Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Oh, Fran, why do you bother dating? It’s a loss for someone like you.”

Fran was sprawled out on a couch in the Sheffield living room, almost halfway covered in various types of chocolate. Sylvia was sitting to her left, and Fran had thrown her legs on top of the woman, just like she would when she was a child. Yetta was sitting across from them in an armchair, watching some trashy soap opera on TV. Normally, Fran would be all about the romance unfolding in front of them, but as it stood, she was pretty over the romance scene.

The kids were at school and there was little for her to do in her free time. She was trying to find the perfect man, perfect woman, perfect person - she would take anything at this point. But nothing ever lasted. If Mr. Sheffield’s love match hadn’t been tattooed across his forehead, Fran would have tried taking a chance on him when she met him a few years ago. As it stood, she couldn’t stand the idea of staring at those big, bold letters every single day: SARA.

Only someone with money could be revered for being born with a love match birthmark on their forehead. It had gained him high notoriety, especially in the theater scene. Had it not been for Miss Babcock keeping his business afloat, Fran almost wondered if the gaudy birth mark on his forehead would be the only thing making him successful.

Speaking of Miss Babcock, Fran was even so desperate that she had tried hooking up with her a few times, but Miss Babcock was made of ice, absolutely not interested in Fran. Or, at least, that’s what she said. Her eyes spoke another language entirely. But, alas.

“Ma, couldn’t you have birthed me with another mark? One that hasn’t left me sexually cursed for the past decade?” Fran groaned, throwing a Reese Piece at her mother’s forehead, chuckling as it bounced right off onto the floor. Her chuckling stopped as she watched her mother lean down and snatch it off the carpet before tossing it into her mouth.

“Ew, ma! That’s gross!”

“What? A family this rich, I expect the floors to be spotless. If I can’t eat off them, tell Niles he needs to stop being a lazy putz before Mr. Sheffield finds someone who can do the job better.”

“Can ya stop yellin’? I’m watching TV here!” Yetta cried, tossing the remote in their direction. It bounced off Fran’s forehead - an instant karma for her actions against her mother. God forbid she hit a woman in the head with a Reese Piece.

“No one’s yellin’, Yetta!” Fran yelled. She rubbed at her forehead before sitting up with a huff. “I swear, both of you act like ya live here. If you’ve come to visit, the least you can do is listen to me kvetch about my love life.”

“What love life, Fran? You’ve never had one. And for good reason.” Sylvia nodded, snatching a bag of chocolates off Fran’s lap. 

“Oh, here we go again,” Fran groaned, slumping back down on the couch.

“You were the easiest labor. It was like God spoke to me and said, Syl, I’m giving you an angel. Take good care of her. I swear, I heard him speak, Fran.”

“Was it really God speaking or was it the epidural?” Fran deadpanned.

“Quiet, you. Like I was saying,” Sylvia gave her a look before continuing, “God gave me an angel. I knew I had heard right when I saw your birthmark, right above that little tuchus of yours.”

“Ugh!” Fran had heard enough. She got up from the couch and started pacing around the room, her hands on her hips, “It’s always birthmark this, birthmark that. Well, my birthmark is making it impossible for me to find love! It scares everyone away!”

“They just don’t want to touch something so holy,” Sylvia sighed, “That’s what I said. Someone like you, you’re best just to join a convent. That’s probably what the lord intended anyways. You’re wasting your potential here in this house.”

“I am not gonna become a nun , ma.”

A sharp laugh whistled through the room, the sound immediately shooting up Fran’s spine. Fran heard the sound of heels on tile, and suddenly, there was Miss Babcock coming around the foyer, headed toward them on her way to the office. She was clutching some papers to her chest and her face was a dream, those blue eyes just shining as she got closer. Fran had always loved her laugh - a little menacing, but absolutely, 100% CC Babcock. If CC ever gave her a chance, she’d never make the woman change. She could be as hateful as she wanted, as long as it translated in the bedroom.

God, she was horny. She needed a cold shower and a cigarette before the day was over, that was for sure.

“What are you Fine women talking about today? The state of the world? How to perform brain surgery? Or, lemme guess, how to get the best discount at Loehmann’s?” CC cackled another laugh, obviously finding herself funny. Normally, Fran would chuckle alongside her, willing to take a low blow joke as long as she could hear CC laughing. 

Instead, Fran just gave her a cold stare. This seemed to shut CC up, the laughter quickly dying out.

“Oh, please tell me someone hasn’t died,” CC groaned, throwing her head back, “I always pick the best times to just put my foot in my mouth. My condolences, if so.”

“No need for condolences, Miss Babcock,” Sylvia waved at CC from the couch, holding up a bag of chocolate, “Want some?”

“Well, I for one accept your condolences. I was just whining about my love life, or lack thereof.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Nanny Fine, but I’m shocked to hear you’re having trouble in that…department,” CC pursed her lips, “Despite your annoying presence, you are lovely on the eyes. I’d expect men to be lined up for miles.”

“Awh! How sweet,” Fran held her hand to her heart for just a moment. CC called me lovely . “Thanks for the compliment, Miss Babcock, but you’d be dead wrong. Men and women alike take one long look at my birthmark and think I’m untouchable.”

“What? Certainly it can’t be that bad. Is it in a bad place?” CC asked, her eyes suddenly scanning Fran’s body, looking for a clue, “Honestly, Nanny Fine, for as long as we’ve known each other, I’m shocked you haven’t blabbed about your birthmark before. Does it say something atrocious like Maude or Elmer? Oh my God, please tell me it doesn’t say Niles.”

“No, it says -”

“Ma, don’t tell her!” Fran interrupted her mother quickly, her hands flying to the back of her shirt defensively, making sure the length of her blouse kept it hidden.

“Oh, come on, Frannie. There’s nothing wrong with your birthmark. Miss Babcock, I was just telling her she should join a convent. You’ll agree once she tells you.”

“Now I have to know. Come on, Miss Fine. We’re friends, aren’t we? You can tell me,” CC cooed, placing a tentative hand on Fran’s arm. 

“Friends?” Fran quirked a brow, “You don’t even know my birthday.”

“Of course I do! It’s…August somethingth? August 20th? Maybe July? I know I’m in the ballpark.”

“You’re not even on the damn field,” Fran frowned, jerking her arm away, “But I’ll tell ya anyway. My birthmark is right above my ass. It’s a tramp stamp.”

CC snorted, quickly moving her hand to cover her mouth. Fran rolled her eyes.

“It says Chastity.”

chastity

noun

chas·ti·ty 

1.

: the quality or state of being chaste: such as

a

: abstention from unlawful sexual intercourse

b

: abstention from all sexual intercourse

‘The priest took a vow of chastity.’

c

: purity in conduct and intention

‘sought to protect her threatened chastity’

d

: restraint and simplicity in design or expression

‘… describes the familiar campaigns with an admirable chastity of diction.

—Richard Brookhiser’

2 .

: personal integrity

Everyone in the world is born with a birthmark of their soulmate’s name. It’s like being branded as a piece of cattle as soon as you pop out of utero. Some people don’t buy into it and have their birthmarks removed, while other people have theirs removed due to the nature of the name or the location of the birthmark. For example, much like Mr. Sheffield, Fran had once known a boy who had “Murray” written across his cheek, and as soon as his family had raised the money, it was lasered off. They didn’t believe their son was meant to be with a man. 

Last Fran had checked, the kid had ended up finding Murray, and they were currently renting an apartment together and raising some ferrets. Good for him.

Anyway, growing up, Fran had begged her parents to laser off her birthmark. She was envious of all the girls who had such normal names on their bodies - “Noah”, “Jade”, “Harper”, “Harry”, whatever the hell. At least they didn’t have CHASTITY spelled out right above their ass. Of course, her parents were adamant that the birthmark would stay, so Fran had to keep hoping Chastity would come along. After all, her parents themselves were soulmates - certainly if it was that easy for them to find the one, it wouldn’t be that hard for her to find the one. Right?

Wrong. As soon as Fran learned what chastity meant, she wanted to vomit. Her first serious relationship ended as soon as they were finally about to have sex for the first time. It was high school, and she was ready. In her heart, she was all his. Once he saw her ass, he made a cross symbol across his chest and pulled his pants back on. He didn’t want to go to hell, he said. She was untouchable.

Sure, she wasn’t a virgin - she’d managed to have sex with a few lackluster partners. Normally they were just weirdos who found her birthmark a turn on. She never stayed with them in the long term, feeling more like a sex object than an actual partner. Some people liked the idea of defying God, while others just liked the idea that they were doing something they weren’t supposed to. Fran didn’t want to feel like she was untouchable. Fran didn’t want her birthmark at all.

After years of griping about it, she finally let it go. Her parents never budged, and there was always something else to spend her money on. Something more important, something more desired, something more coveted. After all, it’s not like she saw the name chastity in the mirror every day. It was hard to see it unless she twisted herself like a pretzel, and even then, she could never get the entire name in the mirror. It was also not a big deal wearing things like bikinis - she just opted for high waisted bikini bottoms and, boom. Problem solved.

Once she moved in with Mr. Sheffield and the kids, it really didn’t feel like much of an issue anymore. Sure, she saw SARA written across Mr. Sheffield’s face every day, but it was really just a reminder that he would never be able to move on from her death. If anything, she was at least grateful she hadn’t met her Chastity yet - the idea of having a soulmate die so early in life seemed heartbreaking. She never wanted to understand how Mr. Sheffield felt.

Over the years, she learned all of her housemate’s birthmarks - Niles had “Xavier” on his hip, Brighton had “Ginger” going down his leg. Maggie had a big “JUSTIN” on her foot and Gracie had “Imogene” on the side of her arm. Her first year with the kids, Fran didn’t find it shocking at all that Gracie’s imaginary friend had the same name as her soulmate - this was very common among children with trauma. It was easier for them to understand the concept if they could imagine what their soulmates looked like, acted like, sounded like. Knowing Mr. Sheffield and Sara had been soulmates also made Gracie more interested in finding her Imogene. She often said she couldn’t wait, pining for a great romance like her parents had. Fran always told her to slow down.

One day, she would tell her not to keep her hopes up.

“Miss Fine, you have a package!” 

Fran heard Niles at the bottom of the stairs. It had been a few weeks since her conversation with her mother about her tramp stamp, and she was getting over it. With the money she had been keeping aside, she had actually managed to find a removal clinic in her budget, and had promptly set up an appointment to get the birthmark removed.

She sat up from her bed and let out a sigh before slowly making her way down the spiraling staircase. 

Strangely enough, Fran was finding herself lamenting the upcoming appointment. After spending so long with Chastity on her skin, it was hard to imagine a life where it was no longer there. Sometimes, when her anxiety was high, she would reach behind herself and lay her hand flat on the birthmark. It was always so warm, so comforting. It almost felt as if she could feel their connection through her skin, as if Chastity was saying, hold on .

Ultimately, Fran had held on long enough. She was ready to settle down with someone who wasn’t her soulmate and live a peaceful life. Even if she wasn’t madly in love. Even if she would spend the entirety of her life wondering where Chastity was, if Chastity was safe, if Chastity was happy . Fran found that she could live with that.

