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Was River… off? It was hard to figure out when she had spent so little time with the woman, but Rebecca felt a sense of unease at River’s smile. Agnes’s fiancée was happy to lead her to the backstage area, which Rebecca wanted to be excited about, but there was a nagging feeling holding her back. ”Thenk ye, Eh'd actually pure appreciate 'at, if ye—oow!” Rebeca winced as River accidentally(?) stepped on her foot, which was unfortunately adorned in a strappy, open-toed heel.

The redhead would grin and bear the momentary pain and walk it off, keeping up with River as she led them enthusiastically to the backstage area. Focused so intensely on the music, Rebecca did not give much thought to River during the performance, but she must have loved it as well, because she was filled with energy.

Finally, they made it to the backstage area, where musicians were carefully putting away their instruments and taking a moment to relax and feel accomplished for another great show. River knew exactly where to go, which made sense since this was likely not her first time coming back stage to congratulate Agnes. The victorious violinist was already standing when they approached, and Rebecca was starting to wave in her direction before River quickened her pace and reached Agnes.

It would have been naïve to think, behind closed doors, that Agnes and River’s romance was not steamy and passionate and sensual. At least that thought could live behind the hypothetical closed doors, of which Rebecca was blissfully unaware. Given who Agnes always was as a person, Rebecca was not expecting a public display of affection like the one River was treating her to enthusiastically. Having already seen the harpist greet her fiancée with a kiss at Gotham’s Lost Lady, it caught her off guard to see how different the greeting was tonight. At the wine bar, there was a genuine, silly kiss rather than kind of kiss that would usually precede tossing Agnes onto the nearest bed.

Rebecca flinched initially, but steeled her nerve. Somehow, for some reason, she must have given River the impression that it was important to display dominance and claim her territory. It was not unfounded, but it was a stark turn in her behavior. They exchanged so few words that night, Rebecca was scanning their conversations to figure out how she might have tipped River off; before they made it backstage, she was still even under the impression that her past as River’s ex was still unknown.

It was also possible she was reading too far into the kiss. Maybe something about Agnes just had River’s engine going. The Scot could sympathize, being more than familiar with what it was like to have such a pure weakness for Agnes. Regardless of the reason, she would smile and stomach the display, not looking to cause her former flame any trouble for the evening.

Her smile did falter when Agnes reacted with surprise as River grabbed her bottom, though only for the initial moment when she involuntarily cringed. If River was looking to antagonize Rebecca, it was a certainty that she caught the flinch, and that bothered the competitive young lady. They were not even in competition (to Rebecca’s knowledge, at least,) but she did not want to concede a moment of weakness nevertheless.

She refused to flinch when River spoke, even if what she said left her with an upset feeling in her stomach. All the language sounded similar to how the sleazy politician Alan Adamson spoke to her, as though she were a possession rather than a person. Now Agnes was the thing to be owned, and that might have bothered her more.

Rebecca made the conscious decision to avoid being baited by the clear jab. She was here for Agnes as her support, not as River’s romantic rival. ”Ah’m jist glad ye got me back haur sae Ah coods congratulate Aggie,” she replied with a smile, before turning her attention back to the star of the evening. ”Th' whole performance was lovely. Ye belang up oan 'at stage wi' thes orchestra.” Agnes spoke so highly about her colleagues in their last meeting, Rebecca knew this was a place and a group she felt at home with.

Every impulse in her body wanted to hug Agnes, but Rebecca knew better. River was attached to her hip, making it clear that all others should maintain their distance. ”It's aw Ah've ever wanted tae see one ay mah oldest friends fin' 'er place tae shine.” She felt many things for Agnes, but at this moment, the main force in her was an overwhelming sense of pride.

Knowing it would be the wise choice not to linger, Rebecca wrapped things up. ”Anyway, Ah shoods gie going; Ah wooldnae want tae keep ye tois lovebirds. It was a pleasure, River,” she lied with a smile and a nod, before offering a hand for Agnes to shake. ”Thanks fur th’ great performance, Aggie.”

