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Chapter Text

BLUE VALLEY - WINTER, 2023

It never occurred to Rick how serious he was about dating until Grant Emerson pissed him off about it. First Mike and Jakeem, then Todd, Cameron, Sandy, and eventually Grant rounded out the JSA table, tipping the hero-to-heroine ratio in favour of testosterone. He’d be the first to admit it took a while to adjust. Two months into senior year, just as Rick was settling in with the fact Cameron wasn’t going anywhere with Courtney’s Icicle Jr. reformation agenda and Sandy and Todd were established in New York with Jennie, The Shade dropped Grant off on Pat’s doorstep on a gloomy morning citing irreconcilable differences.

In Courtney’s recount, she said it was to give Grant some stability while he finished high school that apparently New York City couldn’t offer, but to Rick, it seemed a lot like taking out the trash and making Grant their problem.

At first, he chalked up the instantaneous one-sided friction to a misunderstanding. Grant was still new and they hadn’t started on the right foot–Exploding half of West Farms would do that. Yolanda claimed Rick just worked better with girls, and there wasn’t any shame in that, but even Mahkent agreed with Rick that Grant’s explosive nature caused…damage.

“I heard Beth chewed you out this morning.” Grant straddled one of the chairs from the table scattered with tools for Mike’s latest STRIPE 1.5 gauntlet at the Pit Stop. The girls knew the loft was Rick’s space to chill when he wanted to be alone. Grant clearly didn’t get the memo. This wasn’t his fault, but it didn’t escape aggravating Rick’s nerves on a day he was already in a bad mood. 

Rick lowered his dad’s notebook, the leathery cover soft from use in his hands. “I heard you need a haircut.” 

Grant ran a hand through his choppy chin-length hair with a grimace as if someone—likely Barbara— already commented on it. “Whatever. So what happened?”

“It’s not your business.” 

“It should be.” Grant leaned over the chair, grabbing one of the screwdrivers on the table. He messed with it in his hands, rubbing the flat edge against his thumb. “It’s important if we’re on the same team, I’m not going to get myself killed because of drama.” 

Rick eyed Grant warily. “We’re arguing.” Of all people, he wasn’t going to spill his guts to Grant about relationship problems. The draft from the window pane made the room cold. Rick zipped up the sweater of his hoodie. “It’s normal.”

He was still mad at Beth for hovering over him on his project, but he detested the knots in his stomach whenever they were at odds. He’d snapped at her to leave him alone and she snapped right back about his short fuse. Deep down, Rick knew she kept pestering him about helping with his assignment because she cared, not because she thought he’s not smart. It was still hard to let that thought roll off his back, the way people in town talked about him, assuming he couldn’t make anything of himself.  They were still learning how to navigate the balance between being supportive and overbearing—He knew he was guilty of it himself in their suits, following her around as if her goggles couldn’t identify threats on their own. He’d talk to Beth tomorrow and they’d figure it out but for now he’ll stew in it for the sake of waning his temper. 

“Doesn’t mean I want to break up with her.”

"Why not?” 

“Why not what?” 

“Break up.” 

“What?”

“It’s not like there aren’t other options. Yolanda, Courtney, Artemis, Cindy...” 

“I know their names,” Rick deadpanned. “You’re being gross. I like Beth. I don’t want to date anyone else,” Rick explained tersely. 

Grant raised both his hands defensively. “Sounds stupid to me.” 

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve only ever been with her and now you’re arguing, avoiding all your friends.”

“So?”

Grant scoffed. “So, you need to play the field to figure out if it’s worth it.”

What field? Rick’s face contorted, fed up. The JSA wasn’t some dating playground. Courtney and Yolanda were his family. Cindy and Artemis, not so much, but he respected them. Who was he to think he had some God-given right to expect any of them to want to be his girlfriend? Was that Grant’s approach? To just try them all out until he got tired and move on to the next one? No wonder Jennie kicked him to the curb. He didn’t understand girls at all. “I’m not breaking up with Beth to date Yolanda!” 

