how did that old saying go, the one about good intentions being the ones that paved the road to hell? Rory had never really contemplated that before, but the saying popped into her head over the past couple of weeks. As soon as that final bell rang on the last day before winter break, Aurora had been ecstatic. She had so many plans to hop on the first plane out of Maine, home by nightfall. In the arms of her girlfriend and making up for the weeks they'd spent apart. Oh she had grand ideas of not leaving the apartment for a couple of days. More semi-flashed delivery folk, the languid way Maris moved her body around in those silk robes, showers always together. Barely a stitch of clothes on either of them despite the cold outside. After that came the sillier ideas - the ones where they'd walk huddled together in the snow - no need to hide their close proximity because it was cold ... and because Rory didn't work at the same school anymore. Maybe she'd convince Maris to go get a sad little tree with her, or watch the ridiculous Netflix Christmas movies she stupidly loved. Whatever it was, Rory wanted all of it.

And they would have had it, but for a series of unfortunate events and distractions. First, Rory needed to stay over the Saturday to finish up her grading, and her boss had a meeting set for that day to check in with all of the teachers after their first months. No matter, there would be Monday ... but then came the phone call from her mother that was more guilt than anything else. Rory tried to explain (again) that she was going to come in the new year, but damn that mother-guilt. So she'd come for New Years. Then one thing led to another and here she was the day after the new year and stuck in a middle seat on a red eye just to get back to her girlfriend she'd been away from for far too long.

Rory expected the excitement. She expected the flutter of butterflies as she headed for the front door of Maris' place. What she didn't expect, and so didn't quite know how to handle, was the bundle of actual nerves that hit her. Okay, so they'd been apart longer than she'd wanted them to. Hell, going at all to her new job meant that they were apart longer than she would have liked. Rory hated it, but the job was, in itself, really fulfilling. She loved it, and wished she could share more of it with Maris than their facetiming at the end of their days - which, also had waned due to exhaustion and busy schedules. Dammit, missing her just sucked.

Letting herself in with her key, she checked her watch and saw it was just past seven. Still too early, thanks to a red-eye. Heading through the apartment, she took in the little things that were different, but mostly the same. Quietly she made her way towards the bedroom, and paused in the doorway. Part of her really wanted to slip right into her bed, to curl herself around her and refuse to let go. But then, that little thrill of trepidation hit her again. She tried to shake it off, doing her best to think past how long it had been since they'd been in the same room together. Rory padded towards the bed and instead sat down on it, her fingers reaching to slide over Maris' hand. She felt warm, and god did she miss the feel of just her hand in hers. "Wake up, sleepy head."

The holidays were a bit different when you were Jewish Sure, you had your own special day (or 8) and traditions but there was no denying that Christmas was king and you were often left waiting for Santa to just arrive already so your friends (and everything else) could get back to normal. Maris' dad had let her indulge in all manner of holiday fun over the years, taking her to Christmas parties held by family friends and allowed her to exchange presents, and those were about the only Christmas-y activities she indulged in as an adult. Holiday parties were fun. If only for an excuse to buy a new outfit and watch your co-workers go overboard on the egg nog.

She'd gotten a bit more festive whenever she was dating someone who celebrated Christmas, but relationships serious enough to include to spending the holidays together been few and far between. Things were different with Rory. They'd had an amazing Christmas together the year before and it was an experience she had been eager to repeat.

There was no denying Maris was disappointed things hadn't gone to plan this year, but she couldn't say she was surprised. There had been nothing but disappointments since her girlfriend had taken her new job. So many that even a realist like Maris was beginning to feel defeated. When nothing seemed to be going right for them, she was beginning to wonder if it was worth trying at all.

Complications like these were exactly why she'd spent most of her adult life out of relationships. The lack of them, the complete ease that they used to have while they were together made the decision to be together an easy one but now she couldn't help but think she and Rory had been living on borrowed time. It was bound to happen eventually because it always did.

But it was hard to feel anything but excited when she woke up to the face she'd been missing. Her bob had grown out (thankfully past the awkward middle length she'd been sporting) since Rory had seen her last. Her hair now skimmed her shoulders. Natural waves she normally straightened were made even more messy by sleep and she wished she was wearing something a little more sexy than a matching pajama set (a burgundy silk button up and pants) to greet her, but all that hardly seemed to matter now that she was finally here.

