life, meet death -- dani cassidy

[dani cassidy]

<center>D a n i C a s s i d y



You've been gone for so long
But I can still see your face
Your eyelashes wash over me
Fly me from this place
I've been dead for so long
I don't even know my age
I can't seem to save myself
Let alone the human race
Your oxygen is what keeps me alive
I swear you're the reason I'm still alive
But I've been dead for so long I can't see my face
I've choked for so long
I need reckoning.
</center>

Born February 2nd, 1978. Cleveland, Ohio. Two parents -- John and Irene Cassidy. One sister, Elizabeth. One brother, Christopher. To this day, they take walks. She tells him everything. She tells him her ups, her downs, her goods, her bads, her men, her women. He continues to put her in her place -- may go so far as to even kick the shit out of her, if need be. Dani always looked up to her older brother, always treated him like a king. Always knew he knew best, and she couldn't live without him. To this day, they'd sit and talk on her bed, he'd size up her men and move in for the kill if they did so much as lay a finger on her. Her beloved brother Christopher. Only problem was, there was a reality Dani continued to deny. A minor detail that would alter every
line of thinking in Dani's world:


<center>Christopher had been dead for ten years.


...<u>So who was the one making Dani bleed?</u>
</center>

<font color="#a62a2a" size="1">[ October 06, 2005 11:11 PM: Message edited by: reconciled ]</font>

[dani cassidy]

Ten years prior.

There was a struggle with the sheets, limbs twisted and sore from a kind of sleep no one ever wanted. The kind where shackled limbs felt constant falling, into a dark abyss of nothingness, its black silent arms stretched wide to catch, to capture, to caress. There was heavy knocking coming from somewhere, a heavy throbbing that plunked heavily against an empty plank of wood, echoing as deeply as broken rib cages. The throbbing only came more heavily, beating into her chest, heaving her, sending thrashing limbs to pull sweat-sobbed covers over her head, ears ringing, head throbbing. A senior in high school, with no future, no plans, no reason to plan. Suffocating beneath sheets that would soon be pulled back from small form, eyes thrusting skyward to be met by his, dark, wide, lids sinking heavily before he could speak. He'd fall to the floor in a heap of bones, tired cigarette dousing as hand hit against wood slab. Twenty-three years old.

Christopher was dead.

-----

No one could figure out what happened to Christopher that day. Doctors passed it off as heart failure, feeling it was strained to the degree that it simply "couldn't keep on truckin'." Fucking doctors treated it more lightly than a cartoon would, laughing it off with their lopsided grins that were so sickening they made her vomit nightly. She slept with her sister for weeks, twelve at the time, too young to fully understand the repercussions of her older brother's death. Too young to understand the profound impact it would have on her older sister, whose body now share its sullen skeleton with night tremors, jaw-grinding, and nightmares not even her Zanex prescription could control. She'd climb into her sister's bed like a child, crying; sobbing, even -- pulling her close as she tried to fall back to sleep, the sheer exhaustion alone making her too sick to function properly. A once straight-A, Ivy League-bound, president of the FCA and high school newspaper editor had slipped between cracks far too deep for anyone to help. Her grades started to slip, though she did graduate high school -- but cell phone was plastered to her hip, as were bottles of pills for easy intake. On one such particular day, she had been at the lake with friends. Sunshine crept through her every vein and muscle, sending her eyes aglow in a way they hadn't shown in months.

"Take your pill."

"You'd think I'd be resilient to it now, wouldn't you? I hate pills. I hate anything that makes me anythi--"

"You're a nutcase. Take your pill."

Even at twelve, her sister knew what was best. 'Numb the pain, don't suffer from it.'

"Some day, when you're older, you'll understand what I mean. Stay away from doctors, they don't know shi-"

"Mom hates it when you curse."

