Les Champs Elysees

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. I’ve been exactly in your shoes, after all. And no matter what he says at the party this weekend, you better hold him fully responsible for your child."

Ashton arched an eyebrow. Hold Damien responsible? For her and Lucian's child? Why would she do that?

Oh.

Natalie thought Damien "I'm so in love with Toddy" Blackwood-Michaud got her pregnant. Ashton pursed her lips. If only she knew...

"Actually, no. You haven't been in my shoes. They'd fall off, remember?" And you'd trip and possibly break something... Ashton recalled all the comments about her feet-- how large and awkward they were.

"You do know your son doesn't love me, right?" Ashton asked, making sure this woman was up to date. "He fancies men, which is fine, but there's one problem: I'm not a male, obviously," Ashton motioned to her pregnant stomach. "So, despite being friends, we were both unhappy in the engagement. He did nothing wrong."

Ashton tossed a bag of peas into her metal buggy. She and Lucian were cooking together tonight, the first time they found a stretch of time in which to do so in their very busy schedules.

"Now," Ashton said pushing her buggy away, the wayward wheel squealing. "If you'll excuse me, Natalie, I have to go home. My fiancé-- a wonderful man who loves me-- and I are making dinner. Certainly even you wouldn't deny a pregnant woman nutrition." Sure she would. Ashton thought. She tried to deny her own son happiness, after all.

"Like you said," Ashton continued, icicles of words forming and shooting out like daggers. "You've been in my shoes before." Ashton began scooting her cart away, the crooked wheel protesting all the while.

[The Exodus]

OOC: MASHTON! BIC:

Madeleine de Chandon

Was there anything less entertaining that wedding planning? Seriously. Who on earth thought that looking at cakes, trying on dresses, picking out color schemes and wedding rings was fun? Who the hell wanted to plan a big, giant, overwrought party to celebrate vows like “in sickness and in health” and “til death do us f*cking part”?

No. Madeleine was not bitter. Not at all. Why should she be? Her best friend was getting married to this guy who ranked as a definite “not” on Madeleine’s list, and there was no guarantee that Ashton would fit into her wedding gown post-baby-Michaud.

Okay. That was just mean. Maybe Madeleine was bitter.

Her own engagement had fallen to bits. It was almost one full year since she’d been proposed to, since she’d said yes, but it was Ashton, whose whirlwind romance with a man twice her age, who was walking down the aisle. Not Madeleine who’d spent the last chunk of her twenties and the first chunk of her thirties with the same man, only to be left hanging and then (SURPRISE!) find out that the alleged love of her life had abandoned her for her own supposed good so he could save his brother from psychotic mafiosos in New York City. No one said the world was fair, but Madeleine deserved a reality television show or soap opera in her honor at the very least, if not a deus ex machina happy ending that didn’t entail half-*ssed apologies.

She was quite possibly the worst maid of honor ever. Honestly. A proper maid of honor was supportive and organized and efficient. Madeleine was fake-smiling and surly. She said the right things, but mostly, she wanted to bunker down in her apartment and wait for Ashton to go on her honeymoon in peace. The upcoming wedding was all about Ashton and Lucian and under any other circumstances, Madeleine wouldn’t mind. She’d be ecstatic. But right now, the words “wedding”, “marriage”, and “future” triggered Madeleine’s gag reflexes. Most days were fine. She went about everything properly, pretending she wasn’t upset that she was prepping for a life of spinsterhood. But when in a frilly, rose-scented wedding boutique, Madeleine’s stomach roiled.

“What are we here to get, again?” Madeleine asked, looking around. “Anything in particular?”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene


Delilah had told Ashton that planning a wedding with Theodore was like trying to untie a sailor’s knot with your teeth. At the time, Ashton’s only thought was “that’s incredibly kinky,” but now, she couldn’t see how that could be true. Sure, she had been engaged before, but as far as planning went, she never got past trying on wedding dresses, which she was sure was some subconscious, deliberate act. Then, moving past that would have tainted the sanctity of the moment she shared with Lucian—the way his gentle, calloused fingers barely brushed her skin as he slid silk laces into little slits down the back, and the way she wanted his fingers to undo his handiwork so they could rip away the dress, the social norms, and the boundaries that held them fast and make love on the very floor she stood on right now.

