t replied yet. I don’t want him to think I’m just waiting by the phone for him.”

She looked at the phone in my hand. “Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing, though?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t have to know it.”

She laughed then blew on her coffee. “I’m glad this whole texting business wasn’t around when I was dating your father.”

“Even if it was, you’re a lot more forward than I am. You wouldn’t have had a single issue with texting Dad first, or answering him right away,” I said. My phone made another sound, reminding me of my unread text and I finally opened it, then replied. 

Saturday is perfect. What time  would you like to meet? 

“Well, there was only room enough for one coy person in our relationship and Rodger called that role,” Mom said after I put my phone down. 

I laughed. “I don’t think ‘coy’ was the right word for Dad. I think socially awkward was more appropriate.”

“He was too smart to be a social butterfly, too. He had to have a couple of flaws.”

“He couldn’t set the timer for the coffee pot, no matter how many times I showed him, and he thought that the Sharknado movies were amazing. He had his flaws,” I joked.

“This coffee pot is confusing.”

“He was an engineer!”

My phone buzzed in my hand and that time I didn’t wait to open the text. I read it right away. 

Would you let me pick you up  instead? Around six?

“Well, what does he say?” Mom asked.

“He wants to pick me up instead of me meeting him.”

“Are you going to let him?” 

I looked at her and she was smiling at me. I shook my head at her, laughing again. “You want him to come here so that you can see him, don’t you?”

She shrugged. “You keep talking about how handsome he is.”

“He is handsome. And it’s an awfully gentlemanly thing to do…” I bit my lip for a moment, pretending to think it over.

“Just tell him yes. We both know you’re going to.”

I gave another laugh. “Fine.”

I would like that, thank you. And  I’m curious, what does Detective  Marshall eat when he’s not eating a  cuban sandwich and plain chips?

I put my phone on the table. “What are your plans for today?” I asked, then took a sip of my coffee. 

She gave me a cheeky grin. “Changing the subject.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not changing the subject. I’m asking what my mother is going to be doing while I’m out earning the bread for this family,” I joked.

She snorted. “You don’t earn the bread, Fi, you just bake it.” She nodded at my arm. “And burn yourself in the process.”

“That’s the first time I’ve burnt myself in a year and a half. I’d say that’s a pretty good record.”

“That’s true,” she said. “And if you must know, I was thinking of going down to Valley and talking to Georgia about starting music lessons again after the new year. I think by then I’ll have recovered enough to be able to teach at least a few days a week.”

“You’re going to put yourself around snot nosed kids in the dead of flu season?” I asked dryly.

“I’ll be teaching teenagers, not little kids, and I’ll wear a mask,” she said. “I’ll make sure to clean everything between students and have them use hand sanitizer when they come in. I’m not going to be immunocompromised forever, and I’m not going to live in a bubble until then, either.” She gave me a smirk. “Besides, I can’t let you be the only one that earns the bread around here.”

I laughed at her but it was cut short when my phone buzzed again. 

Stuff that’s probably not very  good for him. Like Italian.  How does that sound?

Just when I thought I couldn’t be any more attracted to him, he confessed to liking my favorite type of food. I couldn’t stop my train of thought that went to me one day making an Italian dinner for him as a date. But my mind’s eye set up the imaginary dinner in my old apartment and I knew that would never happen. I let that thought go and took a deep breath, trying to focus my attention on the present moment.

That sounds great. I love  Italian food.

I sent it and sat back in my seat. I tried not to let my mind wander too far down the road with Marshall. I’d been on a lot of first dates in my life with guys that I’d thought were great who turned out to be jerks and I knew what that disappointment felt like. And even though I couldn’t imagine Marshall disappointing me in the same way they had - he’d proven at our coffee date that he was far more respectful, even while he was tired - I wanted to remind myself that I needed to take things one step at a time. 

Perfect. I’ll see you  Saturday at six, then.

I must have looked pretty gooey eyed over the whole thing because Mom reached out and touched my wrist gently. When I looked at her, the teasing tone was gone from her face and she was smiling at me. “I’m happy for you, sweetie. I really am.” 

I was a ball of nerves all Saturday morning and afternoon. More than I’d ever been on the day of a first date. But nothing with Marshall fell into my ‘usual’ category. There was something about him that made him different from any other man I’d gone out with. And maybe that was it: He was a man. Not some boy masquerading as one. He was quiet, and fierce, and protective. He thought before he spoke. And even when delivering a threat - like he had to that creep in the bar - he’d done it calmly and with authority. He exuded confidence, not cockiness, and there was honestly nothing more attractive than that. 

I was nearly ready, just zipping up my boots, when I heard a crash downstairs. I rushed down and found Mom in the kitchen, trying to pick up the broken pieces of one of her giant coffee mugs.

“I’m - I’m not sure what happened,” she said. “I just lost my grip.”

“It’s okay.” I took a step towards her, trying to avoid the pile of porcelain. “Let me clean it up.” 

“I can do it,” she said, sounding flustered.

“I know you can but you’re in socks and I’m wearing boots.”

She stood her ground for a moment, then finally sighed and relented, taking a step back. “Okay. I’ll get you the broom.”

“It’s fine. I’ll get it. Just watch your step.”

I went to grab the broom as she threw away the large chunks of her broken cup that she’d been able to pick up with her hands. I could tell she was frustrated. 

“You know, if you didn’t like that mug, you could have just gotten rid of it, you didn’t have to break it,” I joked, taking the broom and dustpan from the broom closet. “Or were you afraid I wouldn’t take the hint and buy you another one if I thought it just went missing?” 

She gave a small laugh but I could tell she was still embarrassed. “I actually liked that coffee mug a lot.”

