Ugly Good Bad

[Meraki]

"Star matter, huh?" Eliza mentioned as she looked up at him. Sometimes she wondered how he didn't see the brilliance she saw in him. Even Eliza could feel the wonder in her stare as she took in his image sometimes. He was brilliant sure, but she just loved to listen to the way his mind worked. It was full of twists and turns, million mile and hour thoughts, changes of topic in a millisecond, but it was astounding. She wondered when she first met if he would ever consider her smart, but that didn't matter anymore. She loved to experience him in those little moments. The strange way he curled hard scientific and mathematical concepts into poetry. Eliza had never really cared much for poetry, but she had a teacher once that told her that when she heard the right poem, she would feel it.

He was the right poem. The brightest damn piece of star matter in her galaxy.

"I like that," she laughed, "Better than the Catholic nonsense I grew up with, anyway."

He agreed on the cheese curds and Eliza ordered another drink, ready to just settle into her evening and let it all just be. There was hell waiting for them in New York and she knew they were walking into the lion's den, but they would figure it out. Eliza would just have to remind herself every single day that there was a middle ground – that she could do this and not shut down like her instincts begged her to do. They would be fine. He would be safe, even if she was so worried about helplessly standing by. She had a job to do. She was not that four-year-old girl anymore. Damn it all, she had to remember that.

"In my defense," Eliza added as she sipped her new whiskey diet, "you were only last on the list because food and alcohol have been around longer than you are. But hey, stick around and I might even bump you above cheese and fried food."

She let out a warm, bright laugh that seemed to ease the residual tension in her muscles. They would be fine and if they weren't, they'd figure it out. She wasn't about to let anything happen to Rhett, not if she could do something about it. The thing about Eliza was that she was fiercely loyal to the few she held dear and she would have done anything in the world, risked anything to make sure Rhett was okay.

 

[Nav]

"Yes, star matter," Rhett confirmed. "I don't believe inany sort of cognizant after life, but the idea of becoming star matter appeals to me." It wasn't really a religion, but it was something Rhett followed. Even him, with his endless brain, needed something to believe. He needed the comforts of knowing parts of him would live on, even if he himself did not.

Thankfully, when drinks and cheese curds arrived, he didn't even need to think about it because all that possessed his mind was how delicious fried cheese was and how many molecules of lactose, approximately, were in each cheese curd. "Well, I suppose I'll have to stick around then," he mentioned as he popped another cheese curd in his mouth, "If only because I want to make sure I get ranked above fried food. You know, it would help my esteem a little." He chuckled with amusement, shook his head at her, and swallowed down the cheese with a healthy sip of his beer.

In that moment, he had almost forgotten why he had left Wisconsin. Almost, until a quick reminder came in through the door. "Holy shit!" a deep voice growled, followed by the sound of heavy boots tromping across the floor towards their booth, "Is that little Wolf-Farts I see? Fuck, it is! Hey man!" The man swung into the opposite bench of their booth without asking. He looked several years Rhett's senior and was enormously fat. When he sat down, the bench squeaked below the spread of his buttocks and it almost surprised Rhett it could take his weight. He was bald with a black mustache and several chins, each one melting into the next and finally into his neck and shoulders. At least he seemed clean—his hair still wet, likely from a shower, and slicked down the sides of his head. He wore a hooded sweatshirt and sweatpants, though his eyes gleamed like he was the most handsome man in the world.

Meanwhile, Rhett could only stare blankly across the man—his face somewhere between grim recognition and self-loathing.

"Hey, Al," Rhett's voice was uncharacteristically quiet, "Eliza, this is Al. Al, this is my girlfriend, Eliza. We went to high school together," he explained.

"Little pipsqueak here was right up in school with us. Gotta say, Rhetty—"

"It's Rhett."

"Rhetty—I'm surprised you ended up with such a fine lady with that freakish brain of yours. He's kind of a freak, isn't he, Eliza?" he looked to the woman and gave her a playful wink, "So, Eliza, what is it you do? Hmm? How did such a beautiful woman end up here in Wisconsin with Rhetty-boy?"

"Rhett."

"Rhetty?"

 

[Meraki]

"You've got a pretty good shot," Eliza teased back with a smile. As their cheese curds arrived, Eliza did not hesitate to pop one in her mouth and let out a contented hum. "Oh my god," she sighed in between her first and the second cheese curd that lingered in her grasp, "These are amazing. Glad to know the only thing I know about Wisconsin didn't let me down. Though, to be honest, cheese usually doesn't let me down."

As they were enjoying their time together, Eliza wondered what it would be like to have this every day. To have someone there for the long haul, to care for and cherish her in the same way that she cared for and cherished them. She never expected it and she certainly never expected it from Rhett, but here they were and she wondered after all this was done – where would they be? She hoped together and that was a dangerous thought for her. Eliza had given up a long time ago wishing on stars and hoping for the best. It only let her down time and time again. Every time it happened, she was the one who had to deal with the fallout and the scars that appeared and set deeply into her skin and psyche.

She shook her head as another voice jolted her out of her thoughts. It was a man she did not recognize who slipped in across from them. He was loud with an ego that seemed to stretch as far as his greasy smile. She immediately picked up on Rhett's reaction, but she didn't need to be a detective to understand who this guy was. He certainly wasn't an old friend, that much was clear.