It was a fight that wasn't worth winning, so she popped the lid and took her pill as directed, bottled water brought to natural lips that send the pill plunging towards her stomach. It was only supposed to be used in small dosages -- enough to curb the pain, enough to let her focus on her college applications. Every single one of them had been filled out late, though with any luck, she could still bargain with alumni associations and deans to let her into a program remotely worth attending. Though the nightmares were expected, she'd learn to deal with them, and eventually made it back into her own bed. She even started sleeping through the night, a little more each night. While she still had the nightmares, she stopped grinding her teeth, and she started to get a handle on her daily routines she once had. She was accepted into the Savannah College of Arts and Design, and while it was not an ivy-league school, it was what she wanted -- a place she could use her past on a template of oils and canvas. Sketching, painting, sculpting -- any of it. All of it.

That was when she had a grip. That was nearly a decade ago.

[dani cassidy]

Spring of 1997 was a blur. He was beautiful, a someone who made her felt like something. An acquaintance at SCAD, he knew the ins and outs of the joint, literally and figuratively speaking. Smoking eyes that were often covered by scattered strands of hair, a mess of a boy who wreaked havok on her soul. Too often she found her lips spread into a wide grin, grazing upon a face that'd lost color, vigor, and appeal. He found her beautiful in ways no one else did, he loved the way she'd bring cigarettes to pale lips that cracked from dry, cancerous papers. He loved the way her slender fingers took the cigarette between them, her eyes lit with a fire only the flame of a lighter could provoke. He loved the way her voice had become raspy, dismal, and rediculously sinewy. They'd found each other in a world of chaos and stubborn attributes that otherwise would deflect them, shut them down, make them understand that they were simply two humans in a world of billions. They found each other when they needed each other the most, eyes kissing each others in silence, a language between them no one could break. No one but Christopher. He'd come one night while she slept in the nude, thin sheet wrapped around lilting form. He'd whisper to her, warm breath splaying over flesh that only the finest of incarnates would bare, hair strewn across the crisp white pillow case that had been freshly washed and pressed.

"I see you."

Fingers crept to clench the sheets in silence, the only muscles that moved were those of the slender, spider-like fingers. Her love stirred not one ounce.

"I see you, and I know what you're doing. You're letting him play his games with you."

She knew it wasn't her turn to speak, the words were too life-like, too precious to her. He was a ghost, a ghost who had come back to grace her with his sweet presence, a ghost that loved her so dearly he would kill death itself if it meant she could live.

"Don't let him toy with you, Danielle. He doesn't deserve to breath the same air you do."

She wanted to reach out and touch him. She wanted to know he was with her, he was speaking to her, he was loving her. This sick, twisted, deafingly chaotic world kept crushing her, and he made her beautiful. The fact that he was at her side meant he infact was not toying with her, we was not using her. He was an artist with her, their artwork displayed in each other's eyes for the entire world to see. She wanted to resist Christopher. She wanted to cry out to him and cover herself with the protection of her lover, but it was too late. Her fingers were gripping the back of his head, forcing his face into the pillow upon which less than one minute ago he so peacefully lay. He thrashed and cried in agony, gasping, sputtering for breath that was unattainable. His fingers moved to grab her blindly, reaching for her throat. She moved to bite him, but he forced her to lay back, her own grip loosening, fingers moving to tug his wrist as he gripped her throat. Mortal man glared at her, his eyes doused with confusion. He realized he was hurting her. He immediately stopped. His words came in a choked whisper, heart thumping rapidly against his chest. He moved to hold her close to him.

"Dani, what the fu--"

He fell silence as she mirrored him, falling silent, eyes wide and brimming with tears.

"Don't cry. It will be alright..."

The tears never did spill-- not yet, anyway. Her mind turned pictures behind her eyes, flashes of Christopher when they were young. She knew it was his voice she heard tonight, she knew it was his breath that fell upon her neck. She knew had came to show her the real world again, as if to wake her up from a silent, hellish dream that had been playing ever-constant in her twisted mind. It was when she broke her silence that she fell into a trance, before the sobbing started. She wasn't sobbing for what she did, she felt no remorse for choking the very air he breathed right from his lungs. She felt no remorse for blocking his throat. She felt nothing as he held her, a confused man who thought he understood her, understood what she was going through. He thought she was having nightmares, he knew about her brother's death. Inside? She didn't give a fuck about him anymore. What was once beautiful was now empty, what was once life was now decay. None of it mattered the way it had meerly ten minutes before. His arms around her meant nothing, his eyes speaking their language fell upon deaf ears. It was death in her hell of her world.