She let go of Rory's hand, but only because she needed both of them to pull her into a hug. "There she is," she hummed against her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple.

The relief that flooded through Rory upon Maris' initial greeting was palpable. She didn't hesitate at all to sink into her arms, sort of half-laying on her as she circled her own arms around the woman. "Late, as ever." She said softly, kissing the crook of her neck and for the moment, just reveling in how good it was to be back in her arms. For the months she'd been gone, there had been waves of just how much she missed this right here in particular. Of course Rory always missed Maris, always missed the life they had been building together, but there were certain parts that she ached for. The simplicity of holding each other was a big one. Some nights she struggled to sleep in a bed alone, particularly in that first month in Maine. Everything felt wrong about being without her ... but then there was the work. It was great work, fulfilling, purposeful.

If this was going to work ... well, things probably had to change a lot if they were going to work. She'd been preoccupied being in a new town, at a new school but always tried to make an effort. Sometimes that effort was lame and an exhausted "sorry, I got home late, love you" text sent moments before passing out in her too-roomy bed. The one overwhelming mood of her finally being here was how much she truly had missed her. Rory wondered if that translated enough, if she said it enough, if their communication had just gone to absolute shit. Rory did take a lot of that fault, after all, she was the one who'd left to begin with.

"You smell good." She smiled softly into her skin, holding on for a minute longer before pulling back just enough to look at her face. "Happy New Year ... a couple days late." Rory made a face, nose scrunched up before she leaned in closer. It had been weeks that tipped into months since she'd kissed her girlfriend, and even as she leaned in, she felt her heart race. It wasn't the normal way, either. All excitement and giddy dizziness that she loved. Almost instead like somewhere in her mind she wondered if she was even welcome to kiss her so freely. As a result, she kissed her softly, a way that could best be described as tentative.

Rory's hesitance just felt wrong after so much time together and recently, so much time apart. Disappointment was evident on Maris' face as she pulled away, but she recovered quickly, self possessed as ever even though Rory was about the only person who made her feel comfortable appearing anything but perfectly composed. She wanted their visit to go well even though she knew she had to tell her something that would probably put a damper on things and with a knot already forming in her stomach, there seemed like no better time.

"So, you're probably going to hate me, but you're going to have to be on your own for a few hours tonight. I have book club."

Book club was more of a lively discussion with a small group of fellow history buffs in the area. Most were teachers and they took turns hosting their monthly meet up at each other's homes. Maris had actually hosted last month's as well, but with everyone else dealing with Christmas and all the chaos that came with it, it just made sense for her to do it again in December. It had been a last minute decision, but one she felt confident in making when their previous plans meant Rory would be gone the day after New Year.

"I'd get out of it if I could but I'm hosting so..."

Even just seeing Maris' face put Rory in a better mood than she'd been in weeks. She felt the distance between them that had grown beyond the actual miles. No it wasn't intentional, but it was natural at least - they had their lives that didn't so closely orbit one anothers' anymore. That was hard to grapple with -- but all things she really didn't need to focus on now. Now all she needed was the woman in front of her.

"Well shit," She scrunched her nose at the idea of book club - well, she actually loved a good book club, but rather the idea that they'd have to interrupt their time together for other people. Probably served her right, considering how late she was at this point. "Well, you can't disappoint the literary masses." She huffed, maybe a little dramatically. Still, she didn't move from her spot with her arms tight around Maris, coupling her pout with a kiss because even seconds between them seemed fairly excruciating right now.

"I guess I can handle a few hours, and not burst in with some theory on Tolstoy ... oh god, please tell me you're not reading Tolstoy."

"Worse, some historical fiction about Ada Lovelace."

Maris' distaste for historical fiction and the fact that it put wholly inaccurate words in long dead people's mouths was something her girlfriend knew all to well by this point. In her mind, it wasn't just disrespectful. It watered down history. It sometimes favored romance, or at the very least happy endings over the truth. It buffed out dents and ugliness and some people read it believing every word, spoon fed the polished, sanitized version as facts and that they were smarter for it.

