dustin -1-

I stretch my arms  upwards and  inhale through the pain as the knots in my back loosen. I lunge forward on my decent leg, pulling on the calf muscles in my better leg and exhale loudly.

 I don’t usually stretch before my morning  run, usually all I need are a few painkillers, but I’d slept in my desk chair last night and my gunshot injuries hadn’t appreciated that.

I start off in  slow jog around Fort Harmony, the waning moonlight lighting the path. I always ran while it was still dark, an hour before sunrise.

It’s the only time the camp was completely quiet.

The squadron wouldn’t wake for PT for 2 hours and the prisoners wouldn’t be released from their barracks for another 4 hours. And after the task I’d given Nurse Audrey yesterday, she could sleep in as late as she wanted this week.

I pass the dining hall and break into a full run, pushing my body as fast as it could go, kicking up clouds of dust. Stretching had put me behind so I have no choice but to go faster.

 The fucking doctors at City of Hope had handed me a cane after I’d been admitted and told me I’d never walk properly again unless I got a cybernetic leg. After rounds of surgery and biochemical therapy I proved them wrong. Every day I felt like proving them wrong more.

I stick to the same route, past  the mess hall, around the infirmary, down the track, past the soldier barracks, past the nearly done new construction and down the training fields. With each step I push faster.

Just as the temporary  pre-fabricated administrative building comes into view I feel the shooting pain in my knee. I stop short of the building, and hobble to lean against the fabricated wood, panting and waiting for the throbbing to subside before continuing.

When the pain dies down I run the route three more times and as I round in for the fifth lap the sun  begins to rise. I always use sunrise  to let my mind wander,  going over the piling assignments and demands from Ft. Perch,  creating arguments as to why covering up a good man shooting a psychopath in the head isn’t breaking the laws.

Mostly my mind wanders to Haley. 

He meant nothing to me in the scope of things. 

But it pissed me off he didn’t remember me. That a moment that he stepped into my hospital corridor had been so significant to me but had been so insignificant to him that he completely forgot.

I’d allowed Haley to sleep off his trauma and pain killers in my bed. He slept through yesterday and was still sleeping when I left for my run.  He slept like the dead. He was so silent I’d taken a small mirror to his nose to make sure he was still alive in the middle of the night.

Energized and physically spent I skip weight lifting and return to  my quarters. The silence I had expected is gone. Through the door I can hear Haley moaning quietly. Moving the door ajar, I see his eyes are closed, he has one hand curled into a fist in his mouth and the other under the hospital gown.

It takes me a moment to realize he is in pain.

“Haley,” I call closing the door behind me. His hand is pressed onto his wound and his eyes are closed so tight they are watering.

“Nurse Audrina left syringes. I’m going to give you something for pain,” I tell him quickly, picking up the syringe.

The room is small, so I don’t have much option but to sit next to him on the bed. I turn Haley’s palm over and swab his upper arm with disinfectant. Before I can get the syringe in, he  snatches his arm away.

“No, don’t…” Haley moans sleepily, his fingers gripping harder on my hand. “It’s okay. I don’t need it--”

“I think you do—“

“No…I’m okay. Don’t. I can't. I'm fine....I'm fine.”

He’s sweating from his attempt not to keep from writhing. I’d spent 9 months in a hospital ward, I had seen plenty of pain and I knew he was suffering. What I can’t figure out is why he is lying about it.

“It's fine I've been certified --”

“No, I'm okay I'm--”

Haley stops mid sentence and squeezes his eyes harder.

“You stubborn son of a bitch,” I sigh because I doubt he will remember this.

 In one motion I  turn his arm over and push the injection in. He doesn’t fight me and something about watching him  finally give in moves all the blood in my body downward. Trying to ignore my present arousal, I watch him whine and hold back tears for a few minutes before he drifts back to a still sleep.

The thoughts going through my mind alone could damn me to hell.

 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Haley

When Alex Haley wakes next the afternoon the sun is shining through the windows. He has no memory of refusing the painkillers and very little memory of where he is and how he got there.

A sinking feeling fills his heart when remembers the pain he felt immediately after watching his brother die and then horror of realizing the pain had been the bullet from his brother’s head landing inside of him.

 Haley sits up and takes in the tiny  room. His face goes hot when he  notices Sgt. Maxwell in the corner, sitting in a chair watching him over a  news stream.