Christopher was gone.


-----


"It's me."

"Are you alright?"

"Sort of. Listen. You know that prescription you had filled last Monday?"

"Yes, why? It should have lasted you months, honey..."

"No, Mom. I-- I lost it. It fell-- well it fell down one of those things in the sidewalk when I was getting off the bus from Atlanta."

"Oh. I see."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. If I need to wait I understand, it was irresponsible of m--"

"No, no, don't be silly. You're a good girl, and your father and I understand it must be difficult, what you're going through. I'll have more for you in the mail soon."

Somehow, the trembling and stuttering had nothing to do with guilt. Her bottle had hardly been lost -- But thank God a new one was found.

[dani cassidy]

The dawn is breaking
A light shining through
You're barely waking
And I'm tangled up in you.

The sound made her limbs ache and untangle from his, small form rolling away from him as hand hit endtable to find imposter. Her cell phone vibrated angrily, before the ringer went off, echoing throughout the practically empty room. It made her cringe and yelp, before the phone was accidently pushed onto the floor with a soft thud, fingers dancing their way towards it blindly. Finally, it stopped ringing -- though not in time for her to answer. Chick mewed quietly as she sat up, eyes remaining closed for a moment before blinking and squinting open. It wasn't particularly sunny, but enough that it still made her head throb as it spilled into the room from the dirty-glassed window. She scooped up her cell phone and remained sitting up, propping up a pillow to cushion spine to headboard. Turning the eirpiece volume as low as it would go, she listened to the message.

"Dani, Mark. You were supposed to be at the Kutchenson meeting at eleven o'clock.. I don't know where you are, and I don't want to know where you are. Frank pulled out from the spread, but we've already got his slot filled with someone else. You're lucky, the person filling it is Jake Botaine -- gay name, eh? Anyway, he's paying one point five times the amount we could have gotten on Kutchenson. You're one lucky son-of-a-bitch. See you when I see you. Oh, and by the way-- stop drinking on week nigh--"

Cut off by the beep that ended the message, she barely caught any of what he said and saved it, hoping she'd remember to listen to it later. A meeting? Oh, fuck. Tired, hungover brain remembered something about a meeting. Beer still crowded her tired veins, and cell phone was set back on the endtable before pillow was scooted down. Limbs sank into the mattress, and she rolled over, slender arm snaking across his stomach. Riley. Oh, shit, I slept with my coworker? She found absolutely nothing as she struggled to find bits and pieces of a memory from the night before. Her clothes were still on, well, sort of. Her underwear was still on. It wasn't like her to put anything back on after sex, so chances were, they didn't sleep sleep together. Face burried itself in the pillow, nostrils drawing in his scent (which was everywhere). Eyes peeked over the fabric at him, blinking lightly, watching. He was so beautiful when he slept.

I'm open your closed
Where I follow, you'll go
I worry I won't see your face
Light up again...

It must have been another thirty minutes before he rolled over, eyes blinking open, forearm snaking over across his face to block out the sunlight. He'd also forgotten she was there, she was perfectly silent while she slept. She'd rolled away from him and onto her side, her back to him, her hair a mess that sprawled over the pillowcase in a pool of cigarette smoke and random cologne he'd worn. Lids blinked and he pushed his arm away from his eyes, lips parting as he quietly breathed through his mouth. Tongue moved to wet his lips, and he squinted a bit, trying to remember the night before. Nothing happened -- Zachary had been hitting on her, she'd gotten rediculously trashed, and he brought her home. No kiss, nothing. Instinctively, his arm reached out to pull her close to him, wrapping his arms around her. She mewed and whined quietly in her sleep, melting herself against him quietly. It was more of a friendly hug than anything... maybe. Words parted groggily, both voices an octave lower than they'd usually been.

"My head is fucking pounding."

"That's what you get for drinking twice your body weight. Want asprin?"