“Hurry up, slowpoke,” Niles teased, smiling at her as she descended the staircase, “Someone sent you flowers.”

“Someone sent me flowers ?!” Fran gasped, making a move to hightail it down the remaining stairs.

“They sure did. I haven’t read the note, but I was going to had you taken any longer. Why are you moping around today, Miss Fine?”

“I’m considering getting my birthmark removed,” Fran admitted, reaching out to rub her finger along a tender, blue petal. “What are these? They’re so beautiful.”

“I believe they’re forget-me-nots. There are a few baby’s breaths in there as well. It’s really a lovely bouquet,” Niles smiled at her, but there was a sadness behind it, “Why are you considering getting your love mark removed? It’s part of you.”

“It’s part of me, but it doesn’t mean anything. I’m never going to find her, so what’s the point? It’s stopping me from finding contentment in life,” Fran shrugged.

“Either that or you’re not looking hard enough. You know, they say that you will always meet your soulmate at least once in life. Imagine someone being born with a common name on their skin, then meeting a bunch of people with that name over the course of their life. How do you know which one is the right one? Obviously, they would have your name too - but what if your name is a common one as well? A name you hear every day. I’d say you have it easy. Chastity is uncommon, and chances are, you’ve already met her.”

“I think I’d remember if I’d met a Chastity, Niles,” Fran rolled her eyes, plucking the small note from the large bouquet, “My focus right now is on whoever sent these gorgeous flowers. Now, let’s see what this says…”

‘ Dear Francine,

 I’m coming. Hold on for me.

With great love and affection,

Chastity’

Every day since she had received those flowers, Fran made sure she was dressed in her best clothes. She made sure her hair was done, her makeup freshly pressed, her perfume applied with fervor. Every day since she received those flowers, Fran made sure she was ready for Chastity.

At first, she had considered that it was a sick joke. The first person that came to mind was Miss Babcock. It hadn’t been that long ago since she had told the woman her soulmate’s name, the name that was branded into her skin. She could still remember Miss Babcock’s shocked reaction, the way she stumbled over herself, almost as if she couldn’t believe the ridiculous name that had come straight from Fran’s mouth.

“Chastity? And you’re sure you’re not dyslexic or illiterate? Maybe it says Charity, or Cassidy, or Charley. Lift your shirt, let me see.”

“Don’t tease me, Miss Babcock. I’m hurting here! My whole life this word has been on my back and I’ve been waiting for her, but I can’t find her. I’m tired of waiting.”

“Well,” CC had replied, her brow twitching upwards, so high that the wrinkles in her forehead almost hit her hairline, “My condolences for your sex life, I suppose.”

“Gee, thanks.”

That had been the entire interaction. Afterward, CC had practically run toward the office, clutching those documents tight against her chest. Fran watched her go, a strange tugging at her heart, but she dropped it. CC had long since made it clear she wasn’t interested in Fran, so there wasn’t anything more Fran could do without it being considered harassment. 

Ever since that interaction, she had seen very little of CC Babcock.

Despite her cruel nature, sending flowers and pretending to be Chastity didn’t quite seem like something CC would do. Sure, she could make petty jokes and had pretty dark humor, but ultimately, she was harmless. Sometimes, Fran wished they could actually be friends, but after years of trying, she had long since given up.

Other than CC, Fran couldn’t think of anyone else who would prank her. The only person who knew she had considered getting her birthmark removed was Niles, and he had only found out that morning, so this definitely wasn’t an attempt by her parents to convince her not to remove it. All signs were pointing that this was actually Chastity. Her Chastity.

Fran sighed as she leaned against the kitchen counter, nursing a bowl of ice cream. She was so spaced out that she almost didn’t notice when Miss Babcock burst through the door, freezing in place at the sight of Fran. Fran looked her way, giving a small wave with her spoon.

“Long time, no see, Miss Babcock. Haven’t seen ya around since we discussed my tramp stamp,” Fran licked the spoon. Was it her imagination, or were CC’s eyes following her tongue as it curved around the cold metal of the spoon?

Nah, couldn’t be.

“Oh, Nanny Fine. Sorry to disturb you. I’ll just…go,” CC motioned to the door, making to turn around. 

“Wait, CC! Why’re you running away? It’s been years since we’ve met. Aren’t you used to being in the same room as me?” Fran laughed, reaching out and grabbing CC’s arm before pulling her back into the room. “What do ya want? Coffee, water? I can get it for ya, no problem.”

“I came for some coffee. It’s been a long…few weeks,” CC stood perfectly still, wringing her hands out in front of her.

“Oh! Hate to hear your week’s been so rough,” Fran said, placing her bowl in the sink before grabbing a mug from the cabinet, “What’s goin’ on?”

“I found out some news a little while back, and it’s left me feeling like I’m torn. It’s pretty big news. I’m not sure what to do about it,” CC said. 

Fran looked up, a reply on the tip of her tongue, only to find that the woman was suddenly standing beside her, gazing down at her with those unreadable eyes. 

“What’s got you feeling torn?” Fran asked, suddenly unable to breathe with the woman so close. 

“A person,” CC said, her voice practically humming in Fran’s ears. Fran tried to focus on pouring the hot coffee into the mug,  “To be honest, it’s you.”

“Me?!” Fran jumped back, spilling hot coffee on the counter.

“Nanny Fine, be careful!” CC immediately reached out, pushing Fran’s hand away from the mug. In doing so, she scalded herself instead, hissing as the hot coffee made contact with her skin. 

“Oh, Miss Babcock, I’m so sorry!” Fran grabbed CC’s hand, pulling it up to her face. She blew air on the burned surface of skin before leaving a gentle kiss over the slight injury. 

CC tensed at the contact, so Fran pulled away, hurrying over to the freezer to grab an ice pack. The tension was thick in the air and, unlike herself, Fran wasn’t quite sure what to do.

“Here, let’s get some ice on that burn. You should’ve just let me take the burn though - it was my fault,” Fran grunted, pressing the ice pack on CC’s hand. 

“No, no, it wasn’t your fault,” CC replied, pushing her hair behind her ear with her uninjured hand. “I frightened you, I think. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Oh, please. You can say anything you want to me,” Fran smiled softly, “You surprised me more than frightened me. I can’t believe you’ve been thinking about me. Well, other than thinking about how annoying I am, anyway.”

“I think about you more often than you know,” CC admitted, looking at Fran through lidded eyes. It almost looked as if the woman was feeling shy - Fran had never seen CC act this way before. “You’re…you’re almost always on my mind.”

Fran felt something in her stomach release, whether it be butterflies or nerves or just gas, she wasn’t sure, but there was a feeling in her core that she had never felt before. Even with past partners that she thought would be the one (before they saw her birthmark and fled), Fran had never felt this kind of emotion. She squeezed CC’s wrist in one hand, holding the ice pack in the other, trying to keep herself steady.

“And what about me is on your mind?” Fran asked, voice low.

“All of you,” CC admitted. She reached out, cupping Fran’s face so gently that it almost felt as if CC wasn’t touching her at all. It felt like electricity. “The way you laugh, the way you smile. The way you look at me. I think about how clever you are, how funny you are. I think about how you make me feel.”

“How do I…make you feel?” Fran leaned into CC’s touch, desperate to know what it felt like to be caressed by the woman. A feeling solid, not the ghost of a touch CC was currently providing. 

Of course, as Fran leaned in, CC pulled away. The kitchen door swung open and Niles bustled inside carrying the breakfast dishes. Before Fran could even blink, CC was out the back door, the ice pack falling straight to the floor.

“Excuse me for being so blunt, but what the hell was that?” Niles asked, frozen in the doorway.

Fran reached up, touching her own cheek, trying to replicate the feeling that CC had left against her skin. 

“An opportunity.”

“Honey, are ya sure you want to laser off such a beautiful name?”

Fran laid flat on her stomach, sprawled out across the cold examination table in the doctor’s office. The facility was in Flushing, so she felt right at home. A few of the lights flickered, there were cracks in the walls, and the equipment had seen better days, but that was fine - the sole purpose of the facility was to remove love marks. It was to erase the existence of a soulmate in markings only, and Fran had decided this was exactly what she wanted.

Just a few days before, CC Babcock had admitted that she held some kind of feelings for Fran. What those feelings were, Fran wasn’t certain, but she was determined to find out. Soulmate or not, she had decided that Chastity could never make her feel the way CC had. The electricity, the feeling in the pit of her stomach, the way she considered for a fleeting second that she could spend the rest of her life floating in CC’s gaze - it was love. Or, at the very least, the beginnings of love. 

She couldn’t very well be with CC if she had Chastity plastered to her lower back, a constant reminder in CC’s eyes that she wasn’t Fran’s soulmate. The woman was the jealous type. Fran wanted to start with a clean slate.

“I’m totally sure. It’s caused me more problems than you can even imagine,” Fran grunted, speaking into the examination table. She turned her head to the side, raising a brow at the woman, “Some people think I’m the second coming of Christ himself.”

“Well, if ya are, just remember you asked for this on judgment day,” The nurse pursed her lips, “It does feel sacrilegious to let you do this, ya know.”

“Oh, come on!” Fran huffed, sitting up on the table. She clutched her shirt to her chest, keeping herself covered. “You’re a place of science! I didn’t come here to get a mouthful from my ma.”

“Well…” The nurse gave a woeful smile, gesturing to the door.

“Well what?” Fran demanded, looking between the nurse and the door.

Suddenly, Sylvia Fine barged into the room, clutching her hand against her chest. Fran immediately looked up to the ceiling, shaking a fist toward the sky. 

“Sorry, kid. I’ve known your ma since we were kids. Can’t just let her angel baby get her birthmark removed.”

“And thank God you were her nurse! I can’t thank you enough, Elaine,” Sylvia grasped the nurse’s hands, shaking them up and down, “Name your price, and it’s yours. Well, within reason. Well, as long as it’s cheap. Actually, nevermind, just know I’m grateful.”

“Don’t sweat it, Syl. I know you’d do the same for me if I were in your position,” The nurse nodded in understanding, giving Fran one more glance before she exited the room.

“Ma, please don’t start,” Fran said, desperately trying to worm her way back into her clothes. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“And I didn’t want to give birth to a heretic!” Sylvia cried, grabbing Fran by her shoulders. “What in God’s name were you thinking Francine?!”

Sylvia was shaking her back and forth and, again, Fran found herself looking at the ceiling, chanting a small mantra to the lord.

“Quit it, Ma! You’re makin’ me dizzy,” Fran pushed her mother away, jumping down from the table as she tossed her shirt back over her head. “I’m never gonna find Chastity, and I’ve got feelings for someone else. I wanted to give this person an honest try and start on a clean slate.”

“Bubby, if they’re really the one for you, they won’t care if you’ve got another woman’s name on your ass,” Sylvia was incredulous, shaking her head, “The right person will accept you as you are. You don’t need to change yourself for anyone.”

“I’m not changing myself for anyone! I’m changing myself for me . You know I’ve always wanted this.”