The Sergeant looks almost relaxed to him, the sharp edges of his handsome face are less severe and Haley thinks it makes him look... friendlier.

“Sir--,” he begins. He isn’t sure what he’s going to say and is thankful when Sgt. Maxwell interrupts.

“Take a shower, get dressed and meet me in the my office,” he says standing. “Do not touch my shit.”

Haley didn’t know what he meant by the last order, there didn’t seem to be any personal items in the room. Maxwell stares at him as if waiting for an answer before he leaves.

“Yes, sir,” Haley says and Maxwell walks out letting the door rattle behind him.

Haley is fairly concerned if he is in trouble or not with the Sgt. Maxwell. He thought back to last night, or whenever he was last awake, to see if he broke any rules that he was going to be punished for. Yes, he'd been out after hours, but only because Mayfield attacked him. He hoped someone had found Mayfield.

In the shower, Haley is careful to cover the wound where the bullet went in. He thinks his way around the events that caused the wound like he does with all his scars from his brother. He thinks how it is so like Harlow to give him one last scar before he--

He lets the thought pass. 

He lets himself become pre-occupied with a series of identical square glass bottles arranged neatly along  the shower floor. Looking closer he sees they are a line of hair and body products. Picking one up, Haley removes the cap  and takes in the smell of cedarwood, jasmine and musk.  It smelled like Sgt. Maxwell's office, which he thought had smelled nice. He notices a small price tag, still on the bottom of the bottle.

$119

He very carefully sets it back on the shower floor.

It makes him angry that something could cost so much. And slightly annoyed that Sgt. Maxwell could afford things like this. 

Not that Haley disliked his superior, he knew Sgt. Maxwell was smart and fair. 

Haley respected him enough and feared him mostly, although he found it strange the man thought he knew him. He’d seen Sgt. Maxwell’s degrees in his office. If someone as successful as him was from Sun Valley, Haley is sure he’d remember.

Turning back to the expensive shampoo, Haley thinks that Harlow would like this, Harlow was always fascinated by expensive things.

His chest feels hollow at his brother's memory. He knows what Harlow would do about now.

He would pour the contents of the shampoo bottle down the drain and smash the bottle, better yet he'd smash all the bottles--just to see what would happen.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The amount of shit the other RLA Officers were doing wrong sometimes enamored me.

Each week I’d be  sent thousands of cases to review for legal merit and then passed on the serious ones to RLA’s actual Legal Affairs Unit. The job was intern work and I typically blew it off until the last minute, hoping  the higher ups took the hint and stopped sending it to me.

I was only doing it now because I needed to occupy my time while I waited for Haley.

Three soft raps sound against the door. I put the files away, pulling out the stylus and e-ink folio tablet I’d made especially for Haley. There was nothing in heaven or hell to save Harlow Haley, but Alex Haley had potential and I was going to use that.

I point to the chair across from me and Haley sits but I can tell his thoughts are elsewhere.  

“You and I have a number of things to discuss--”

“Where is Harlow ?,” he  interrupts me. “I mean where is his...”

“Yes, well…That’s one of the things we will discuss. Please don’t interrupt,” I remind him as  calmly as I can.

“Can I please go see him?,”  Haley asks, his eyes wet in a blink. “I need to say goodbye in case I don’t get  to go the burial.”

I’d need to deal with his constant insubordination  if this was going to work, but for now I let it go. He was grieving, but only god knows why.

“Fine. I suppose we can deal with that matter first,” I decide. “ Unfortunately, your brother’s body isn’t here. He was sent off to be cremated.”

“Why ? You can’t do that!,” he says, his voice panicked. “My family has  to say goodbye and--”

“I spoke with your sister, she asked me to do it. Nurse Audrey prepared the body for transport and had the boxes shipped to a public crematorium--”

“Boxes ?,” He repeats and I curse myself for my misstep. She’d informed me she had to dismember  the body to fit it in the transport containers. She sounded intensely amused by this fact.

“I meant to say we can't handle bodies here. The nearest crematorium is in Premont Hills and--”

“You can’t do that, bring him back!” he shouts, his voice cracking. “Isla didn’t mean it, she’s just mad-- can I please talk to her ? Please.”

He wipes the back of his hand over his eyes. I’ve had enough of his emotional ourburst  over his pathetic brother. I  decide this is the last favor I am  doing for him.