But this was a different engagement, one that would lead to the rest of her lifetime with Lucian, living as his lover, his best friend, and his wife, happily bound by vows they already promised each other under a midnight pillow fort in a five-star hotel room. And planning it was easy with Lucian by her side. If anyone knew anything about making a hastily put-together wedding elegant, it was Lucian. If his last wedding was so lavish, but so quickly planned, surely theirs would be perfect and elegant in the several months they would spend planning. And she had Madeleine next to her as her maid of honour. And Madeleine was possibly the most fashionable woman she knew. If anyone was going to have a valid opinion on what the bridesmaids should wear, it would be her.

“What are we here to get, again?” Madeleine asked, looking around. “Anything in particular?” And Ashton couldn’t help but detect a small annoyance in her voice.

“Well, actually,” she said, taking her hand. “We aren’t here for me…”

She led her to a dressing room, pushed her gently into it and closed the white door. “We’re here for you. I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere.”

Ashton went to the back of the store and looked for the red dress with her name on it, plucking it off the rack and examining it. The brooch and red silky fabric sparkled in the florescent lights of the wedding boutique. Ashton smiled. It was her goal to not force her bridesmaids into the hideous and frilly garb she saw both in movies and in the shop windows of other boutiques. She could see Madeleine, voluptuous and beautiful gliding down the aisle, arm hooked with Damien, who was decked out in a stylish and clean tuxedo that he no doubt picked out himself.

Ashton drapped the dress over her arm gingerly and returned to Madeleine’s dressing room. “Try this on. Tell me what you think.”

[blueeyeddevil]

Reese Cordova

Really she had to be clumsiest ballerina on the face of the planet. Most ballerinas could practice a dance with the grace and poise their profession required...when Reese praticed she ended up with a broken lamp. Of course she had been praticing moves that required her to extend her legs quite a bit and in her cramped little dorm room at that. Maybe it hadn't been the best idea, but after missing two whole months while being in the hospital, she felt the strong desire to make sure she was keeping up.

It was her day off now and she was spending it out at a furniture store on the Champs attempting to find a replacement lamp. The place was large and full of every piece of home decor and comforts one could possibly imagine. Reese skipped through the aisles, trying to find the ones that would have what she was looking for.

Finally she came across the perfect lamp! It was a beautiful, pale gold with a crimson trim...and it was on the top shelf. It was far to high for her tiny little frame to reach. She looked around and didn't see a step ladder or an attendent in sight and she really didn't want to have to track one down in the cavernous store. She finally decided to just climb up the shelf and get it. She finally stepped up on the shelves up there and had just about grabbed the lamp when suddenly her finger slipped and went falling back.

[The Exodus]

Alexander Sokoll

Paris hadn’t changed in the last three years. The cobbled streets were all the same. The buildings as ancient, as glittery, as covered in ivy as they’d been before. On the drive from the airport to the hotel, they’d passed the same landmarks, the same geographic markers Alexander had come to know well during his time in Paris. Something felt different. It was probably him. He’d come to Paris in his twenties. He'd been single, carefree, and intent on making danseur noble. He was now thirty, widowed, with a set of twins and intent on making ends meet however he could. Still, it was better than New York. It was home.

Well, almost, anyways. He still had to find an apartment for his broken little family, as a hotel room was hardly the place to raise toddlers. The staff alternated between finding Jules and Serena adorable and troublesome and many days, Alexander felt the same way. It was the cramped space. There wasn’t enough space to live in that hotel room. Not for long term. He had a meeting with his real estate agent this evening, to find out if the apartment they’d discussed via email. For now, he was scoping out furniture stores. He wanted nothing short of perfection. Make a house into a home.