“And you know I’ve always been against it,” Sylvia thundered, her hands turning to fists by her side, “You aren’t my property, Fran. You’re my child, and I don’t own you. I can’t control you. But the one thing I have always asked, the one concession I have always made, is that you leave that birthmark right where it is. You were born with it, and as long as I’m living, you’re going to die with it.”

“You’re right, I’m not your property. I’ll just go somewhere else and get it removed.” Fran put her hands on her hips, feeling a little like a petulant child - but this time, she was a child with money and means. She could do whatever she wanted.

“I know everyone. You will never escape me,” Sylvia retorted. After a moment, she reached out, taking Fran’s hands in her own. Fran let her mother lace their fingers together, the feeling so familiar and comforting that it immediately took away her anger. Those old hands, soft yet worn, from so many years of providing and scrimping to make ends meet. Fran couldn’t help but let her resolve crumble. “I thought you received a bouquet from Chastity the other week. What gives?”

“What if it was a prank, ma?” Fran asked. She could feel a burning sensation behind her eyes, the start of the tears that usually always came when she discussed her birthmark. “I thought it was Miss Babcock at first, but she wouldn’t stoop so low. But what if it was someone else? You haven’t exactly been discreet when it comes to my birthmark, ya know. The whole world knows I’ve got Chastity right on my back. Anyone could have sent me those flowers.”

“What if it isn’t a prank?” Sylvia was speaking from conviction now. She reached up, brushing one of Fran’s tears away, “I used to think I would never find my Morty. Do you know how many Mortys there are in Queens? More than one, I’ll tell ya.”

“Probably a thousand,” Fran chuckled, laughing despite herself. “And they probably all look the same, too.”

“Exactly, and when I was your age, we didn’t have any of this wacky birthmark removal technology. Sure, you could cut your skin off, but then what? You’d end up with a skin graft that would look worse than the original birthmark. Better to keep it. Better to accept who you are,” Sylvia paused for a second, her own eyes watery, “But I knew when I met my Morty. I knew. There is no feeling in the world to replace the feeling you’ll have when you realize you’ve met your soulmate. It’s like something opens up in your stomach - or, better yet, it’s like your stomach is full. Like you’ve eaten a giant matzo ball and you’ll never have to eat again. You’re satiated. You’ll never need anything ever again because you have it all. I want that for you, Fran.”

“But ma, you eat all the time. Constantly.”

“And my metaphor stands. I eat all the time because I love to eat, and so does my Morty, so we eat together . I’d never felt so satisfied doing something I loved until I had him to do it with. No food tastes better than the food I steal from your father’s plate.”

Fran was silent for a moment, letting her tears fall down her face. Her mother was probably right, but she was torn - what she felt for Miss Babcock certainly felt a lot like what her mother was describing (minus the matzo ball). It felt as if the pit that had been in Fran’s stomach her entire life had been filled with an emotion she had never felt before. Something so pure and deep in adoration, something so beautiful.

But CC wasn’t her soulmate. Chastity was.

When she was little, Fran would often fill her time imagining what Chastity was up to. She wondered what Chastity liked to do, what she looked like, what she sounded like, what her favorite Disney movie was - she wondered all sorts of things. In the end, she would just assume Chastity liked doing whatever Fran liked doing, would assume that Chastity’s favorite Disney movie was Fran’s favorite Disney movie. She assumed Chastity just looked like a young Barbara Streisand and that her voice was just as abrasive as Fran’s. It was such a selfish, childish thing. Eventually, Fran realized that Chastity was probably her own person. She probably liked her own things, had her own favorite movies - hell, she might not even like Disney - and that had to be okay. They were soulmates, after all, so Fran would obviously get over their differences.

But it was still nice to pretend.

Fran liked the idea that Chastity had told her to wait, but Fran wasn’t a big fan of waiting. Instead, after taking another look at the card that was attached to the flowers, Fran decided to go harass the florist.

It wasn’t hard to find the floral shop responsible for those beautiful flowers considering the address was on the card, but Fran was a little surprised to find that it was located in the Upper East Side, near Park Avenue. It was a beautiful boutique flower shop boasting the most healthy, vibrant, lovely petals. Fran wasn’t a flower expert and never claimed to be, but she appreciated that her soulmate wanted to get the best for her. It was nothing but positive marks in her book. Green flags all around.

Fran wandered through the shop, looking appreciatively at the flowers, taking in their colors and smells and long, spiraling stems. She wasn’t a flower expert, no, but she had always appreciated what they stood for. Every flower had its own little meaning, like a special, secret language that you could only be privy to if you were informed enough. Forget-Me-Nots could be interpreted several ways. The name itself was a dead give away for one meaning, but they could also represent true love, respect, and faithfulness. Baby’s Breaths were often given to expecting mothers as they are a symbol of purity, new beginnings, and hope. Fran let out a sigh, running her finger down the velvet petal of a red rose.

Those were universal for ‘ I love you ’.

“Nanny Fine? What are you doing here?” 

Fran jumped, turning around to find CC right behind her. The woman was clutching the strap of her purse, the knuckles of her hand tensed and white. Fran gave her a wide smile, trying desperately to ignore the feeling in her chest. Instead, she gestured to the flowers.

“Oh, Miss Babcock! I came to look at the flowers. What’re you doing here?”

“I came to look at flowers too,” CC stepped up beside her, eyeing the red roses, “I’ve found that this is the best florist in the city. It helps that it’s right near my penthouse.”

“I forgot you lived on Park Avenue. Lucky you, getting to live near some place so gorgeous. I’d be here every day if I lived so close.”

“Please. If you lived on Park Avenue, you’d be too busy clothes shopping to ever find the time to glance at flowers,” CC snorted, giving her a small smile, “Or, you’d be too busy trying to find your way back to Loehmann’s.”

“Oy, am I that obvious?” Fran chuckled. She glanced at CC’s hand, those knuckles still a tense, ghostly white. Without thinking, Fran reached out and grabbed CC’s hand, running her thumb over CC’s knuckles. “What’s bothering you? You seem stressed.”

“You can tell? I guess I shouldn’t be shocked,” CC’s face fell, but a small, tentative smile hung on her mouth, “You’re right, I’m absolutely stressed. Maxwell…well, we got into a bit of a tiff today. We aren’t seeing eye to eye with the newest play. The person he wants to cast is obnoxious and will definitely cause a drop in ticket sales. He doesn’t see it that way.”

“Well, you know Mr. Sheffield. He has to disagree at first, but he’ll come around if you keep pushing him,” Fran bumped her hip into CC’s, causing them both to sway, “I can always give ya some tips on how to play him like a fiddle. I’ve got some good experience in that field, ya know.”

“Don’t I know it,” CC chuckled, gently bumping her hip into Fran’s in return. They stood side by side, staring down at those beautiful roses, Fran’s hand closed around CC’s, her thumb working circles into the woman’s soft skin. “Say, would you like to grab a bite to eat?”

“With you?” Fran asked, brows raised to her forehead.

“Who else?” CC asked, the tips of her ears turning slightly pink. “You can forget it if it’s stupid. I just think it would be nice to have some company.”

“I’d love to keep ya company, Miss Babcock,” Fran couldn’t help the thousand watt smile that blossomed across her face. She threaded her fingers into CC’s, pulling the woman toward the exit. “As long as you’re payin’!”

CC snorted in response, but instead of responding, she squeezed Fran’s hand, falling into step beside her. They walked side by side through the streets of New York, CC leading Fran to a restaurant and Fran obediently following. This felt natural, almost as if they had been doing this for years. Just holding hands and walking in a companionable silence. It was as if this was meant to be. In this moment, Fran didn’t even care that she could be walking past her soulmate, holding the hand of another. 

They ended up at a sushi restaurant. Fran had never had sushi before, but she liked fish, and she liked all the ingredients they put in the sushi, so she was sure she’d like it altogether. As they sat at the bar, side by side, Fran almost felt a little shy - here was a woman she had known for years, and she had just held her hand as they walked down the bustling streets of New York City. Fran took a couple breaths, trying to calm her nerves.

“Oh, this looks so good!”

And then she took a bite of a plastic sushi display.

Beside her, CC let out a loud laugh, smacking Fran’s shoulder before jerking the display out of her mouth. Fran laughed with her, unable to help herself. 

“Oy, look at me! I’m acting just like my mother.”

“Miss, if you think this looks good, you’ll love what your actual meal looks like,” A sushi chef leaned over the counter, addressing Fran with a wink. He took the display and walked it to the back of the kitchen before they watched him wash his hands.

“Glad to see they clean those,” Fran muttered, swallowing some water to wash away any sushi display residue. “Sorry for making you come out with a damn idiot.”

“Have you ever had sushi before, Miss Fine?” CC asked, looking at Fran with a goofy smile.

“No, I haven’t,” Fran replied.

“Then you aren’t a damn idiot. Here, I’ll help you order,” CC said, leaning over into Fran’s space to get a better look at the menu. Fran smelled Chanel No. 5 and cigarettes and a touch of something fruity, like bubblegum. She leaned into CC, unable to help herself. “For a beginner, I would recommend the Philadelphia roll or the California roll. For you , let’s go with the Philadelphia - it has cream cheese.”

“You know me so well,” Fran sighed.

“I’ll order an assortment of nigiri, and you can try what you like. I want you to get a taste of authentic sushi as well. Given how you practically deepthroated the display sushi, I’d say you aren’t scared of how it looks.”

“Nah, it looks good. I’m surprised you know so much about all this - is sushi your favorite?”

“You could say that. This is my favorite restaurant, anyway. It’s easy to find a single seat at the bar, and the service is quick. They also make a killer negroni. I come here often,” CC started to lean away, back into her own space, and Fran immediately missed her presence.

“Well, I want you to teach me everything you know. Preferably, let’s start with the chopsticks so I won’t look like a damn fool when the food comes,” Fran picked up the metal chopsticks in front of her, clacking them together in her hand.

After placing their order, Fran watched as CC demonstrated how to hold chopsticks, how to pick things up with chopsticks, and how to ensure the grip was well maintained so it didn’t fall before it reached your mouth. She tried to mimic CC’s actions, but it was difficult - she’d never touched a pair of chopsticks in her life, save for the wooden ones that would occasionally come in her mother’s Japanese takeout. Granted, no one in her family knew how to use them, so they would usually throw them into the junk drawer, completely unopened. What was the point of using a utensil to eat when her ma could just breathe it all in like a vacuum? 

Once the food arrived, Fran tried all the sushi she could muster - and she found that she loved it all. 

“What’s your favorite food, Miss Fine?” CC asked. Fran looked up from her plate, not realizing that the blonde had been watching her.

“My favorite food? You ask some tough questions, Miss Babcock,” Fran chuckled, shaking her head. “I’ve never encountered a food I don’t like. I’d say my favorite is probably ma’s homemade latkes. Or her shakshuka. If we’re talkin’ restaurant food, I’m a pretty simple girl - take me out for Italian and I could eat pasta any day of the week.”

“I’d love to try your mother’s food. She looks like she would be a good cook,” CC nodded, taking a small sip of her water.

“What, you’re callin’ my mother fat?” Fran teased, giving a small smile.