If they had been reading a well researched biography about Ada, Maris would have been over the moon. Not only had she been overlooked by history, she was related to Lord Byron, one of her favorite historical figures. But the novel was just another in a long line of disappointments lately, one that now seemed even worse since it was keeping them apart.


But as she scrambled for something to say to break the silence that had settled between them, she couldn't help but wonder if a break in their visit might be good because it meant less time trying to fill the gaps that had been building between them. As brief as the thought was, it made her stomach sink even further.

"How's work?" she said softly. "Everyone treating you okay?"

"Oh honey no."

Rory's reaction was swift and probably too dramatic, but she knew her girlfriend, her tastes, and certainly how she felt about historical fiction. God help the person who might mention Phillipa Gregory or any YA author who decided to take a stab at historical fiction. Rory didn't mind them as much - so long as they were written well. Something with prose that read beautifully could be forgiven some aspects. To that end, Rory could also love curling up with a YA novel for a quick read.

On the one hand - and bigger better one at that - Rory loved that Maris had this whole other thing she was doing, gathering with friends, reading books (even bad ones), living her life. She would hate if Maris was just wallowing in her absence ... not that she was self centered enough to think that at all. Rory had her lower days, to be sure, but she too was finding a groove in Maine. She just hated that it was so far away.

Ah, the elephant in the room. Accompanied with a pregnant pause, Rory wasn't entirely sure how to answer. She wished that she could just groan and say she hated it, curl into her girlfriend and kiss her breathless between promises to come back as soon as possible. Truthfully, she loved it. "It's really good. But y'know I'll never say no to you throwing some muscle around. It'll really work for my street cred that I'm dating such a badass." She chuckled a little, her attempt to make light of talking about the thing that had taken her away. But there was that, too - she never felt like she had to hide who she was within the walls of her school in Maine. She didn't fly her rainbow flag either, but most of her colleagues knew that she was dating a woman. Most of them didn't care one way or another. It was refreshing, particularly at a boarding school. Maybe taking religion out of classrooms helped. "I really miss you, though. It's not the same."

Though she'd never admit it, she was mostly asking to be polite. The last thing she wanted to hear was that things were going well, even though she'd gleaned as much from their all too brief conversations lately. She wasn't selfish enough to wish that her girlfriend's new co-workers treated her badly, but the alternative was just as scary.

What if they liked her a little too much? What if she liked them? Maris knew better than to think Rory would ever cheat, but she could find someone that made her realize it would be much easier to be happy right where she was. There would be no need for visits back to where she'd been.

Though book club and trivia (though the latter reminded her of Rory and the beginning of their relationship so she turned down invitations to head to the bar more often than not) provided much needed distractions in her now solitary life, Maris was mostly keeping to herself.

Things were back to the way they'd been before Rory arrived, though her former self had never had to come home to an empty bed. She missed companionship, but not the chase or the bold charmer she had once been.

She just missed her.

Work wasn't the same without Rory, either. She did her best to keep her updated on all the gossip on what had been their co-workers but things were more or less the same as they'd ever been, leaving Maris feeling stagnant and to wonder whether she should make a change too.

It cheered her a little to know that Rory's colleagues knew about her (and on a selfish level, that she was spoken for), but her joy was short lived. Her girlfriend was having the time of her life in Maine and if Maris was going to continue to be a part of it, it was a life she would have to get used to.

She wasn't having the best luck so far.

"Your probationary period's over? They're going to keep you," she said, forcing a smile as she looked over at Rory. "I mean, they'd be dumb not to."

If Rory had been coming back more regularly - weekends, once a month even, she wondered if things would still feel this way. If it would be easier or worse if she was constantly coming and going? Part of her thought that she would be in some kind of deep depression to be leaving her girlfriend time and again. That old adage of absence making the heart grow fonder however, was very true. The time spent without her felt excruciating, even if she found herself busier more often than not. Her social calendar was mostly nonexistent. Rory was busy with school, busy helping set things up, busy making sure the kids stayed out of trouble. The most she'd done outside of work was join her colleagues for a fall carnival the school put on. It was fun ... if you liked overly fried food and rides screwed together by people she wouldn't ever trust with her life.