He’d left the children with their grandparents for the day. His relationship with the Passepartouts was awkward. When the kids called him “daddy” in their perfectly American accents, he saw Veronique and Marcel recoil. He was apologetic; he told them that he told them about their son—their biological father, and their mother of course—every day. All the while he naively hoped that in time, things would get better. He shook the thoughts off and looked at a set of bunk-beds for the twins.

Nothing held his interest for long; not just in the store, but at all lately. He felt listless, drained. He sat down on a bottom bunk and watched other shoppers for a long, silent moment. The old Alexander would have been leading the kids with him to look, to try out beds. He hoped to find a bit of that here in Paris. Prayed he would.

He stared at some young newlyweds enviously as they tested mattresses. He smiled half-heartedly and turned his gaze away, just in time to see a petite woman climbing on shelf to get a lamp. It didn’t look good. A strange panic at the sight of an accident waiting to happen made his heart pound in his throat. Throb. Alexander pushed off the bed and rushed over to her, just in time to offer his arms when she took a fall.

“Careful!” he said, giving her a good-natured smile. “Which one are you trying to get, maybe I can help?”

[blueeyeddevil]

Reese Cordova

Reese had braced herself for impact, anticipating at the very least a badly sprained wrist and several bruises. How could she have been so stupid?! And she hadn't even gotten the stupid lamp. It certianly wasn't worth the injuries she was going to recieve and it didn't look nearly as pretty now from the point of view of falling backwards. All she could think about now was how she was probably going to end up missing several more days of rehearsal and it was all her fault.

But the cold floor never hit...instead she felt herself suddenly land in a pair of strong, toned arms. Her own arms flew around her rescuer's neck to steady herself. Finally she dared to openn her bright blue eyes and found herself looking at a rather attractive man with dark hair and dark eyes. He had apparently caught her when she had fallen. “Careful!” he said with a smile as she found her feet again.

"Thank you!! I really owe you one," she exclaimed with a grateful smile. She took a deep breath in order to steady herself, still a little shaken. Her heart was pounding with adrenaline but it was slowly going back to normal now as she began to relax. "Those are some reflexes you've got there," she said with a small laugh.

“Which one are you trying to get, maybe I can help?” he asked kindly.

"That one up there with the red trim," she said a bit sheepishly. "I feel pretty stupid now for thinking climbing up there would work. It doesn't really pay to be so short sometimes!" He handed her the lamp she had been trying to get and she smiled again. "Thanks again. You're very kind," she said. "I'm Reese, by the way." She held out her tiny hand for the man to shake.

[The Exodus]

Alexander Sokoll

Serena aside, it had been months—eight months, twelve days—since Alexander last held a woman in his arms. He’d suspected, after Esperanza’s death, that the first—perhaps only-- woman he’d hold again aside from their daughter would be another dancer. If he went back to dancing. It was a stupid, sentimental thought, like the many overly romanticized thoughts Alexander had spoon-fed as a child, that he’d lived by for too long. It had been comforting. Now, holding onto this stranger, he wanted to laugh at himself. The only way to live, really. Laughing at yourself when you could.

"That one up there with the red trim," the woman told him.

He set her back onto her feet. She was crazy light and instantly, Alexander placed her as a dancer in his mind. He couldn’t help it; he was a dancer himself, born and bred, surrounded by them for life. He knew the type. Though most weren’t so clumsy. Everyone had their days. He reached up for the lamp.

"I feel pretty stupid now for thinking climbing up there would work. It doesn't really pay to be so short sometimes!" He handed her the lamp. "Thanks again. You're very kind," she said. "I'm Reese, by the way."