"I don't take pills. It'll pass."

"Suit yourself, neglecting it will only make it worse."

"Thank you, Dr. Phil."

Her head moved to press her face against his chest, limbs tangling with his, pulling him close. She felt him as he spat out a snicker, arms enwrapping about her. Fingers gripped his thin t-shirt, nostrils breathing him in. He was intoxicating on various levels, someone who wiggled himself into her veins far too soon for comfort. But she couldn't fight it, and she probably wouldn't. They held each other for what seemed like moments, but in all actuality it was close to twenty minutes. Riley had drifted off to sleep again, and she quietly pulled herself away from him, freeing tangled limbs. Clothes were tugged on, bare feet carrying her into the kitchen. Glancing around, she searched for a piece of paper and a pen -- she found a random blue Crayola marker, and a blank piece of computer paper. Words sprawled over it like a billboard, the magnets securing it to the refridgerator with soft clicks.

<font face="Comic Sans Ms"><font size="4.5"><font color="#666699">Riley-

Went to the coffee shop to get something to drink for this headache. We missed our 11:00 -- spend the day with me?

-D.</font></font></font>

Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme
Out of the doubt that fills my mind
I somehow find
You and I <u>collide</u>.

[dani cassidy]

<center>

Haven't been sober since January
Filled these bottles with my own vibes
I'm glad it's winter, I couldn't resist
The ticking and tocking of time
You're dopamine tasted like whisky
Your love was instantly kind
It knocked me around and fucked my soul up
And I'm passed out, kicked down, sublime</center>


[Present.]


"Riley, Dani. Listen, love, I need the prints to Sarita in exactly two weeks, change the matted to the second custom choice and fix the resolution, the camera has been fucking up since Wednesday. Oh, and one other thing, the shots from San Jose were fabulous. I think I'll use them in October's spread. Cell's on, how's Kay? Call me."

It felt like springtime had warmed over. Lids collapsed over eyes before moving skyward, grays studying the skyline that burned its way across the Chicago territory. She'd been sent there for six months, to finish a photo spread for Sky magazine. So far, so good -- having graduated from SCAD with a degree in Photography, she'd decided to minor in journalism and put her heart on a page far more critical than any sleeve could ever be. Tongue jutted to wet porcelain lips, and she flipped through a student's portfolio from the community college, interested in her opinion. A friend of a friend, it made it worth her time, and regardless of how pressing her time already was, she never turned down helping other people. Okay, that's a lie. But in this case, she decided it was worth it. The student had a knack for angles, using shadows as his focal point. Fingertips moved to rub across her forehead and down over her left eye, before portfolio was slapped shut.


The bar smelled like Marlboro mixed with whisky. Heaven as a scent. Own pack was slapped onto the table in front of her, fingers slipping a stick between lips, caught by flame. Sucking in its sweet toxins, she exhaled slowly, glancing over towards the door. Riley slid in and glanced around, followed by a young guy who couldn't have been more than early twenties. Fingers waggled and waved them over, and they joined her, pulling up chairs.

"Dani, Zachary. Zachary, D."

"Pleasure."

"So you're the boy whose photos I've been reviewing, hmm?"

Pointing towards her pack, she dipped her head forward just a touch before he pulled a cigarette to his lips.

"Yeah. Comments? Concerns? Have they made you orgasm yet?"

Nostrils flared just a touch as she snickered, taking a long drag from the cigarette before end was tapped into the ashtray before her. Killians was well underway.

"Orgasm? No. Comments, concerns... well. I do like your use of shadowing as a focal point."

"Zachary said he wants to sit on one of your shoots sometime to shadow you, speaking of."

"That so?"

"Yeah, I'd love to. You name the time and place, and I'll be there with bells and dickies."

"Whistles." This, from Riley.

"Yeah, those, too, if that's what the little lady wants."

"I'm old enough to be your mother, child."

"Really? Chicks have kids when they're toddlers now? Fucking chemists have their shit straight."

