Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rotke stared in the flickering flame, wishing she could disappear into it.

Jake had left her room what felt like about a half-hour ago. In reality, she had no idea what time it really was, just that the sun was now far beneath the horizon and the wax from the brand-new Shabbat candles she had lit was now dripping down the sides of the candlesticks.

Rotke knew that Jake was now talking with that horrible Founders Club, only a few floors beneath her. She was disappointed and sad that she had allowed it to even become a possibility that the path of Project Buffalo would intersect with the Founders Club, but it had, and there was nothing she could do about it now. 'No one listens to women', Margaret’s voice said in her head.

Margaret had offered to cook some food for just the two of them that night, but Rotke declined. She just wanted to be alone with herself and her cursed thoughts, with only the presence of Shabbat to comfort her.

The question of why she even still observed the Sabbath, in her own watered-down, secular version, still arose, but she always pushed it down. Considering that question brought her mind back to that bittersweet evening with Will, only days ago.

It was not the first time he had asked her the question, but it held a different weight, a much, much heavier one, to all the other times he asked her. It was what he had done after that that made it so memorable.

He had kissed her. Yes, he had kissed his best friend’s fiancée. And yet, Rotke had a feeling that he did not regret it.

Will had rarely talked to her since then. Now, he only spoke to her in a very no-nonsense, serious manner. And Rotke hated it. She very badly wanted to go back to the way it had been before he kissed her, when he would speak to her like they were friends. But now he spoke to her like she was no longer a human, no longer a person who would laugh at his jokes and actually enjoy his presence.

Rotke knew that Will thought that was what she wanted, his avoidance of her now that the relationship between them had become much closer than either had anticipated. He thought she would be uncomfortable around him now. But it couldn’t be further from the truth. Even though it was not the ladylike thing to think, she wished that he would bring his lips to hers again, even more passionately than the first time. She wanted him to grip his hands around her waist and unlace her corset. She wanted him to push her against the walls of his bedroom and make her forget that Jake Marlowe ever existed. But Rotke knew that those things would never be possible - she was to be wed to a wealthy man who could give her anything she ever wanted, and Will came from a lower class family in the Midwest. Who in their right mind would choose Will? People would think she was insane for choosing him, but still wanted to. Despite everything, it was still Will she fantasized about, not Jake, not the man she was supposed to be fantasizing about.

Hot tears now streamed down Rotke’s face. Oh, that fateful kiss. How could something so wonderful and sweet cause such conflict?

Chapter Text

The next day, Rotke made a trip to library, and, lo and behold, just the person she expected was in there.

Margaret Walker’s round face was focused on a leather-bound book in front of her, completely oblivious to Rotke’s not quiet steps on the hard floor. That was something Rotke always admired about Margaret - how she could become completely enamored by a book. Rotke could never seem to do that - her mind was always spinning, always overstimulated.

Rotke stood in front of the long table Margaret was sitting at. When Margaret did not seem to notice her, she cleared her throat, and Margaret finally looked up. When she did, she smiled, and all of the tension in Rotke’s body left her. Rotke smiled, too.

“Good morning,” Margaret said, “and Shabbat shalom.”

Rotke’s grin widened. It was a simple greeting, but in the midst of all the bigotry that was currently plaguing Hopeful Harbor, it was enough to light up her day. “Thank you.”

“Was there something you wanted specifically, or are you just in here because you’re tired of Jake and Will?” Margaret half-joked.

“Yes, there was something I wanted to talk to you about,” - that gained Margaret’s attention, and for good reason; Rotke usually preferred to stay in her room and dwell on her own problems rather than confide in someone. But this time, she suspected she couldn’t fix it on her own, and Margaret was the only person Rotke could possibly turn to on this particular problem.

Rotke pulled out one of the wooden chairs and sat down. “It’s about Will,” she started, “something he did a few days ago.”

Margaret’s eyes filled with concern then, and Rotke quickly elaborated - “No! It’s nothing like that I promise, he didn’t hurt me - he just… well… he…,” Rotke looked around, to make sure no servant was eavesdropping, “He kissed me,” Rotke rushed out.

Margaret’s eyebrows really shot up then, and for a few seconds she just stared ahead. “That is certainly bound to cause problems.”

A laugh burst out of both of their chests, and the energy became less serious, but not for long. The gravity of the situation pushed up to the surface again. Jacob Marlowe was not one to accept loss, in any situation - there had been times when the four of them had all tried to bond over board games, but it quickly lost its spark what with Jake’s competitive nature. This would certainly be no exception.

Hell, it would be an absolute humiliation for Jake, to have his fiancée stolen from him by his greatest friend. Rotke cringed at the thought of him finding out about it.

“Will should not have done that,” Margaret said, “I don’t know what he was thinking. He does not get to just go around and kiss any woman he would like.”

