December 3rd, 2004
"Yesterday was amazing," Christine began nervously, turning in bed to face Indigo, "I've dreamed of that for so long."
"I have too," Indigo murmured, trailing a finger over Christine's hip, tickling her side gently.
"Did you really mean it when you said you want to spend the rest of your life with me?"
"Yes."
"Would you move in with me? I want to do things right this time, treat you how you deserve to be treated. I love you."
Indigo went stiff and silent for a moment and she instantly regretted her words. She reached out to take Indigo's hand,
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"
"I want to," Indigo murmured, "But I don't know how to tell you how badly you fucked me up in the sixties. I'm not trying to make you feel guilty, I just need you to know it."
"I know I fucked up, badly. I'm sorry, I can never undo what I did. I'm sorry."
"I don't know how to say it, Chris. I need you to know, but I don't have the words. I will move in with you, but I need to know you understand."
"Okay."
"Come with me to my flat? Maybe my art will explain it better, I keep all my sketchbooks."
"Of course, thank you," she leaned in, kissing her shoulder, "Thank you."
"I love you, Chris."
January 1st, 2005
"Happy New Year, baby," Christine smiled, leaning in for a kiss.
"Happy New Year," Indigo whispered, yawning as they broke apart, "Wow, I'm getting old, this is late."
"Do you want to go to bed then?"
"Yeah."
"Come here, I'll carry you," she reached out, beckoning her closer.
"Uhh, what did I do to deserve such a wonderful girlfriend?"
March 12th, 2005
Indigo looked up from her seat at the kitchen table, where lists of commissions and shopping lists laid across its deep oak surface, watching Christine open the cupboard and stare blankly into it before closing it again. She heard a long sigh.
"What's wrong, Chris?"
"I don't know," she murmured, "I'm hungry, I don't know what I want. I don't want to eat."
"Here," Indigo stood, "Sit down, let me take care of you."
She kissed Christine's forehead, dropping down to kiss along her neck and shoulder,
"What're you wanting to eat? Something savoury?"
She nodded.
"Okay, let's get some dinner on then," she said.
Christine idly played with the papers on the desk, stopping to look at the grocery list and feeling a pang of guilt in her chest.
"This is so fucking boring," she mumbled.
"Huh?"
"It's nothing."
"It's clearly something, honey," she looked back at her.
"I wanted this so much- this domesticity- this...normal life," she said, "I'm sorry, I just miss Fleetwood Mac. Not that I'm bored or anything! I love you, I love being together like this. I just miss it."
She sighed again.
"I hated it when I was there- I hated all the press hounding me, I hated the travelling- the early mornings and late nights. But I miss it."
Indigo put down the spoon, kneeling in front of Christine and taking her hands,
"I understand."
"I want another drink," she choked out, "Indigo, don't let me drink. Please don't let me drink."
Before she could even understand what was happening in front of her, Christine broke down into tears.
"I get stupid when I drink."
"Another drink? Have you had a drink today, honey?"
She nodded.
"Where is it?"
"Bottom cabinet."
"I'm going to tip them," she said.
"Why?"
"I know about how you recovered from alcoholism, I always thought the press treated you horribly about it, but I knew."
"You're the best person in the world," she said sadly, "Why do you still want me?"
"Because I love you so much."
March 16th, 2005
"Hey," Indigo noticed Christine lingering in the doorway of her studio, "How's it going?"
"Hard," she mumbled, looking at the floor, "I know you're working, but can I-"
"Of course, come here," Indigo said, smiling encouragingly at her, "Come here, sit on my lap."
Moving timidly, as though she was afraid Indigo would change her mind, Christine obeyed, sitting down. Indigo wrapped her arms around Christine's belly, squeezing softly and kissing her cheek.
"Do you wanna talk about it?"
"I don't know, I just want you to hold me."
"I'm sure I can do that," she chuckled, "But this isn't okay that you feel so bad, Chris, would you let me book you an appointment with my therapist?"
She paused at Christine's alarmed look.
"She's really nice, Chris, not how they used to be. You don't have to say yes, I just think it might help. She can certainly help you more than I can."
"Okay," she said weakly, "Would you be with me?"
"If you want."
"I do."
"Okay then," Indigo kissed her shoulder, "Now let's just sit and cuddle, huh?"
"Can I watch you work?"
"If you're comfortable there," she patted her thigh.
"I am."
April 7th, 2005
"I'm scared," Christine whispered, leg shaking slightly as they sat together in the small waiting room of the therapist's office Indigo had taken her to.
"I know, but it's really not scary once you meet her," Indigo said, "The first appointment I had was a little difficult to talk about, but it all gets better from here."
"And she won't try to give me pills?"
"She's not an American Doctor, Chrissy," Indigo murmured, "She doesn't get paid to push pills, she's paid to help you sort through problems."
"And you're allowed in with me?"
"Yes, but she might want me to leave for a few minutes so she can talk without me there if she wants privacy."
"I don't want that."
"It might have to happen, Chrissy. It's how she checks that you're not being forced to do anything by me."
"Okay," Christine looked reassured, "Thanks for getting me to do this."
"It's no problem, you need help and I want you to be happier and safer again."