“Alexander,” he said, shaking her hand. He thought for a moment and realized that they’d been speaking in English the whole time. He’d expected—just as foolishly as his other thoughts—to slip back into French easily, fluently. He was thankful for the bilingual populace of Paris. “And, really, it’s no big deal. Anyone would do it. Well, you’d hope.”

Sad truth was that not everyone would have done what Alexander had. Certainly not everyone would have done it instinctively. He could imagine some slick guy in motorcycle jacket catching her and chatting her up, asking her for drinks because she was a petite brunette with big, blue eyes. The world wasn’t all bad, but to think everyone was altruistic was naïve.

“It’s a nice lamp,” he said, looking at it. “Wish I had as good an eye for interior design.”

[blueeyeddevil]

Reese Cordova

The brief thought came that this young man could quite possibly be a dancer like her. He had responded so quickly and caught her so easily that she couldn't help wondering at the idea. Male dancers went around catching (and throwing) the females all the time and this man certainly had the upper body strength to qualify as well as the reflexes needed to make sure the feamle didn't end up injured from a fall gone wrong.

She pointed out the lamp that she had been trying to get and thanked him as he handed it to her. She quickly introduced herslef, holding out her hand. “Alexander,” he replied. “And, really, it’s no big deal. Anyone would do it. Well, you’d hope.” He expression though, told her he knew that not everyone would have made the save. They might have helped her after the facts but Alexander was proactive and had thus prevented another trip to the hospital.

“It’s a nice lamp. Wish I had as good an eye for interior design.” he said as he looked at the lamo in her hands.

Well maybe can return a favor! I can help you if you;d like," she suggested with a smile. She glanced around, trying to figure out which direction he'd come from and determine what it was that he had been looking for. "Were you looking for any in particular. I could help you pick something out! Again, only if you'd like me too." It was a small attempt at trying to thank him for helping her out, but she wasn't going to force herself on him.

[The Exodus]

Alexander Sokoll

He had bought his first apartment—the place Rafael now owned, actually—pre-furnished. He’d been in love with everything. The balconies, the sun-nook, the kitchen (especially the kitchen), the two bedrooms, the spare room. It had been his first major purchase once making Danseur Noble. But that apartment was for another life, another Alexander, and the apartments he looked at now were all unfurnished, or sparsely furnished for bachelors and vacationers looking for a ready-made home. But Alexander wasn’t a bachelor or vacationer looking for minimalist living. He was a single dad, looking to make an apartment a home for himself and his twins. A new life, a new Alexander. When had he turned thirty, anyways? How had that happened? He didn’t feel thirty; he didn’t feel single, either. He still talked about “my wife and I” or “my family” like it wasn’t broken, but it had been just shy of a year. By the time he got used to its new configuration, he could be forty. He could be thirty-one. Oh, God, that was in two months. Thirty one. Thirty-one and he didn’t even know how to furnish an apartment. He could cook, though. Domesticity suite him, even if interior design didn’t. Oh, God. He ought to focus on the woman he was talking to. Reese. Most thirty year olds would have been focusing on her hard, lithe body or big blue eyes. He’d barely registered, was still processing. And thinking about interior design, oddly envious of Reese’s know-how.

He’d turn into a middle-aged woman without even noticing it if he kept this up.

“Well maybe can return a favor! I can help you if you’d like," Reese said. She smiled and Alexander couldn’t help but smile back. "Were you looking for any in particular. I could help you pick something out! Again, only if you'd like me too."

“Would you?” he asked, his smile widening. You’d think he was a man whose most desperate prayer had been answered. “That would be amazing! You have no idea, I mean seriously…! I mean, thanks.”

He sighed and shook his head. You’d think she’d offered a kidney. God, Alexander, it’s just interior design. He needed to get it together. He was about to drop a bombshell, a deal breaker even for simple favors, and he was probably acting like a madman.

“I’m trying to do my kids’ rooms. They’re four… Twins. Girl and a boy and I’ve never done this before.” Not without Esperanza. She had been a whiz at this kind of stuff. And there was no way Alexander was bringing the kids along when there were all these breakables around. “And I have no idea what little girls rooms are supposed to be.”