"Maybe to people too stupid enough to understand it," Eliza shrugged, speaking in the most cordial tone she could manage. A small smile even found its way to her lips. "I'm a detective. You know, murders and the like.

"Nice to meet you…Al, was it?" she took another sip of her drink, "If you'll excuse us, Rhett and I were in the middle of a conversation. I'm sure you both can catch up another time."

 

[Nav]

In the courtroom, Rhett was undeniably a predator.

In every day life? He sort of hunkered back and was easily forgotten. Some might have described him as shy, but it was more than that. It was clear that he wasn't so much afraid to engage with people as he was just steadily a good listener. He seemed keen on listening over speaking and, because of that, few felt the need to talk to him. All his life, he had been a mostly docile man even in his younger years, when he spent more time on motorbikes than with his nose in books. There was something wise in his eyes, when someone could see it, it was a brightness that was like the sun that seared into one's retinas and making them close them for fear of going blind. Unfortunately, most people didn't see it.

Instead, they only saw the weird. They saw the tall, lanky man with a button nose and domestic features. They saw the eerie level of intelligence and the interest in art and science instead of football and beer. They didn't see the uniqueness, they only saw the differences.

"Aw, c'mon, baby girl," Al gave her a friendly, cattish wink, as he looked at her like a not quite hungry cat to a mouse, "No need to be feisty like that. I'm sure you wouldn't mind, would ya, Rhetty Boy? You know, we go way back. He was the weird little kid in high school. What you doing these days, anyways? Solving world hunger? Curing cancer? Bringing about world peace?"

Rhett hummed softly, sipping his beer and looking across the table to Al, "I'm an attorney, actually," he clarified gently, his tone neither aggressive nor receptive, just a little aloof. "I'm living in New York. We're living in New York."

"Hot damn, Rhetty Boy, you did a bang up job for yourself hooking up with a pussy like that," he motioned to Eliza and gave her another sly wink, as if he was in some sort of secret communication with her. "Smart too, detective, right?" He didn't seem to get the hint that he wasn't wanted and as he settled his seat deeper into the booth, it became clear that he planned to stay, at least for the time being. Resigning himself to his tormented fate, Rhett reached for another cheese curd and popped it into his mouth.

"And yourself? What have you been up to, Al?"

"Oh, you know," he waved a hand, "Same ol, same ol. Workin' at the garage, still. Nice place, but we don't get hotties like that walking into our little town everyday."

 

[Meraki]

No one called Eliza Madison "a pussy like that."

She tried to be cordial. She tried to play the loving, kind girlfriend card but there were just parts of her that would never change. Parts that were rough and edges that were a bit sharp. She had come a long way from the scrappy teen she used to be, but guys like Al were the reason she had lighter fluid coursing through her veins just waiting to ignite at the slightest spark. For too long she had listened to men like him talk to her like that, and she was too strong-willed to let that shit happen.

Her hand tightened on her glass for a second before taking a long, cleansing sip. She was trying so hard. So hard. Ultimately, she lost. "Christ, no wonder you're still living in your fucking hometown," she snapped as she pushed herself standing. She had no intention of leaving, but Al's hand immediately shot out to grab her wrist with a laugh. "C'mon, baby girl," he repeated and something in Eliza snapped. In a moment, his oversized self was out of the booth and on the ground. Near three times Eliza's size and he was down.

"How about you learn some manners next time, yeah?" she spoke clearly as he scrambled off the ground, "This pussy is the best fucking shot in New York City, so if I were you I would start figuring out how to run, now."

"Is there a problem here?" the bartender asked, but didn't seem to concerned as he lazily peeked over the bar and moved back to cleaning glasses.

"No, no problem at all," Eliza called back, "He was just leaving so that Rhett and I can enjoy our lunch. Weren't you Al?"

 

[Nav]

Rhett never felt obliged to defend anyone's honor, mostly because anyone's honor that would need defending could do a better job defending it than Rhett ever could. He was too much of a pacifist, too willing to take the abuse just so he didn't make anything worse than it already was. He had always been that way and he had come to accept it; Eliza, however, was not that way. In a roar, she rose to her feet and pushed herself past Rhett on the booth. He made a soft 'murr' and moved to the side, so she could get out.

"What? What's wrong with living in your hometown, hm? Not everyone gets out to see everythin," Al didn't snap back, but his voice was forceful until he rolled. He struggled to get up again. The weight of his body interfered with his movements, causing him to flounder for several long moments while people of the bar stared at him in bewilderment, beginning to chuckle quietly in their parties before turning back to their cheeks. Al must have felt mortified as he managed to get his knees below himself and shakily rise to his feet "Y—yea," Al replied to Eliza. He didn't just blush, he turned as red as a beetroot and radiated heat like a hot pan, knowing there was no rescue from his humiliation. Once he did manage to get onto his feet, he was out the door in a rush.

He didn't begin to tear up, but Rhett imagined he was very near it… still, it didn't make Rhett feel any better.

