#whewwwwwwwww 5am i didnt sleep anyway this is 3 months late i hope ur still around to read this

[chlodines]

gasps. . . a prompt, fic, about the times where chloe was always late-

real quick, gotta write an essay due yday 

WAIT I DIDNT KNOTHIS WAS MY MAIN-

Nadine considers herself to be a good judge of character and, within about 3 minutes of knowing Chloe, she already knows Chloe’s trouble.

“You’re late, Frazer.”

“Nice to see you, too!”

She better not make it a habit.

//

She does. 

“You’re–”

“Yes, yes, I’m late,” Chloe says, bulldozing through a crowd with her 4-wheel suitcase and forcing Nadine to whirl around to catch up. “Let’s go!”

Rolling her eyes, Nadine follows suit towards the check-in desk where they weigh their suitcases. Of course, Chloe’s suitcase is a single gram off the limit and she’s very clearly smug about it, humming in satisfaction as the attendant sticks the tag on. Nadine has a suitcase and a duffel bag, both of which are a reasonable weight and decidedly under the limit. 

Nadine checks her watch. They have 45 minutes to get through security and get to their gate, very conveniently located on the other side of the airport. Chloe just grins at Nadine’s clear annoyance.

“Race you there?”

“I won’t ask them to wait if you’re late for boarding.”

Chloe just grins wider, says, “I’m touched,” and yanks her towards security. 

//

The necklace, an ugly thing, is right within her grasp. She cautiously tries the floor… nothing happens. So, she takes one step, two, and reaches out and–

Click of a disabled safety. 

“Ah, ah,” comes a deep voice, too pleased, too familiar. “I wouldn’t.”

Nadine tilts her head and lets out a long-suffering sigh. Just her luck. “Shame you aren’t dead.”

Rafe laughs like the movie villain that he is. “You never were good at finishing the job.”

“No,” Nadine says, shrugging, “I suppose not.”

“Well, then, what’s another failure?” He moves, rotates to her 3, and she sees him. A petty part of her enjoys the fact that he had not, at least, escaped the ship unscathed. There is scar tissue. A lot of it. “Oh, how the tables have turned.”

Nadine narrows her eyes. “Remember how I let you live?”

Rafe’s eye twitches. Again, the petty part of her relishes in the fact that he looks on the outside as unhinged as he is on the inside. “You left me to die.”

“To-may-to, to-mah-to.”

“This is going to feel so good,” he sneers.

Sarcastically, she says, “Would it help to know that I’m a changed woman?”

He flushes a deep shade of red, his lips twisting into a scowl. 

And, then, BANG! 

Blood spatters across her face and arm. Ah, there’s the change to her woman.

“I wish you wouldn’t provoke a man pointing a gun to your head,” Chloe huffs, stomping in just as Nadine mutters, “excellent timing as always.”

“You’re late,” she says, grimacing and wiping delicately at herself with the hem of her shirt.

Chloe snorts and yanks the necklace off the pedestal. “Some things never change.”

“I think some things do,” Nadine says, lightly. 

//

“Really?”

Nadine doesn’t turn around. Waits. 

Chloe approaches until Nadine can see her from the corner of her eye. She lifts her phone up, opens her texts, and reads: “You’re late.”

“Was I wrong?”

Pocketing her phone with a huff, Chloe leans an arm against the railing and regards Nadine’s profile. After a moment, Nadine turns her head, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. “…No, you weren’t.”

Nadine sighs, putting on a false air of indignation. “When am I ever?”

“Oi, no one ever holds me to it when I say meet me outside in 5 minutes. It just isn’t done. It’s a suggestion. An estimate.” Chloe sniffs and lifts up the arm behind her back, revealing a bottle of wine. “And, anyway, it was worth it.”

“I’m sure.”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

Chloe huffs again but her eyes light up with mirth. “If you’re holding me to throwaway lines I’ve said, I’m holding you to yours.”

Nadine lifts an eyebrow. “And what exactly have I said to you that I have not followed through on?”

“You said, and I quote: just steal something and get me out of here, I’ll kiss you, have your firstborn.” Chloe shakes the bottle as if Nadine had somehow forgotten it was there. “I don’t care too much for children, but I stole something and here you are, outside, and, well, I’m waiting.”