A lot of time had been spent over the week staring at the ticket sitting atop Rebecca’s coffee table. She bought the ticket originally with the intent of bridging the awkward divide between them since they returned to New York and crossed paths. Rebecca always thought Agnes was at her happiest when she was performing, and she loved watching the musician in her element so she could share those moments as a supportive spectator. Even as her friend, she could still be that.

After their last meeting in Rebecca’s apartment, though, she wondered if it was even wise to attend. The girls shared in a moment of weakness, and the mood between them spoiled once they came out of their tipsy daze. Agnes got upset with her for putting her in a compromising position (again) and Rebecca got upset at Agnes for not taking enough ownership of what happened that night, with Jasmine, and even when she left.

Rebecca was unsure if Agnes would even want her coming to the performance anyway, with how tense things had been. She was unsure how that was even possible with neither woman trying to reach out and say much of anything. Somehow a silent phone and an omnipresent ticket could wedge their way into Rebecca’s head and make her a walking mess. She was forgetting her keys, accidentally trapping Domino in closed rooms until he whined, and keeping her eyes on her phone screen, pretending to herself that she was paying attention to whatever article she was scrolling through.

In the end, she knew she should make an effort to be an adult. Despite what happened, she was not ready to give up on Agnes being a part of her life, and she had to prove that somehow. If she skipped out on the performance, that would tell Agnes she was not ready to try this again, and rifts like that would only grow larger with time. Picking out a dark violet floor length dress and some silver jewelry to accessorize, she took the time to pull her hair up in a bun and do her make up tastefully, preparing for her night out with New York’s sophisticated art crowd.

Entering into the auditorium, Rebecca was impressed by how far Agnes had come. The stage at Juliard was impressive, but it was a stage for students and the occasional guests to showcase their talents. The size and scope of the space and the ornate architecture of the interior reminded her that she was in a place where music was the one true religion, and everyone would come from the corners of the map to worship.

Looking to take her seat, Rebecca examined her ticket closely and, with the help of an usher, found her way to the right row. She mentally counted off seats as she shimmied inward, until she reached the number corresponding to her ticket, right next to another woman around her age. Sitting down to claim her spot and rest her heel-adorned feet, she turned to the side, ready to apologize in case her dress brushed the music lover. ”Sorry, if—”

Rebecca froze for a moment, silently cursing fate in her mind, because she should have known it would be her fortune to be positioned right next to River Red Fish, the fiancée of her former lover. It was mildly surprising to see the woman there, given the venting Agnes did at the apartment, but she certainly had every right to support her betrothed, even if she seemed more focused on the screen of her phone while they waited for the performance.

Realizing that a full few seconds had passed since she initially spoke, Rebecca exclaimed, ”Och! River, fancy seein' ye haur. It's Rebecca,” she reintroduced with a forced smile, remembering the other woman’s tendency to forget her name. Of course, depending on what she knew now, that name might be stuck more vividly in her head.

A frightening thought emerged: what had Agnes told River? Was Rebecca at risk of getting slapped in the aisles of a performing arts center? If necessary, she’d take it, knowing she would not have the moral high ground to retaliate, but the redhead was crossing her fingers that the violinist decided the kiss was not worth mentioning.

Glancing up at the stage, performers were shuffling out to their seats to begin their own preparations for the concert. There were plenty of bodies, including several attractive young women, but Rebecca’s eyes could pick Agnes out of any crowd. She shimmered in the lights, easily the most beautiful thing in the building.

Rebecca would make it through the night. This had to be step one. She would be civil with River, enjoy Agnes’s performance, congratulate her as a friend, and make it back to the apartment to reward herself with a bottle of wine.

Rebecca was dumbfounded, listening to Agnes once the engaged woman came to her senses. They both clearly felt regret for what they allowed to happen, and neither participant was blind to the parallels their behavior was drawing to their early relationship and the pain they caused for Jasmine. She was not upset when Agnes sad they could not continue this, because Rebecca knew that before she even spoke. A part of her wished Agnes did not have the integrity to make this choice, but she would not have been the woman the Scot fell in love with if that were the case.