Grant rose both eyebrows above the mop on his head. “So it is Yolanda. Nice.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Rick snapped, gathering his things. If Grant was going to twist his words, he wasn’t going to breathe the same air as him. 

Grant leaned his elbow against the chair, almost pleased he was offended. “I’m just telling you what everyone at school is saying.” 

He would throw his notebook at Grant if he didn’t care so much about it. “Jennie ditched you, so I knew you had to be awful, but I was civil. Trust me. I tried. But then you blew up my neighbourhood–Now you’re telling me to dump my girlfriend to date her best friends?” 

“That was an accident.” 

“Was it?” 

“You said you hated living there,” Grant pointed out with a shrug. As if that house wasn’t full of the only tangible stuff Rick ever had of his parents–Obliterated. “You practically live at your girlfriend’s house. Relax. I’m just throwing a lifeboat, man. We’re supposed to be 18, not married.” 

Grant saw he caught Rick off guard. 

There is nothing wrong with how much you like her, he told himself, refusing to let that barb burn. He hadn’t expected the harsh words to prompt a squeeze in his chest. Rick liked his relationship with Beth. He liked being close to the Chapels. He wanted more of it, to be honest. For Grant to mock that like it was a bad thing…Rick tried to hide the fact he’d been caught off-guard but Grant must’ve noticed he’d hit him somewhere tender, one-upping him and that just wouldn’t do. 

Rick leaned into Grant’s space, tipping his chair forward, the two back legs in the air. If Rick dropped him, he’d fall face forward onto the floor, maybe even over the railing of the loft. He couldn’t say the idea wasn’t enticing. “Fuck off,” he fumed. Who does Grant think he is? He let go of the chair and Grant went careening back to the ground. 

“Oh shit, it is like that.” Grant cocked his head, brows shooting sky-high faking concern or maybe showing actual surprise, gripping the table behind him for some balance. “You think it’s possible? A whole life with one girl? You’re naive as fuck.”

“And you’re a terrible person.”

Rick stormed out, but Grant’s words still stuck in his head.

Chapter Text

KEARNEY HILL - FALL, 2026

Beth’s arm looped around his as they walked to the car after dinner at the intimate restaurant in Beth’s college town. He dressed for the occasion, swapping his usual outdoor jacket with a suit. Beth appreciated it, hands smoothing along the crisp button-down shirt with a kiss to his jaw. She was stunning, and he told her so, marvelling at the self-designed green dress both vocally and with his lingering gaze. Beth drew him close for a deeper kiss. If it weren’t for her roommates or their strict reservation, that dress would’ve been on the floor. 

They took the longest detour near the water, following posts stationed every few feet on cobblestones in a never-ending string of yellow light. His suit jacket draped off her shoulders, skirting the back of her knees. Rick reached for Beth’s hand. She reached for him at the same time. She looked at Rick like he could carry the whole world in an hour if she needed–eyes bright and attentively on his face. Long ago, he’d come to terms with the sickness that washed over him when she gazed at him like that. When it first crept up in high school, the force of it was so debilitating he thought he’d choke on it and die. It wasn’t a sickness. The sweet rush to his cheeks, the lightness that threaded through him or the strain on his smiling face. 

“The new guidelines for signing onto the JSA database should be simple enough to understand. I still have the greatest access, of course, but I sent Courtney a memory aid so she’d remember her new passwords–”

“I love you.” 

Beth paused mid-sentence. Her mouth parted slightly, more exasperated than anything to be interrupted by something as plain and obvious as this. “I love you too,” she replied. “Did you forget your password?”

“No.” He chuckled and kissed the corner of her neck, then her round, pleased face and her scrunched-up nose. Beth stepped right into his embrace when he wrapped his arms around her. She tilted her head up from his chest to cup his jaw. She hummed, light and teasing. “You’re very happy tonight.”

If only she knew. She found him calm but his heart skipped and stuttered, his flesh raised with nerves. “I just love you,” he whispered against her skin, voice caught with emotion. 

