Topic: Tonight I'm gonna cut it out, and then restart.

Tenacity Casely

Date: 2013-01-30 18:27 EST
?So.?

Her irises cut to the edge of the device pressed between her cheek and her shoulder. She didn?t say anything into it. She just watched it and stayed silent, much like she?d been doing for the past ten minutes.

?You really pull a Dana Buch?? Monday almost sounded amused, the raggedness of his voice sanded down smooth in places. ?Bet you feel like absolute shit right now, huh??

That was why she called him. She responded with a gurgle, which was the closest approximation to a laugh she could make.

?How?uh, long?? He stopped and let out a grunt of effort. He must have been trying to sit up, something he could sometimes be bothered to do when a serious issue arose. ?Not how long you were out, but how long have you been, uh?nevermind. Where are you??

She slid the blue-ringed, black-bodied irises towards the window and settled back further on her calves. Her legs had long ago fallen asleep and passed through the stinging into an entirely numb existence beneath her. Inside her mouth, her tongue heavily flopped around while her jaw muscles groaned in unison; the whole affair produced a clumsy speech pattern and the voice one might expect from a person who had just swallowed razorblades. ?Don?t?know. Well, wait. Parking lot. It?s a parking lot.?

She held the phone to secure it and painfully straightened her neck, just to be sure. ?Twenty-four hour place. Drivers, people sleeping in cars.? She could?ve stood to follow their example. Instead, she remained kneeling on her back seat, cramping all her joints and tendons.

?Jesus. Is that what you?re going to do now? Live out of a car??

?N-no. No. Not living here,? she said with shaky indignation.

?Yeah, well, you sound like you aren?t even living at all. You sound like you?re going to drive off a cliff.? There was a thread of a hum in his tone. He was probably rubbing his temples, quickly losing whatever slight humor he?d been trying to drum up. ?Don?t drive off a cliff.?

?I won?t.? Her voice didn?t quiver like the rest of her body did. She?d just caught a whiff of miscellaneous breakfast dishes cooking.

His sigh was small, almost lost in the noise his hand made when it ran up and down his face and hair. ?Seriously. Don?t.?

She forgot how stiff she?d felt just minutes before as she crumbled against the seat. Her fatigue was teetering between frustration and absolute despair. ?I?m not. Going. To drive. Off a fucking cliff.? Each punctuation mark came backed by a twitch of her body as the sighs built up.

?Tenacity.?

Monday --though one of the few Casely offspring born without a genetic abnormality-- had a very special power. No frills and no illusion. In fact, it was quite the opposite and very specific to her. You see, he could cut right to the center of her bullshit just by saying her name, fitting a ?shut up, stay put, listen? all in the way he bit out parts of the letters. ?Not what I meant.?

She looked down. Submitted to him without him even being around to benefit, and hell, wasn?t that really the only reason she let it happen? Her esophagus burned with words that needed spilling and more bile that probably didn?t need releasing, but she fell into silence again.

He did, too. Briefly.

?Get up. Get up and find your feet. And don?t you dare stop walking until you figure out how you?re going to get yourself and your stuff right.?

?What if I?I can???

?Then you aren?t my sister. Get up. Fix it. Besides.? He breathed. It was a mockingly anguished noise. ?Besides, you?d look ugly as a hobo, anyway.?

Tenacity Casely

Date: 2013-02-02 19:09 EST
At some odd minutes past seven o?clock, the cabin stood squat and dark, its vigil unbroken. The life had left it, but the ghost in the woods remained. It hoped.

Somehow Colt had managed to duck his keepers. Ford, Jackie, Harper, Dylan. He loved them dearly. He needed their support. But he had to face the cabin alone. Fingers tapped absently against the steering wheel for a moment before he gained the nerve to kill the engine. The keys were left dangling in the ignition as he headed for the porch.

The barren drive bore distinguished tire tracks, some worn down deep and a few that might still have held the scent of rubber ? or the scent of the woman who?d made them. A strong nose, one like his, could walk in her phantom wake easily. The faded aura curled up the path from the dirt and gravel and beckoned towards the steps to the porch.

And at the very top, tan and unassuming, was a closed shoebox.

The box at the top caused a hesitation in his step. But he dipped down as he reached the top, snagging the shoebox and lifting it up to remove the lid. It had to have been put there on purpose. She was no Cinderella after all; she would never leave a good shoe behind.

When the lid was peeled back, that theory was given validation, though the immediate significance might not have been understood. Black with red flames, the knee pads were something you?d have seen a child sporting just after the training wheels came off, that time where adventure called but caution was remembered. Against one of the plastic cap coverings was a post-it note, lilac in color and with her hand-writing in blue ink:
Probably could have used these once. After you, though, my knees quit being in peril.

Beneath the words was a small circle with the number 1 in the middle. Just next to it was a little stick version of a house with the number 2 sleeping inside of it.