Maintaining his silence throughout the situation, Rhett turned back to his beer and cheese curds and hummed quietly as he reached for another hunk of fried cheese and popped it into his mouth. Returning to the sweet and savory goodness of their lunch, Rhett failed to comment on what had happened—and it was impossible to tell if he was amused or displeased, as his face was resting in a peaceful neutral.

"I think we should head back soon."

 

[Meraki]

Eliza was who she was.

She spent so much of her life with powerfully strong walls and her fists raised ready to fight at any time. Pacifism didn't exist in the hell she grew up in and while Rhett chose to say nothing to Al and take the abuse, Eliza couldn't. Whether that made her a bad person or not, she didn't know. To be honest? She didn't care much. She had long since known that no one in this life would ever defend her like she saw in the movies, so she held her own and trudged along her own path. She wasn't about to let someone talk about her that way and she surely didn't want anyone talking about Rhett that way, but he was free to choose his own way to deal with the comments. She wasn't his mother, nor was she his keeper, and she couldn't read his neutral expression – but his words weren't exactly warm as they had been.

It seemed as though they would only be allotted brief, flickering moments of warmth and laughter.

Eliza rolled her shoulder and felt a bit of a tug. Just irritated, but enough to notice. Since she was already standing, she moved to the bar to get their check and pay it. The last thing she wanted to do was sit down and hear how disappointed Rhett probably was, so when she came back she grabbed her jacket and slipped it back on. "Yeah, we probably should," she agreed and grabbed one last cheese curd for the road. It felt like being a child again, anticipating the fallout for her actions. Hell, she still remembered being eleven and nearly being kicked out of school for how scrappy she was sometimes. Little did they knew she went home to foster homes where fighting back was the only way to stay alive and even then, she was always too small to win and the scars appeared one by one.

Fight or flight is hard to understand when the only option was ever fight.

 

[Nav]

Rhett didn't yell or get angry; he had no reason or right to.

Down to their cores, he and Eliza were different and the chances of their relationship ever having come to be had it not been for their circumstances in New York were slim, at best. They had moments where they simply just didn't understand one another, and this was one of those moments, painfully. While Eliza paid their bill, Rhett rose and began to pull his coat over his shoulders, searching for the truck keys as he went. Ensuring he had all of his belongings, they left the bar with the discomfort between them as stiff and cold as day old oatmeal.

The air outside stung into him and chilled him down to the marrow of his bones. The sun was still shining, but it felt useless to defend against the cold that seeped in through every crack and space in his winter clothing. We a shiver, he quickly unlocked the truck and slipped into the driver's side, starting up the engine. The old truck never really got warm. It could be running all day and still only reach a mild, tolerable temperature in the cabin, so he didn't even bother to wait for it to warm up. Once they were both in and buckled, he pulled out of the bar parking lot and down the road back towards the house.

The drive was made in silence. Rhett had nothing worth saying and his brain was busy swirling around in his own head, over and over. His thoughts got stuck into a negative feedback loop over the same thoughts. No matter how much he thought about them, nothing ever seemed to get solved. Maybe there just wasn't a solution for him to find. Instead, he let his mind begin to wander to math. Calculations marquee across his thoughts and he found comfort in the numbers crunching in his contemplations.

"You kind of threatened to kill him, Eliza," Rhett finally began, knowing it was a conversation they needed to have. "And I'm sure you were taking just to intimidate him, but you're going to have to excuse me that after all we've been through—with Robinson and Sylvia—that those words didn't sit particularly well with me."

She had also insulted Al over never having left his home town—but Rhett decided it was against his better interests to remind her that she hadn't, either.

"Perhaps I should have stood up for you. In fact, I probably should have, but I probably won't. It's not that you don't deserve to be stood up for, you do. But—but," God damnit, he hated fumbling over words like an uneducated simpleton, "I'm just not sure I'll ever be able to."

 

[Meraki]

After all we've been through—with Robinson and Sylvia.

Oof. That one hurt. Eliza looked over at him as he spoke, words even and calculated as they always were. She tried not to take offense, to know in her heart that her and Robinson were different, but he had essentially raised her. Everything she had learned in her adult life was stemmed from his guidance. She shook her head, keeping her mouth shut because she knew herself. There was a time for quick, unfiltered response and then there was time for a bit of careful thought before a comment. This moment screamed the latter.

"I don't need you to stand up for me."

It wasn't a cold statement, instead it was perhaps the most genuine thing she had said in weeks. It was in an even tone, honest and almost an unsettling stark contrast from usual Eliza. There was no jest, no twinge of sarcasm. Her eyes glanced back out the window at the winter world just passing by, undisturbed by them or anyone, really. "If at this point in my life I can't stand up for myself, then all of this bullshit I've lived through has been for absolutely nothing," she admitted, "I wouldn't have laid another finger on him. I can count the number of people I have killed on one hand."

"March 7, 2013 and July 21, 2015. Both of which involved children who would have died if I didn't take the shot. So maybe Robinson shaped my life, but I don't like hearing you comparing something I did to him. I don't ever want to be him. So I'm sorry for back there with Al. I'm sorry for threatening him and for laying a and on him. If he didn't leave, I would have left, but I can understand why you might have been unnerved by it or believed that I would act differently."