[blueeyeddevil]

Reese Cordova

“Would you? That would be amazing! You have no idea, I mean seriously…! I mean, thanks.” he said enthusiastically in response to her offer to help pick some stuff out. The desperate hope in his voice evoked a sharp sense of sympathy in Reese that she didn't quite understand until she looked a bit more closely. He was incredibly handsome with a dazzling smile flashing at her now and he couldn't be all that much older than her, but there was something in his dark eyes that made him seem like he had seen hundreds of lifetimes...someone in pain. She wouldn't say anything about it though, not wanting to pry any further.

“I’m trying to do my kids’ rooms. They’re four… Twins. Girl and a boy and I’ve never done this before. And I have no idea what little girls rooms are supposed to be.” he continued. Honestly she was a bit surprised to find out he had kids. It was a rediculous societal ideal that good looking men couldn't be fathers! They had to want to settle down and start familes too! Reese scolded herself mentally for being surprised.

She flashed Alexander a warm smile before grabbing his hand without any sense of personal boundries. "In that case, come on! The kid's section is over here," she said as she pulled him towards the aisle she had gone dancing through about 20 minutes before. Suddenly they were surrounded by all kinds of brightly colored furniture that was about 2 sizes smaller than its adult counterpart.

"Rule one," Reese said, pointing to a bedset that had a picture of all the various Disney Princesses on it. "Refrain from buying anything with cartoon characters on it. Chances are that she won't like character next year and you'll just have start all over again. My neice loved "Tangled" when it came out and my brother made the mistake of buying Rapunzel sheets for her. She refuses to put them on her bed now." She bit her lip and looked around in curiosity. Finally she peered back up Alexander. "Does your daughter have a favorite color?"

[The Exodus]

Alexander Sokoll

I have kids. It wasn’t such a profound statement as it was a fact of life. But even though it was one of the many tiles to make up the mosaic of a man, it was the defining one in conversation. Say , “I have kids” while sitting on a park bench and you go from being the creepy guy staring at the jungle gym to the caring daddy who takes his kids on outings. Say, “I have kids” at a bar and watch the woman you’re chatting with disappear. Say, “I have kids” to your single or childless friends and hear the groans and protests that you can find a sitter for one night of fun. Alexander had people leave his life over his children and people enter it because of them. That was how the world turned, it shifted and changed. Tectonic zoo pal plates bumping against your fine china and throw away Chinet, making rifts and divides. Alexander worried now that “I have kids” would mean the woman beside him would say, “Well, I know nothing about kids. There’s a sales associate over there” and that would be the end of the conversation.

There was really no good reason to worry, since Alexander may or may not see Reese again. But, God, did he miss having friends. His support system from years past was scattered around the globe. Ray and Jen were here. His sister in London. His brother in California with his parents. His other friends—Julietta, for instance, or Maureen and Pieter—were nowhere to be seen. And even if, by divine miracle, he’d found them, Alexander didn’t expect anyone to be thrilled about his children. Maureen was a confirmed bachelorette; last he’d heard, she had a semi-girlfriend who wasn’t anything serious but was serious enough to keep her from getting back with Pieter. She’d probably be sympathetic to him for losing his wife—she’d lost the love of her life years ago, and later a husband. But Alexander kept imagining her staring at his children like they were aliens. Pieter, Alexander was ashamed to ask for help from, since the man would likely seize control of Alexander’s life in that efficient, doctoral way of his. Julietta he hadn’t a clue about these days, but last he’d talked to her, she’d given a baby up for adoption because her career had more value to her than her child’s life. Alexander didn’t want her to meet his children, if that was how she viewed kids, as a nuisance. He was starting over in many ways. Reese was a bit of a test. Can a single dad, looking for a job and in a city that ought not to be as foreign as it was, actually make friends, start again? Raise his kids? Fall in love again?