The mental image snuck up on him, gripping him fully before he could fend it off. It was how they met. The porch of the Inn. She stumbled. He grabbed her arm to steady her. His stomach rolled but there was nothing left in it.

The lid was placed back on the box. He swept a glance over his shoulder before reaching for the door to step inside, tucking the box under his arm. His nose said he was still alone and his eyes confirmed it. The same trees that had gawked at them all along were the only ones to bear witness now.

The opened door revealed the main room and the strip of floor that ran from the porch threshold down almost the middle of the room. Something wasn?t right about it, though. It wasn?t clear like it should have been, for someone had left a random assortment of items there: a Styrofoam cup of chili, a little blue toy truck, and a glass of iced tea next to a travel bottle of whiskey.

The box was set down on the table beside the door. His nose clued him in before he even got close. Their first date. "S**t," he muttered under his breath.

Another lilac post-it note was stuck to the ground before them. No words on it, just a circled number ?3? with an arrow pointing back to the shadowy depths of the house. Deeper into the house he headed, not bothering to turn on any lights. Shafts of moonlight streamed in through the windows as they bounced off the fresh layer of snow.

Working in his favor was the size and shape of the third offering. The base was large and cylindrical, leading to the slender column that sprouted up out of it. The leaves, green with a dusty gold sheen, were just about to his waist at their highest spot.

Amongst the lower branches was a glint of silver in the dim light. It smelled the most like her, each link of the chain holding some remnant of her skin and the dangling tree pendant he?d given her holding more than just memories meant for his nose.

The tree pendant on the charm bracelet signified home. Their home. A reminder of the great oak that sheltered the cabin. It seemed wrong to find it on a branch rather than in her jewelry box or on her wrist. He shed his coat and dumped it onto the back of a chair before reaching for the pendant. But wasn't that what ?over? meant? She had no need for this. Worse yet, there was a sapphire she would have no need for anymore.

He's so worked up he can't stop puking. That's what Ford had told Jackie. And the thought of that ring no longer on her finger tipped him over the edge. It was a dry heave. There was dangerously low fluid in his body. It wasn't giving up any of that. Another curse was muttered as he regained control of his stomach.

The post-it note promised a circled 4. Her picture of a little bed might not have been the most obvious thing to decipher, but with the concept of bed already on his brain, it seemed a perfectly legitimate leap.

The door to their room was only just slightly ajar and that was a rarity in their house if company wasn?t present. That wasn?t the most interesting thing about the entry way, though. No, the most curious part was what was hanging on it --

Once upon a time on a night not so long ago, a dress had hung outside their closet just waiting for them both to notice it, dark gold and sparkling. Its desire for attention must have become so greatly unbearable, for somehow, it had made the great trek out to claim a territory against the wood of the door. It would not go ignored there ? nor would the little bottle affixed to it with a piece of twine. The clear glass twisted on the brief tether, the white sand snug in the confines of the bottle?s body thanks to a tiny cork. Maybe he could even still smell the ocean trying to seep out around the sealed top.

She?d never gotten a chance to wear that dress. His concussion had kept them from the Winterfest event. It didn?t mean that they hadn?t enjoyed the night. Funny, how a dress could bring up the image of her in nothing but a silk skirt. And the sand. Their vacation to the tiny island resort last year. She had looked so healthy. Each memory battled with the next causing his stomach to clench up and his head to pound. You love that girl. You sure you aren't just actin' on emotion? Dylan questioned in his head.

Attached only by a corner to the side of the glass and looking severely in danger of fluttering away, the last lilac post-it note said nothing. All he was left with was an empty post-it note. He was alone. His free hand reached up to bat it off so it would flutter away. The door was nudged open so he could step inside. He needed his bed. He needed to lay down.

?Five.?

Tenacity Casely

Date: 2013-02-02 19:18 EST
Her heart was in her throat, but she remembered her line. She?d had his entire trip through the house to make sure she didn?t choke on it. The wide shape of her eyes did little to hide how much the moment still startled her.

The shock of it caused him to reach out and grip the doorway with a soft curse. He relied so heavily on his nose that he often forgot that it could fail him.... or be fooled as Ten had figured out sometime before. Stuck in place, he could only let his eyes soak her in.

She was light skinned in the poor light, but the areas under her eyes were noticeably darker and puffier than the rest of her face. Seated on the edge of the bed, her legs bounced restlessly with each tap of her foot on the floorboards and both hands remained clasped around a small, square object. Her left hand, conveniently placed on top, still held the weight of that sapphire he'd been so worried about.

He never made it all the way to the bed. He was a step short. The load was just too great. Even the low light wasn't kind on him. He was perfectly sober but his eyes were bloodshot, his features pinched from dehydration, his skin pale. His knees gave out and he sunk before her, one hand reaching up to her knee to still at least one leg as his forehead dropped into her lap.