"I don't get to dictate your life, Rhett. I would defend you until my last breath, you know that. Maybe you're a pacifist, okay. I understand that. But you just sat in there and took it. I know how incredible you are and I trust you with my life. But you want me to step back and watch as you go toe to toe with Sylvia by yourself."

"And you can't even tell a bully to fuck off," she said simply, "What happens when your life is at stake?"

 

[Nav]

"No, of course not. You really don't need anything from me, you've made that quite clear at every opportunity you've gotten. I took it because what would have picking that fight won me? You know who you are Eliza, and you know I do. Trying to convince Al, humiliating him did nothing. It didn't change anything for either of us. It didn't change my past, it didn't change yours. It didn't change my opinion of you, no matter what he said. So, why fight? Why do you keep fighting everything in your life?"

The drive from the bar to the house was short and by the time they pulled in and killed the engine of the truck, Rhett knew he needed a break from the conversation. Arguing over it while they were still so close to the situation would do neither of them any favours, and had turned a very small thing into something much larger. Perhaps it was good, he thought to himself. Perhaps these were feelings they had both been feeling for a while and needed to air. The timing felt terrible, as they were on the verge of returning to New York. Maybe the separation would do them both some good, after all.

"You've never looked so honest as when you said that, but I'm not your project. You don't trust me with Sylvia? I won't go. Im sure you can figure something else out." Sitting back against the seat, he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel for a beat before pushing open the door and sliding out.

"I should help with chores."

 

[Meraki]

He was always the one who accused her of running, but it was him who was walking away that time.

"You know I don't think of you like that," she stated, but she knew it was useless.

It felt strange to be on the other end of it, to be honest. To watch as he walked back into the house and she just couldn't bring herself to do it. It wasn't her house, it wasn't her place. She couldn't very well go inside and sit up in his room, tangled up in his sheets while thinking about how terribly this all went. If he thought of her like that, if he genuinely believed after all they'd been through that she thought he was just a project? What was she supposed to do? She trusted him, but trust and worry were two different beasts entirely. She had never stopped him before, never moved to hold him back for her own fears or shortcomings, and his words hurt.

Maybe he would have been better off never walking into her office that day. Then he wouldn't be caught up in all of this. Eliza was tangled too deeply since she was born, but he was in this because he was a good person. Rhett Wolfhart had one of the kindest, most generous hearts she had ever had the pleasure of knowing. But what waited for them in New York? It was so much darker than that.

But he wasn't allowed to tell her that he couldn't and wouldn't defend her, while also being upset that she had worked to be able to defend herself. Now that wasn't fair.

Eliza didn't go inside. Instead, she tucked herself a little deeper into her jacket and wandered off into the Wolfhart property. Being from New York, it was easy to navigate landmarks and street signs, but it was different here. The woods didn't call out to her in the same way and it took her just a bit to find the little pond they'd managed to skate on the other day. It seemed silly, but Eliza just felt better when her foot hit that ice and she could just glide around like nothing mattered.

She had been lost in her thoughts, skating for a few moments when it happened. For the first time since she was little, Eliza lost her footing and rather gracefully just fell on her behind. It took her a minute to process it, to feel the cold under her gloved hands and jeans. It didn't take much to pick herself back up again, but she couldn't vividly remember the last time she'd fallen on ice. It had always come so naturally to her. Brushing off the bit of snow, Eliza stepped off onto the edge of the pond and looked up at the towering oak tree. It was more of a skeleton against the backdrop, but she notched her foot into the trunk, jumped and grabbed onto the thick, lowest hanging branch. With a single pullup, she managed to get herself up and swung her leg over.

She had never climbed a tree before.

She bent her knee on the branch and let the other leg dangle over. She just need some time. For what exactly, she wasn't sure, but looking out on the Wolfhart property from up in a tree seemed to calm the anxiety welling in her chest. So she wasn't about to question it.

 

[Nav]

The inside of the house was warm. It had all the elements a house should: there were pictures on the wall, a fire in the fireplace, the sound of little feet pattering upstairs as he stepped in from the drive and into the kitchen with a swirl of snow dancing at his feet. Hastily, he dusted off his coat and moved to slip it off his shoulders, looking up to catch his mother staring at him. She was standing with her arms elbow-deep in sudsy dish water, though she hadn't moved to massage the scrubbie across the plate she was washing since he had entered.

"Rhett?" she asked, "Oh…" he knew that tone of voice. Of course he knew that tone of voice because she knew. She could see it in his eyes, she could see it in the tick that caused his fingers to jingle absent-mindedly at his hip. She knew, she knew, she knew… seventy-two, fifty-six, forty-nine, he continued to derive one equation after the other… multiplying by the number of drips the faucet made—one, two, three, four—dividing by the clicks the clock made as it passed seconds—fifteen, sixteen, seventeen.

"Honey, have you been taking your medication? You know what Dr. Kunusten said…"

His fingers twitched a little more uncomfortably. More numbers. Always more numbers. There was the number of times the kids thumped upstairs, there was the number of times the music on the radio played an E note… and F note… too many numbers, it felt like someone had dragged sandpaper across his brain.