“What? No!” CC gasped, “I would absolutely never insinuate your mother is fat. That’s rude, Nanny Fine.”

“I’m only teasin’,” Fran chuckled, shoving CC by the shoulder playfully, “I could always invite you over for family dinner sometime. Trust me, ma would love it.”

“I would…probably hate it,” CC bit her bottom lip, “But that means we should do it. Get it arranged - I’ll be there.”

Fran stared at CC, unable to believe her ears. After all this time, CC Babcock seemed to be making herself available. Whether it was as a friend or as something more, Fran didn’t really care. It was hard to believe, and yet she was sitting here, believing it.

“What gives, Miss Babcock? Why’re you bein’ so nice to me all of a sudden?” 

CC was silent for a moment, and Fran wondered for a second if she would even reply.

“I’m making up for lost time.”

CC’s penthouse was on one of the top floors of her apartment building, and it overlooked the entirety of the Upper East Side. Fran stood at the wide window, staring at the twinkling lights in the tall buildings below. New York City was a sight to behold in the night time. Everything was awake, flashes of bright, neon colors twinkling everywhere. They looked like stars from so high up. Fran pulled her wine glass to her lips, unable to take her eyes off the view.

“It’s mesmerizing, isn’t it?” 

CC was suddenly at her side, holding her own wine glass. They stood together, watching the city below, the people moving across the sidewalk like ants. Fran had been in CC’s apartment only once before, and the occasion was less than intimate, what with her having to pretend to be CC. From that single visit, she learned a few things about Miss Babcock, but mostly that the woman had to be lonely. That night, the apartment reeked of sad solitude and photo frames filled with stock image photos. Once the charade was over, Fran left without taking another glance CC’s way.

Tonight, the apartment felt more inviting. The photo frames were full of images of actual people - there was a photo of CC and Sara from college. There was a photo of Maxwell, Sara, and the kids. There was a photo of CC and Niles, with both of them giving each other rabbit ears.

There was a photo of Fran. She wasn’t sure when CC had taken it, or if CC had even been the one to take it at all, but somehow, it had ended up inside CC’s apartment. It was a candid photo of Fran staring down at Chester, her eyes shining, full of love. She could remember the moment, but she wasn’t aware of anyone taking a photo.

As odd as it was, CC Babcock sneaking a photo of her in an intimate moment, it made Fran feel special. It made her feel seen. She leaned closer to CC, their shoulders brushing as they stared out from the window.

“Thanks for taking me out tonight, Miss Babcock. Spur of the moment, I know, but I really appreciated it.”

“Well, if you’re interested…I’d love to go out together again sometime,” CC said, giving a small smile, “But only if you’re interested, of course.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever been more excited for a second date in my life,” Fran breathed, reaching out to rest a tentative hand on CC’s arm. She slowly brought her face up to CC’s, her heels making her taller than she normally was, but still not quite tall enough to reach the woman without straining on her tiptoes. 

CC jerked away, panic washing over her face immediately. Fran pulled back, wide eyed and confused - had she misunderstood?

“Sorry, Fran - I…” CC was clutching her chest, wildly looking for an escape route, usual Babcock behavior. Get a little too close and the woman was out the door. 

Of course, it’s hard to run when you’re in your own house.

“I need to…I need to pee,” CC blurted, slamming back her glass of wine in one gulp before she ran out of the room. Fran heard the bathroom door slam closed and found herself rolling her eyes.

One step forward, a thousand steps back, as per usual.

Fran let out a long sigh and walked back into the living room area, practically throwing herself onto the couch. She would give herself just a few minutes to let the wine wear off, then she was going to hit the road. As lovely of a night as it had been, she suddenly understood that it would never happen again. CC wasn’t ready. 

Without looking, she groped around the couch for her purse, her fingers searching idly for a piece of gum. Anything to get the taste of the day out of her mouth and off her mind. Feeling a piece of paper that felt suspiciously like a Juicy Fruit wrapper, Fran pulled it from the purse. Instead, it was a receipt. With a start, Fran realized she had been rummaging through CC’s purse, not her own.

And the receipt in her hands was for the florist.

Fran stared down at the small, white paper. It was so thin, so easy to rip, and should have been so meaningless - but it spoke a thousand words. CC had apparently paid with a credit card, her government name printed beneath the signature line, an example of the name she needed to sign. In bold letters, clear as day, Fran felt the breath leave her body -

Chastity Claire Babcock.

Chapter Text

Francine

Most Common Gender Associated: Female

Origin: French

Meaning: Free

CC can remember looking up the name Francine in her school library as a child, determined to read books on as many Francines from around the world as possible. Not only was it imperative information given her situation, but it also killed time. It was hard being the least popular kid in school, too focused on learning new subjects than to gossip about boys or the latest fashion trends. CC just didn’t care . Call her a nerd, call her anti-social, it didn’t really matter.

She knew that there was at least one person out there who would accept her for who she was - and her name was Francine.

The name was curved around the back side of her ear, almost like a secret. Sometimes, when she placed her finger behind her ear, she could touch the name and feel a burning sensation. On a rare occasion, she would hear the whisper of a laugh, or the faintest sound of someone calling her name. She could hear it directly in her ear, almost as if she had held a seashell up to hear the echo of the sea. If that was Francine, her Francine, then she had a beautiful laugh. CC wanted to keep it in a jar and put it up to her ear whenever she needed to smile.

To put it bluntly, CC Babcock was obsessed with her soulmate. She would read about Francine Fox, an American sprint canoer, or Francine York, a famous American actress. Truthfully, there weren’t a lot of famous Francines, so CC had to think outside of the box. What about Fran, or Francesca?

This is how CC discovered her favorite famous Fran.

CC loved theater, and with a love for theater came a love for literature. They went hand in hand, theater impossible without literature and literature not quite as entertaining without theater. For an advanced English class, they were reading Dante’s Divine Comedy - and she seemed to be the only one enjoying it. A little Italian history mixed with comedy mixed with the literal pits of hell? Fantastic.

Francesca da Rimini was sentenced to the second circle of hell, specifically for those that were sinners in the name of lust. She was betrothed to Giovanni Malatesta but had always loved his brother, Paolo. Her marriage with Giovanni was simply a political one - she had never loved him, never wanted him, but was bound to him, still. Her father had been at war with the Malatestas and needed a way to secure peace. CC found it dreadful that women were used as pawns of war in those days, daughters married to men they would never, could never love, simply to end a petty feud. Regardless, it worked, and the two families were at peace.

At least, until Giovanni discovered Francesca sleeping with his brother.

CC could imagine the scene - the way the stage lights would fall on Giovanni, the way Francesca would cry out as Giovanni lunges at Paolo, a sword in his hand. Francesca would jump between the two, unwilling to see her love die, only to be gutted as the sword went right through her. The stage lights would dim as Francesca fell into Paolo’s arms, only for Paolo to be murdered seconds later, killed by the same sword. They would die in each other’s arms, two lovers fated for death. Two fated for a love that was not meant for the earthly world.

Dante discovers the two in the second circle of hell, swallowed up in a giant hurricane, still holding one another in their arms. The hurricane rips them to shreds again and again, and they are bound to this fate for eternity.

Paolo tells Francesca that he would do it again, if only to get to love her once more.

If the baby name books are right and Francine and Francesca really mean free , then there is an irony here - there is nothing freeing about being ripped to shreds in a hurricane for the rest of your eternal damnation. However, to look closer is to discover the freedom comes with being bound to her lover’s arms. In the end, they are free, their souls allowed to be together for the rest of eternity.

It’s beautiful, CC thinks. She isn’t surprised when she and Maxwell’s first Broadway hit is a retelling of Dante’s Inferno, considering she had been planning it since she was a child. But -

But, CC also isn’t surprised when her mother starts trying to get her birthmark removed.

“It’s taking too much of your attention, CC,” Her mother chides, looking down at her from across the dinner table. She’s nursing a strong glass of gin. “Noel is an academic and DD is bound for fame with her modeling. All you’re bound to is a life of misery if you keep on with this soulmate nonsense.”

“Mother, Francine is my soulmate. I have to find her,” CC argues, clenching her jaw. This is not a new argument, and while it’s one she never wins, they usually come to a truce.

“And what if this Francine is a common housemaid?” Her mother asked, the rim of her glass just brushing her mouth, “Would you defile the Babcock name and be with her?”

“None of that matters to me,” CC replied, but her voice wavered, uncertain. She knew this was the wrong thing to say.

“It damn well should,” Her mother snapped, slamming the glass down on the table, “The rest of us have gotten our birthmarks removed. No Babcock I know will be branded like cattle and forced into a predestined fate. You’ll have yours removed as well - I’ll see to it.”

“Excuse me mother,” CC wiped her mouth with her napkin before throwing it back down on the table, “But I will absolutely never get my fucking birthmark removed. You’ll have to hogtie me and throw me in the back of a van before that happens.”

Her mother was up in an instant, practically throwing herself across the dinner table. She clutched CC’s face in her hand, her long nails digging into CC’s cheeks. She remembers that they left marks, almost like two out of place dimples, just a reminder that she was a disappointment.

“Chastity Claire, you will not talk to me like that,” her mother spat, mouth shaped in a snarl, teeth halfway visible. “I’m getting on a plane tonight to meet your sister for a show. When I get back, if that disgrace of a birthmark isn’t removed, I will remove it myself the way we used to when I was a child. Are you a fan of your skin being burned away?”

CC jerked her head, pulling it out of her mother’s grasp. Her fingers flew up to her birthmark, digging her fingers into it, trying desperately to find some relief at the warmth it offered. She watched as her mother sunk back down in her chair, vitriol and indifference melting into her eyes at the same time.

“I didn’t think so.”

This was the first time CC can recall running away. She ran away from the table and left the house, barely managing to throw on her shoes before she was out the front door. Her mother would be gone that night, off to catch another plane to attend another shoot with DD, and CC always had extra money in her purse. She was a junior in high school and she had her own car - she would be alright.

CC stayed at a hotel for a few days as things died down. No one came looking for her, because no one cared, as per usual. Apparently, her mother had tasked Bobo with making arrangements to get the birthmark removed, and while the woman had agreed in her employer’s face, she disagreed in private. Bobo was a believer in soulmate marks - in her culture, it was sacrilegious to have one removed, a surefire way of securing your place in hell if Bobo had ever seen one. So, she simply told CC to start wearing makeup behind her ear to conceal it.

And that’s what CC did.

To this day, she concealed her birthmark with makeup or with different hairstyles. Granted, no one was ever really looking her way, so there wasn’t much to hide. Until, that is, she met Fran.

Francine.

Francine Joy Fine.

There was no way in hell that Nanny Fine was her soulmate. But, regardless, just like the famous Francines and Francescas and Frans in her school library, CC found herself soaking in as much information about Fran as she could. She knew Fran’s favorite flowers were any flowers - it was the gesture that was her favorite. Fran loved period romance dramas, even if she could barely understand what the characters were saying. She knew how much Fran loved Chester, how much Fran loved those kids, how much she wanted kids and animals of her own. She knew if Fran ever had a daughter, her chosen name would be Eve, and if she had a boy, his name would be Jonah. She knew Fran loved Mallomars like her mother, but her favorite candy was actually Mallo Cups , which were entirely different and a little harder to find.