Her knee flinched under his touch, then stilled as she focused on moving her hands out of the way of his falling head. Her other foot stopped moving without prompting, her whole body suddenly afraid of accidentally shaking him loose. She tasted the moment and let it take root in the pits of her stomach for a quiet while.

But her hands were still full. When she spoke again, even the whisper couldn't hide the shredded quality of her voice: "Can...here. I need your hand."

He finally found the energy to lift his head and offered up the hand not clasping the bracelet.

She battled herself visibly as she looked at his open hand. Her knuckles just barely brushed his palm, pulled back an inch, and after another hesitation, she made contact again. This time, it was broken by the placement of the case in his hand.

It was silvery and leopard print, flat and hinged, seemingly a jewelry case. It didn't smell like jewelry. It smelled chemical, pharmaceutical. She kept her fingertips on top of it to keep the lid clamped down.

It took him a moment to find his voice buried in his misery. Hazel eyes slowly swept up after an initial sweep of the case to climb the length of her upper body and make contact with her eyes. His voice was hoarse from the vomiting. "What is this?"

She swallowed so hard it could've almost sounded comical had the situation not been what it was. Had they not both been so destroyed. She felt the violent thrust of her pulse into her ribs kick up as she looked down to her fingers, the tips of which were curling under.

"These..." The raspy whisper trembled, cracked and muted in places. "These were never prescribed. Not to me. I...shouldn't have them." Her body twitched. She couldn't even think about glancing at him. "I shouldn't have these. And I need you to take them."

His hand wrapped around the box and pulled it away at her insistence. He eased beside her, sitting back to rest his back against the bed, eyes following back to the box in hand. "What are they? Why do you have them?"

She had her lower lip in her teeth and her empty fingers were wringing her wrists in slow, meticulous circles. "Mostly, uh...pain--" She stilled her hands when she realized how incriminating her motions appeared. She cleared her throat, too. "Painkillers. I'm not a pill-head." The splits in her voice couldn't keep out the firmness in that statement. "I just forgot. Myself, how to deal with me. But I'm going to talk to someone about that."

A heavy exhale was released and the box was set to his side. The side furthest away from her. A sliver of space existed between his shoulder and her leg. "How long has this been going on? This time, I mean."

Her leg didn't seek him out. It understood the sliver just as well as she did. She curled her fingers against the edge of the bed and let her head hang, let her gaze cut off to the right. "Maybe just about three weeks. I don't know. As long as I've been a sh***y human being." Gravel and glass raked over her words. She pursed her lips. "It's stupid. I let everything fester too long, Colt. There was a lot of really hard stuff that happened to us and I didn't take the time to face it. It snuck up on me all at once."

"And I didn't see signs of any of this," he muttered in defeat. His eyes slipped from his knees back over to the box. Allowing a couple seconds to let the news sit in his brain before he could form the question. "Were you on them when I asked you to marry me?"

"Wha--no! No, I wasn't --but don't do that," she protested and the first outright burst of emotion touched her expression and her voice. In comparison to her usual it was still scaled back, but the surprised hurt came across all the same. "Don't question my state of mind or clarity when it comes to that. I may be a hot mess, but I'm not an idiot. I love you. I know that. I just don't always love me or love what we get handed."

It wasn't so much what she said but the emotion in her voice when she said it that left him closing his eyes in regret that the words had slipped out of his mouth. He seemed to be saying a lot of things he regretted lately. "I'm sorry. That wasn't fair. I know you'd made that decision a while ago." A hand reached up to rub his scruffy cheek. His tone was low and pitched only for her ears. "I kept thinkin' you'd snap out of it. I should have asked you to see someone weeks ago."

"You shouldn't have to ask me." It was a hefty concession. She couldn't rest on irresponsibility, she couldn't expect to let herself skate by now when she held herself to better so often. She reached to touch her hair and ended up biting her thumb nail. It gave her an excuse to keep her volume low and partially muffled by the angle of her mouth. "I just...I wanted to be the singular stable force in your life. I don't want you to have to wonder about it."

His eyes lifted to her in the dim light, features tensed suddenly in concern. This was the sort of conversation for low light and quiet voices. "I have never once expected you to be my rock twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week for the rest of your life and you shouldn't expect it out of yourself. We both stumble. Unfortunately, we both picked the same time to do it." There was regret and guilt mixed in those final several words. They'd both lost sight of themselves. In two entirely different ways. "I've been busy doing things I'm not proud of."

And then he confessed. A confession in exchange for a confession. The story was a whirlwind. Rhett, Peaches, Ford. Colt?s own involvement. It was hardly pretty. It was convoluted and hurtful but he confessed and she listened.

Colt?s story ended with his fear. He picked at the pendants on the bracelet in his hand as he admitted it. ?We may be brothers but... I don't think Rhett and I will ever be friends again."