No matter what she was doing - be it grading papers in her office, or sitting at home with a glass of wine - Maris was never far from her mind. Any hour, any minute would have been better spent with this woman. She constantly second-guessed herself if she had made the right decision. She constantly wished Maris had just been able to come with her, or that the school was closer, or a million other what-if situations that helped nothing to wish for.

The what-ifs of not taking this opportunity to Maine might have driven her mad, though. If she'd gotten updates from her colleagues, or heard about the great things going on at the school, maybe she'd feel like she'd lost out on some great life changing opportunity. The idea that she couldn't have both ... that kept her up at night. That made her sick to her stomach so much so that she just couldn't allow herself to think about it too much.

She didn't want to want to be at this new school. She didn't want to love it.

"I ... yeah. I mean, everything's moving very quickly I think." The compliment made her smile, but it was a sad one, small. Her hand moved to the side of Maris' face, thumb brushing over her cheek. The way that she loved her felt like it physically hurt her heart in this moment. Never had she been part of a connection that felt this true to her very soul.

"I hate this." She huffed, bowing her head a little as she sat up a little more, biting back the emotion that felt like a betrayal. She didn't feel like she should be the one emotional here, either. She was the one who left. "I hate being away from you and I hate that I feel torn in two."

Hearing that her girlfriend was also having trouble with their arrangement was a small comfort, but it really only confirmed to Maris that something had to be done about it.

But what? She could hardly uproot herself and follow Rory to Maine. Her father and grandfather were here and she could hardly quit and find a job in the middle of the school year. She didn't want to live in Maine and honestly had no real idea what it was like. Her visits to Rory had been brief, mostly spent playing the sort of catch up that meant rarely leaving her new bedroom.

"Well maybe you don't have to feel torn." The words came out soft and slow because Maris didn't like where they could lead to. "If you like your job then maybe you should go all in. Fully commit to Maine, you know?"

Ice in her veins was probably the best way to describe the feeling that Maris' words brought her. It's not like she didn't get her meaning, or didn't understand where she was coming from. The shock of it was there nonetheless, it felt sudden and swift, a rug pulled out from under her though really - was it that much of a shock that Maris might be the one to voice it? That maybe whatever this was between the stunted visits and short phone calls wasn't working?

Still, the whammy of pain in her chest didn't do much for her breathing. Never in a million years did she want her taking a job in another place to lead to this kind of a choice. But maybe, maybe she was getting ahead of herself. Maybe she was being an idiot and Maris didn't mean where her own mind had gone. Though that was telling in itself, wasn't it?

Sitting up more, she let out a slow breath that she hadn't been entirely aware she was holding. Her own voice caught in her throat when she tried to speak, so she cleared it. Agonizing, all of it. "What are you saying?"

The moment the words left her mouth she wished she could take them back. She didn't want to break things off with Rory. If anything, she wanted to see her more.

But that was hardly fair when she was building a life for herself elsewhere and Maris wanted her to be able to do that without anything else holding her down. She needed relief from her current anguish just as badly, to figure out whether her current funk was the result of her lover's absence or something missing in her own life.

If Maris did need to make some changes, it would probably be easier to make them from the ground up, a clean slate, even on the romance front.

"This going back and forth, isn't it more of a hassle than anything else? If things aren't working, maybe we should stop trying to make them work."

There was no denying Maris had been angry that their holiday plans hadn't panned out. Even though she'd tried to spend more time around her dad and grandpa to keep loneliness at bay, it had been a very blue Christmas (especially since neither of the men in her life celebrated it), but that anger had faded with time.

Now she just felt sad, certain there was nothing she could do about their situation but put an end to it. It would be better in the long run, the logical portion of her brain had already decided. But her heart...

"It's not because I don't l-" Her voice cracked for the first time since she'd started and she closed her eyes to steady herself and keep emotions out of the equation, but there was no denying her brown eyes were wet when she opened them again. "It's not that I don't care about you, Ror. I do. But this is better for you. And me."