He held onto both of her hands and stopped in front of a bench facing the river. It was quiet and peaceful, perfect. The water reflected the lights strung up and down the street just as he hoped.

“Did you want to sit?” she asked as she admired the skyline view, waiting for him to say something.

“No, I’m good here.” 

Beth turned to look at him carefully, her brows pinched together, both fond and concerned. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been better.” 

“I’ve noticed.” Beth squeezed his hands. “You’re healthy. It looks good on you.” 

“You look good on me.” 

Beth ducked her head, the new braids swaying down her back. Rick knew well enough she was hiding her sweet blush. 

“That doesn’t even make sense,” she mumbled to her shoes. 

“You know what does make sense?” 

“What?” 

“I want a future with you, Beth. I want everything with you.” 

“I want that too.” She studied him for a moment, those eyes of hers narrowing behind her glasses. She bit her lip. 

“What is it?” Rick asked.  

“You’re up to something.” Rick kissed her and she gladly sighed, snaking her arms around his neck to slowly kiss him back until she let go and murmured,  “I can’t figure out what.” 

“Need a hint?” 

Beth nodded. 

“Okay.” He took a deep breath and dropped her hands to drop to his knee. Okay. 

Chapter Text

BLUE VALLEY - SPRING, 2021

Right as the muscles in her legs complained for a break, Yolanda jogged to her front steps after a long run with Artemis. She steadied a breath before entering, flicking her hair from her face. She took out her earphones and wrapped the cord carefully around her iPhone. Since working at the diner now directly contributed to keeping her family afloat, her savings fund for the AirPods she wanted doesn’t look like it’ll be growing anytime soon. In the back of her mind, Artemis’ voice barked out that she needed to be stretching to not pull a hamstring, but Yolanda was too tired to follow any more gym rat rules. She sighed, pulling the door open. 

“I’m back from JSA training!” she called out, shaking her limbs out instead, overheating in her purple hoodie. It was still weird to be so transparent with her parents. Even saying the word ‘JSA’ out loud felt taboo. But as confused and—let’s be honest—concerned her parents were about her superhero stint, they’ve been getting better at trying to accept her as the Yolanda Montez she is. Not the Yolanda who they once expected her to be. 

Nobody answered. Yolanda frowned, wandering around the house. Her whole family was eating breakfast when Artemis rang the doorbell this morning. She rounded the corner and smiled when she spotted her brother. 

“Mom and Dad aren’t home, they went to the grocery store. Abuelita is at her eye appointment, they’re going to pick her up later. Your friend Rick called,” Alex told her, digging out a green apple from the fruit bowl in the kitchen. Yolanda finished unbraiding her hair, catching the extra fruit her brother tossed over. 

“Thanks.” She rubbed the apple against her hoodie. “Did he say why?” 

Alex shrugged, already halfway out of the room. 

Big help that was. She frowned, peering down at their landline. Why would Rick call her here instead of reaching out on her cell phone? She bit into the apple, thumbing at her phone again all wrapped up in the white cord. No messages. 

Flopping onto her bed to make her sore muscles happy, she dialled his number. 

“Hi,” she said without waiting for a reply, starting straight away with her burning question. “Hasn’t anyone told you that calling home phones is an obsolete practice and we’re not an early 2000s CW show?” 

She heard his scoff over the line and grinned into her phone. “Seriously, you’re lucky my parents weren’t home. They’d start asking questions. Su novio la llama por teléfono? Yolanda, why didn’t you tell us? Blah blah blah. Embarrassing.” 

Rick’s scoff cut off, his breath hitching with concern. “They don’t actually think…?” 

Yolanda closed her eyes, dragging her hand over her face to physically prevent a gag. “No. No. We’re good. And if you text me like a normal person it shouldn’t be an issue. Anyway, what’s up?” 

“It’s nothing,” Rick said. “How was your day with Artemis?” 