Round two of the liquor, and they were well underway. There was something about Riley she could never put her finger on. Lopsided grin always pulled her in, strands of hair that fell into his eyes made her force herself from touching him, losing herself in supple blues. So often she found herself mirroring him, and vice-versa, grinning or smirking at comments others didn't seem to handle. They didn't have that silent language going she once had in college, but they had a language. She passed it off as being a good friend -- he was intelligent, knew his shit. He liked artwork, but he wasn't incredibly snooty about it. He did his job, promoted what needed to be promoted, and was on his way. Short, sweet, simple -- all the things he very obviously was not. He was crass, jagged, and everything beautiful. He made her rethink things. Life.

Four hours later the three were stumbling down the sidewalk, Riley and Zachary holding her up by the elbows to at least make her somewhat mobile. Obscenities spatted from her lips ridiculously, and they ignored her, even so much as laughed at her.

"You're fucking sick, D. You need a bed."

Zachary split off from them two blocks down, letting them figure out their own way home. It was easy for Dani -- her home wasn't Chicago, so it didn't matter where she went. It was easy for Riley, his home was anywhere in Chicago, he could do whatever the hell he wanted. Naturally, they found home together. It just... worked.

<font color="#a62a2a" size="1">[ October 06, 2005 11:05 PM: Message edited by: reconciled ]</font>

[dani cassidy]

The frayed edges of sanity were working against her, sending inexplicable threads of hope through a wired mind. The moon hung low in the sky, its belly brilliantly large in the face of her own. Wide eyes scaled its brim, arm twitching at her side as though it should reach out and touch the massive obscurity. It was perfect in its circular way -- she wondered what it'd be like to be there, bouncing frivolously from one edge to the other, letting gravity deject itself from her lilting form. Nostrils flared as fresh air was sucked in, a rude inprudance for smoke-filled lungs. The air hit her like tiny knives, before cough was waxed from lips. Limbs carried themselves to a park bench and she sat quietly, face tilted up towards the moon.

"Why do you think it looks the way it does?"

"I don't know. It looks like cheese."

"Oh come on, you have to have something more profound than that."

"Okay... it looks like a gigantic wheel of cheese. How's that?"

Lips slid into a satisfied grin, knees spread, arms folded lightly over her stomach.

"Stupid."

"Thanks, I tried."

"Don't be so sensitive."

"Don't be so intuitive."

"I can't help that I find intrinsic motivation in natural beauty."

"Christ, go pick yourself a marigold or something."

"They don't bloom in September."

"Did you ever think about how words have such a random chain of reactions attached to them?"

"Are you trying to be deep?"

"Trying, no. Just being."

"It's working. Go on."

"Well, I mean, you say something it affects whoever you tell it to. For instance, if I commented on your tit, you'd probably pass it off, but inside you'd be fuming. Or fucking flattered and flat on your pretty little intuitive face."

"If you commented on my tit, I'd be scared."

"That wasn't an option. Fuming, or flattered."

"Why not scared?"

"It doesn't start with an F."

"Okay, then, fuckingscared."

"That isn't a word. If we were playing Scrabble--"

"I'd be kicking your ass."

"No, you'd be kissing it, because you'd be in the hole."

"You can't be in the hole in Scrabble."

"Oh."

"Anyways. Intuitive my ass, anyone could make a comment about the moon. It's.. beautiful."

"You're beautiful."

"I'm not beautiful."

"How can you say that?"

A sigh skidded from her lips.

"Whatever. The moon still looks like cheese."

"And marigolds still don't bloom in September."

"I'll be back."

Shoes carried him away quietly, round eyes moving to scrape over the skyline. Chicago was amazing, so eclectic. She'd always been a city girl -- well, more like a suburbs girl. Close enough to the city that she could drive in when she wanted to, but stray away when she needed to. Cell phone beeped and she glanced down, neon blue light winking up at her with a short text message. Thumb instinctively moved to punch in the reply message, hitting send just as he came back. Hand full of weeds, a few blades of long grass, and exactly one dandilion.

"Okay, so it's not a marigold, but it's what I could find."

Teeth sunk into bottom lip as she grinned, taking the small amature bouquet from him.

"Ohh... wow."