The blow was sudden and crushing, but at the same time, Rory had to be honest with herself. She'd spent so much of their time apart shoving away any idea that they were not going to make it through this. Loving her was just going to be enough, and the rest would figure itself out. Maris was brave enough to say it, but it wasn't something that Rory wanted.

The question then became, did it make her selfish? Was she expecting too much of Maris to be hers when they couldn't see each other every day, or touch each other on a regular basis. There was that old adage that long distance never worked. Maybe that was all the more true when you were adults with lives, and where a relationship was supposed to be going somewhere.

"I've never considered it a hassle, no." Her tone was a little more short than she meant it to be, but she could feel that flight or fight kicking in and either one was going to win out.

If this was actually going to work out the way they had wanted it to, it was blatantly obvious that Rory never should have taken the job in Maine. She never thought that Maris would have kept her back or told her not to go, but maybe she should have tried to look into the future more. Maybe she should have seen this coming.

Sitting straighter now at the edge of the bed, her lips twisted together as she listened to Maris speak, trying to find some way out of this, trying to come up with something brilliant to say that would fix it all. "I don't want to lose you." She said weakly, her own voice cracking. "I don't know what to do to change this. Is this what you really want?"

"Exactly," she snapped. Rory's shortness was apparently contagious. "There's nothing we can do."

And unfamiliar. Maris rarely showed her frustration and never yellled at her students, let alone her girlfriend, but her anger was more a result of helplessness than anything Rory had said. Even she, a woman who weighed the pros and cons of every scenario to a fault, couldn't see a way out of their current one.

Not one that didn't require one of them to give up life as they knew it. People said you were supposed to put love before everything but how was that fair when each of them liked everything as it was? With all it's disappointments, deep down Maris knew she liked her life too. She'd never be able to leave her father and grandfather because they'd never left her the way her mother did.

There was nothing either would change about the way things were except the fact that they were apart. And if they took that out of the equation...

"It's what I want," she said, chin raised because she was hoping to look more convinced than she felt. "I mean, are you even here when you're here?"

And there it was. The hesitance in Rory's kiss hurt even more than Maris knew until she heard the words aloud. They made her feel pathetic. She hated herself for giving someone the power to make her hurt but that was yet another reason why logic was starting to take over. It was a mistake she didn't make often and maybe it was time to get back to that again.

Rory didn't want to flinch at the turn their tones were taking, but she also couldn't sit still. She pushed herself up off the bed, pacing a couple of steps and then turning back.

It wasn't like the two of them hadn't had fights before, or disagreements ... this was decidedly different. This was choosing to end things between them. This meant that there would be no hope of that future she'd seen so clearly for the two of them at one point. It would be an end to feeling that giddy feeling in the pit of her stomach when she saw her, the end of what had been one of the greatest joys of her life thus far.

The look she gave Maris after that comment was one best described as incredulous. She shook her head, her lips pursed tightly together at what felt like an insult. "Yes. I try to be. It's not like I can leave everything completely out of mind, but when I'm here with you it's because I want to be."

Her split attention was one that Rory knew somewhere in the back of her mind was problematic. But it wasn't like she was the only one guilty of it, either.

"I can tell when you come visit me, you don't want to be there. You could give it a chance, but I've just felt guilty since I got there." And there it was, on her end. She felt like she'd been fighting an uphill battle from the moment she chosen to go to Maine.

"It's Maine! I ate one of those disgusting lobster rolls, what else is there to check off the bucket list?"

She knew it sounded petty, childish, even which was why she closed her eyes, raking a hand through her already messy hair in an effort to calm herself.

But even if her thoughts stopped racing, her heart didn't seem to want to quit because deep down, it knew what was coming. It was bracing itself for impact and Maris didn't see how she could make it any gentler.

"I don't want to be there and you don't want to be here. It's pretty cut and dry, Rory which is why we should probably cut our losses before things get even worse. We had fun, but it is what it is. Or it is what it is now because I can't see it going anywhere."

"Right, the local cuisine is really what I was talking about."