He didn’t know. He just wanted to buy his kids beds and maybe make a friend. Baby steps. Walk, then run.

Reese, unlike so many Alexander could think of, smiled and took his hand. Hers was small in his and warm. He startled and then smiled at her gratefully. His children aside, and Ray, who touched him without patronizing these days? No one. It was nice to be Alexander, not Alexander the Widower for a moment.

"In that case, come on! The kid's section is over here," she said, leading him to a brightly colored array of furniture and furnishings. "Rule one," Reese said, pointing to a bedset that had a picture of all the various Disney Princesses on it. "Refrain from buying anything with cartoon characters on it. Chances are that she won't like character next year and you'll just have start all over again. My niece loved "Tangled" when it came out and my brother made the mistake of buying Rapunzel sheets for her. She refuses to put them on her bed now." She bit her lip and looked around in curiosity. Finally she peered back up Alexander. "Does your daughter have a favorite color?"

“Purple,” he said with a nod. “Her clothes are most all purple.”

He wondered briefly if that was an Esperanza thing or a Serena thing, since Serena was just starting to be old enough to pick her own clothes. He shook the thought.

“But I’m worried she and her brother might have to share a room. If the apartment I’m looking at doesn’t pan out…” He bit his lip. “What ‘boy color’ looks good with purple?”

Jules liked things more than colors. Sports, Power Rangers, airplanes. Alexander wondered if that all fell under the character rule and he imagined a lavender room with decals of the Power Rangers on the walls. He was possibly hopeless. Thank God for Reese.

[blueeyeddevil]

Reese Cordova

She had to admit that there was something odd about seeing this very attractive man in the midst of the children's aisle full of bright pink Disney princesses and happy looking dinosaurs. It certainly didn't seem like the kind of place she would typically find him. It made since as he had told her right from the beginning that this was first time that he had shopped for children's furniture before. She wondered if perhaps his wife or girlfriend had taken care of it for the first few years and had now insisted that he do it. So Reese was (sort of) filling that role and helping him out, asking if his daughter had a favorite color.

“Purple. Her clothes are most all purple.” he said with a nod. Reese smiled, glad that she had something to go on now. “But I’m worried she and her brother might have to share a room. If the apartment I’m looking at doesn’t pan out…What ‘boy color’ looks good with purple?” he asked her, seeming a little confused.

Reese thought for a moment, eyes narrowed in a look of concentration. "Well there are a few. Black and purple works, but it isn't really all that kid friendly," she admitted. "Your best bet would probably be green. Its more gender neutral than anything, but it goes well," she said with a nod. She glanced around, still trying to figure out just where to start. "So where would you like to start? Bedding...curtains?" She was still curious as to why there was no significant other with him helping, but she wasn't going to bring it up...there was only so much a stranger could ask without being considered rude.

[The Exodus]

Alexander Sokoll

Stephanie used to tease that Alexander was color-blind. He wasn’t, of course; he was just a teenaged boy then, uncertain why his sister thought her pink top was different than her “salmon” top and why anyone would name a color after a fish. But even now, fifteen years later, Alexander still didn’t understand why everything couldn’t just be blue, grey, black, white, and brown. Or ROY G BIV. He understood that.

Girls—women, rather—were better attuned to the differences in shades and hues and tints than Alexander ever would or could be. He thanked God someone nearby, in this instance, Reese, was capable and willing to help in.

Well there are a few. Black and purple works, but it isn't really all that kid friendly," she admitted. "Your best bet would probably be green. Its more gender neutral than anything, but it goes well.”

He thought suddenly of Rafael’s Scooby-Doo bedspread and the giant cartooning of Daphne Blake on there. Her purple dress and green headband against orange hair. Why were cartoon characters off limits again? The whole Mystery Inc. would always be kid—even adult—friendly.

If that adult is your crazy, childish best friend.