Tenacity Casely

Date: 2013-02-02 19:22 EST
She let her chin swing his way. The sadness lingering on him drew her concern, but the bracelet in his hand drew her attention. She reached weakly for it. "I'm so sorry, Colt. I...it stings. To know there should be some sort of unity, but coming up empty on it. I can't say that I don't sympathize with him, too, but he would have lost in the end anyway. With or without you."

"Yeah, I know. It's just not me. I don't manipulate people. I'm not the nicest guy in the world but I don't do that. Because I know how it feels. I know I'm vulnerable to it. I just..." He trailed off with a frustrated shake of his head. Eyes slipped over the flash of blue on her finger and instead of just handing it over, he stretched the links out to round her wrist. His voice dipped lower. "I can't do this, Ten. For better or worse. It may not be official yet but it is to me. I don't know what I was thinking... that it could just end like that."

Her fingers touched something better than silver. The warmth of his skin sent electric shocks through her veins. Hazel eyes almost closed with the sensation, but the magnet-pull had her gaze on him. "Yeah," she whispered. "But it reminded me of...well, everything I stand to lose."

His eyes dipped to concentrate on slipping the hook through the eye, fingers brushing needlessly against the inside of her wrist once it was in place. The lack of contact was no longer acceptable. He rose to take a seat beside her on the bed. Palms planted in the mattress behind him to brace him in a slight lean backward, the front of his closest shoulder touching the back of hers. "I'm not going to beat you over the head with this. You know how dangerous it is to have stuff in your system that's not prescribed to you, particularly if I don't know about it and so I don't mention it if asked by a doctor. But... I'm here, Ten. And I understand. It's been... rough."

The sway of her chin followed him until her shoulder obstructed the path. Her eyes never left him, though, caught in their tired 'u' shape. "This place breeds chaos. I really do hate it sometimes." Her sigh scraped against her enamel as it leaked out of her mouth. "You know, I used to worry that we were really unhealthy. I mean, like really unhealthy. But." Here, she looked down to his lap. "But when I sit and think about it, for every one fight like this, there's a dozen things like the scenes out there. A dozen more ones, twos, threes..."

"There are. Like..." His smile turned slightly distant as his eyes lifted to the rafters above their heads through the memories. "...our game we played to get to know each other. And walkin' you halfway back to your ship in the snow that winter. And that vacation we took..." It was there he tripped up, drawing in a sudden inhale. The exhaustion that weighed on her features. It was so different than she had looked on that vacation. The words spilled out of his mouth in a rush at the same moment the thought popped into his head. "We should go back. For a couple days. Now."

She didn't even need to think. She saw the spark in his eyes and felt the itch to escape course through him and into her. "Yes."

Tenacity Casely

Date: 2013-02-04 23:10 EST
Constance Lodge was a resort located on the island of Desroches on a planet covered mostly in water and known for little more than fantastic fish and great ocean resorts. Private portal travel had taken them to one of the main islands and a boat from that island to Desroches where Colt had been lucky enough to be able to book the very same beachfront villa they had stayed in ten months before thanks to a last minute cancellation.

It was the type of luxury he had to dip into his Rhovnik money for but Colt did so little with both that and his SPI money that his accountant (who kept a tight grip on his spending due to Colt's troubles with money) had easily signed off on the trip.

The villa was a luxurious ode to a beach hut, dialing back on decor and space. They were about privacy, simplicity, and comfort. A bathroom -- complete with river rock shower and a claw foot tub -- sat off the bedroom. The bed was swathed in mosquito netting which was certainly for looks rather than purpose since the island was without blood-drawing insects and a thick white down comforter since the breeze off the ocean could grow as chilly at night as it was a relief during the day.

The gourmet meals in the restaurant hadn't been enough for Colt. He'd supplemented with room service. Thus, even though they'd ate only hours before there was now a spread of conch fritters, fried soft-shell crab, and pizza with buffalo mozzarella and mushrooms on the coffee table interspersed with brochures from the resort's wedding coordinator and a schedule of available dates through fall.

One set of French doors remained open and the light breeze had kicked up the white curtains. Colt paused briefly before them, long enough to listen to the ocean for a moment, before turning to reach for the small refrigerator masked to look like a table to pull out a bottle of beer. A gin sunrise for her was already sitting on the coffee table beside the food.

The sound of water circling the drain had only just ceased when she emerged from the area of the bathroom, toweling her hair; even though she was only in a plush cream colored bathrobe, she had never looked happier in her life.

She padded towards him, her smile over the sight of the bird dog quickly turning into a laugh at the little buffet he'd provided himself. She hadn't even heard it arrive. "Listen. I love you, but let's remember that I'm still a little superficial, here..."