She also knew that Fran’s birthday was actually November 26th - but when Fran asked, CC found herself lying, pretending that she didn’t know.

What CC actually didn’t know was that Fran’s soulmate mark, that stupid birthmark everyone was born with, read ‘Chastity’. And it was on her lower back. And it happened to be CC’s first name.

 When Fran told her this, it came as a total surprise. So much of a surprise that CC avoided her for days and spent that time pacing around her penthouse, unable to fathom the truth that had been thrusted upon her:

The bane of her existence, Fran Fine, was her soulmate.

What the fuck was she supposed to do with that ?

CC fidgeted with her blouse, practically dry heaving as she stared herself down in her bathroom mirror. Everything in her life had always been so superficial - she had long ago given up any hope that she would find her Francine. Truthfully, she’d given up hope that she would find love at all. There was a lot wrong with her that even her therapist couldn’t fix. Or, maybe it was because she didn’t do the work to fix herself. Healing came from the inside out, right? Well, she hadn’t touched her insides in decades. It was all probably rotted and dried up.

Staring at herself in the mirror, CC realized that some of the makeup covering her birthmark was starting to rub off. ‘INE’ was visible, wrapped around the back of her ear like a vine. She tugged at her hair, forcing it into place to cover the letters. She wasn’t ready to tell the truth - she wasn’t ready to expose this part of herself. 

She wasn’t sure she would ever be ready.

Taking a breath, she forced a smile on her face, calming her breathing. She flushed the toilet and took a few seconds to wash her hands - she hadn’t really used the bathroom, but Fran didn’t need to know that. CC steadied herself, making sure her perfect smile was plastered on her face before she opened the bathroom door.

“Miss Fine! Please excuse my rudeness,” CC called, looking back toward the window.

Fran wasn’t there.

She spun around the length of her penthouse, able to see from one end to another. Fran wouldn’t be in her bedroom, she was certain of that. CC wandered slowly toward the couch, spotting Fran’s wine glass on the coffee table from afar. Her purse was gone. The front door was ajar.

The receipt for the florist was beside the wine glass, her first name on full display.

Fuck .

CC froze. She felt her brow twitch, her fake smile still plastered onto her face as she stared down at the receipt in front of her. It was the receipt for the forget-me-not bouquet, not the bouquet that CC had purchased earlier that day, right before she spotted Fran admiring the flowers. In a swift motion, she crumpled the receipt in her hand and tossed it as hard as she could.

It bounced off the leather sofa like a boomerang and hit her square in the face.

coward

noun

1.

a person who is not brave and is too eager to avoid danger, difficulty, or pain

Further Examples:

a. CC Babcock was not born a coward.

b. The bitch of Broadway is a bully and a coward.

c. Fran must forever consider her a coward for failing to admit the truth.

The first time CC ran away, it was in defiance of her mother’s order to get her birthmark removed. The second time CC ran away, it was from sheer embarrassment.

During college, CC met Sara, the woman who would inevitably become her very best, and only, friend. She always suspected that Sara remained friends with her out of pity - that was just the type of woman Sara was. She was just as snobby as the rest of them, but there was a gentle air to her personality. If she was a Disney princess, then she’d be Snow White. If CC was a Disney Princess, she would be the Evil Queen.

CC didn’t have friends to model when she was a child, so during college, she tried to mimic Sara. The way Sara spoke, the way Sara behaved, the way Sara laughed. She tried liking the things Sara liked and tried cranking the dial of her own personality down to the point that the dial broke right off. The only thing CC couldn’t replicate was the spiraling ‘MAXWELL’ that twisted around Sara’s thin wrist. If she could, she would have just sucked Sara into her body and let the woman control her. The idea of that sounded like a relief - living was tiring and CC often found herself wishing she simply didn’t exist. If someone else could take control of her body, then well and good. They would be a better person than she could ever be.

Eventually, she reverted back into her cold self, and was surprised to find that Sara didn’t mind. In fact, the woman almost seemed relieved. CC could only imagine what a toll it was taking on her to have a best friend who copied her every movement. They never discussed this short period of time, which CC dubbed her ‘copycat era’, but CC was sure that Sara understood.

Granted, the woman was dead , so CC could never really confirm this.

Moving on, being friends with Sara did have its benefits. During college, she often followed Sara around like a baby duck, joining the clubs that Sara joined, rushing for the same sororities, eating the same food. This meant that she was often hanging out with the same friend group. While CC didn’t consider these women to be actual friends, they were still her acquaintances to this day.

All of them except for Francine Richards.

Francine was the head of the sorority and she was beautiful. It doesn’t matter dwelling on it now, but back then, CC thought she was hot shit . It didn’t help that her name was Francine. She was the first Francine CC had ever met, and to say CC was obsessed would be putting it lightly - she was convinced they were soulmates, despite there being no evidence to back that claim. Francine was not forthcoming with her birthmark, so CC fell back, keeping hers close to her chest. Maybe Francine was just shy. Maybe she wasn’t ready to love CC.

Sara told CC not to bother, that Francine Richards wasn’t the right Francine, but CC didn’t want to hear that. So entrenched in this idea that her Francine could be high class, could be something other than a common housemaid. She wanted to prove her mother wrong, so one day, right before classes let out for the Summer, she asked Francine on a date.

CC did not know that Francine was a homophobe, but she learned very soon after.

At first, Francine played it off like she was excited, like she couldn’t believe she had found her soulmate at long last. She even gave CC a kiss, and then excitedly told her they needed to inform the rest of the girls. Room to room they went, gathering up the girls, finally meeting back in their sorority living room. CC remembered Sara biting her nails in the corner, a look of distress on her usually carefree face. She didn’t think much of it. She had found her soulmate, after all.

“Everyone,” Francine started, staring around the room with starry eyes, “I have an announcement to make!”

The living room quieted down. CC had never seen a room full of prissy future socialites fall quiet so fast. She remembers bouncing on her feet, excited to finally, finally know happiness.

“Our beloved CC has just revealed that her birthmark…is Francine,” Francine gave the girls a minute to giggle and make some noises, most approving and excited, “It seems we could be soulmates.”

There was an eruption of clapping as the girls went absolutely rabid, clutching couch pillows to their chests, practically gnawing the fabric in excitement. However, CC remembers being caught on two words - could be.

They either were soulmates or they weren’t. What the hell did ‘could be’ even mean?

“I’ve never shown anyone my birthmark before, so you’re all in for a treat.”

Francine raised her arms, lifting her shirt over her head. The room went quiet once again, but everyone was a little too excited to look away as she stripped. She unclasped her bra, letting the straps fall down her arms, until the entire thing fell to the floor. She lifted her right breast, and along the underside in a curving fashion was the name JERRY.

JERRY.

Fucking Jerry.

“Obviously, we aren’t soulmates, but there’s a bigger picture here,” Francine started, dropping her tit as she stood in the middle of the room, “I’ve never told any of you about my birthmark because it hasn’t ever pertained to any of you. I wasn’t born a sinner - my mark belongs to a man, not a woman. If any of you in this room have another woman’s name on your skin, you have 24 hours to collect your things and get the fuck out.”

CC remembers Francine’s chest heaving as she spoke those words, true vitriol in her voice. She stared at CC as she spoke, her eyes starry not with love, but with power. CC can remember almost falling to her knees - but Sara caught her fast, wrapping her arm around CC’s waist, keeping her upright. Holding her strong.

“Count me out, Francine,” Sara spat, looking up at Francine with fire in her eyes, “You can’t help the name you’re born with. Soulmate connections are a beautiful, natural thing. You’ll rot for messing with CC, you damn swine.”

“And you’ll rot for defending her,” Francine shrugged, “She’s just a fucking weirdo.”

This was the second time CC ran. She ran out of the sorority, not bothering to grab her shoes this time, not like she had with her mother. Barefoot, she ran onto the asphalt of the road, relishing the pain as it burned into the bottom of her feet, and she ran until she couldn’t run any longer. When she stopped, she was at the local park, deep in the forest - and Sara was right behind her.

“Damn, CC - you run so fast,” Sara was panting, bent over, holding her legs. She was holding a pair of tennis shoes in her hands. They were CC’s.

“Why’d you follow me?” CC asked, reaching out to grab the shoes. The dirt and undergrowth of the forest was edging between her toes, making them uncomfortable. CC still remembers the burns on the bottom of her feet - she spent that Summer in bed, vegetating and rotting away.

“You’re my best friend. Why wouldn’t I follow you?” Sara looked up at her with a raised brow and a twinkle in her eye, “I’m the only one who can keep up with you, Babcock. At least, until you find your Francine, that is.”

Sara always knew what to say to help CC get her life back on track - she was thoughtful like that. She never ran from her feelings, a wordsmith when it came to her thoughts. That’s why she complimented Maxwell so well. God knows he doesn’t ever have a thought in that head - at least, not one that could generate a cohesive sentence.

However, Sara was dead. CC was able to say this with a blank face because she was so well versed in repressing her emotions, but the truth of it is, when Sara passed away, CC had considered quitting her job. She’d also considered ending her life, but that seemed too dramatic, too trite. She wasn’t in love with Sara, but given the fact that Sara was the only friend she’d ever had and the reason she even had a spot in the Sheffield home, CC felt like her whole life had ended when Sara passed away.

Instead, CC just showed up to the mansion the next morning and acted as if nothing had changed. Despite the crying children, despite Maxwell shutting himself up in his room, despite Niles shoveling homemade food into his mouth, an act she called ‘grief baking’. She just sat in the office, smoked her cigarettes, and continued making plays. It was all she could do.

Now, as she stared down at the receipt on the coffee table, she wondered what Sara would say. Or, she wondered what advice Sara would give, what Sara would tell her to do. It hadn’t been that long since Fran left - should she run after her? Everything in her was telling her to stay put, to freeze in place, to just show up to work the next day like nothing had happened. 

She knew that Sara would probably smack her for being so ridiculous, if she were there in the apartment and not ten feet under.

So, CC grabbed her tennis shoes from her room, huffed out a ridiculous sigh as she forced them on, and barely managed to grab her purse before she bolted from the room.

Knowing Nanny Fine, she’d probably take the subway. CC could feel her bones practically shake as her feet hit the paved sidewalk. She was much older than she was in college, the time she had run from Francine, and her knees were screaming at her to stop. But her brain, her heart , pushed her forward. 

This would be the first time CC Babcock ran toward something.

She flew down the subway stairs, praying that the trains were as delayed as they usually were. It wasn’t her normal mode of transportation, but she did take the subway occasionally and always found that the trains were either out of service or delayed. At the bottom of the stairs, she almost skidded on the concrete, taking a sharp left. The station was emptier than usual considering it was nighttime, but as her purse swung out, she still managed to hit an old lady in the shoulder, causing her to tumble. The woman called out, but CC kept on, staring up at the arrival board, dashing down the platform, desperately calling out for Fran.

She was frantic - she was scared -

She had missed the train.

