Phonecall

As Misty starts to pass Carson, he sees the tear in her eye. It hurt worse than a knife to his heart, and he can't break his stare. He had come here to fix one mess on the road to many fixes. How could he let this chance slip by?

Before Misty can leave, Carson steps away from Scott's bed, and lays a hand on Misty's shoulder, stopping her. Turning her so she is forced to face him, his heart skips a beat. How long it had been since he had touched her.

Swallowing hard and pushing these feelings aside, he reaches up to gently brush the tear from her face before withdrawing his hand.

"Misty..." His voice is low, almost begging. "Can't we be friends?"


Bret's eyes fly open as he hears the phone ring, and he groans, pulling the covers up over his head. When he realizes it's Charlotte's voice that comes through the answering machine though, he exposes his head again to listen to the message. A smile creeps onto his lips and he speaks, even though she's hung up. "I love you too."

Sighing, he glances at the clock. He really did need to get up. But with three attempts at getting winter jobs and being turned down, it was yet another morning that it really didn't matter what time it was.

Falling back to sleep, it isn't long before he's awake again at the sound of a car horn, and he rolls his eyes. It was no use.

Rolling out of bed, he finally gets up to shower and put clean clothes on, shuffling downstairs to make some coffee. Grabbing the cordless phone he looks at a handwritten list of numbers by the kitchen counter and dials absentmindely as he makes the coffee.

Putting the receiver to his ear and getting a female voice, he rolls his eyes at himself. "Ohhh, Jamie, I'm sorry. This is Bret. I meant to dial Con."

Bret reaches for the can of coffee in the cupboard but it slips from his grasp, bouncing off the counter and onto the floor. The lid hits a cupboard door handle on its way and as if it couldn't have been planned better, coffee goes everywhere.

Staring at the mess wide-eyed, Bret blinks, almost forgetting his phonecall. "I, um...uh...." He gropes for something to try to clean up the mess by pulling off some papertowels, but they won't tear and he winds up with a mile of sheets, still not any closer to getting anything clean, other than what the bottom of his socks have picked up off the tile floor.

"Uhhh...." He tries to collect his thoughts. "Caves... yes... Charlotte has extra tickets and wondered if you and the Tank wanted to check it out. It's getting cold, but I guess they're still doing business."