"What?" His expression was innocent and brows pulled into confusion as he plopped back down on the end of the couch with his beer. Hazel eyes landed on the food before darting back up to her. "Oh, come on. I've dropped ten pounds since football and I spent twenty-four straight hours pukin' my guts out 'cause.... well, whatever. I'm eatin'. If I get fat you still have to love me."

"We'll see what the pre-nup says," she countered in a tease. Blue eyes touched on the drink, jumped back to him to make sure it was for her -- but before she got confirmation, she already had it in hand. She sank down next to him, less plopping and more settling, the towel she'd used on her hair left over the arm of the chair near them.

"Sorry I made you puke." It came out softer as she kissed the side of his neck closest to her.

His eyes briefly shut at the kiss and when they reopened, he reached out to draw a damp lock back behind away from her face. "So... I got a text from Ford while you were in the shower. You got to hear this." He was almost incapable of turning off his phone. The thought of the girls or Ford or Jane or Harper needing him was almost unbearable so unsurprisingly it was situated on the corner of the coffee table.

He popped in a fritter as he reached for the phone, swallowing it down before reading the message. The ending caused a short, easy laugh, shaking his head.

She wasn't surprised that his phone was so near and she wasn't bothered. Colt's need to be connected, to be there and protecting everyone was something she'd grown to accept, love, and even rely on. He was the thing that kept her tethered when she was in serious dangerous of floating into obscurity. She looked down to the phone and let out a little chuff as she drew her legs up onto the couch. "Tell him to take him out to do something he likes. Something that shows her part of him. The gesture will make her more comfortable, he'll be better in his element, and they're, like, weirdly bonding at the same time."

Her words. His eyes remained fixed on her as silence fell between them. It was like she'd stolen them right out of his head.... but phrased them more articulately, of course. A breath was released and then a smile sprung up as he leaned forward, cupping one cheek long enough to keep her face in place so he could plant a sudden kiss against her lips. "You're amazin', you know that?"

She still had her eyes closed from the kiss, but at his comment, they creaked open. Not too wide, of course, and some of that was the fault of her extensive grin. "Oh, I know. I mean--I'm the woman who finally won the heart of Colton Nash Daniels." The last three words came out in appropriately hushed awe.

"I've just been waitin' for you. Okay, okay. I may have gotten into a lil' trouble here and there while I was waitin'," he teased, sliding an arm around the back of the couch. It gave him easy access to play with her damp locks. His gaze slipped back to the papers amassed among the food. "Look how easy they make the process of gettin' married. You sure we can't just do it while we're here? Right now?"

She tilted her head to listen to the waves breaking in the background and took a sip of her drink. Her attempts to control her smiling or the appearance of dimples were in vain. "Well, my love," she began, reaching for a piece of food. "We most definitely could?but then you're in charge of taking any heat we might get for it." By the time she was done saying it, though, her expression looked more like she was actually considering it.

"Darlin', you would be my wife. I'd take all the heat in the world with a grin on my face." It wasn't one of his usual lines. It didn't involve getting her naked as quickly as possible or thoughts of joining her in a shower. But it came in the same playful tone. Still, there was a level of seriousness. The playfulness was a flimsy, shabby cover of his desire.

She hooded her eyes, again. From the moment they'd arrived, she'd visibly appeared more relaxed; her shoulders sat normally, her cheeks didn't seem as tight, and her skin had dropped the pallor. The laziness of her eyelids was just another example of her contentment. "We need a witness, don't we?"

When she asked it, she reached over to the table. This time, she ignored the food and focused in on one of the brochures.

He let his fingers slide through her hair as she leaned forward to avoid a painful entanglement. Even if she eventually put her foot down, he was going to allow himself the dream. "A bartender? Or that little old lady who sells flowers on the beach every morning?"

"Would that be legal? I mean?when we go back. Does that count?"

She glanced back over to him and rubbed the pads of her thumbs over the information booklet in her hands. It was possible that she wasn't just entertaining him.

His hand had been about to slide back into her hair but as he caught her gaze, he caught the hint of something more. And it stilled him. The chance of returning home married. "I don't know. It's RhyDin. The whole internexual complexities of marriage law is beyond me. I think if we want to be legally married in RhyDin, my world, and your world, it's going to involve fake identifications and a lot of work but we can hire an attorney in RhyDin to figure it all out for us."

"But we'll be married, Ten. As soon as we say those vows and put rings on each other's fingers, it counts."

She pursed her lips and tapped the glossy cover with her nails. "Well." Yellow irises dropped back to the brochure. "We don't need to prove we're married in my world or in yours. It's not like we're going to live in either of those places, anyway." Surprisingly, the statement didn't sound as bitter as it probably would have were they back in RhyDin.

"Did we want to make our own vows?" Realizing how serious she sounded shortly after, she smiled.