"I knew this was going to happen. New York is not a place for someone like you, Rhett, sweetheart. That isn't a bad thing. Sometimes, there are people, like you and me, who don't belong places." She cooed, taking her hands from the water and drying her hands off on the towel before moving over to a kitchen drawer. "When you called me, I went to the drugstore and convinced Mr. Lumpsten to renew your prescription. I just knew. It's a mother's intuition."

The white bottle was pristine. Damnit. Fifty pills divided by seventy-two E notes, multiplied by four hundred and seventy-six clock ticks. When had all of this gotten so hard? He had thought had been doing so well, but as if he wasn't even controlling his own body, he found his hand opening for the bottle that was placed in it.

You can't even tell a bully to fuck off. Maybe he couldn't resist the drugs either. Maybe not for long. He screwed the cap off and swallowed one down.

"You're right," Rhett smiled to his mother, though it was blank and lost… he was too far in his own thoughts. Seven-hundred sixty. Seven. Twelve. Forty-two… forty-two… forty-one.

"Rhett! Come play Uno with us!" Jesse poked her little head from the living room into the kitchen, waving him to join her and her younger sister, Ellen.

Shaking his head a little, as if unsure what had just happened, Rhett thanked his mother, kicked off his shoes and moved into the living room. "Of course," he said, settling down in the circle as Jesse, twelve years old… seventy-two, sixteen, forty-seven… shit… dealt the cards. He could count them. Jesse must have had a seven blue, a six red… Ellen, too. Blue, blue, red, blue, green, green, yellow.

"Your turn!" Ellen nudged him in the knee with her toes.

"Wild…. Blue."

 

[Meraki]

Apologize.

It was the only thing on Eliza's mind when she started back towards the house. The cold had settled into her bones so deeply that she couldn't help the occasional shiver as her boots crunched in the snow. She knew she wasn't entirely wrong, but they both had their issues. They both had their shortcomings and when this had all started – the day he showed up for her in the hospital – they both swore they would try. Maybe it was easier to shut down when she was hurt, but she never wanted to do that to Rhett. He'd had too many people shut down on him before, shut him out for fear of his mind, and she never wanted to be in that category. Her worry was warranted but her words were harsh.

They had both said some hurtful things. It wasn't her strong suit, but she remembered Linda telling her once that relationships weren't about being the same, it was about finding that middle ground you shared. She'd told Eliza that love, like most things in life, were boring if there wasn't some difference, some change. Sure, she'd been trying to console a distraught sixteen-year-old Eliza after her first dance, but the sentiment still stood. She loved Rhett for everything they shared and for everything he was in himself. He had done so much for her, given up so much, and he stayed when no one else in the world was willing to give her a shot. He had given up his medication, promised to be beside her, and that would be enough.

She had to stop reverting to what was easy – not everyone in the world would let her down.

Eliza slipped into the kitchen quietly to find Rhett's mother hard at work already readying for dinner. Not quite full preparation, but Eliza could see the ingredients slowly coming out onto the counter. She could hear the kids in the other room laughing and playing. It didn't fit like a glove for Eliza, but it was warm. Maybe this would never be who she was, but she enjoyed it. She really did.

Rhett's mother greeted her kindly and Eliza moved to take her jacket off, her eyes wandering absentmindedly until they settled on a familiar sight. On the edge of the counter was a singular little bottle of pills. Eliza moved slowly towards them and picked them up, to find that the cap was still a bit loose. Rhett Wolfhart. Eliza felt her heart beat painfully in her chest. "Just a refill," his mother said as thought it was the simplest thing in the world, "figured he might need them."

Eliza's entire world flashed painfully in her vision. The explosion. The hospital. Long, agonizing nights and fighting through the pain. She remembered the vomit, the careful showers and frustration. The promises. The kidnappings. The fear. The promises. Prison. Sylvia. Robinson. Diaz. Promises. Mom and Dad. Linda. Scars. Painful fucking scars. Tears. Pain. Fear. Promises. He promised.

Eliza didn't even realize the bottle fell from her hand until she heard it clatter against the counter, little pills scattering about the countertop. Rhett's mother immediately moved with words Eliza didn't hear. One fight. One fight and she had ruined fucking everything. Tears burned in her eyes but she blinked them back. She muttered an apology before turning on her heel and starting back out of the house.

She needed air. She couldn't fucking breathe.

 

[Nav]

Seven. Sixteen. Forty two. Seventy seven.

God. It wouldn't stop; he couldn't get it to stop no matter how desperately he tried. He couldn't turn it off. It had never been easy before but it had been manageable. He couldn't do it. They wouldn't stop. They burned through him with more heat than a saudering iron, and his stomach continued to churn like there was cement in it. You can't even tell a bully to fuck off. You can't. You can't. You can't. Seventeen. It was the worst record and it took over his entire brain. He couldn't. He couldn't, couldn't, couldnt. He wasn't good enough. He rubbed his hand frustratingly against his forehead, swiping away the droplets of sweat and pushing his hair away from his forehead.

"It's your turn, Rhettyyyyy." Ellen cried.

Please, not that name, he wanted to beg her but just straightened up a little. His face didn't betray the war raging between his heart and his head and he just smiled. You can't even... please not that name. "My turn? I must not have been paying attention... hm... a green eight. Ok, let's see."