“Intense,” Yolanda groaned out, sniffing her shirt. She was going to need a shower and at least another five apples to satisfy her hunger after all the calories they burned. “But at least I didn’t pass out.” 

“I was recovering from the hourglass, I was sick!” 

Yolanda laughed and rolled over to Starfish correctly. “Whatever Hourboy. No, seriously. You call my landline, but don’t call or text me where you know I’d see it. That is sus.” 

“It is not…sus…” Rick replied with large disdain for the word. 

“It is sus, it’s the most sus and you know it!” Yolanda exclaimed. “What’s going on?” 

“Fine,” he sighed, and Yolanda could just perfectly imagine the way he must be blowing hot air out of his nose, prepping himself to drop whatever bomb he was going to share. She’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt and not brace herself for topsy-turvy news, but, well, Rick had a track record for keeping insane secrets. “I’m going to ask you a question that might make you mad and hang up on me.” 

“Okay…” 

“Were you in love with Henry?” 

If not for the fact she was already on her bed, the swift turn of their conversation would’ve knocked her down flat. “Oh. Wow.” 

She blinked fast, eyes trained on an old water damage spot up on the ceiling. Her stomach churned, resurfacing many conflicted tangled-up feelings that always arose whenever anyone mentioned her ex’s name. She turned to her right side, gazing at the framed picture she had of them that she’d put up and taken down more times than she could count. A part of herself wished everyone would divorce her from their last memories of Henry, another part of her was happy he hadn’t been forgotten. “Um,” she said eloquently, unable to offer up anything else. 

“I know that’s personal,” Rick said in that touchingly gentle tone of his he pulled out once in a blue moon. “I was just… wondering. I was wondering.” 

There was an uncomfortable silence over the line. Now, she understood why Rick didn’t text her. This would be prime screenshotting fodder if it had come through iMessages. If Courtney grew wind of their semi-regular evening chats, all of their posts would wind up on TikTok to be made fun of by millions of teenagers. Yolanda deserved her privacy. 

“No,” she said after another pregnant pause. “I don’t think I was.” 

“How do you know that?” Rick pressed, almost disappointed that she responded that way.

“Why?” Yolanda frowned into her phone. “Did you want me to be in love with him?”

“No!” Rick was quick to shout. “No, no! I mean…” Rick did not elaborate. He sighed and said, “Yes? Kinda?”

“And you’re sure you don’t secretly want to be dating me?” she half-teased, starting to second guess herself. 

“Yolanda I will hang up on you.”

“Okay. Okay,” she muttered. “Just checking. You’re being weird tonight.” 

“Too weird?” 

“Not yet.”

She heard some shuffling on the other end, then a door slam. Yolanda wondered where he was and what he was up to. “Fine, so you weren’t in love. What makes you say that?”

“Because I hated him far longer than I could have ever loved him, and that hatred was so much stronger than anything I felt when we were dating.”

“You don’t hate Henry anymore though. I don’t understand that. Especially since…” Rick trailed off, but Yolanda knew where he was going. 

“What, because I still think Cindy Burman is a bitch?” 

“Your parents really aren’t home.” 

She lifted her head up to glance out the window, those dark curtains stiff as ever. The driveway was empty with no car in its spot. “I’ve got another half hour, but yeah. Hating someone the way I hated Henry is exhausting. I think you understand that.”

“Yeah,” Rick replied with a sigh with so much weight behind it he sounded like an old man.

“Since I was in elementary school, Henry had always been someone in my life. A kid in my class. The football jock. The popular guy I had a crush on. My date buddy. My boyfriend. My ex-boyfriend. Now he isn’t any of those things. He’s just gone. I can’t stay stuck in the past over something that can’t ever change. He’s dead. It’s gone. I’m still angry about the photos and everything that happened but I can’t let it consume my life anymore. Not the way it consumed my mom and dad. I have to let myself believe that if Henry survived and he did apologize, we still would’ve gone our separate ways. But Cindy is still an active person causing havoc in our lives and refuses to apologize for the mistakes she makes. It’s different.”

