Leaving

Scott tries not to let the surprise show on his face. Not that he thought Hope was one to go out dating guys all the time, but he thought for sure after he'd sent that letter, that she would have found companionship with someone else. But...she hadn't. Why? He wondered if he knew.

He's glad when she changes the subject though, diverting his mind to something else. Taking a sip of water, he shakes his head. "I... really don't know. I'm not really sure what to do."

He looks down for a moment, watching Domino. "I suppose I'd like to go back to work if Reese will have me. Maybe just a little... like part time or something... to see if I can handle it." He'd be the first to admit he wasn't sure how much he could handle at this point. It would all be trial and error from here on out. "If I can't then... I guess it'll be flipping burgers somewhere or something." Tucked away in the back of his mind was his photography. His hidden dream had always been to make a career out of his hobby. Now though... he didn't know if he still had it in him or not, and besides that, he'd need to get a new camera and they didn't come cheap.

He forces a smile and takes another bite of food, trying to at least eat half of what was on his plate. His taste buds loved it. His stomach not so much. "There's always jobs around," he concludes. "I figure something out."


Jason returns a light kiss to Katie's lips, glad to see she wasn't too upset over this whole thing. What did bother him, though, was the strange sensation - or lack thereof - when receiving and returning Katie's affection. At least he thought it was affection. Well it was, right? Obviously. So why did it...
He stops his mind from going there. He was just tired. That was all.

Catching Katie's eye, he holds his gaze, letting her words linger. He was glad, for her sake, he had survived this battle. Glancing over to see Rick and Misty were still busy at work, he moves over a little in his bed even though it hurt. Making room, he pats the blanket next to him as an invitation. Letting her lie down next to him, he turns on his side and wraps an arm around her, burying his face into her neck and hair. Closing his eyes, he sighs deeply. "We don't have to think about that now," he mumbles. She was safe. He was safe. That's all that mattered.

Why, then, did he feel so very empty? It was as if, along with their connection, all emotion had been completely drained from him. And along with it...

He scrunches his eyes closed tighter. He didn't want to think about it. He just wanted to rest here close to Katie and feel...

He swallows hard.

Nothing.


Wyatt digests Aerith's questions, just letting her do the talking for a few moments. He didn't really have good answers though. It had been a long time since he'd felt this messed up about anything.

"We're all overworked," he finally responds. His eyes remained fixed on the ceiling. "Not that he doesn't have a right to react to it, but that's nothing really new I guess."

He lapses into silence again before figuring out his next answer. "I do like Angelica. I mean, she's alright and all." He shrugs. "I guess in the beginning, I thought it was cute Dad was dating someone. Now it just feels weird. I mean we all work together. I walk down the hall and there she is." He waves. "Hi... Miss Lockhart? Angelica? Dad's girlfriend? Future stepmother?" He grimaces. "Cute has turned into ew."

Smirking, he takes another sip of coffee then sets the cup down on the table for now. Leaning back into the couch, he resumes his upward stare. "And no I haven't said anything to him. It's been like walking on pin and needles around him lately. If I were to say anything remotely close to negative about Angelica, he'd pummel me."

A new sigh emerges. His fingers still toy with hers. "I just feel like I don't fit what he wants in the Elite anymore."


Heading back to his bunk, Dylan didn't look back. He felt a strange little twinge down deep, but let it go. Ashlee was nice and all but there were some things he just had to do...


...Thunder rolled in the distance, a stale breeze blowing through the ranch. The air held a tantalizing scent of rain, but no drop had fallen yet.

Dylan laid awake on his bed, his eyes drifting between the dark ceiling and his digital bedside clock. It was three in the morning - late enough that no one was up anymore, and early enough that no one was awake yet. It was as Dylan had planned the evening before. The hardest part was getting under Stacy's radar, but even she slept each night after her late rounds. And right now, the timing was perfect.

Another roll of thunder subtly vibrates the bunkhouse. Dylan throws off his blanket to reveal he hadn't undressed from the prior day. Slipping on his sneakers, he then grabs his backpack and slaps a baseball cap on his head. He'd laid out everything so he wouldn't need to turn on his light.

Quietly exiting his bunkhouse, he takes a quick glance around to find the ranch deathly still except for the breeze. Taking a route that was safely within the shadows and out of reach of the ranch lights, he heads nearer the garage where several vehicles were parked. Carefully opening the pickup door, he tosses in his bag. Straightening to glance around again, he slides into the pickup and puts it into neutral. Thankfully, there was just slight enough of an incline that a hefty shove would get the vehicle silently rolling. Walking with one hand on the wheel and one on the open door, Dylan struggles to push the truck down the drive way. The nearing thunder muffled the crunch of gravel and the dogs seemed not to care much about someone they knew. No house lights caught Dylan's eye - the coast was still clear.

By the time Dylan reached a good distance down the driveway, sweat was trickling down the sides of his face. Letting the pickup roll to a halt, he looks back over his shoulder. Was he far enough away? He hoped so.

Waiting a few moments, he takes note of distant lightning then counts until he hears the thunder. Once satisfied, he reaches in his pocket to draw out a key he'd swiped from the office yesterday afternoon. Sliding in behind the steering wheel, he pulls the door shut as quietly as he can, then waits. Seeing the lightning, he counts, then turns the key just as the thunder rolls. Taking several nervous glances in the mirrors, he finally puts the truck in gear and lets it crawl the rest of the way down the driveway until he reached the road. Left or right was the only decision remaining before he steps on the gas pedal and heads towards town.