"You look frustrated," little Ellen reached over and patted his arm, "it's okay. It's not all about winning."

"You're right," Rhett laid down a green two, "especially when I'm playing against such smart girls. I'll never win!"

They giggled at his compliment, looking bright and nodding enthusiastically. "We are good, but I'm the best!" Ellen declared, playing a four... twenty two. One thousand sixty three. Seven. One.

Just one. One. One, all alone. One.

The crash in the kitchen caused all three to look up to see what the commotion was. Rhett was about to go look and investigate but Jesse caught his arm and motioned to the Wild she had just played.

"Uno! Your turn! I pick yellow!"

He played a four. Three. Two. One. Damnit, why one? He couldn't. They played the rest of the round and Jesse won, to which Rhett smiled and helped clean up the cards. "I'm tired. I'm going to go take a nap. Have fun, we can play more tonight. Okay?"

The girls groaned but ultimately accepted, letting him get up and make his way up the stairs. Ten stairs, divided by sixteen seconds, fourteen pictures, nine exhalations.... he collapsed on his bed, groaning at the ache in his head. Twenty two. One hundred and one. Six. Five. Twenty nine.

Her.

 

[Meraki]

Eliza had just started walking.

She had no idea where she was or how to get into town, but she just kept walking and followed the main road as far as her legs would carry her. It had started off as a run, but her lungs were so tired from the biting cold that she'd slowed down to a defeated, slow amble. Every single fear in her body ignited at the realization, her heart laboring through the reality of what this meant. She had caused him to relapse back into the very thing he swore he didn't want or need. He had worked so hard, she had helped him – god, she was there for the sweats and wild minded breakdowns, and he'd given all that progress up for what? Because she couldn't keep her damn mouth shut.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

The voice echoed in her mind but she could not discern whose it was. Her skin was crawling, the pressure beneath her skin threatening to tear her in two. They'd been healed over for years, but she became unnaturally aware of the marred skin of her back. What was she worth? Not all of this. Not broken families and promises and ruining Rhett's entire fucking life. No, he didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to be thrown back into pills because she couldn't be what he needed.

But it hurt, more than anything had ever hurt before in her life. More than the explosion, more than the scars, because she couldn't breathe and she knew he wasn't coming for her this time. No phone call or emergency contact would change the events of the last twelve hours. It was a selfish thought, but she thought that he had chosen her for once in her god damn life. But like everything else, she set it up in flames because of her stupid anxieties. By the time she looked up from her walk, she had no idea where she was, but it was open, empty road and the sun was going down. Fucking perfect.

Her phone rang in her pocket. The sound was startling after a week of having it shut off, but Eliza fished it out in some lame fucking hope that it was Rhett calling to offer some explanation. Robinson. She cursed under her breath and went to ignore the call, but something in her cried out like a scared little girl, alone in a world she didn't understand. "Hello?" she answered, her voice small in the vast, silent air of Wisconsin.

"Eliza?" his voice was almost frantic, "Liz? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me," she breathed out.

"Are you alright? Where are you? Do you need me to come get you? Just say the word and I'll have someone out there to get you. I'm so sorry, I never meant for –"

"I know," Eliza interrupted him, her voice soft, "I've just…I've been better."

"Did something else happen?"

She almost told him. She almost admitted to him the fear dwelling in her heart, but she knew better, even when she felt like the world was collapsing around her. "It's just hard sometimes," she replied, "With everything that's happened, I just wonder why me?"

"Liz, listen. I can't – you are important. Whatever is happening, whatever's got you so worked up, do not let it hurt you. You're strong, kid. Stronger than anyone gives you credit for. If there's one thing I know about you, it's that you don't need anyone. You can do it alone."

"But what if I don't want to be alone?" she asked, her voice impossibly small.

"Then come home, Eliza," Robinson said as if it was the easiest thing in the world, "Come home and I'll be here. Forget all of this, just come back."

"You just have to tell me where you are."

Click.

Eliza ended the call. "Fuck," she muttered under her breath, the words catching the air like smoke in the chill. She looked back the way she came and did not recognize an inch of it, but she knew if she was going to make it back before it dropped too low in temperature, she had to start now. She had no idea what she would say when she got there, or how long it would take her to get there.

But even when he hurt her so deeply, Eliza couldn't help the way her life had changed.

He claimed she was always running away, but she wasn't. Eliza was running to him. Always to him.

 

[Nav]

Rhett remembered the first time he had seen Eliza as more than just an obnoxious, bullheaded detective.

Of course he had, he remembered almost everything, but there was a moment he could recall looking at Eliza and feeling his mind slow down. The medication had always slowed him down, too, but it was different. It had been a cold, snowy day and he hadn't taken his medications yet. His mind was amuck with thoughts, he had been frustrated, cold, and the sidewalk salt had stained his shoes, which had annoyed him. At a coffee shop, he and Eliza had met briefly to discuss something and he remembered looking at her and—it all went away.

It was blank, everything.