Purple and green it was, then. Not cartoons. He nodded. Until now, he hadn’t been aware colors could be gender neutral. That made sense, though. Colors probably shouldn’t even have genders in the first place.

"So where would you like to start? Bedding...curtains?"

“Bedding,” he said. “I’m probably just going to put up blinds. Kids and curtains sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.”

[The Exodus]

OOC: Rachel/Santiago. Actually picking up a plot point we dropped! Go team! BIC:


Santiago Ortiz

Most men Santiago knew probably wouldn’t take a midnight bus to the airport to meet their ex-girlfriends. Myron might, but Santiago supposed his best friend was masochistic and crazy. Most of the men Santiago knew weren’t secure enough to do that, unless it was a life or death situation.

Of course, as far as Rachel Day was concerned, maybe tonight was exactly that.

She’d mentioned a sniper and her father’s mob. That was all Santiago needed to hear to make whatever arrangements for her safe and covert immigration to France. She had a place in his apartment if she needed it. There were loose ends Santiago felt obligated to tie for her. He’d sworn to protect her and even if they weren’t together, that kind of promise wasn’t the sort of thing Santiago took lightly.

So he’d picked her up from the airport, put her in a rental car under his name, and now they were driving back to his place.

Santiago was pretty sure he’d snap if he stretched himself any thinner. Stage managing, acting as a private investigator, tutoring Penny, balancing a social life, dealing with his crazy friends, dealing with his ex…. Santiago supposed something would have to go eventually.

For the life of him Santiago wasn’t sure which of those things would be first on the chopping block. Not work, not the case, and not Rachel. Maybe it was useless, trying to silently sort out his life as he drove Rachel through the streets of Paris, while she was jetlagged and he was trying to assure himself the New York mob had nothing to do with Lorenzo’s disappearance.

Santiago cast a sideways glance at Rachel. Given that she’d been shot at, broken out of a hospital, and flown to Paris, she looked pretty good. Santiago knew that on days like that, he didn’t shave, sleep, or change clothes. He stopped being human. Rachel, at least, had the wherewithal to look less like a zombie and more like a human woman.

“So,” Santiago said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel lightly as they waited at a stop light. “You wanna fill me in on the last year or so? Didn’t get much a chance to ask how you’ve been when we talked on the phone.”

[Deleted]

Feb 6, 2012 5:49:47 GMT -6 @tardo said:

Rachel Day

It was like taking a step backward into the book of her life, and diving into the chapters beforehand.

Rachel Day stared at the red light, her entire body feeling like it was moving in slow motion because everything previous to this moment had moved in such incredible high speed. Waking up this morning and making the deicision to leave literally everything behind to go to Paris. Faking sleep for six hours straight to purchase a plane ticket and delay the discharge. The moment when she ripped the IV from her arm, called her ex-boyfriend, escaped the hospital, jumped on a plane, and landed in his passenger seat. Oddly enough, this wasn't that strange of a situation. At least, not for Santiago Ortiz and Rachel Day considering their past together. What it was was an entirely new life that Rachel had to begin now. Which, wasn't that strange of a situation either. Goodness gracious! This entire thing was a big ol' , 'Been here. Done this. Seriously, again?'

Except everything was different. Gosh, apparently the side effects of all this was making her contradict herself? Anyways, it was what it was, and what it was was Rachel Day coming back into her old life, but all of it having been shifted, and yet aspects were like old times. The obvious being that her and Santiago were exes, yet they were making a comeback of what they originated in. That, being, gangsters, guns, and the things that sounded so adventurous and story worthy, but once you realize they are real, it doesn't feel so much like a fairytale anymore. The only thing that had kept it as such was the love story between her and Santiago Ortiz, but that was long gone. So now it was just ... Survival. That sounded terrifying.