“I’ll get you a new one.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can -” 

The doorbell rang and she stopped mid-sentence. We both froze, my eyes flicking to the clock on the stove. It was 5:53. Marshall was early. After a moment, Mom took a step towards me, holding out her hand to take the broom from me. I shook my head.

“You’re wearing socks,” I reminded her. “I don’t want you to cut your foot.”

Her eyes grew wide. “So you’re going to clean up after me while I go meet your date?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She brushed her hand over her barely there hair, trying to collect herself, then let out a breath. “Okay, I’ll go let him in.”

“Don’t be too charming. He might have a thing for cougars and I don’t want to have to fight my mom for a guy.”

She smiled for real, the embarrassment of having her daughter clean up after her letting go enough that it was no longer plainly visible. “No promises,” she joked, then left the kitchen to answer the door. 

It didn’t take long to clean up. Even though the cup had shattered pretty good, its bright white color stood out against the dark wood of the floor, making even the tiniest pieces easy to see. After making sure I’d cleaned it all up, I threw away the pieces and put up the broom and dustpan, then went to find Mom and Marshall. 

They were standing in the entryway. Mom was saying something about teaching at Valley and Marshall stood in front of her, his hands clasped behind his back, and a look of sincere focus on his face as she spoke. Mom was a small woman but next to him, she looked comically tiny. 

I paused for a moment, taking him in. His hair looked a bit more controlled than any other time I’d seen him, his curls tighter and not quite as messy. His beard looked like it had been trimmed, giving it a purposeful look instead of the ‘I’m too busy to shave’ vibe that I’d gotten from him previously. He wore a thick blue sweater that made the color of his eyes pop when they drifted over to me. It was brief, maybe less than a second, before concentrating on Mom again. But he had a slight smile and it was enough for her to notice. She turned and looked at me. 

“There she is. I guess I’ll stop talking your ear off and let you two go,” she said. 

Marshall smiled at her, then at me, bigger that time. “I didn’t realize I was early. I apologize.” 

“No, don’t. You’re fine,” I said, moving to grab my coat. “I’m ready, I was just cleaning up a broken cup. I’m basically like Cinderella around here.” 

Mom snorted. “Hardly. Cinderella was made to do chores. You’re the one who won’t let me lift a finger,” she said. “Besides, I think she sang while she worked.”

I raised my eyebrow at her as I put my coat on. “Do you want me to sing?”

She shook her head. “No. No one wants that, sweetie,” she said, making Marshall laugh. She looked at him. “Fi spent a good portion of her teenage years screaming along to music in her room. I didn’t even know you could make ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ sound angry until she proved otherwise. Needless to say, her father and I encouraged her other interests a bit more enthusiastically.”

I grabbed my purse. “I should have let you clean up your own mess and answered the door myself,” I joked before kissing the top of her head. “Bye, Mom.”

Marshall smiled again. “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Sparks.”

“Likewise, Detective Marshall. You two have fun.”

We left the house and after a few steps down the walkway, he jabbed his thumb back at the door. “She’s funny.”

“She can be,” I agreed. “She’s a spitfire, though, that’s for sure.”

“I like it.”

“Yeah, I like it, too.”

We walked to his truck and he opened the door for me. “You look gorgeous, by the way,” he said as I got in. 

I felt myself blush instantly, caught off guard by the compliment. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, closing the door for me. 

We’d only made it to the driveway and my stomach was already doing somersaults. He made me feel like a teenage girl, all giddy and excited, and I loved it.

He went around the front of the truck, then climbed in the driver’s side. I tried to sneak a look at him while he was putting on his seat belt but he caught me. He smiled as I snapped my head straight ahead. 

“Sorry, I just, I was…” I tried to think of an excuse but I couldn’t think of anything that didn’t sound lame. I let out a sigh. “I was checking you out,” I admitted. “I can’t lie. There’s no point. Sorry.”

“That’s the least offensive thing a woman has ever apologized to me for,” he said with a laugh, starting the truck. He leaned forward enough to catch my eye, making me instinctively turn my head towards him. He grinned. “Did you see anything you like?”

My blush deepened and I couldn’t hold back a giggle. “Maybe.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, that is a nice sweater.” 

“Oh, so you were checking out my jumper?”

I shrugged. “It brings out your eyes.”

“Does it now?”

“It does. And you have very lovely eyes.”

“Thank you,” he said. “But my daughter bought the jumper, so I can’t take credit for it.”

“She did a good job,” I said, forcing my eyes to look up front as we pulled out of the driveway. Even though I’d already admitted to checking him out, there was a difference between looking and leering and I didn’t want to come off as creepy. “I take it that this wasn’t your weekend to have her?”

“It was supposed to be but she was invited to a Halloween party with some of her friends so she asked to do that instead. She’ll be with me tomorrow.”

“What did she dress as? For the party.”

“A cowgirl.” 

“Does she ride horses or did she just like the costume?” 

“No, she rides. She took lessons when she was a bit younger. And she and I go riding some weekends.” 

“So you’re Detective Marshall during the week and cowboy Marshall on the weekends? Does that ever cross over? Do they have mounted police in the homicide unit?”

He shook his head as he laughed. “No, not that I’m aware of.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Is it now?” he asked, and his tone made me blush all over again.

“I’m actually not going to answer that. I’m going to wait until we get a little further from my house to fully embarrass myself so that when you fake an emergency to get rid of me, my ego doesn’t get too crushed.”

“Do you really think I’d do that?”

“I hope not, but I’ve been excited about having dinner with you, so I’m going to try not to mess it up.”

“I think you’d have to try pretty hard to mess it up,” he said as we stopped at the end of my street. He glanced at me. “And I’ve been excited about it, too.”