It was only a moment… a flash of time before his brain kicked up again and went back into its same routine. Number after number after number. He had never had a blank moment like that before. He wasn't even sure he understood what happened but for a split second, he felt normal. He didn't feel like the same boy who had grown up hearing "people like you…" He had lived his life by it: people like you. People like him. Weirdos. Freaks. Losers.

His eyes split open again well after dark. His brain was slow. He could feel it chugging along like it had been shackled down with the weight of an anvil. The normal gloss in his eyes, and the twitches of his pupils as he looked around and took in everything, calculated everything, was extinguished. It was the image people liked to see because he looked normal. Really, the medications had always been more about other people than himself. People didn't like to see that calculations on his face or the small ticks in his fingers. People were uneasy when he told them about his spur of the moment calculations or inner most thoughts. Normal people thought about grocery lists and picking the kids up after school…. Not the wind change velocity during a snow storm, or approximately how many golf balls could fit in a standard US school bus.

No one wanted to know about those things and those types of things made people uncomfortable. All his life, he had seen people grow more relaxed when his face relaxed into the drone-like, robotic state of mind he fell into with medications. It was his personality committing suicide, but at least he could. Maybe… maybe… he could. Maybe he could drink beer and watch sports and tell a bully to fuck off for once. He rubbed a hand against his closed eyes as he rose from bed.

No, probably not.

Maybe Eliza would stay with him if he wasn't a person like you…

He tiptoed down the stairs and into the main living room. It was late, dark, and well past dinner. His mother was cleaning up dinner in the kitchen.

"Hey, have you seen Eliza?"

"Oh, honey, you look like you're feeling much better," she smiled, taking Rhett's chin in her fingers and moving his head back and forth as if to inspect him like a cow at an auction, "You look much better, indeed. I'm glad we did that for you. Rhett, you know what the doctor said… you need to stay on your medication for the rest of your life, sweetheart. It's what keeps you together. You should stay in Wisconsin for a while longer. We'll get an appointment with the doctor and the psychiatrist again…"

"Mom. Eliza?"

"No, haven't seen her since earlier."

"Earlier when?"

"Came in while you were playing with the girls. She seemed a little off. Spilled some things and left… is everything okay?"

She wasn't coming back. He had expected her to run—he knew that's what she did when she wasn't sure what else to do, but now he ran too and she wasn't going to come back because of it. The numbers started again.

This time, there was no medication left to get them to stop.

 

[Meraki]

She was frozen to the damn bone.

What the hell was wrong with fucking Wisconsin?

She always though that New York had pretty frigid winters, but there was just such a vastness to Wisconsin that the cold settled in deeper and the numbers plummeted. Her teeth were chattering by the time the house even came into view. The entire world was shadowed in darkness, the night pressing on like nothing was different. Her hands were tucked desperately into her pockets, her nose was tinged red from the cold wind and her cheeks were flushed with the slightest blush. Stupid winter. Stupid cold.

She wasn't sure what she would say to Rhett, but she knew that she had two choices in life. One, she could run back to Robinson and the life she lived before. She could mask her suffering and pain, live with people at a distance, and maybe get that dog she always wanted. She would go through life going to the same coffee shop, eating the same breakfast, and working the same kinds of cases over and over and over again. She would just be the old Eliza. Rough and tough, without a damn care in the world. Or, she could go back. She could face the unknown and try her damnedest to fight for something for once against of against it. She could talk it out with Rhett, try to make it work, and if he didn't want her – if she was too much for him – then she would figure it out. It felt impossible but her entire life was facing impossible situations and overcoming them. So why was she so scared?

Her boots creaked against the wooden steps going up to the kitchen door. She took a deep breath before turning the knob and pushing it open. She wasn't sure how she was going to explain herself, but she certainly didn't expect walking into the kitchen and finding herself met with the eyes of both Rhett's mother and Rhett. Clearly, she had interrupted something. She was freezing, the heat of the house making her skin tingle uncomfortably, but it was reality that kept her frozen in her spot. One moment and then another before she moved slowly to take her jacket off and slip off her boots. Once she was free, she turned to Rhett and did not hesitate to clear the distance between them.

She could see it in his face, in his eyes, and she knew he took the pills. She was damn fucking sure of it, but it didn't matter. She didn't even care if his mother was right there, she knew in that moment she had a choice to make. All or nothing. Him with everything – the meds, the wild thoughts – or nothing. So she stepped towards him and immediately pulled him into her arms and just held him. Whether it was more for him or her, she didn't know, but she held on desperately.

"I want to fight for us," she said gently, a shiver still reverberating in her words, "not against you. I'm so sorry, Rhett."

 

[Nav]

"Let me help with the dishes."

He was tapping his fingers against the side of his leg again and he couldn't make it stop. One, two, three… one, two, three… one, two, three… it was over and over and incessant it wouldn't stop no matter how much he mentally willed it to stop. He just wanted to be able to control his own body and thoughts, but there were times it felt like he couldn't. Medication usually fixed it in the past, but not it wasn't working. It just dipped his brain in chloroform and let his anxiety run the show. Without medication, he had gotten better. He had his ticks and his crazy thoughts and moments where his contemplations would begin to weigh down and he was crushed underneath them, but it had been getting easier and better, and the medications made it worse.