Rachel wouldn't waste her energy on being frightened. She built herself up to be too strong to feel that way. In fact, at this very moment, she felt calm. It could have been just feeling weak or completely exhausted, but she did not feel anxious whatsoever. She had accomplished leaving New York City. There was not time for being a coward. Nope, Rachel Day had to figure out her next move. Ugh, her mind did not want to think right now! Rachel never thought she would actually miss the old days where her mom would have her take a 'time out' in the corner. A time out in a corner was just what she needed right now.

It would be difficult knowing that Rachel Day left everything she made for herself back in New York City to the point where not even her manager would have a clue where she went. She would have to communicate to a certain few somehow to at least tell them she was alright. It was heartbreaking, because that was her dream. She could not allow herself to think like that though. This was the beginning of something new. The fresh start of Rachel Day back in Paris! All she could think on though was how this was just trying to keep alive. She would get over that. She would return back with her friends, get herself some sort of performing job, buy herself an apartment, get a completely new wardrobe (mostly because she actually had to, there was nothing wrong with her clothes back in New York), and start all over again.

Not to mention get to the bottom of this. Rachel Day would be gosh darned if she had to continue to do this her entire life. How many other places could she run to before the world ran out? This time in Paris would be devoted to figuring things out and getting it solved no matter what it took. It could take a lot.

Lost in her midst of the thinking world, Rachel blinked back into the car when Santiago Ortiz began thumping his fingers along the steering wheel. She swallowed, realizing she had been squeezing the edges of the seat so tight that her hands had turned into prespiring palm ponds, (Oh! That would be an incredibly productive toungue twister to do for acting.).

Releasing and forcing her muscles to squirm back against the seat of the rental vehicle, her eyes darted to the left to catch another view of Santiago. She smiled to herself. He looked incredibly handsome. Rachel Day opened her mouth slightly, attempting to steal a glance a tad bit longer. The way the red light was hitting him made him look dangerously sexy. Rachel would always think that. Of course, always to herself.

"So..."

Rachel Day was now back in her daze at the light. There were too many thoughts and feelings to sort out so she was just going to be sitting in the car with Santiago Ortiz present time, and let the inside of the car be some sort of escape from all that was going on. A nice little break or something. Though, she was sure she had some explaining to do. She could not have Santiago Ortiz help her break out of a hospital and just leave him in the dark. Rachel was worried that he would think she was pressuring him to be involved in this. Although, she had been involved in plenty of his affairs and vice versa, they weren't anything to one another like they were before. Yet, Rachel Day knew that they would both be there for one another in a shot. So, that was something. Like, for instance, right now. Who would do this for their ex-girlfriend?

“You wanna fill me in on the last year or so? Didn’t get much a chance to ask how you’ve been when we talked on the phone.”

Rachel Day took a deep breath and nodded slowly, her eyes still looking straight ahead. An entire year? Yeesh, that was a long time. A lot had probably happened to both of them.

"I accomplished what I've always wanted to." Rachel murmured lightly, not wanting to dive into the 'Tony' talk, or the performances, or whatever. That didn't matter, and she didn't feel humble doing it. Santiago Ortiz was around for her rants and tangents of her expressing all the time, twenty-four seven what she wanted to do. He would get it.

"I had been doing great for a long time up until," She smirked, "Well, this point. But, I'm still doing great." Rachel Day was moreso demanding that of herself than actually feeling it. She wanted to remain positive. "This is just a disturbance."

A disturbance that Rachel should be dead for.

That thought hitting her like a bullet- literally at one point- she suddenly twisted in her seat to look at him with a tight smile.

"What about you, stranger?" She inquired. "You look too good to tell me that the year didn't treat you well." Rachel complimented lightly.

Maybe the reason why Rachel Day felt so calm before was because talking with Santiago Ortiz again, the two knowing things about one another, and he being the only person who she knew could help her handle something like this and had before- made her finally feel safe and have familiarity.

Which was way better than what Rachel Day had been feeling prior to the phone call she made to Santiago Ortiz.