CC stopped at the platform, watching as the train doors slid to a quick close before it skittered away, down into the darkness of the tunnels of New York City. The large, metal beast that held her soulmate. That held the woman she was in love with, the woman she had spent years trying not to be in love with.

She felt her knees buckle, so she reached out, steadying herself with one of the large, station beams. Sara was no longer here to hold her up. Sara was no longer here to make her feel safe.

CC let out a sob, unable to control herself. She held a hand up to her face, covering her mouth. Hot tears trailed down her cheeks, scalding her more than the asphalt that day Sara chased her ever did. What a wonderful time to finally start grieving the loss of Sara, her best friend, her only friend, right in the middle of the New York City subway station. What a joke.

“Miss Babcock?”

CC jerked her head up - she knew that voice. She’d know that voice anywhere .

Fran Fine was sitting on a bench just a few feet away, clutching her purse beneath one arm and holding a small, blue flower in her hand. It was one of the forget-me-nots, pressed and preserved. Seeing it only made CC sob harder, unable to stop herself from breaking apart.

There was so much she had pent up, so much she had repressed. At this point, she might drown in her tears, given how many she had. They might never stop.

“Oh, Miss Babcock!” Fran was rushing toward her now. CC felt herself pushing forward, flinging out her arms - and suddenly, they were squeezing Fran as tight as possible, afraid she would disappear. CC sobbed, burying her face in Fran’s hair, the smell of hairspray and citrus shampoo and cherry scented perfume filling her up. There was a pit in her stomach that she had been born with, a pit that her mother had carved and her father had stamped, their favorite piece of art. Feeling Fran so close had always filled that pit, had made her feel whole - it was a feeling unlike no other. The feeling of a soulmate.

“Fran, I’m so sorry,” CC cried, cradling Fran’s head to her chest. She could feel Fran’s breath on her clavicle, the top buttons of her shirt undone, her skin exposed. She could feel Fran’s arms wrap around her waist, a hesitant gesture, but a meaningful one all at the same time. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I’m so sorry I am such a coward.”

Fran tried to pull away, whether to breathe or to speak, CC wasn’t sure, but CC held her tighter. She bunched the fabric of Fran’s shirt in her hands, desperate to have her close.

“You aren’t a coward, honey,” At those words, CC felt herself go slack. Taking the opportunity, Fran pulled away, placing her hands on CC’s arms as she stared up at her with those big, brown eyes. “I mean, my name is so common, and you’ve always hated me. It’s no wonder you had no idea until I told you my soulmate’s name the other day, huh? That doesn’t make you a coward.”

CC shook her head.

“No, Fran. I always knew. I knew the moment I saw you coming down the stairs in that red dress. I knew because of how you made me feel - how you’ve always made me feel,” CC’s voice was rushed, frantic. Fran reached out and cupped her cheek, trying to calm her, and CC shuddered at the contact, “You make me feel whole. Like the pit in my stomach that’s been there for my entire life is full - like it’s just full of you and your light and all of the…all of the love I have for you.”

Fran gasped - CC continued.

“But I’m terrified . I’m not good at stuff like this. I’ve had one night stands, sure, but a relationship? I never even dreamed I’d have one of those. I always wanted to meet you, my Francine, but I just… Fran, I’m not a well woman, you know.”

“I know,” Fran cooed, her voice soft, bouncing off the concrete walls, “I know. I was mad at first, when I saw your full name on that receipt. That’s why I ran. But right as I went to get on the train, I realized that if you were my soulmate, truly my soulmate, then you’d come after me. So, I waited, and low and behold, you were suddenly sobbing right beside me like a nutjob. I’m aware you aren’t well, CC. The entire damn city knows you’re unwell. But that’s okay, because you’re mine.”

“I’m…yours?” CC couldn’t breathe, “What do you mean?”

“Your name is Chastity, right?” Fran asked. She turned around, and for a moment, CC was afraid she would run - but Fran simply pulled up the back of her shirt ever so, showing CC her birthmark.

And it was lovely.

CC reached out, unable to stop herself. She gently touched the mark, tracing the letters of her own name. Fran shivered under her touch.

“C H A S T I T Y,” CC spelled aloud, her voice a whisper.

“Why’re you spelling it out?” Fran asked.

“To make sure you got it right. I’m still not convinced you aren’t illiterate. God forbid your third-grade reading skills ruin this moment and your tramp stamp actually says Charity or something stupid like that.”

“Hey! That’s rude, Miss Babcock.”

Fran jerked her shirt down, huffing as she spun around, her face scrunched in anger. She was so much shorter, so much smaller - CC chuckled, tears still in her eyes, as she realized she just wanted to pick the woman up and spin her around and ride off into the sunset like a common fool.

Instead, she leaned down and brought their lips together.

Kissing her soulmate felt a lot like popping the last puzzle piece into place after grueling for weeks over a thousand piece puzzle. It was satisfying, and CC wanted to simply glue Fran and herself together and hang the feeling up on the wall, forever showcasing the greatest achievement of her life. Of course, Fran would have to stay still long enough for CC to do any of that.

Fran was a very - very - active kisser. She kissed hard and soft, she kissed passionately and slowly, she kissed like she was putting all of her energy into it. CC didn’t blame her - maybe Fran was worried this would be the only time they would ever kiss. The only affection she would ever get from her terrified and repressed soulmate. CC didn’t blame her. The only thing she was good at was running away.

What a terrible luck of the draw for Fran, CC thought, to get a horrible soulmate like herself.

At that moment, CC decided she wanted to be better. She wanted to be what Fran deserved . So, she gave it her all. She matched Fran’s tempo, tangling her fingers into the wild forest of Fran’s hair, shocked to feel how soft it was. The hair curled around her fingers as CC massaged Fran’s scalp. She wrapped her other arm around Fran’s waist, pulling the woman closer to her, the closest they had ever been.

She’s not sure they had ever even hugged before. This thought made her hold Fran tighter.

CC only let go when Fran moaned into her mouth. The sound pulled her back into reality, and she immediately broke free, but kept their faces close, refusing to let the moment end. However, once she got a look at Fran’s face, she almost wished she hadn’t done that. Her lipstick was smeared and her lips were parted, a panting, wanting breath escaping from them. Her eyes were heavy, looking up at CC through thick lashes. It took everything CC had not to drop her lips back onto Fran’s, ready to make up for a lifetime of kisses.

“We coulda been doin’ this a long time ago, huh?” Fran said, her voice a whisper above the sudden rumble of an oncoming train, “What are the chances you run away?”

“I won’t,” CC spoke, her voice hoarse and sincere, “I won’t run, Fran. I came after you, didn’t I? I’d come after you time and time again if I had to.”

“You’re ready for this?” Fran’s eyes were locked onto CC’s, such a serious gaze in her expression, such a desire to be loved. 

“I’ve always been ready for this - with you, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” CC blushed at her words, but she felt their truth deep in that annoying pit in her stomach. The pit that she had long ago named Fran, “I want to love you.”

“Good,” Fran pressed their lips together, a soft kiss, before she pulled away. CC found herself trying to grab the air, trying not to lose the feeling of her soulmate so close against her. For a second, Fran seemed to be fighting her own urge, brows suddenly furrowing together, “Oy, they aren’t kiddin’ when they say a soulmate’s the real deal. Do you feel like throwing yourself back into my arms too?”

“So bad it almost feels like we’ve become magnetized,” CC tilted her head, digging her nails into her palm to stop herself from reaching out.

Fran’s hand was on CC’s arm in an instant.

“I guess I’m gonna have to learn to hold myself back,” Fran sighed, inching her hand down CC’s arm until their hands became clasped, joining them together. “Ma always said she could feel when daddy was about to get sick, or when he felt angry, or when he was about to pass gas. Said she could never fall asleep when he was away on a work trip unless she rolled over into the divot he’d made in the mattress so she could feel the shape of him against her. I thought she was just a lunatic - ”

“She is,” CC interjected.

“Hey, that lunatic is your soulmate’s mother . Anyway, I get it now. Speaking of my mother, before we take this any further, you’re gonna have to come to family dinner. If you do that, I’ll believe you when you say you’re ready for this.”

“Done. Tomorrow night?” CC replied immediately, unable to hold back the desperation in her voice.

Fran let out a low laugh.

“Tomorrow night it is. Love the enthusiasm, Chas.”

Family dinner was held at the Sheffield mansion. 

Family dinner also included the Sheffields.

CC shouldn’t have expected any less - those kids were Fran’s heart and soul. Plus, holding family dinner at the Sheffield’s home meant Sylvia didn’t have to pay for any food, which was a thought that had also crossed CC’s mind very fleetingly as she stood in the foyer, holding a bouquet of roses and a gift basket of all the finest chocolates the bodega on the corner had to offer. Niles had opened the door and was standing there, staring at her, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets. She wasn’t sure who Fran had told - it had been less than twenty-four hours since their first kiss, but she knew how quickly things got around in the mansion. Gossip always spread like wildfire, especially considering that Niles had every room bugged for his yenta purposes.

“What are you staring at, heifer?” CC asked, clutching the roses to her chest.

“I can’t possibly wonder who those flowers are for. Roses? I thought we were over that little crush on Mr. Sheffield. Or are you still just as desperate as ever?”

“First of all,” CC grumbled, throwing her coat in the closet, “I never had a damn crush on Maxwell. Who can have a crush on a man with his soulmate mark written across his forehead? Second, the recipient of these flowers is none of your business, butler.”

“I’m off the clock tonight,” Niles shrugged, “So tonight, it’s just Niles. No butler in sight. Tell me, were you invited to this family dinner, or were you just in the mood to crash the party? Moral sank the moment you stepped through the door, stinking up the house with your ilk.”

“Oh, shove it, Niles,” CC sighed, “Yes, I was invited to the family dinner. Tonight, we’re all a big, happy family, so I’ll promise to stop with the jabs if you promise to do the same.”

“Hm, an offer from a witch? Sounds like a trap,” Niles pursed his lips, giving her a small smile, “Fine, I accept your temporary truce. We’ll be good little children for the family.”

CC was going to thank him, the words already on her lips, but before she could, Fran was practically sprinting towards her from the living room. All thoughts left CC’s head as she turned Fran’s way, unable to help the wide, nervous smile that blossomed on her face. It had been less than twenty-four hours since they had kissed, twenty-four hours since CC had laid it all bare in the New York City subway station, and yet, when they had parted ways that night, CC found that she was unable to sleep. Remembering what Fran had told her about Sylvia and Morty, CC was starstruck to find that Fran’s mother was right. Fran had never been in her bed before, never been in her bedroom before, and yet CC yearned for her and tossed and turned all night. She felt as if something was missing. How was she able to miss something she had never experienced before?

“Oh, CC!” Fran called out to her, crushing the roses and the chocolates as she tossed herself into CC at full force. CC almost flew back, unable to find any balance with no free hands, but Fran seemed to sense this. She pulled back just a bit, steadying them on their feet. “Sorry, sorry, I couldn't control myself.”

CC didn’t mind.

“Don’t ever apologize for being excited, Fran,” CC could feel Niles’ eyes on them, and despite her blazing face, she trudged on, “These are for you. Thank you for inviting me here tonight.”