“Do you need me to say something to Burman?”

“The last time you physically threatened somebody, an old man almost died.”

“Beth brought him back.” Yolanda could visualize Rick’s shrug perfectly. 

“I don’t need you to do anything. Besides, it wouldn’t be genuine if she suddenly apologized to me after a visit from Hourman, it would upset Court and no offence but I don’t think she is scared of you.”

“What are you talking about? We can take her down and we know it. When has Cindy Burman ever won a fight?” 

Yolanda rolled over to the other side at a knock on the door. Alex hovered outside her bedroom. She shooed him away with her hand but he didn’t budge, typing something out on his phone to show her. 

CAN YOU FIX THE WIFI? 

Yolanda glanced at her phone. Sure enough, she was now on her data plan instead of their wifi network. She groaned. “One moment, Rick.” She dropped the phone onto her bed and hauled herself up, the aches in her muscles on fire because she didn’t stretch as Artemis told her to. Alex followed right at her heels. Every time the wifi cut out, Alex would ask her to go to the basement to fix the modem. He was perfectly capable of doing it himself but he swore they had ghosts in the basement. 

Yolanda never used to believe in ghosts but given her run-ins with the last year’s worth of impossible creatures, she’d been more willing to entertain his fears. 

When she returned to the call, she was quick with the quip she was about to give. “When she slit Courtney’s hands and she ended up in the hospital?!?” 

Rick was quiet for a long while. 

“You still there?” 

“Yeah.” 

“This isn’t about Henry, is it?” Yolanda closed her eyes, listening to her friend’s even breathing. His breath hitched and she waited and waited for the words to come, worrying they never would. Maybe picking up the phone was half of the battle. She could help him get the rest of the way there.

“Rick, it’s okay to have feelings for her. You don’t have to fight it.”  

“It’s like I can’t breathe,” he admitted into the phone. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You have two options. You tell her or you don’t.” 

“Yolanda.” 

She rolled over on her bed. “Richard. I’m serious. Those are your choices.” Or, he could wait until Beth explodes and tells him she’s got feelings for him too, which seemed the most likely scenario with each passing day, but Yolanda wasn’t about to take that blow to his ego so soon. 

She thought for another moment. “You could ask Barbara.” 

“Yeah. Sure.” 

“No, for real. She’s been in a relationship with someone who has hurt her, but she also fell for Pat.”

“Yeah, repeat that sentence. She fell for Pat .”

Yolanda laughed. “We like Pat.”

“Whatever.”

“How did she know it was the right choice? There’s got to be a secret.”

“I don’t think there is a secret. I constantly want to impress Beth and be with Beth and do things for Beth. And even when I am focusing on something else entirely, somehow my brain always finds a way back to her. It’s horrible.”

She sat up on her bed, cradling the phone to her ear as her brows crinkled with concern. “Is it really that bad?”

He did another one of those Old Man Rick sighs and she cracked a grin. 

“No,” he admitted.

“It’s exciting, isn’t it? Having a crush.” 

“It’s…it’s weird, Yolanda,” he complained. “I’m not recognizing myself anymore.”

“I think that means you’re happy.” A chuckle left her, just imagining Rick moving on from his grouchy, touchy self. She paused. It was actually really nice to think about. “And you know what I think?”

“What?” 

“I think it’s more than a little crush. You two are really good for each other. She’s patient and she’s sweet with you, and she listens to you.” 

“You’re listening to me right now.” 

“Well, I bet Beth doesn’t roll her eyes.” 

He doesn’t grumble at her and that’s all the proof she needed. “And I don’t see why she ever would when you talk to her like she’s the best thing God ever created.” 

“I think you’re exaggerating just a bit.” 

“Mmm…I think I’m not.” Yolanda looked out the window, checking once again for any sign of her parents. “So is this pep talk helping? I still think Barbara is better than this than me.”