"Regardless of where we live, it's somethin' I'd like to have done." That sort of 'period, end of story' tone was rare from him but making sure their marriage was legally binding in a three places seemed to be something that sparked it. Though, it came low and non-confrontational. A point of fact rather than a point of argument.

"I don't know. What do you think? Write them or go with the tried and true? Harper said 'obey'," he reminded with a grin.

She yielded, nodded, and moved on. "Yeah, well, you aren't marrying Harper." Her reminder on his came with a lift of her brows and a good-natured drawl. "I don't know. I would definitely need time to make them. But I sort of like the idea? We aren't conventional in how we interact, so why should we be conventional for a ceremony?"

"Sounds good. I'm game." She would carefully plan out what she would say and he would wing it on the spot. He exhaled at the idea of time, tilting his head to the side slightly. "So... time... as in more than overnight, I'm guessin'?"

"A day. If you don't pester me." She reached out to flick the end of his nose when she said it. "I'm not very good at sentimentality, so I'll probably give up half-way through, anyway." She started to pull her hair back into loose knot, the brochure resting on her knees and her gaze going back to him, which made her pause.

"...Do you actually think we'll get any trouble over it??

Colt Daniels

Date: 2013-02-05 07:50 EST
It had only taken a smidge of charm to convince the very helpful staff at the Constance Lodge resort to find Colt a small private conference room within the main building for him to make a phone call. He sunk into a comfortable chair with the phone pressed against his ear as he recited off Ford's number to the resort?s operator. "I'll connect your call now, Mr. Daniels," she replied in a cheerful voice.

Despite being worlds away from Ford, the connection seemed crystal clear as he listened to it ring on the other end.

And it only took Ford two crystal clear rings to answer it. He hadn't looked at the screen to see who it was before answering. He'd just come inside from sweeping snow out of the bed of his truck and snapping the tonneau cover on.

"Hello?"

"Hey." The word slipped out of Colt?s mouth rolled within a measure of relief.

"Hey, man." Ford pulled out one of the counter stools and sat down, everything else forgotten for now. "Good t' hear your voice. What's goin' on?"

"Christ. I don't even know where to begin." The view outside the large window beside Colt was distracting so he quit fighting it and allowed his eyes to slip towards it. Unlike the wintery wonderland facing Ford, a tropical garden full of lush palms, bright green ferns, and speckled with exotic flowers tumbled about with such perfect symmetry that suggested it had been planned even if the overall air was to appear wild. Unfortunately, its beauty held no answers to his problem. "Obviously, you know I'm here with Ten. Don't tell anybody for now. I just... I don't know. I need to figure things out. Anyway, when I got to my place the other night, she was there. She'd done this whole thing.... tryin' to remind me of all our good times, y'know?"

Smart girl. He nodded, even though Colt couldn't see it but the sentiment colored his voice. "Yeah? That's good, isn't it? Means she was thinkin' about 'em, too, and wanted you two t' connect again."

"That's what she said. It reminded her of everythin' she had to lose." The phone was switched to Colt?s opposite ear and he leaned forward, dropping his voice even though he knew it to be a private conversation. "She admitted she's been takin' pills. Not the muscle relaxers her doctor prescribes to her but... stuff not prescribed to her. Pain pills. She's the daughter of a rock star. I know she's done drugs before but she knows I don't approve. She knows it's not safe to have stuff not prescribed to her in her system in case she has a flare up, particularly when I don't know about it and can't tell a doctor if she's admitted. She's not an addict. She never has been. She's just... I don't know. She keeps fightin' to live and I think she gets tired of fightin' sometimes and our lives haven't exactly been easy the last six months."

Ford?s breath left him in a soft whuff, and he brought a hand up to smear the tension from his jaw. He knew it was bad, but... He grasped at the positive in what he was saying, trying to find a foothold to start from. "But she told y' yeah? So you can deal with what you know."

"Yeah. She's gonna see someone and she handed over the pills. I flushed them before we left. I thought if I could just get her away for a couple days.... She's happy here. She's relaxed. Maybe I needed to see her like this for a while 'cause I just couldn't deal with the person she was turnin' into. And it's worked. She looks good. Better than she's looked in a while. And we started lookin' through weddin' brochures. We were always plannin' on gettin' married here, y'know?" Colt?s forearms rested against his knees, his eyes concentrating on the pattern of the tile beneath his feet.

Everything clicked, and it wasn't much of a shift. That's where Ford?s thoughts were headed when he got the texts. "Yeah?"

"Yep. And I made some comment 'bout how we should do it while we were here. I've always just wanted to run away and elope. Just bring you and Avy as witnesses. But she doesn't want to hurt anyone's feelings so we kept debatin' over exactly who was comin' and everythin'. I mean, everythin'. Down to what her name is gonna be when she gets married. I thought it was just her way of stallin' for time. That when she was ready we'd start makin' some decisions. But last night when I made the comment she thought it was a good idea and... I think... I think we might be gettin' married today." Concern and anxiety leaked into his final words but it was strung together with simple hope.