“Retributive justice,” Nadine says, smoothly, unashamed, and grabs Chloe by the front of her shirt and yanks her down. 

//

On her ascent, 2 men go screaming over the edge of the cliff above her. When she finally hauls herself over, Nadine’s got a boot upon a rock, retying her laces. Behind her, a man lies prone. She has barely broken a sweat. 

“You’re late.”

“…you’re attractive.”

Nadine stops, looks up at Chloe through her lashes as Chloe makes a beeline for her. “Okay, I forgive you,” she says into Chloe’s mouth.

//

They’re on the pier again, dressed down this time. It had been an accident, really. They were just taking a walk, winding down from their last job, and had found themselves here. 

“I’m late.”

Nadine rolls her eyes and accepts the cotton candy Chloe passes over. “What’s new?”

Chloe hums, steps between her legs, and puts a hand on Nadine’s cheek, the other behind her neck. She kisses Nadine, ardently, into the railing. 

“You tell me,” she says once she’s satisfied and pulls away. 

Nadine laughs, eyes crinkled around the edges. “Never pegged you as a romantic.”

“I love to defy expectations.” When Nadine prods her in the stomach, she just smiles, obliging. “It would’ve been more romantic if I brought you here–our sweet, little place–in, like, 4 months. A whole year since you first threw yourself at me.”

“You coerced me.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so easily convinced.”

Nadine squints, organizes her face into as much of a pout as Nadine Ross could physically get it into. “Name one other occasion.”

“No, I’ll do you one better,” Chloe says, cockily. “Watch this: meet me here in 4 months, 8 o’clock.” She leans in as Nadine opens her mouth to reply which is the perfect opportunity to lay one very salacious, very public kiss on her. It takes all her willpower to slant her forehead against Nadine’s and pull away. When she does, she grins. “See you there.”

“Don’t be late–” Chloe laughs. “Eish, this doesn’t prove anything.”

//

The jeep comes crashing through the foliage, horn and guns blazing. Chloe jumps out, practically hurls her whole body in Nadine’s direction, and grabs her arm– 

Only, Nadine jerks away and shoots the last remaining merc in the head. 

“Look, Nadine, it’s not what you think. I had a plan. I have a plan.” She tries again, reaching out. Nadine pulls her arm to her chest and glares. “Really, it’s not–”

“What?” Nadine bites out. “It’s not what?”

Chloe’s about to respond, but Nadine’s really had enough of Chloe’s excuses. 

“What is it, then? Enlighten me.” She bunches her fists up but does not move them voluntarily. The shaking, she cannot help. “What plan could possibly involve making a deal with Shoreline? And without telling me shit?”

“I was going to–”

“Oh, fok off.” Nadine breathes out roughly, lifts her fist, the butt of her gun, to her temple and tries to rub away the headache. “You should’ve known. You know.”

“Nadine–”

“I said,” she says, quietly, turning away, “fuck. off.”

“Please. Just– Please–”

“It’s always the same with you. Too little, too late.” She’s hopping onto her motorbike, revving the engine, before Chloe can come up with a response. 

And then she’s gone.

//

Nadine doesn’t know why she’s here. She wasn’t going to come even before the Shoreline mess but, then, she was just messing with Chloe. She was going to make up for it, make Chloe laugh, and now, well. She doesn’t know. 

She doesn’t know. 

The details, she does know. She has friends, still, associated with Shoreline, and they had told her when she had gotten spectacularly drunk, thanks to a different friend, and sent a terse email to those very Shoreline friends. 

They had threatened her. Her mother. Her friends. Her–Nadine looks up at the sky and sighs–her girlfriend. Ja, there are so many things she could have done better but Nadine can understand, sort of. Nadine can sympathise. Most of all, Nadine just hurts. 

Below her, the water rises and falls, pushes in and pulls away. She looks down into the dark, swirling depths. Catches, in her peripheries, the time: 8:32. She shakes her head, at herself, at this whole situation, and stands fully. She turns, the side of the pier reaching out for the dark ocean is empty, and she leaves.

Then, she misses a step and almost stumbles. 