“It’s helping,” Rick promised. The car pulled into the driveway and her brother yelled out they were home. “Rick, I have to go help bring in the groceries.”

“Sure. See you later.” 

“Yeah.” Yolanda sat up. “And Rick? About moving on and being happy?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m glad one of us is able to.”

Chapter Text

NEBRASKA UNIVERSITY CAMPUS - FALL 2026

THE DUGAN-WHITMORE HOUSE, BLUE VALLEY - THANKSGIVING, 2026 

“Twenty-one! Free drink on us! How does it feel to be legal age?” Rick mustered a smile as Beth and Yolanda chanted at him to blow out the flame after the waitress at the restaurant placed a generous cake slice with a numbered candle. Courtney used her dessert fork and plate as a makeshift drum.

“Good,” he answered. He pushed his free drink towards Courtney’s plate when the lady moved to the next table. He’d grown so much in the last five years, moved on from stasis of muted grief, blurry anger and drugged confusion. Would the waitress believe him if he told her he’d given up drinks before he’d graduated high school? 

It didn’t matter now. 21 wasn’t perfect but Rick was happy. Better than happy, he was in control. Two hands on the wheel of life–Rick knew where he was going and how to get himself there. That was more than Rick could want for most other birthdays in the last ten years. 

It’s how he found himself on Pat's doorstep before Thanksgiving weekend with his duffle bag and a ring box in his pocket.

Pat rubbed at his jaw, staring at the engagement ring. It sat on the table with the array of groceries he'd bought from his last trip to the shop for the big dinner. "Where'd you find this kind of money?" 

“I didn't.” 

“Do Beth’s parents know about this?” 

Rick faltered. “…I’m going to talk to them.” 

“Yeah? Before or after that’s on her finger and you’ve got a wedding date picked out?” 

“I know what I’m doing, Pat.” 

He lifted both hands in the air. “I’m sure you do. So did I when I met Maggie, is the thing, Rick. And Barbara when she married Courtney’s father.” 

“But what about when you met Barbara?” 

“I was older. I had a job.” 

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose, bone-tired. For the first time in a long while he could understand Mike’s undercut consternation with his dad. 

Pat peered at him suspiciously. “You seem upset.”

“For once it would be nice if you supported me.”  

Pat sat down, earnest eyes crinkling along his brows. “What do you mean? Since the first day the Buick broke down in the road and I hiked up to Old West Farms I always have.”

“Yeah, but not really,” Rick said, shaking his head. “You never approve of what I do.”

“I wouldn’t put it like that, exactly—”

“I’m so over everyone treating me like I’m still some reckless kid.  I’ve been on my own for as long as I could remember, looking out for myself because nobody gave a fuck about me. I’ve been taking care of myself in my house since I was a child. I got myself this far and you’ve always been pushing me to do more. To make something of my life. And I’ve done that, Pat! I’ve done it. I’ve proved to you and to Blue Valley what I’m worth. And you know the one person who never had any doubt in me? It’s not you—It’s her. I don’t want to move on with my life without her.”

Pat looked at him and sighed. “Rick, you’re just so young.” 

“Yeah, we’re young,” Rick said, just barely holding sarcasm. “I bet Todd felt like that too before Danny died. And Dad before I lost him. If he didn’t get with my mom when they did, I wouldn’t even be alive.” 

Pat clenched his jaw, looking away at the mention of his fallen friends. Rick knew Pat knew that was right. 

“We live dangerous lives, Pat. I’m not saying I think we’re all going to get murdered tomorrow, but I’m not wasting my time. I want to marry her. I’m going to ask her to marry me. I’m just going to do it.” 

“Just like that, huh?” Pat rubbed his mustache, not saying anything else. 

Rick shut the velvet box, pocketing the ring in his jacket. “Just like that.” 

Chapter Text

BLUE VALLEY - WINTER, 2023

“Sorry!” Bridget knocked her red pawn into Rick’s yellow one on the old board game, sending him back ‘home.’ “Well, actually, I’m not!” She threw her head back, pleased as punch by her joke, silver earrings swishing at either side as she shared her chuckle with James. 