What surprised Rebecca was the tone Agnes was taking with her. If she did not know better, she was pretty sure she was feeling the brunt of the blame for what happened being thrown on her shoulders. She “refused” to let it happen again, but was she not the one who rested her head on Rebecca’s shoulder? Pulled her in closer? Sure, the kiss was Rebecca’s doing, but she felt no recoil or hesitation from the receiving end.

”I’m… getting married…”

Ah know, she wanted to spit back, but she held her tongue. She watched wordlessly as Agnes gathered her belongings and composure, making her way to the door. The handle turned and she looked away, assuming her ex was walking out of the apartment. Her neck snapped at the direction of the door at Agnes’s last parting shot.

It hurt. A fucking lot. There was so much she wanted to say in response, but wine kept her from forming the words quickly enough. By the time she shouted, ”Ye gae up oan me!” the door had already closed and her words only reverberated through an empty apartment. She received her only reply in the form of a sad cry from Domino as he scratched at the closed exit. ”Ah know, boy…” she grumbled.

Rebecca retreated to her room in a huff, changing her outfit for something more presentable and grabbing her purse and heels. She grabbed her phone, against her better judgement, and left her apartment. She needed a drink. Badly.

Rebecca was not a heavy drinker, but she did enjoy her wine. It provided an easy way to unwind after a long day, and every day was starting to feel long for the struggling writer. Now, wine was letting her cast aside her concerns and issues with being around Agnes. Her attitude was more open, and she wanted to celebrate the good in Agnes’s life, and if she thought of River in the same way she thought of the Travelling Company and the Philharmonic, it was easier to stomach accepting the new love of Agnes’s life. Her greatest hope was for Agnes to understand the types of stories to ease Rebecca into this; the last thing she needed was a story about the two lovers being caught backstage in a state of undress. (“Caught in a state of undress” stories were their thing, she thought, trying not to giggle when she remembered their first time in the library and the trouble that followed.)

Even with permission to talk about River, Agnes was visibly hesitant, like she was beginning her sentences but the words never made it past her lips. It seemed she thought bringing up her fiancée would only ruin the mood of the evening. Rebecca was ready to object and remind the other woman that she was an adult and could control her emotions, (lying, basically,) but was stopped when she suddenly found herself in a position she had not been in for a long time. Agnes rested her head on Rebecca’s shoulder, but the redhead reacted calmly. The wine was reminding her how this was nothing out of the ordinary, because it felt familiar. If it was a problem, she would have felt out of place, and she did not. Having Agnes’s head resting against her was natural, and natural was okay.

Instead of saying anything, Rebecca followed with her own natural instinct, with the fingers of her free hand playing with raven hair, twirling locks around, and providing a comforting touch while Agnes vented a little.

Agnes was happy and in love, but all was evidently not perfect. She was convinced her fiancée was not happy, struggling with her own career, and taking out that frustration on the home front. Rebecca was surprised to find she was in a position to empathize with River, with both women apparently dealing with challenges along their chosen career paths.

It was hard to deal with feeling lost, useless, or inadequate, but that did not mean it was alright to let that affect a relationship with someone you love. Rebecca was naturally inclined to agree with Agnes, given her closeness to the woman (emotionally, historically, and currently physically,) especially when, in this case, she was right.

Not only was she right, she was wrapping an arm around Rebecca, keeping her even closer. Still seeing this as nothing but a natural progression of events, she smiled and put her (empty) glass on the table so her hand could rest comfortably on Agnes’s knee. ”Ay coorse! Communication is important. She needs tae learn 'at. Ye hae tae be open wi' hoo ye feel coz 'at is hoo ye wark as a team. Insteid ay bein' rude, she shoods be gettin' things aff 'at giant chest an' ventin' sae ye can make 'er feel better coz yoo're pure sae guid at 'at.”

Rebecca finally stopped and took a breath. She looked down at the eyes of the woman nuzzled against her, biting her lip to deal with a wave of fresh embarrassment. ”Sorry, Ah’m sic' a rambler.” In her defense, her rambly, ranty videos were her most popular content on the internet. And in her defense… she was getting tipsy.