CC held out the roses, cherishing the look that washed over Fran’s face. It was common knowledge that Fran had always wanted to receive flowers from her soulmate. While CC truly had no idea what Fran’s soulmate birthmark had actually said until a few weeks prior, Fran had always made it known that she wanted to find her soulmate, and that she hoped they were a true romantic. Red roses, fancy dinners, weekend trips, delicious food, the whole nine yards. If anything, CC was just glad she could provide, because Fran was well worth it.

“These are so beautiful…” Fran gently caressed a petal and CC honed in on her fingers, watching the way they moved, familiarizing herself with the curve of her nails, and - what the hell was she doing? “Are these from our favorite little flower shop?”

“You know it. I picked them out one by one, just for you,” CC smiled down at Fran, gently moving a strand of hair out of her face, “I picked these one by one, too. But they’re for your mother.”

CC held up the gift basket, boxes of Mallomars and packs of M&M’s sticking out here and there. She’d thrown in a small bottle of Gas-X as a joke, and as soon as Fran spotted it, she almost dropped the flowers from laughing so hard. 

“Ma’s gonna love this! Come on, we’re in the dining room now. You too Niles - let’s go!” Fran grabbed CC’s hand and dragged her down the hallway. Niles trudged after them, his eyes burning a hole into CC’s back. At least they had come to a truce for the evening - CC was sure if they hadn’t, he’d have already butted in at this point, and maybe the nasty things he had to say about her would change Fran’s mind.

After all, she was kind of horrible, right?

Entering the dining room, CC was surprised to find that everyone was already seated - and it was a lot like a circus. Pizza boxes and Chinese take out covered the elegant table, a stark contrast against the expensive ceramic plates and silverware. The kids were sitting haphazardly, dressed in their usual, everyday clothes. Maxwell was at the head of the table, nursing what looked to be a headache and a plate full of lo mein. CC spotted Sylvia and also Val, who was chattering away with Maggie about some boy Maggie had been interested in despite not being her soulmate.

Fran moved to take her usual seat at the table, gesturing for CC to sit across from her, but CC found herself suddenly unable to move. Everyone was staring at her, the room falling silent at the sight of roses and their hands linked together, a familiar gesture that had never, ever been familiar between the two of them before.

It was a strange feeling to want to run, but to feel anchored in place. Sure, she would run if things turned sour, but there was a new resolve in her to stick to it - if they called her names and hurt her, she could just run to the office. The difference is that she knew Fran would find her there. They were two halves of the same whole, born to be with each other, born to fit together like puzzle pieces. CC stood up taller, straightening her back. She could do this.

“Hello, hello, everyone!” She called, giving her favorite shit eating grin, “Thanks for inviting me!”

She moved with Fran, finally taking their seats at the table. She didn’t miss the way Fran smiled at her - it hit her, suddenly, that Fran had expected her to run. Maybe Fran could feel her fear the same way Sylvia could tell when Morty needed to use the bathroom. She almost wanted to roll her eyes at the ridiculousness of that thought, but there was a truth to it that frightened her. What if Fran could feel her fear?

“And who might that gift basket be for?” Sylvia broke the silence, gesturing to the Mallomars. “I see my favorites in there, and last I checked, these gentiles don’t touch chocolate to retain their figures. Is it for me, CC?”

Sylvia batted her eyes, giving CC a smile, her hands reaching out, desperate to take the gift. How was CC supposed to respond to that?

“Give me the chocolate, CC,” Sylvia said, her smile dropping, turning into something more feral, “I was asking who it was for as a formality. I don’t care who it’s for. Give it to me, dammit!”

CC thrusted the chocolates in Sylvia’s direction, watching as the woman ripped the bag out of her hands and immediately upturned it onto the table. Sylvia counted the boxes of chocolates and treats before she opened a box of Mallomars. In one swift motion, she reached into her shirt and pulled a plastic baggie out of her bra. There were a few smudges of chocolate on the plastic, almost as if whatever had been inside had melted away. Sylvia popped a sleeve of Mallomars into the baggie and promptly shoved it back into her bra, hidden away against her skin.

“Excuse me - those are for later,” Sylvia smiled softly, “Never know when an emergency might hit and I need some chocolate.”

“Oh my God, Ma,” Fran gaped, swatting at her mother, “Don’t be embarrassing! This is an important family dinner.”

“And you don’t take the lord’s name in vain. You’ll never find your Chastity if you keep speaking out of turn, missy. You’ll be smited until you’re in the home like Yetta.”

“Well, speaking of Chastity,” Fran started, eyes wide and starry as she looked around the table. Her eyes finally landed on CC. CC felt her lungs jump into her mouth, her breathing suddenly uneven and uncertain. “That’s why I gathered you all here today.”

“That’s good to know. I was wondering why you pulled me out of the office so randomly. Must explain why CC’s here as well,” Maxwell shot CC a look, almost as if he expected her to share his sentiment of, ‘ this is a waste of time, I could be working’ , but she was unable to extend her regards.

“Are you leaving us?” Gracie asked, her little voice chiming in from the end of the table.

“Well, she had to leave someday. I’m surprised she stayed for as long as she did,” Brighton said, shrugging as he bit down on a piece of pizza.

“Oy, are you dying Fran?” Val asked, her eyes widening, “Tell me you’re not dying!”

“Shut up, Val,” Sylvia rolled her eyes, “Fran’s not dying. Right, Fran? You’re not dying. Tell us you’re not dying!”

“Oy, remind me to never have a family dinner ever again,” Fran groaned, shooting CC a grin, “No, I’m not dying! I’m also not going anywhere, so don’t get your hopes up, Brighton.”

“Then what’s this about, Fran?” Maggie asked.

“Thanks for asking, Mags. I wanted to gather you all here because -”

“ OH MY GOD ,” Sylvia shouted, jumping up from the table, “You found CHASTITY !”

“Holy shit,” CC muttered, watching as Sylvia began running around the table, fanning herself. She propped her elbow up on the table, holding her head in her hand. She hadn’t even begun to serve herself - she’d just projectile vomit if she ate right now, given her nerves. Meanwhile, across the table, Fran had stacked the food high on her plate, despite the fact that she was not eating any of it.

“Holy shit indeed,” Niles agreed. Had he been sitting beside her the whole time? She looked over and shot him a look, expecting to see a nasty sneer on his face, but instead, he just gave her a smile. A real one. A smile he reserved for Fran or Maxwell or the children or Val - one that she had never received.

A smile for a friend.

“I’m Chastity,” CC blurted, unable to stop herself. Who knew Niles’ acceptance was all she needed to feel confident? If that old hag supported their relationship, then who gave a shit what anyone else thought.

The room fell silent. Sylvia, who had been running in circles, froze in place. Maxwell was suddenly staring with wide eyes, the kids were staring at Fran with wide eyes, and completely out of place, Val clapped her hands together in excitement.

“I knew you were gay, Miss Babcock! That’s why we ran into you at the gay bar that time! But you know, what I don’t get is, how are you Fran’s soulmate? Your name is CC, not Chastity.”

Niles snorted, Fran gaped at Val, and CC found herself suddenly unable to stop laughing. It was a shit show, sure, but this was her shit show. This was her family, too. The thought struck her like lightning, and suddenly, it was all just so funny. Fran looked over at the sound of her laughter, and she joined in, reaching across the table instinctively to hold CC’s hand. Linked together, CC almost felt as if she could feel Fran’s heartbeat through her fingertips.

“Your name is Chastity?” Maxwell asked, looking at her with furrowed brows.

“Yes, Maxwell, my name is Chastity. It’s on your employee forms for our business taxes. Did you not realize this?” CC said, trying to calm down her laughter. 

“I…to be honest, CC, I’ve never taken a look at that paperwork a day in my life. You’ve always been the one to handle that,” Maxwell shrugged. “And you’re very good at it, might I add.”

“You didn’t know your employee’s name was Chastity?” Fran guffawed, looking at Maxwell with an accusatory eye, “Are you sure you’re not just saying that to get yourself out of trouble? All these years, you could have told me her name was Chastity.”

“Miss Fine, you only told me your soulmate’s name a month or so ago. How was I to know Miss Babcock’s legal name was on your body?” Maxwell rubbed his brow, “Regardless, I must say congratulations. I’m not sure how you’ve made this soulmate match considering the two of you are so often at odds, but I know it’s such a beautiful thing to find. I wish you both the best in this endeavor.”

“Gee, thanks,” Fran rolled her eyes. CC found herself doing the same. Maxwell certainly knew how to give an insincere speech.

“ You’re Chastity?” Sylvia finally spoke up, still frozen in place in the middle of the dining room, “Legal name, now!”

“Chastity Claire Babcock,” CC replied immediately, feeling herself go rigid under Sylvia’s diminishing gaze.

“I see,” Sylvia responded, narrowing her eyes, “And you thought you could bribe me with chocolate?”

“Well, it wasn’t a bribe, but a gift,” CC replied, “I know how much you enjoy…sweets.”

“It’s no secret I enjoy chocolate, Miss Babcock. What is a secret is you being my daughter’s soulmate. How long have you known?” Sylvia asked, putting her hands on Fran’s shoulders as she stood behind her chair.

“Ma -” Fran started.

“No, Fran. If Miss Babcock’s your soulmate, I have just a few questions that chocolate won’t solve.”

Fran seemed to sag, her resolve seeming to dwindle - so CC sat up straighter.

“I could say that I only found out the moment Fran told me her soulmate’s name a few weeks ago. However, that would be a lie. I’ve always known Fran was my soulmate.”

“You’ve always known, but decided not to act on it? How did you know?” Sylvia asked. CC watched as Sylvia’s eyes narrowed into slits, obviously judging her openly. There was silence all around, sans for the chewing and swallowing of Brighton eating his pizza.

“All Babcocks get their birthmarks removed. My mother believes Babcocks are more suited to pick our own fate rather than obsess with the one we are born with. This is the woman who raised me, and these are the beliefs I had to contend with. I never agreed with her, but after decades of hearing the same old shit, I just gave in to her ways,” CC shrugged.

“You got your birthmark removed?” Fran gasped, eyeing her up and down as if she was desperate to see it. 

CC tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing Francine in full - the way it curved around her ear like the stem of a flower. Fran let out a breath, but whether it was relief or awe, CC wasn’t sure.

“No, I never got my birthmark removed, but I have definitely financed a few makeup companies by running them out of concealer. My mother would threaten to…do things to me if I didn’t have it removed. Nanny Bobo disagreed with her and taught me to hide it.”

“But you said you’ve always known it was my Fran - I ask again, Miss Babcock. How did you know?” Sylvia was looking at her with a different expression now. CC ran her hands down the front of her shirt, fidgeting. The expression looked a lot like pity - she didn’t like that.

“The moment I saw Fran, it felt as if…the hole inside me filled up. You know, the hole that only depression and sadness and trauma can create. After all these years, that pit in my stomach was just an empty cavern, but watching Fran walk down the stairs in that red dress, hearing her voice…” CC paused for a moment before she reached up, pressing her hand up against her birthmark, “This is going to sound dumb, but when I was a kid, when my mother and father would fight, I’d reach up and touch my birthmark and I’d hear…well, I’d hear Fran. I’d hear her laughter and feel her warmth, so when I met her for the first time, it was like…it just fell together inside me. She was my soulmate. I’ve always known.”