“Damn.” Rick stared at his miserable troop of pieces back where they started when the Chapels started their game night with the Hasbro classic an hour ago. He only had one yellow guy left with a fighting chance. 

Jakeem cringed, eyeing the distance Rick would have to make to recover. “I think you’re losing.”

Beth gave his arm a squeeze beside him, reaching for a new card for her turn. “We can’t win all the time.”

“No, we can’t,” agreed James. “But we can be good sports.”  

Beth stood when the doorbell rang. “Jakeem, that’s probably your mom.”

“She’s early!” he complained. “We didn’t even get to Perfection!”  

Rick offered a consolidation fist bump. “Next time.” 

Quick to shove his pen into his pants pocket, Jakeem excused himself from the table, thanking Beth’s parents profusely for letting him stay over as a cover for their JSA trip to New York to stop Shadow Thief from attacking Todd and the Shade. 

“Well,” Bridget said, smiling down the hall as Beth greeted Mrs. Williams. James and Rick pulled their focus from the mingling voices and Jakeem’s embarrassment.“If you two don’t mind keeping the fort, I’ll go say hello.” 

Rick leaned back in his chair as James re-centred the cards on the board game with a carefree hum, his mind drifting to the elephant-sized nuisance living in the back of his mind the last few days. 

“You’ve been quiet this evening. I thought you and Beth made up about that argument you two were having. That’s what Bridget told me.” 

Rick lifted his eyes, meeting Mr. Chapel’s friendly gaze. "We did.”

His girlfriend’s dad raised an eyebrow, drumming his fingers against the Yahtzee box in shambles on the table, valiantly held together with 30-year-old masking tape. “That sounds good. So everything’s swell, then?”

It was still awkward to open up to James, as much as Rick liked him. And it wasn't a James thing that made him hesitant to speak up now, not really. Rick felt awkward opening up to anyone.

It was easier with Beth. Everything was easier with Beth and maybe that was the problem. When his worries concerned her, where was he to go? 

“You don’t think I’m weird? Intruding in all of your Chapel family nights? Sleeping in your guest room?”

The man chuckled again, just as confused, if not more than before. “Did you forget Jakeem was here a minute ago, or…?” 

Rick rolled his Sorry! pawn between his thumb and index finger with a sigh. “Never mind. Whatever.” 

“Do you really feel like an intruder in our home?” 

“Honestly?” Rick said. “No.” 

Relief washed over James’ thoughtful face and he leaned back. “Good…Good.” 

"You don't find that weird?"

“I think you haven’t given yourself the grace to forgive yourself for being an orphan. Your physical house is inhospitable. You feel untethered…A true Blue Valley nomad, so to speak. Rick, anyone in your situation would feel the way you do.” 

Everyone always walked on eggshells around him when mentioning his dead parents. But not every problem he has is about that. Or, was it? Did he really latch onto Beth and her family so much because he didn't have one of his own? Was Rick a walking neon sign that said I WANT A REAL FAMILY? Did that make him a joke?

“It’s just…” Rick felt the heat of embarrassment rush to his face. He’d have to spell it out. “Grant thinks I’m playing house and maybe I am because…” His throat went dry. He swallowed and restarted. “I like my life here. I like being Beth's boyfriend. I like game nights.” 

“I…I’m not following.” 

He glanced down the hall but the ladies were still talking about Jakeem’s good grades, so it would probably be a while longer. “I'm too comfortable,” he complained. 

James sighed and Rick dropped one of the game tokens back to the gameboard and his anxieties spilled out of him like a waterfall. "What if one day Beth and I fight for real and we break up? You're her parents. You'd support her and resent me and I would have to pack up and leave. What if it's not even a fight? What if she just moves on from me? None of this is safe and I've been stupid enough to act like it is because I've been happy and-" 

Two hands landed on his shoulders. Rick tensed, but it was just Mr. Chapel who had gotten up from his seat. 