At the other end, leaning against a pillar, Chloe watches her. 

Approaching, Nadine gathers her wits and puts on her perfected poker face. When she’s close enough, Chloe pushes off the pillar and takes a few uncertain steps closer. They stop a good meter apart, silent for a few moments. 

“How long were you there?” Nadine finally asks. So unimportant, but it was her first thought. 

Chloe smiles, fond, wry, sad. “Yes, I was late. I, um.”

This time, Nadine waits for Chloe to explain.

“I was sitting in my car. Since 7:00.” Embarrassed, she glances over her shoulder and points over to the carpark. Looks back. 

“Ah,” is all Nadine says. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She takes another step closer but doesn’t try to touch Nadine. Just so she can speak quieter. “I knew. But I did it anyway and I… I am so sorry. I–” She seems to be at a loss for words, rubbing at her neck.

“What do you want?” Nadine asks, not harshly, just prompting. 

“I’m not asking for anything, for forgiveness. I just want to make it right.”

“That’s what you want?”

Chloe smiles again, this time it is just rueful. “You know what I want.”

Nadine does know. She’s just not ready. At least, she doesn’t think she is. 

After a long time, she opens her arms and it feels like everything from the past few months washes off her, disappearing with the tide, when Chloe collapses into her. “Will you wait?”

Chloe tucks her face into Nadine’s shoulder, lets out a shuddering breath. “I will.”

//

It’s been just over half a year.

Nadine doesn’t think she’s arrogant but she will take credit for Chloe’s new policy of showing up on time. (Of course, she hasn’t done a total 180°. She still refuses to believe Nadine when she tells Chloe that 15 minutes early is on time and on time is late.)

She does think she is quite forgiving. 

Chloe’s late, but only by a few minutes. 

Then, classic Chloe, she comes charging in and scoops Nadine’s hand into her own. “Sorry for keeping you waiting.”

Nadine shrugs. “It’s alright.”

Chloe laughs. “Of course it is, you don’t even want to be here.”

“So you did it for me.”

“Well, yes, in a way; I was texting Nate to tell Sam to keep his trap shut about Shoreline.” Nadine’s face darkens, but Chloe starts to pull her towards the Fisher-Drake house and continues on: “Anyway, I think we should move in together.”

Nadine gapes.

//

It’s been over 3 years.

Nadine, drunk, adjusts her ill-fitting tuxedo and hums an old favourite. The man taps his foot, checks the clock on the wall. 

“Um,” he starts. 

Nadine smiles, blandly. “She’ll come.”

“Are you sure–”

“Ja.”

Vindication comes but 2 seconds later. The doors sweep open with a bang and in comes Chloe, stumbling over a plastic chair. 

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m here,” she says in a rush, yanking her dress from around the arm of the chair and, when she’s free, turning to flash a megawatt at Nadine. “Hello.”

“Hi,” says Nadine, lightheaded. Before Chloe can apologise for her tardiness, as she does now, Nadine beckons her over, impatient. “Yes, yes, you are forgiven.”

“I went to buy you flowers,” she points out as if she isn’t hugging a massive bouquet to her chest. “Really expensive.”

Nadine, graciously, accepts it and, in quick succession, dumps it into the officiator’s arms. 

It takes them another hour to get married. 

//

It’s been almost 50 years. 

She sits on a bench next to a weeping stranger, leans closer onto her cane to rub a hand on the person’s back. 

“Who is it?” Nadine asks after handing over a packet of tissues.

“My father,” murmurs the stranger, a girl, then sniffles. 

Nadine nods. “Did he make you happy?”

“No. Sometimes.” The girl looks down at her feet, eyes red-rimmed. “But I don’t know why I’m sad.”

“You feel what you feel,” Nadine says, sagely. The girl gives her a wobbly smile and introduces herself. 

After she gets her breathing in control, she gestures vaguely and asks, “What about you?” 

Nadine smiles. “Just thinking about her makes me happy.”

“Who is ‘her’?” she asks, frank in the way only children and teenagers can pull off without seeming rude. 

Nadine doesn’t say anything for a moment, looking out at the grass, the blue skies, Chloe’s name. Then, she looks back and laughs, so very warmly, and says, “My late wife.”