“You could hear me?” Fran looked awestruck. 

“I could,” CC nodded, “So when I met you for the first time, it didn’t really feel like the first time. I’ve been able to hear you in my ear forever. You’ve always been there for me - always.”

And, this was the truth. CC wasn’t sure about the science behind the soulmate birthmark. She had never cared about the specifics because all she knew was that she could hear Fran in her ear since birth. On the playground, when the other kids would turn their nose at her, digging in the dirt for worms, she could hear the faintest whispers of Fran laughing in her ear when they wiggled. In high school, when she graduated at the top of her class, a feat that not even Noel had managed to achieve, her parents had decided to take an impromptu trip to Cabo instead of attending her graduation. On stage, she can remember touching her ear as she spoke through the microphone to the classmates who never saw her, and she could hear the whispers of Fran saying how proud she was - and meaning it. After opening nights on the Sheffield-Babcock plays, when she would go home alone and Maxwell would go home with an entourage behind him, CC would lay in bed at night and press her fingertips to the mark, just so slightly, and hear the soft humming of a very obvious Fran Fine lulling her to sleep.

She was never alone - but the ghost of that companionship always left her lonely.

“I’ve never heard of anything like that with a soulmate mark,” Brighton interjected, looking down at them, pizza sauce on his mouth, “Dad, is that a thing?”

There was an odd expression on Maxwell’s face, his eyes dancing to some far-away beat. He nodded his head, rubbing his hand tenderly over his forehead - over Sara.

“It’s the only way I can still hear her,” He smiled, clapping a hand on CC’s shoulder suddenly, “It’s the only thing that keeps me going.”

“And the only thing that keeps you unavailable,” Sylvia muttered. 

“But why? I’ve never been able to hear you,” Fran looked panicked, reaching behind her, desperately slapping her hand on her lower back.

“I’ve done some research on it,” Niles said, “Xavier sounds like a very, very handsome man, and it led me to do some searching on whether hearing him was an anomaly or not. No one ever speaks of it, but there is an unverified connection between soulmate marks and those that really need their soulmate. Abuse, poverty, grief - these emotions can cause a flare up in the connection. Fran, you may have not been well off, but you had a very loving life regardless. You were lacking for nothing. Therefore, you couldn’t have heard Miss Babcock. And what a blessing that is.”

“Oy,” Fran narrowed her brows.

“Obviously, Miss Babcock had to drag herself out of hell with the other witches to get to the earthly plane, so she needed your reassurance. Thus, she could hear you.” Niles shrugged.

“I thought we agreed on no jabs?” CC asked, pursing her lips as she side-eyed him.

“It’s my nature. If it’s any consolation, I’ve heard Xavier ask me to stop being such a dick of a trollop many times regarding you. When the time comes, I’m sure you’ll like him.”

“As if I could ever like anyone connected to you.”

“Well, you thought you’d never like Miss Fine, yet here we are. Having a coming out dinner.”

“Please inform Xavier that I’m sorry,” CC said.

“For what?” Niles asked.

“For killing his soulmate,” She grabbed a knife, holding it in jest, and Niles held up a fork in defense.

“Oy! Off topic,” Fran practically begged, the strain in her voice causing CC to turn, feeling much like a scolded child. “Enough with the third degree, I’ve heard enough. Ma, I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need your approval to know that CC’s my soulmate. Now, let’s eat this delicious Chinese food and possibly a few of those Mallomars.”

Sylvia sat in her seat slowly, looking between CC and Fran slowly.

“You think I’m sharing these Mallomars, Fran? Don’t forget yourself, just because your little friend’s here. She can get you your own.”

In silence, the family resumed eating. CC spooned some fried rice and chicken onto her plate, her face burning as she realized all she had admitted to. She could feel Fran’s eyes on her, but she refused to look up, refusing to acknowledge the woman. This was all just a little too much for her, but she couldn’t just run , so shoveling rice into her mouth was all she could handle.

Suddenly, there was a gasp - Val was looking at them from the end of the table like a fish, her mouth molded into a perfect ‘O’.

“I get it now! CC is a nickname!” Val slapped her hand to her forehead, “Wow, no wonder ya never knew Miss Babcock was the one, Fran. What a puzzle! The universe sure does work in mysterious ways, huh?”

CC sat out on the verandah, taking a slow drag of her cigarette. It was dark, the sounds of New York City echoing off into the distance, a cacophony of car alarms, slamming doors, and screaming passersby. Maxwell kept his verandah tidy, but comfortable. There was a metal table and a set of chairs, a mix of plants that Niles deemed his personal pet project, and recently, there was the addition of a garden swing - decorated with only the most comfortable pillows. CC was currently lounging on the swing, holding one of the pillows to her chest, desperate to calm herself down.

She hadn’t run from dinner, but she was definitely hiding. The sun had already set and most of the Sheffields had retired to their bedrooms. She had stayed with Fran up until Sylvia and Val went home, and then she excused herself to the restroom. Instead, she sat on the dark verandah, not bothering to turn on the string lights that Maxwell had set up on Gracie’s request. Ultimately, she wasn’t looking to be found.

This was all just a little too much.

She took another drag of her cigarette, letting out the smoke in a slow exhale. It went as well as it could have. It was ridiculous to think that Sylvia would have accepted her with open arms - they ended the night on a good but somewhat terse note, with the promise of more chocolate in the future. Fran had only known that CC was her soulmate for one day, and yet things were moving faster than CC could have ever imagined. However, she recognized that she had to stick to the flow of things if she was ever going to show Fran that she meant what she said - that she was really ready to give this an honest try.

“CC?”

Fran slid open the door to the verandah and flicked on the lights, causing everything to be illuminated in a warm white. It really was a beautiful space - she would have to give Gracie some credit for the string lights, because it really brought it to life. It felt a lot like magic, like it was a secret heaven in the middle of a house that, on a good day, was chaotic and full of joy.

When Fran noticed CC sitting on the garden swing, CC gave a small wave, noting the anxiety hidden in the creases of Fran’s frown seemed to disappear. Fran closed the door behind her and padded over to CC, taking a seat beside her on the garden swing, but keeping her distance all the same. 

“I figured you didn’t really go to the bathroom. I’m learnin’ that’s code for ‘I need to get the hell outta here,’” Fran chuckled, grabbing the other pillow and hugging it firmly against her chest.

“Guilty as charged,” CC shrugged before holding out her cigarette, offering Fran a drag, “I just felt a little suffocated, but I didn’t want to run, so I came here. Want any?”

“If I’ve really been sayin’ stuff to ya, I’m sure I’ve told you to cut that out. Those are bad business, Babs,” Fran scrunched her nose as she stared at the cigarette before she snatched it from CC’s fingers, “But that’s something we can work on together. Give it here.”

CC chuckled, watching as Fran took a drag from the cigarette, savoring the feeling as she passed it back to CC. CC snuffed it out in the ashtray she had placed on the arm of the garden swing, watching silently as the embers flickered and blinked away. They sat in silence for a moment, looking up at the lights, the sky, the moon. Whatever. Staring at anything except each other.

“I hadn’t expected this soulmate stuff to be so awkward,” CC admitted, running her fingers over the smooth fabric of the pillow.

“Anyone in our position would find this awkward. I mean, CC Babcock and Fran Fine? Who would’ve guessed!”

“My mother certainly did. That’s why she wanted me to get my birthmark removed in the first place.”

Fran was looking at her now, head tilted to the side. Those big, brown eyes just glittering off the string lights, so full of warmth and love and concern. CC shivered. No one had ever looked at her like that.

“When your mother would threaten you, what…well, what did she say she was gonna do if you didn’t get it removed?” Fran asked.

CC stared at her for a moment - what a daring question. One that she would only ever allow Fran to ask, of course. She took a breath, furling and unfurling her fingers against her palm.

“Mother would hit me. She was positive that all of our birthmarks would simply lead us to someone lesser and not deserving of a Babcock. When I’d argue with her, she’d hit me. The final time, she threatened to burn my birthmark right off my skin if I kept refusing.”

“Oh, CC,” Fran gasped. She reached out and snatched CC’s hand, their fingers slotting together perfectly. “I’m so sorry your ma did that to you. That couldn’t have been easy. I’m so proud of you for being so brave.”

“I couldn’t have been brave without you,” CC muttered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Fran’s ear, “I’d just touch my birthmark and you’d be there. Just the breath of a sound, a whisper, a laugh. My Francine. She really would have had to burn it off, because I would never dream of removing it.”

Fran melted into her immediately, throwing her body at CC’s. CC caught her, only slightly off guard. She had been wondering all evening when Fran would no longer be able to contain herself. CC wrapped her arms around Fran’s waist, letting Fran pull her head down to her chest. In the silence, she could hear Fran’s heart beating through her skin. Why had she waited so long to experience something so perfect like this?

“I wish I’d been able to hear you. Then you woulda never have had the chance to hide it!” Fran teased. CC felt Fran’s fingers in her hair, smoothing it down, nails running against her scalp, and she purred, closing her eyes as she breathed Fran in. 

“I mean, what right does a mother have to demand her child get rid of her birthmark? To think, I was considering getting mine removed only a few weeks ago,” Fran huffed.

CC opened her eyes, pulling back.

“You were going to get your birthmark removed?” CC asked, brows furrowed.

“I sure was. I, uh…well,” Fran blanched, her face turning red.

“Even after I’d sent the flowers asking you to wait?” CC frowned, unlacing their fingers.

“I, uh, may have been falling in love with ya at the same time you were anonymously sending me flowers,” Fran’s face was pink, a goofy smile on her face, “I didn’t get it removed in the end, but the feelings I had for you were so strong, and I didn’t wanna get into a relationship with you when I had another woman’s name on my body. Especially considering the place it’s…in.”

Oh.

CC let her head fall back, laughing into the night. The sound of it echoed off the walls, and she was sure she was being too loud, perhaps disturbing the children, but she didn’t care . She reached back out and pulled Fran into her, their lips crashing together lazily. She threaded her hands into Fran’s hair, swallowing the sweet moan that came from Fran’s mouth, trying to memorize its taste, its sound. Fran’s hands worked their way down CC’s back, the nails scratching against the fabric of her shirt, until Fran finally found the seam of her shirt. Her hands were so warm, suddenly scratching into her skin, and CC shuddered, desperate to feel Fran against her.

They broke apart, chests heaving, staring at each other with wide eyes. 

“I’ll never get used to that,” Fran whispered, reaching up to swipe a finger across CC’s bottom lip, “I can’t believe I found you.”

“It sounds like fate would have found a way to push us together no matter what,” CC breathed, leaning down to pepper kisses across Fran’s cheeks, forehead, nose. “I love you.”

It came out naturally, only taking CC by surprise for a second. But it felt so right. Fran arched her head up, pushing CC’s hair back, leaving a warm kiss against the birthmark that always, always weaved its way around CC’s ear.

“I love you, too.”

Fin.