Scrolling through my placed connections, I connect to the line I’d called yesterday and put her on speaker.

 “You have 10 minutes,” I tell him since most of my calls are monitored.  “You are only to discuss funeral arrangements and I will be listening the whole time. Do you understand ?”

“Yes, sir.”

The line picks up and before she can even get a hello out he starts talking.

“Isla, I don’t have much time. They told me they are going to cremate-”

“Oh my god. Oh, Alex are you okay ?,” she asks eagerly.

“Isla listen to me. they are going to cremate Harlow. They said you said to--”

“I did not. I said I didn’t care what they did,” she corrects.  “Cremation seems fine. But tell them I don’t want the ashes--”

“Isla stop it, that’s cruel. You know he needs to be buried in the plot with Grandpa--”

“No, Alex you stop it,” she says her tone becoming angry. “Stop defending him all the god damn time—“

“Isla-”

“You are the stupidest bitch I’ve ever known," she says

Haley pauses.

“Isl--”

“ Those were Harlow’s last words to me and he said he wanted them to be. Does that sound like a person who  should be buried in a nice grave that we have to pay for?  But, enlighten me.  What were his last words to you ?”

Haley is silent and I focus on  his  lips, wondering if he will say them. I’d read in the report Belgrade wrote up that Harlow’s charming last words to his brother had been ‘see you in hell.’

“It doesn’t matter, Isla,” he says quietly. “He’s our brother. Harlow was the one who called Gram when things with Mother got bad-“

“Oh my fucking god, Lex.” she snaps. “Stop idolizing him for that. He was 9-years-old. That doesn’t make up for the last 14 years of him tormenting everyone. He was a real asshole to you and you always always defend him. You know what he did to us and to Roxi and that dumb dog and  who knows who—”

“It doesn’t matter. He's dead and deserves--”

 “Alex,” she says through gritted teeth and it sounds like she is crying on the other end. “It’s done, okay ? I can’t do this anymore, I really can’t.  I love you, but I just  can’t talk to you about this anymore if you keep defending him. So, do your time and get the hell out of there, okay?"

 She cuts the line before he can say anything else. Haley stares at the disconnected line.

I may like him, but I’m not here to comfort him. I decide it best to  not acknowledge any of it and simply push the tablet folio across my desk to him.

“Alright now that that is settled,  the next thing we need to discuss is--”

“Maybe I can still see Harlow before they…Would you let me leave?” Haley asks. “I promise I’ll come back. If I leave now maybe I can get there before they…do it.”

“And how do you intend to get there ? You have to take a train to Premont Hills and the nearest town is 300 miles away,”

He sits crestfallen back in the chair.

And I realize how perfect this circumstance is. If I play my cards right, everything will work out perfectly for me and Fort Harmony.

“How about this,” I start.  “I will buy us train tickets to Premont Hills-”

“Us, sir ?”

“Yes, you are still under RLA custody and more importantly my custody. However there is one condition to this--”

“Anything--”

“Shut up and stop interrupting me,” I finally snap and throw  the folio down at his side of the desk. “If you want to see your brother before he gets cremated you will sign this affidavit. I need to give to my superior officers in Ft. Perch”

Haley takes the affidavit and scans it.  I’d written it in jargon and legalese to be intentionally confusing so no one asked questions. Haley probably doesn’t understand most of it, but he knows  it’s not the truth.

“It just says you witnessed your brother commit suicide and that you can't talk about the circumstances of his death or the RLA will sue.” 

“But, that’s not what happened…,” his voice trails quietly.

 “The only people who will see this are my superiors in Fort Perch and even then not really,” I explain. “They’ll glance at it and put it on a server and unless your sister changes her tune and wants an investigation it will never be seen again. This is to protect my job. The corporal who shot him is being transferred.”

I can see Haley’s morality tugging at him.

"If you don't sign it, I can't guarantee you will ever see your bother again."

And just like this morning with the painkillers he gives in. He reaches for the stylus and slowly signs it.

“I’ll get us tickets for today. The cremation is scheduled for noon.”

***

-2- The Fire

We sit silently for the hour and half  drive to the train station, which is fine with me because I can catch up on the news. The train station is in the small city near camp and as public distrust and demonstrative hate was popular towards the RLA I’d worn a civilian suit and tie. I'd gained so much muscle over the last couple of years my suit was tight on me but I knew my RLA uniform would only be met with hostility.

