Chapter Text
Maggie peers through the patio door glass and sees Jocelyn with her back to her, headphones on, she seems to be sitting at her grand piano. In all the time they’d known each other she’s never seen her there, wasn’t even sure it was tuned. She wraps her knuckles against the glass trying to let her friend know she’s here, but Jocelyn can’t hear because of her headphones.
She watches the barrister’s fingers brush along the keys, barely touching them, and she seems to be searching for something on her iPad with her other hand. Maggie nabs the spare key from its usual place and unlocks the door. She is just stepping into the living room when the older woman starts to play the opening notes of her selection. Maggie is mesmerised, although it occurs to her that perhaps Jocelyn wouldn’t want an audience. She turns around to leave without disturbing her, but stops when the other woman begins to sing:
I've heard it said that people
Come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led to those
Who help us most to grow if we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you
Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes the sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good
Maggie is transfixed. She had no idea that Jocelyn could sing. As she watches, she realises that she has unconsciously moved closer to the barrister, like her smooth voice has cast a spell over her. Maggie can’t take her eyes off her. She notices that there is no sheet music in front of her so Jocelyn must be playing from memory. The song seems to be quietly coming out of her headphones too, so she must be using those for reference. The blonde must cast a shadow as she moves ever closer because Jocelyn feels the change.
“Maggie.” Jocelyn halts immediately, slipping her headphones off. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I didn’t know you could sing and play the piano.” Maggie counters.
“Hm.” Jocelyn nods. “Years of lessons growing up. My parents wanted me to be disciplined and well-rounded.”
“Will you finish the rest?” Jocelyn is just about to refuse. “Please. For me.” Maggie has no idea that the woman before her would quite possibly do anything for her. Headphones removed this time, she picks up the song from where she’d left off:
It well may be
That we will never meet again in this lifetime
So, let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have rewritten mine
By being my friend
Jocelyn is able to continue without looking at the keys and her eyes settle on the journalist with a soft smile as she sings that last part. Maggie’s heart beats faster and an unfamiliar feeling that she can’t seem to pinpoint hits her squarely in the gut. If she didn’t know any better, she’d have said it was attraction.
Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a sky bird
In a distant wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better
But because I knew you
Because I knew you
I have been changed for good
Jocelyn plays the final bar and then her fingers still for a moment, still poised over the keys. The two women don’t seem to be able to tear their eyes away from each other and a heavy, unnamed tension seems to hang in the air. The bubble only bursts when Jocelyn’s oven timer beeps from the kitchen. Both are reluctant to part until Jocelyn has to be the first to move to check on her dinner.
“I made carbonara. There’s enough for two if you want to stay.” She casts a backward glance at her friend before disappearing through the kitchen door
“I also didn’t know that you enjoyed musicals. We should see one some time.” Maggie follows her in.
“I’d like that.” Jocelyn smiles as she carries the casserole dish out to set in the centre of her dining table.
“Although, I’d never have pegged you for a Wicked fan.” Maggie observes.
“The story of a misunderstood, social outcast, who frightens children. Practically my autobiography.” Jocelyn pokes fun at herself as Maggie tuts.
The blonde has brought through plates, glasses, cutlery and the rest of yesterday’s red wine. They’d had dinner together so many times, she knew where everything was. She sits opposite her friend, pouring them both a generous glass of merlot and starts dishing up two portions onto their plates. “Who would your ideal Fiyero be then, Elphaba?”
“I was always more partial to Glinda myself. Something about all that blonde hair and blue eyes.” Jocelyn admits coyly, eyes fixed on the journalist.
Maggie almost spits out her wine at her friend’s confession. A number of thoughts strike her at once. Firstly, although it's always been implicitly known between them, this is the first time she’s heard Jocelyn verbalise her attraction to women. Secondly, the way Jocelyn is looking at her makes her mouth suddenly dry.
Was it a coincidence that Jocelyn had voiced a preference for Glinda, whose description just happened to fit Maggie’s to a T? Was Jocelyn saying that she was attracted to her? Maggie realises instantly that she hopes so, because something else has just hit her. She doesn’t know how she hadn’t seen it before. It’s always been there, bubbling there just under the surface, pulling at the edges of her consciousness. The fact is that Maggie herself is attracted to Jocelyn.