Defeat

Carson’s eyes flicker with a hint of surprise, mixed with the hurt he’d been afraid of. He’d been prepared for rejection, but it still hurt. He knew he deserved it…he deserved Misty’s harshness, and a whole lot more on top of that. But…it still hurt.

Swallowing hard, he finally drops his gaze – not something he’d done much around her. A part of him wanted to get upset and defend himself. What right had she to keep him from apologizing if he wanted to? Yet he was too tired for that kind of defiance. It wasn’t worth the breath. Despite the softness Carson saw in Misty’s eyes, he knew she’d made up her mind. He truly had lost her this time.

Finally he looks back up, still leaning on the doorframe, and letting out a weak, dry laugh. “I bet it’s nice seeing me on the other end of things for a change…getting what I deserve.” He shakes his head, feeling like a fool. “I guess…I guess I just wanted…to see you again…to see how you were…to see if your eyes could still make my heart stop.”

He straightens up and takes a deep breath, preparing to turn around and leave. Hooking his thumbs in his pockets, he cocks his head, looking at Misty one more time. His voice comes out slowly and quietly. “And then…when the warrior has defeated himself at his own game and the conqueror has called his bluff, he must bow to the enemy. For to accept the defeat and command a retreat is more honorable than losing his life in battle. And so he does, bringing the war to an end.”

Giving a little nod, Carson’s eyes linger on Misty’s face, filled with the utter dismay he felt for his actions that had caused this circumstance. Finally turning around, he aims back down the hall. He should go…go to work and get away from this place.


Bret mumbles something that can’t be understood, and turns around to look at the clock. Sure enough, Charlotte was right. “Aw, crap.”

Fumbling around his bedroom, he grabs a pair of jeans to put on, and staggers out into the hall, reaching the top of the stairs just as Charlotte yells up at him. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” he retorts.

Coming down the stairs as he leans against the wall, his eyes are barely open. “Who was the idiot who said he’d be ready at this time of the morning anyway?”

Reaching the kitchen he goes straight for the coffee pot that had already filled half an hour earlier. Grabbing a mug, he pours himself a cup and takes several long swallows. Leaning back against the counter he scrunches shut his eyes before opening them wide, trying to wake up. “Do I at least have time for a shower? I don’t think you really want me along without having had one this morning.”