Haley was able to find something to wear using the clothes he and his brother had been wearing during intake. He wears a thin black sweater, a straight collared white shirt that makes the small saltire  prominent on his neck. Thankfully he’d left the gawdy  pink  jacket.

As we pull into the station I repeat the rules to him; don’t use my title, no handcuffs unless you try something, stay in my eye line at all times, five minute visit and we turn right back around.

Our train is waiting at the station , but I walk to the coffeemat  attached to the station. It’s made of clear glass walls and shiny machines line the back of the bar. Truthfully, this was one of the reasons I’d agreed to come here with him.

I can’t get a decent fucking cup on base.

I order a large cup of an imported blend. I don’t offer to Haley and he doesn’t ask.

As I stir in some cream, I hear a soft pitter against the shop window. I watch a thin trail of rain run against the glass and as it slides down it turns to dark blood.

I'm slipping.

It rains more in this desert than my doctors and superiors assumed.

I can barely see out of the window it's so smeared in blood.

The train  blares the final call and Haley darts for the coffee shop door. I follow after him and the rain stings against my face dark red. I reach out and grab his arm holding him back under the coffee shop awning, my arm pinned over his chest.

 “Stay where you are,” I order him as my heart pounds.

“The train’s leaving," he says quickly, unsuccessfully fighting trying to get out of my grip

This has happened before. The wetness of the rain makes me panic and then the hallucinations seize me. I’m back on the minefield and the rain is blood and now the blood is on Haley too. I do my exercises, but it’s too strong and the only thing I hear are my fear instincts. 

Fight of flight.

Fight or flight.

I pull him back inside the coffee shop.

“Sir, the train--,” he protests loudly

“Shut the hell up,” I hiss. Civilians are staring at us.

I reach into my pocket and turning away from him swallow two pills that put me back together, but have the shittiest side effects. I slide in one of the coffeemat booths and he reluctantly sits across from me. In the background I can hear the train leaving without us.

“We missed-,” he begins.

“It’s fine,” I tell him. “We’ll  exchange the tickets and just catch the next one. It comes in 30 minutes.”

“Why didn’t we get on that one--,” he says in an even tone, but I can tell he is pissed.

"How would you like to go back to camp ?," I threaten and he closes his mouth.

I feel the medication working, it slows my heart down and calms my anxiety. It lets me better parse out what is real and not real. The bloody rain wasn't real.

Haley staring across at me unexpectedly is real. 

I decide a subject change is in order

“I'd like to offer you a job,” I finally say. "My assistant transferred out and I need another one.”

He barely reacts, he is staring out at the empty train tracks.

“You can’t enlist me--,” he says plainly.

“You wouldn't be enlisted. You’d be a civilian like my nurse. You can work for free until your sentence is up and then you’ll get pay, probably more than you made at home. I think this job would be good for you.”

He stares at me cautiously.

“Why would you do this for me ?,” he asks.

I had my reasons; I knew he wasn't a criminal; I knew  he didn’t steal a damn thing. He sure as hell didn’t sell drugs. I liked him. I wanted to fuck him. He could get me court martialed for conspiracy to cover up murder. 

“Is that a yes?,” Is all I say.

“…Yes,” he says. “Thank you.”

I outline his job assignments for the next 28 minutes and order two more cups of coffee for myself. I’d had an assistant before so the job was in place, but the logistics weren’t. I needed a place for him to stay. My original assistant lived with her father on the nearby base and drove in. I’d have to convince Audrey to let me drag a cot into her loft.

Our seats on the train were in the premium first class car, I  take the window seat, stretch out my legs and start going through the RLA legal files. I shouldn’t be doing this in public, but no one seems to be paying attention to us.

The ride to Premont Hills is only an hour, the second the doors open Haley jumps out of his seat and on to the busy platform. Premont Hills is something of an isolated town.  It was rebuilt from scratch after the Serial Wars making it a completely modern despite its location in the middle of nowhere.

Haley goes for the bank of interactive maps in the station lobby and within seconds pulls up an address of the crematorium. It’s in walking distance.

The Premont Hills Afterlife Center is a modest skyscraper attached to the hospital. It’s  eerily silent, but that doesn’t seem to bother Haley. We descend in an elevator to the crematorium floor in the sub- basement.