Sanity was just a limited mind.

His brain had become a caricature of itself, but it hadn't been that way for the last few months. His emotions and thoughts had been variable as everyone else's: sometimes calm and manageable, other times hard to deal with. Now he just felt stuck in a negative range and always extreme. Seventy-two, fifteen ticks had gone by and he opened his eyes. The cards shuffled—fifty two. His mother had begun to curl up the sugar bag and put it away. 17.6 million grains of sugar per kilo. Seventeen, no, eighteen E notes… nineteen, twenty… would the song on the radio stop playing E notes? He was fucking sick of E notes. He wanted to stop counting them but the register kept pinging up one everytime he heard another. Twenty-one. Fuck. Damnit. Please… just stop.

"No, honey, you should go lie down. I'll call the doctor in the morning—"

"Damnit, mom," Rhett pushed a finger against his left temple, trying to get the numbers to stop for just a second, "I'm going back to New York in a day, okay? I'm not going back to the doctor here and I'm not staying in Wisconsin."

"Just consider…" but she couldn't continue because the door opened and both pair of eyes looked to it, watching as Eliza stepped in with cheek as red as a tomato and she stopped. Had she come back to tell him? Damnit… more E notes. Fifty-seven, fifty-eight. He needed it to stop and it stopped. It all stopped. His brain was quiet when he asked it to be quiet and he could only feel the annoying pulses of a headache left behind from all the voices screaming at once for so long.

The warmth of being next to Eliza made him happy, made him want forgiveness even more. In the embrace she clung to him with, the world stopped sill on its axis. There was no time, no wind, no winter, no numbers. Rhett's mind was at peace and wishing it could keep her wrapped around him like a well-worn sweater for always. His arms snaked around her shoulders and he cradled her.

Her.

 

[Meraki]

Eliza knew in that moment that Rhett's mother would never forgive her.

Not for taking him back to New York, not for keeping him away from her, but she could stomach the disappointment. She could deal with it because she knew she didn't make Rhett do anything, he chose his own path, and if she had to be the scapegoat for his mother's frustrations and misery, so be it. It was what you did when you loved someone – really loved someone – you stood by them no matter what the storm, no matter how difficult the road. She understood why the divorce rate was so high because it was easy to give up. It was easy to decide that this was the dream and to leave it behind, but real love – it took work. Constant work. Her and Rhett were always changing both for each other and for themselves, but at the end of the day they were better together.

She knew that now. God, did she finally understand.

His arms wrapped around her in a way she had never felt before, like he needed her there and it was the first-time Eliza had ever felt it. She had never been needed by anyone before, but for Rhett she would do whatever she could to be exactly what he needed. If that meant she held back and learned to use her words instead of her fists, she would. A hundred times over, she would.

Eliza buried her face into his chest and just inhaled. She knew she loved him, but something in that moment just reaffirmed that she had made the right decision. She couldn't explain it, but in her soul she felt like she was finally in the right place at the right time. She pulled back just enough to catch his lips in a slow, soft peck before pulling back and looking up to him. It always surprised her how different their blue eyes were – his like a brilliant ocean and hers like an icy morning – but they brought her comfort. Especially when she looked up and saw his eyes on her not looking through numbers to get to her.

"Are you okay?" she asked, bypassing the millions of other words she had prepared for this moment. None of them seemed as important as making sure that he was alright. It had been some time since he'd taken pills and she had no idea the side effects of just jumping right back into it.

 

[Nav]

She moved slowly and tenderly, first burrowing herself into his chest so he could wrap his arms all the way around her. She didn't make the numbers go away or stop, no one person held that power entirely, but she made it easier to control. She allowed him to relax and feel comfortable enough in his own skin to deal with it on his own. She gave him entire days, sometimes, where he felt perfectly normal. From sun up to sun down, he went through his day without any problem… no numbers commandeering his brain, no twitches, no ticks. There had been plenty of days before Wisconsin where he just seemed normal.

Like he was just like everyone else, and not someone different.

Feeling her tug back, he opened his arms just a little so he could look down at her, though she had already arched up on to her toes and pressed a kiss against his lips that he didn't even need to think about responding to. Only when it had ended, did he open his eyes just partially, slowly—like he hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep—and looked down to her as she asked the dreaded question. The hardest question in the world to answer because it never felt, no matter what he said in response, that he had given the right answer. He could lie and tell her he was fine, but he knew better. She wouldn't believe him.

He could try and explain the numbers, the ache in his brain right behind his eyes, and the way the world around him felt, but there weren't words for it. She didn't come from the same place he did, but he knew she ached all the same. They were broken people. They weren't a normal couple, and his mother's word, they were people like them…

For once, Rhett was a little bit okay with that.

"I'm just tired," he admitted. It wasn't a type of tired that came from a lack of sleep. It was a tired that came from a lot of confusion, a lot of hurt, and and a dash of hostility. The kitchen was no place to sort through any of that; it was certainly not the place for him to apologize, because he could only deal with so many confused mother glares in one dose. "Come on, let's head upstairs."

It wasn't meant to be a way to avoid something, or to escape the very important pending conversation, but Rhett was not about to fight over his mother's impending intrusions on their talk.