A beat of silence, and then a flood of approval and support. "Well it's about goddamned time, man. Good! You know we all love her, an' I can tell she makes you happy. You were a fuckin' mess. Good for you."

Ford's approval caused Colt to rise to his feet. The desire to pace had become overwhelming. Thankfully, the phone was cordless. "Is it? I mean I really don't give a flyin' **** about if my mom or her mom is pissed if this is what she wants but... this girl's been poppin' pills for three weeks. I don't question that she wants to marry me. She decided that months ago, I know... but how do I know this is the right time? How do I know she's not just doing this 'cause she's scared she came close to losin' me? I want her to do it the way she wants to do it."

"Is it you pressin, or did she say she wanted to?" Seemed simple to him, despite the rest of the circumstances. "I think sometimes you get too hung up on timin' and conditions an' dottin' i's and crossin' t's. No offense, but I know she's been sick, an' I know you're worried about her. I just figure, we're all dyin', you know? From the second we're born, we all are. Ain't no one knows for sure how long they're gonna have. Ten ... I think she's figured this out more'n you have. Talked to her enough that I get that feel from her. It ain't seizin' at somethin' ... it's not wantin' to waste time once you're sure. If you waste it ... none of us have guarantees, man. Not any of us." Colt was getting a side of Ford he didn't show often, even to his family.

The advice caused a nod from Colt to the empty room. "I know all that, Ford, I do. And I had adopted this perfectly zen attitude until she wound up in the hospital last fall. And I just couldn't be okay with it anymore. I mean, I'm not gonna make her go through anymore testing. She wants to be done with that part of her life and I have to accept that but... this girl is livin' on less time than most. And I'm damned determined to make sure that every moment she has is full of love and life."

"But she keeps goin' back and forth here. She's worried about how everybody's gonna react but I gotta wonder if it's more than that. She knows I'm fine waitin'. My hope was that while we were here we could set some date in early summer." Colt?s fingers reached up to work at the knots of tension in his neck. He knew Ford would be talking him down on his wedding day but he'd hoped it would have been in person.

"Listen to me, man. No way I know your girl like you do. Never will. But just sayin', we spent enough time talkin' since I got here t' know one thing about her - if she was wafflin', she wouldn't go anywhere near th' idea of elopin'. You're overthinkin' all of this an' you're just gonna make yourself crazy doin' it."

It took those words to shake Colt out of his own way. Like he could convince Tenacity Casely into or out of anything she didn't already want to do. He gave a huff of a laugh and eased back to a seat in the chair. "You're right, you're right. I can?t doubt her if she decides this is what she wants. But I still don't know if not havin' you or Avy or Harper or Monday here is for the best. I gotta figure that out. And fast."

Colt allowed a beat of pause before dropping his voice a bit lower to an unneeded whisper. ?I know I don't have to say this but... don't tell anyone, alright? Who knows if we'll go through with it? If we don't, it just wasn't the right time and we'll do it later. And if we do I want to keep it under wraps for a while until Ten has some time to get her feet back under her. If we do, we?ll announce it when she?s ready."

"I won't say anything. But you at least gotta tell me whether y'did or not, when y' get back okay? Don't leave me hangin'."

?Of course,? Colt agreed easily before leaning back in his chair, trying to force his shoulders further away from his ears. "Talk to me about somethin' else. Anythin'. I need to think about somebody else's problems for a lil' bit. How's Peaches? What do you have planned for your date tonight?"

The conversation shifted away from him to Ford?s insecurities and the pretty blonde that Colt had misjudged so grievously. He could feel the knots of anxiety in his stomach easing and the steel that had slipped in to tighten his muscles began to drain but the questions never completely left his mind. Should he and Ten return home as husband and wife or just one step closer to it?

Tenacity Casely

Date: 2013-02-12 01:09 EST
Badgley Mishka. It wasn?t the exact name she?d first thought when it came to this kind of a moment, but time and availability had been limited and the dress was decently lovely. She studied herself, ran her fingertips feather-light down the beaded bodice, and stopped the trail on the silk near her waist. Meeting her gaze in the reflection had become something of a difficulty and the critical assessment of the fabric was helping. Minutely. Her chest was still having a hard time deflating.

They were in the process of blowing every tradition to hell but he still didn't barge into the villa. Instead, he knocked on the door before opening it slowly to allow her the opportunity to stop him should she choose. "Hey, Ten?"

Her head snapped up, yet there was no protest. She did, however, cross one arm over her stomach as if that might shield the dress from view. Coffee brown eyes lightened to a softer shade as she found a tiny smile to meet him. "Hey," she rasped softly. The time seemed like a quiet one.