When the elevator doors open he pauses.

“You’d better not be regretting this,” I say. I hadn’t traveled all this way for nothing.

“No, of course not, sir,” he says unconvincingly.

“Do you know what you are going to say ?,” I ask.

“Yes,” he says

I follow him down the lit path and into a room labeled in sleek silver letters as RECEIVING. It’s set up like a waiting room with stylish chairs and a self serve mini bar.  When we step through the room  a pleasant chime sounds. An older man in a white coat walks out from behind a doors and looks us up and down uncertainly.

“May I help you gentlemen ?,” he asks

“I’m Sergeant Maxwell, I work with Nurse Audrey.”

“Oh, of course. I’m Mr. Hill, the lead mortician.” he says taking my hand and shaking. “You’re here for Harlow Haley, correct ?”

“Yes, sir.” Haley answers. ”I’m his brother.”

Mr. Hill gives him a practiced sympathetic smile and goes to the back. I expect him to come back wheeling in the body, but  he emerges with a small white porcelain box that fits in the palm of his hand. He holds it out to Haley, who carefully takes it in his hands.

 “What is this ?” Haley asks, his face staining red.

“Harlow Haley. You're in luck you know.” Mr. Hill responds and looks up at me. “I was ahead of schedule so I did him early.”

I look up at the clock, it’ exactly 12PM, the time of the cremation.

“No,” Haley tells him. “No I need to see my brother. I need to see his body.”

Mr. Hill’s eyes shift nervously and he looks up at me accusingly.

“You told me he wanted to visit with him. I didn’t know you meant the body---to be frank, after the hack job your nurse did on the body to ship it here you are better off not seeing--”

"Watch how you speak about my staff," I warn Mr. Hill

“You have to do something,” Haley begs Mr. Hill “I need to see Harlow now.”

 “Well, he is in there just in a different--,” Mr. Hill starts

“No, he’s not! This isn't right ! You destroyed him ! ” Haley yells at the man. His face is turning red. It’s the first time I’d heard him raise his voice.

Mr. Hill tries to catch my eye contact, but I pretend not to see. This isn't my fight.

“This is all your fault,” Haley continues through tears.  He doesn’t look at me when he says it, but I can tell he is talking to me. “Why didn’t we get on the first train…”

He’s probably right, but it doesn't matter. PTSD is not something I feel the need to explain to him. I don’t need my subordinates finding out I have a weakness. Now that Haley has dragged me into this I can either be kind or an asshole. I go for the former.

“Haley," I start.  "I am willing pay for the ashes so you can take them--”

“My brother isn't in that jar. I need to see his body. I want to say goodbye.” 

“There is no body.  I've had enough of this, we're going back now.” I say,  but he doesn’t move.

 I take Haley’s arm to pull him out of the room and he jerks away from me. I reach for him again and he throws the porcelain container on the tile floor. It smashes and the human remains scatter across the floor. Some of it dusts up and falls on my pants

I step back immediately, Mr. Hill seems mildly amused but not horrified.

My patience snaps and now I'm pissed.

I force Haley's hands behind his back , he struggles as I  hand cuff him and  force him into one of the chairs. It takes every ounce of my strength not to strike him.

 “What the hell is wrong with you ?” I demand

“I wanted to say goodbye," he starts sobbing."…I wanted to see him. I need to tell him it’s okay.”

“Listen to me,” I say, lowering my voice lightly. “My sympathy is drawing very short. You either pick up the fucking ashes and take them or we’re leaving.”

***

-3-

...and they have escaped darkness

On the train ride back Harlow Haley sits on the floor underneath Haley’s seat. After watching Mr. Hill nonchalantly vacuum Harlow up and pour him unceremoniously in a brown paper bag while Haley sobbed uncontrollably I needed a drink.

Before we took off I’d had a shot of bourbon and was following it up with a Long Island Iced Tea from the train bar. I'd wanted to sleep on the ride back, but the coffee from earlier was keeping me wired and alert.

Haley is silent now.  His red  eyes the only evidence of his earlier outburst.  I wanted to feel sympathy for him, but I didn’t understand how he could grieve over that bastard.  There were a lot of things about him I was only beginning to understand.

"Sgt. Maxwell ?," he says quietly.