“But what if I want him to, Margaret?” Rotke blurted. Margaret looked up at her, and understanding flashed across her face. This was the real reason why Rotke had come to talk to her. Not to simply tell her all of her problems, no, she was not fond of doing that - she had come to Margaret because she was now in a very strange position. Like hanging over a ledge where you know the drop would kill you, but for some reason, the prospect still excites you.

Margaret gave a small smile of sympathy to Rotke, and sighed. Rotke could sense Margaret’s exasperation. Margaret had never been very preoccupied with men, Rotke knew, and was probably currently internally chastising Rotke for being concerned with something so trivial.

Margaret had already been disappointed with Rotke for pursuing a relationship with Jake, but she would never tell Rotke that. Margaret cared too much about Rotke’s fragile emotions to tell her any of her grievances. But that didn’t mean that they didn’t still exist.

“Well,” Margaret began, “I would certainly rather you choose Will. But you know how Jake is,” she sighed again. It was a habit everyone in Hopeful Harbor had taken up, ever since it became the headquarters of Project Buffalo. “I honestly don’t know how you should go about this. I would suggest expressing your feelings with Will, and reminding him of your current relationship status, but I imagine that your lust could easily get the best of you,” Margaret looked at her pointedly, “I have no experience with romance, I’m afraid - I’m sorry,” and she did seem genuine.

Rotke gave a tight-lipped grin to Margaret. “Thank you for your help, anyway. The care in your heart always shines through, even if you don’t know how to guide it.” Margaret beamed at that.

In the end, Rotke did take Margaret’s advice - not just because she was a good friend and she trusted her - but also because she was looking for a good reason to go talk to Will, even if only for a few moments.

~

Rotke strolled the halls of Hopeful Harbor, smiling at servants as she passed by, acting like she was on some professional mission. She eventually found the room she was searching for, and stood outside the door for a few moments, listening to any noise that emanated from within. Rotke smiled at the sound of a pencil scratching on paper. Yes, she had found just what she was looking for.

Rotke knocked on the heavy oak door once, twice, three times, and waited. She heard the sound of a person shuffling in the room, and then footsteps - and suddenly, William Fitzgerald was standing in front of her. She tilted her head up at him, he was so tall - almost a whole foot taller than her. She smiled at him. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

Will let out a breath. “I assume that this is not a work-related issue.”

“No,” Rotke said, “but who wants to focus on work all the time?”

“Well then, what do you want?”

Rotke found herself in a tight spot again. She did not want to talk to him out here in the hallway, where anyone could listen in - but she couldn’t go into his room either. The servants would be bound to take notice, and while Rotke was almost completely sure that none of them were informants for Jake, she also knew that they would be quick to talk of his woman entering the bed chamber of another man.

“Here, follow me,” Rotke said to Will - there was a small sitting area on that floor of the mansion that they could talk in freely. Yes, that would work.

She sat down at the cloth-covered table and Will followed suit. Rotke looked out the large window next to the table and admired the view for a few seconds before looking at Will again, only to find that he was already staring at her. She blushed and Will quickly looked away. “Sorry,” he grumbled out.

Rotke gulped and braced herself for the conversation that was about to unfold. Her mind immediately went back to her earlier meeting with Margaret, and how she had said that Rotke’s lust would get the better of her. Damn that woman. She could predict the future better than even Rotke sometimes.

“I am sure you recall our… encounter a few days ago,” Rotke started, but Will interrupted her.

“Listen - I’m sorry, Rotke. My emotions got the best of me - I know I shouldn’t have done it,” Will said, and the detections of a liar pinged in Rotke’s mind. She collected herself, confirming this new information; Will did not regret kissing her, although he had to have known the consequences of it.

“Do not start,” Rotke said. She broke a little internally at the harshness of her voice. Oh please, Will, she yelled at him in her mind, know that I do not hate you for what you did. The only thing I hate you for is causing all of this mental turmoil that now plagues me.

Rotke softened her voice. “I do not think differently of you.” I love you. “I wish for our collaborations to move on from this.” I wish for you to kiss me again. “I noticed that you have become more disconnected in these past few days - I do hope that we can be friends again.” I hope that we can become much more than friends, and that we will become much more connected than we currently are.

Will nodded at her. “Understood.” He left without another word.

Rotke hoped that he got the message she had tried to convey to him through her eyes, but she got the overwhelming sense he did not.

~

That night, every important person in Hopeful Harbor dined in the stupidly large ballroom. The food probably tasted delightful, but Rotke had no idea what it was like - she was too focused on Will at the other end of the long rectangular table, and how he ignored her once again. He had gone back to pretending she didn’t exist. She should’ve known - he would refuse to acknowledge her existence for fear of acting on his desires again.

She wished that he would acknowledge her again, if those were the consequences.