"I left my tie in here," he murmured as he closed the door behind him, resting his back against it as his eyes swept over her. It was a flimsy excuse. There was more than enough staff willing to bend over backwards to make sure the day went perfectly. Anyone of them would have been happy to grab his tie from the room.

They were in luck that they hadn't had to try to find a suit that fit his frame at the last minute. He'd brought a tan one knowing that Ten would rope him into at least one nice dinner in the resort's upscale restaurant. His suit jacket was missing at the moment, though, along with his tie and he hadn't completely finished buttoning his shirt.

"You're stunning, you know that?"

There, her irises turned a pale blue as her gaze dropped down to the hand still resting on her stomach. She chuffed at him and crinkled up her nose. "You have to say that. I'm letting you mar--"

The word got lost on the way out of her mouth and she sent a look up to him after it dropped off. She let out another breathy laugh and smoothed her palms down the skirt of the dress as she moved for him. The rustle of the hem along the floor seemed overwhelming. "How're you, you know...feeling?"

Like he may start puking again. Her inability to get that important word out didn't help the churning of his stomach. A hand lifted to rub the back of his neck as he shot her a sheepish smile. "Like I do right before a big game. How about you?"

She reached out and let her fingers graze his collar. She almost went to smooth it and fuss, but she lost momentum when she met his eyes from her new proximity. "Like this actually is as important a decision as it's supposed to be."

"Yeah," he exhaled the word. A hand hesitatingly stretched out for her. The dress seemed far too perfect to put his grubby hands on but he couldn't resist the reassuring feel of her. "This feels like a game of chicken where we were each expectin' the other to balk by now," he whispered playfully under his voice.

But under the humor lay a thread of truth. The dare that they were both presenting to one another wasn't marriage but doing it on a whim without their families present. He had never thought she would have gotten this far without deciding she needed Avy at her side.

He genuinely made her laugh with that description, yet the warmth of it was off-set some by the tremor of realization. He was right. She curled her arm around her middle a bit more defensively and kept her other hand on his shoulder, her expression sobering. "I don't want us to start off shaky. Are we shaky?"

"I don't know, Ten. I think that's what we're trying to figure out," he whispered in reply. Hazel eyes lingered on her face, warm and open. He was an open book and a book she knew well. "I won't have a single regret about marryin' you if we do it today... but you know I will be completely happy if all we do is book some day in May or June."

She looked down again and when she saw her arm, her ribcage quivered with the weight of her sigh. The limb dropped to her side as the hand on his shoulder moved to his neck. "I'm just such a...well, a mess. Without you. Hell, even with you. I just--"

She pursed her lips and angled her mouth to the right, her head tipped to the left. "I want this. This privacy, this moment. And maybe I just want it to be ours. I don't want to worry about how everyone else feels. But." But.

His hand slid from her hip to the small of her back to draw her in once the arm was no longer between them. Lips brushed over his forehead. "But?"

Her body wilted and shrank to make her fit against him. Thankfully for the endeavor, she hadn't gotten to putting on her heels. It was a long time spent holding that position before she found her voice again. "But maybe that isn't enough of a reason. I wouldn't regret it. I wouldn't. Is that what will satisfy us, though?" That vulnerable twitch to her voice was present, rare for so long and now made so very familiar to him.

"I would like to marry you with as little of my attention taken away from you as possible. I guess I would prefer going home married but..." It was his turn to hedge on his conviction. "...do we owe it to them to let them be here?"

"How much more could you owe anyone, Colt?" Her tongue was made quicker and bolder by the memory of things that could have been theirs. She regretted it instantly and pressed both hands flat against his shoulder-blades to keep him from breaking away. "It shouldn't be this hard. This particular choice shouldn't be like this and maybe...maybe that's the real answer."

He didn't attempt to pull away from her with the question. It only caused his lips to twist into a frown. The battle against bitterness wasn't hers alone. "What do you mean?"

"We're fighting with ourselves too much. It clearly isn't about the commitment. That just leaves the ceremony." It was tricky, but she managed to turn her head just enough to glance a kiss off his jaw-line while still being able to speak.

"I just want to be married," he admitted in a low tone, tipping his forehead in towards hers after the kiss.

She let out a soft hum and closed her eyes. "Final call, amorzinho. No regrets but some apprehension?or sharing the ceremony but having to wait for it."

"Darlin', that's your call. My family will only be relieved that you went through with it," he whispered low and steady.

Damn him. She groaned, she laughed, and she buried her face against him for another thirty seconds. When she emerged, she did so with a jolt that appropriately displayed her sudden burst of excitement.

"We do it.? She almost even grinned. ?Except we ditch the official and leave the extra-interesting legal binding to be shared."

Her excitement shook a laugh out of him and with a firm nod, he agreed. "Then we have a decision. We're gettin' married."

?Illegally,? she crooned after.

...And informally, once they ditched the dress wear.