Somewhere in this fight, somewhere in her own will to fight, Rory might come to the realization that it was over. Her stubborn nature didn't give in so easily. The good memories still outweighed the bad ones because there were vastly more of them. The bad were just more recent, more visceral. They hurt like an open wound.

"We had fun?" The hurt in her voice was more evident than she would have liked, stunted and shocked that didn't become a kind of poise she would have liked to have in a moment like this one. "If you want to boil everything down to that, sure. Great. Fine. You've clearly given up and I know you well enough to know when it's pointless to fight you anymore." Rory hated the way her voice choked on her last words. She would have preferred a cutting, direct approach, but she couldn't exactly have full control over her voice when her heart ached so much, and moreover knowing it was her own damn fault.

"Yes, Rory, we had fun," she said using the same condescending tone she used on her students when she had grown weary of repeating herself for the thousandth time.

Weary was the perfect word for all of it, really. She was tired. Tired of waiting. Tired of trying to fill in gaps in half hearted phone conversations. Tired of pretending that she wasn't hating every second of this even though she could never hate her.

"It's work now. And when the work isn't worth it anymore, you quit. You leave." She bit her lower lip. "And you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

"Right." She said simply, her lips pursed together because god dammit if she cried, she would never forgive herself. She knew Maris was stubborn, hell it was one of the things she loved about her, but this was a different level. Or maybe just that it actually meant something terrible this time.

Though it was a dramatic term at best, the only thought in her mind was that something had broken. Not just broken, but shattered between them. She couldn't see the pieces enough to put them back together, and so she just dumbly stood there, unsure what to say, what to do, how to change the way this was going. Maybe later she'd think of the perfect thing that she should have said. Maybe this was a time she was supposed to actually double down and tell Maris how much she loved her, how much she wanted to make things work, how she'd give up some stupid job that she loved if it meant keeping her. Every which way those things flashed through her mind made her think every version would be pathetic. Fall on deaf ears, make things worse.

"Wow. Alright. Far be it from me to have taken a job with your blessing to do so. I didn't leave you. I wouldn't quit on us but clearly you don't feel the same. Don't act like I haven't tried, or I just left you here without a second's thought. I thought about you every fucking minute of every day. This hasn't just been hard for you. But if you don't want to put in the work, then far be it from me to be a burden on you. I'll go." She paused, if only to catch her breath from the long exhale of emotion that had been. "If I go, I won't be back."

I won't be back.

Those were the words that echoed so loud they drowned everything else (even Rory's very valid points) out. Was she ready for that?

She almost welcomed it, a permanent absence rather than Rory's sporadic visits because teases of what could be were almost worse than not having them at all. Maybe it was best to rip off the band aid now, to embrace the hurt and try to heal.

The pressure building behind Maris' eyelids only made her want Rory to leave more, lest she see the breakdown she knew was coming.

She managed a nod. "I know. Leaving was...it was best for you. I still believe that. And leaving for good is best for both of us." She bit her lip. "I'm not saying I won't miss you, but over time...we'll both be better off with no one to miss."

She could feel them, the crocodile tears that threatened to brim over and spill down her face without her permission. Her throat felt tight and her chest even more constricted. Saying those words felt like a ticking time bomb thrown between them. The final say of what this was going to be. Rory was a proud woman, sometimes too much so, and she wouldn't come crawling on her hands and knees if she believed that Maris didn't want this, them anymore.

It was the rawest feeling that Rory had ever felt - and she'd been through plenty of breakups before. Perhaps the real difference was knowing what she was losing. Perhaps even more so, the loss of everything she had seen so clearly for their future. No, what she knew to be true all the more that this was her fault. She would take that with her forever because she knew if she had just let this opportunity pass her by, she would still have the love of this woman.

"Yeah." Was all she could managed to get out, the sound of it choked and defeated. She hated that she wasn't stronger in her voice, or that she didn't have something brilliant to say here. "You say that like I'm actually not going to miss you every fucking day."

Pressing the heel of her hand against her cheek to swipe at a stray tear that escaped (dammit), she gathered her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Undoubtedly she had clothes and items left over, a drawer full of things, maybe a jacket. Some jewelry. The thought of going around and collecting it all was humiliating. "Just get rid of anything I've left. It'll be easier that way."