"What ?" I snap because I'm still  pissed I may have inhaled some of his brother's ashes.

"Thank you for taking me. I'm sorry I got so mad." he says quietly. "I know you didn't like Harlow...but I think he was trying to be good. He just...liked to test people is all."

I'm caught of guard by his sincerity.

 “Why do you always defend him?,” I ask evenly, not wanting to sound accusatory. Although from what I could tell Harlow Haley had been the devil.

“Did my sister tell you to ask me that ? ,” he responds

“No. I  want to know. I was a prosecuter...I’m good at figuring people out and there is one person I can’t figure out it's you.” I tell him. “I offered you an out on day one and you stayed at camp , your brother throws you to the wolves but you defend him...I looked at your file extensively before I decided to offer you a job. You’re a  good boy. Almost too good.”

He doesn’t respond, but shifts slightly putting a fingernail between his lips.

 “You spent your last years of school at The Bell Garden Seminary School."

"It's a good school and we didn't have to pay for it," he responds stiffly.

His eyes shift, but he doesn't seem defensive.

"Except the only people who go to Bell Garden are future priests and rich fuck ups who get sent there by judges. You're not training to be a priest and as far as I can tell you never fucked up that badly.  I looked at your school record, you were a perfect student; took extra classes, attended sanctuary every week, volunteered every weekend, followed every strict rule… "

He stands up like he is going to leave, but there is nowhere to go on a moving train. I pull him back into his seat and he immediately turns away from me. I reach for his jaw, turning his face so he has to look  at me. His pale pupils seem to get bigger and and I know I'm on to something good.

“What did you do, Haley?” I ask. “What did you get away with that you think you need so much absolution ? It can't be stealing shoes. It must be something awful if you want to stay here."

He just stares me down because he won’t lie to me. I notice my thumb is stroking the fragile outline  of his jaw.

I force myself to stop and get a tighter grasp on his face.

“Let me rephrase; what did you and Harlow do ? Because I can only assume he’s involved.”

“You’re hurting me,” he whispers and I loosen my grip.

“The Corporals told me Harlow’s last words to you were. Something about going to hell. Is that's why you are so concerned with praying over his body? Because you believe he’s gone to hell  and you're next ?"

I can see the terroe in his eyes, new tears start falling from the corners.

“That’s why you wanted to stay at camp,” I tell him. “ You figure if you do your time here it will somehow make up for whatever happened. It’s probably why you let your psycho brother torture you, you will just take anything. It’s all just some accumulating pain tithe for whatever you did. Am I right ?”

I rest my case and he is silent. And I know I’m right.

I move to let go of his face, but some impulse I've been keeping inside takes over. I bring his face closer, my fingers curling around his stray strands of his hair.

Carefully, I cover his mouth with my own, it’s barely a touch and lasts only a second, but I feel the whisper of his breath on my face. As I pull away I feel his entire body shaking violently beneath my grip.

"What if  I’m another thing sent by Satan to punish you  ?," I ask.

And maybe I am.

Because a voice in my head is telling me to take whatever I want because I deserve it for all the personal hell I’ve been through.

He doesn't answer and I pull his face to mine for the second time and kiss him again. I pull on his bottom lip with my thumb to part his lips and briefly press my tongue over his. When I pull away this time he exhales sharply , the sound makes me  hard and I want to break  the delicate parts of his skin with my teeth.

“Haley,” I say. “Tell me. What did you do ? I can protect you. I will help you.”

He is shaking harder  but he  looks at me with the same straight mouthed guilty look.

“What.Did.You.Do ?,” I repeat, raising my voice. "What the fuck are you hiding--,"

“Another one ?,” a cheery female voice says, I turn to see the train stewardess staring at me warily.

I let go of Haley's face and he quickly turns away from me. I reach for my drink  and take it all down at once before handing her the glass.

“Yes, thank you.” I say and she slowly walks away.

Haley leans his head against the window and I watch him close his eyes and pretend to be asleep. I know I could interrogate him and intimidate him to get my answer in a matter of hours, but I sense the entire train watching me.

I have the rest of this war to figure out what he is hiding, because as far I’m concerned he isn’t leaving until I find out.

 ----

A/N

CPShawna: Oh, Hey gurl hey Crazy Obsessive Psychopathic Maxwell, nice to see you back.

As I keep going down this path I realize these two will be bringing the angst...and how