"Special, iddn't it?"

"Yes, quite."

"I thought of something else about the moon."

"What's that?"

He moved to sit on the bench beside her, stretching his legs out infront of him, arms draped over the back of the bench, though not specifically around her shoulders.

"It's something that always exists, even when we can barely see it."

"True."

"Like God."

A short grunt escaped her lips.

"You have beef with God?"

"I don't believe in him anymore."

"Why?"

...Pass it off. Pass it off quickly, and give him a reason to never bring the subject up again. Deflect. Hide. Push it away.

"Because if God existed, marigolds would bloom every day."

[dani cassidy]

<center>It's taken me a long time
To understand this feeling
Finally I gave it up
To something I just can't say
Want to wash over you
All of the ways you make me feel
Want to taste you
In every single way

It's not that I can't live my life
Without you on the line
I just need to know
You're really worth my time
I don't want to be
The backburner girl on speed-dial one
Just want to know you
Know you are the one

Baby, drink it up
The love that comes in a paper cup
No, don't frown that way
Love'll never come in a plastic bag, yeah
Baby, understand
For me to say these things means I need to feel you
Baby, understand
I need you to say them back..</center>

<font color="#a62a2a" size="1">[ October 12, 2005 01:52 AM: Message edited by: reconciled ]</font>

[dani cassidy]

Tucked into the pocket of his jacket that he'd accidently left on her sofa.

Riley,

Whatever happened last night, was home for me. You finding the note, you coming here, the kiss... the confusion. I know you were looking for something last night, looking for a statement from me that said how I feel about you. I've never been good with words -- silence is my speech best spoken. But maybe with the help of a pen, I can somehow get this out to you.

You're more than a security blanket to me. You're the reason I go to work every day, the reason why I leave my cell phone on vibrate. You're the reason why I can't sleep at night, and the reason why I get up every morning. You're the reason I take extra time to wear that perfume I know you like, and you're the reason why suddenly, after twenty-eight years of living with myself, I'm starting to feel beautiful. Because I know you're too good to be with someone anything remotely less than.

I don't want to push you away from any of this, and that scares me to death. You teased about 'going steady' -- which was totally cute, by the way. But the fact of the matter is... ask me. Ask me, because if you don't, I don't know what I'd do with myself.

My door is always open for you.

-D.

[dani cassidy]

The apartment felt like November, the air conditioner refused to turn off. A constant hum sent chills down her spine, literally and figuratively speaking, as numbers were punched.

"This is Thomas."

"Hey Tom, it's Dani in 710. My air won't turn off and it's freezing."

"What does the thermostat read?"

Can't you just say "fine, be there in a minute," and get your ass over here? Jesus...

"It reads seventy, but I'm shaking I'm so cold, and it won't shut off."

"I'll see what I can do. Availability?"

"Umm. Now would be great."

"One minute."

She heard shuffling of papers, and the line scratched as he covered his mouthpiece with his hand. Garbled tones, and a distant cough.

"Yeah, okay. Joseph will be over in about fifteen minutes. If you need to leave, close up any animals."

"I don't have any, it's fine. Thanks."

Her fingertips felt like ice, and she grabbed an afghan her mother made her, curling up on the sofa. Cordless phone was dropped onto the end table, Rum and Diet Coke swirling in a glass with ice. It was never too early for a drink, eyes glossed over as she absently flipped through the stations, ice clanging as she brought rim to her lips. In no time, there was a heavy knock on her door.

"Maintenance."

"Door's open."

His boots were heavy against the wood, tool belt jostling about slender waist. He gave her a nod in greeting, and marched over to the thermostat.

"You said you're cold?"

"Yeah, freezing."

"No offense, but it's not cold in here. Are you sure you aren't sick?"

She muffled a scoff and glanced over to him, afghan making a cocoon about her lap.

"I don't think so?"

"Maybe you should go to a doctor."

Fingers moved to scratch the nape of her neck.

"Maybe you're just hot? Is it hot outside?"

"Your apartment is the warmest I've been in all day." Thick, dirty fingers moved to pop the face of the thermostat off, eyes studying the tiny wires.

"Everything is fine, Miss. I don't know what to tell you."

She felt tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand, as they would if she'd had a heat rash. Something didn't feel right -- she felt beads of sweat tingle down her spine, limbs instinctively kicking the afghan away from her body. Joseph turned and gasped curtly, moving over to her.

"You're turning white..."

...And everything went black.

<font color="#a62a2a" size="1">[ September 09, 2005 01:06 PM: Message edited by: reconciled ]</font>

[dani cassidy]

The hospital smelled like cheap cafeteria food and various generic antibacterial products. In other words, it was disgusting. Tame girl lay in her crisp clean bed, shifting as often as complains spewed from her lips. At least they gave her a remote to the whopping ten-channel television. The nurse came in with a chipper smile, adjusting various things about the bed.

"How're you doing?"

"I'd be better if this damn I.V. wasn't in my arm. I'm really fine, when can I leave?"

"The doctors just want to run some tests. Don't worry, we already have your insurance information, and Riley is on his way."

She felt blood rush to her cheeks, prickling with embarrassment.

"Riley?"

"Yes, you asked for him in the ambulance."

A puff of air snorted from her nose as she tried to pass it off, though the nurse grinned over at her, knowing there was something to it.

"Don't remember the ride?"

"No."

"Sources say you woke up two blocks from the hospital, demanded a cigarette, and when they wouldn't let you smoke you asked for Riley."

Figures. Sticks before dicks.

Eyes remained on the television set, lips in their general quiet line. Thumb continually pressed the channel button, eyes watching as talk shows and soap operas whizzed by. The only thing that remotely caught her interest was a re-run of a tennis tournament -- but only because that cute guy with the curly hair was playing. Eye candy. The nurse came over and checked her pulse, jotting something down on a clipboard. It was all entirely unnecessary, and she found it rather ridiculous that she couldn't check herself out. She was a patient, for Christ's sake, not a captive. The silver nametag attached to the nurse's left side gleamed from the sunlight that spilled through the high-pained window. Stephanie.

"Anything I can get you?"

"Um, well. This is stupid, but.. do you have chocolate milk?"

Eyes rolled their way towards Stephanie, a sheepish grin smuggling its way across dry lips.

"Sure. Just try to hang in there, we'll get you out of here soon. Back soon with your milk."

It was the sound of soles against linoleum that woke her up, now with an incredible crick in her neck. She whimpered and rolled her head and shoulders, trying to work it out -- and as eyes blinked open, they expected to see the necessary white shoes of Stephanie. Instead, they saw black soles that led to denim jeans, that led to a leather belt, that led to a simple white t-shirt. Eyes met his face and he grinned half-assedly at her, shaking his head a little.

"I'm gone for one hour, and you're falling on your face."

"I didn't intentionally call you."

"Well, nice to see you, too." He took a few steps towards her and firmly pressed his lips against her forehead, before pulling up a seat to sit beside her.

"Looks like they've got you hooked up 'n shit."

"It's ridiculous, Riley. And they won't let me leave."

"Of course they won't. I told them to run tests."

Lids blinked in surprised -- quick, short flicks that somehow made her ears hear better.

"What? How'd you consen--"

"Simple. You're on the company policy, and I have my ways. Quit asking questions." Fingers moved to pick up an opened carton of chocolate milk from her table, jabbing a straw into the lid.

"Here. Drink your milk."

Taking it from him, she pouted, not sure whether to be flattered or annoyed. Flattered ruled out every time.

"I called for you in the ambulance."

"Yeah, after your cigarettes. I heard. Damn, that Marlboro Man."

Giggles slid through her lips with ease and rang through the otherwise dank room, before straw was sucked momentarily. The milk was just right.

"Any idea how long until they run tests?"

"They start at five, and they'll last an hour. But I have to stay overnight until they get results, no thanks to you."

"Hey, I can't have you go and die on me. I'm a security blanket, remember? You're my responsibility."

Lips fixed themselves into a small grin. It in no way matched the feeling he gave her inside.

"So, how about some television?"

"Score's thirty-love."