"Rick," James said. "Relax." 

"Grant's right. I'm a mess." 

"I would take Grant's advice with a grain of salt. He's never been in love." 

Rick's eyes widened with surprise. His heart slammed in his chest as the idea of being in love really settled into his bones. He felt his pulse beat in his ears and his mouth grew too dry to speak. 

"We all care for you, son. But I hear your concerns and I understand them. And if it makes you feel better, Bridget and I can look into helping you get settled in your own place wherever you wind up after graduation. And no matter what happens between you and Beth, that support will be there for you. I promise." 

"Oh," was all Rick could manage to choke out, sick with gratitude. "Thank you." 

"Is everything okay?" Beth peeked around the corner with a furrowed brow at the sight before her, sensing the emotion was charged. 

Rick beckoned her over and wrapped his arm around her waist. Dr. Chapel followed behind and returned to the gameboard. She frowned at the realization zero progress occurred. "I thought you two were going to play for us." 

"We just got caught up talking about that Grant Emerson. Sounds like a handful." 

Beth scrunched up her nose. "Well, yes. But he's not that bad." 

Rick glanced up at her. "Excuse me?"

"He reminds me of you in the JSA early days."

He scoffed and let her go to her own chair, offended. "No way in hell!" 

Beth pinched her thumb and index finger. "Just a bit!" She then took her turn, realizing she had the opportunity to steal his spot on the gameboard. "Sorry!" 

Chapter Text

New York City - September 2026 

The idea was always there. That they could be more, that they should be more. 

He held it in until he couldn't, waking up drunk from the dream without wrestling with it in his mind anymore. He kissed the crown of Beth's head as she slept beside him and drew out of bed before the sun crept into her dorm. There wasn't any sun on the drive upstate to New York, the rain beating down hard on Rick's jacket when he knocked on the JSA brownstone. 

Sandy buzzed him in, calm with an ease that suggested he expected his arrival as Jennie stood surprised, sworn not to tell a soul. The Shade's opulent glass-paned SWIFT'S ANTIQUES NEW YORK branded twisted silver calligraphy. Rick stood in front of it, staring at the hunched back of the client peering over Renaissance canvas.

“Young Richard." He raised a brow once Rick sank into the leather seat. "My shop operates by appointment only. Don't you know it's improper to visit unannounced?"

His thumbs fidgeted in his lap, his foot tapping on the pristine carpet. "Like you ever tell anyone you're coming until there's smoke in Blue Valley."

"Touché." He tapped his hat with his fine gloves. "Now why are you here?"

Rick reached into his pocket and placed a rectangular container on the table. "I need an appraisal."

The Shade opened the box. His wide eyes betrayed his silence, plunging Rick with anxiety.

"What do you think?"

"How long have you had this?"

Rick shifted in his seat. "A while."

“French 18 karat. A yellow gold band." He removed his sunglasses, bringing the ring close to his eye. “0.7 carat diamonds. Rather odd shape for a 60s piece. 20 ^th century, of course.”

"But will it do?" Rick repeated, already expecting the worst. There were other options, it just meant waiting. And more planning. Rick wasn't sure he could pull it off. She'd know that he'd be hiding something, not just with the goggles. She'd know because they shared openly with each other all they had. To keep a secret as this so close to his chest would weigh on his neck more than his hourglass. 

“Yes, it'll do, Richard. It has great value. Now, if you'll excuse me." Mr. Swift reached for the cane resting against the oak desk to stand. "We can negotiate a price at afternoon tea."

Rick lifted his hand, covering his palm over the box. "No. It's not–No, I'm not asking to sell."

The man turned, slight amusement in his voice. "Aren't you?"

"I asked for an appraisal. That's all."

"And what for?"

Rick stared at him. 

“Oh, my.” 

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Rick replied to defend himself, but in the silence that followed, admittedly found the words to be cruel. The length of Mr. Swift’s years rose behind his pointed eyes. What was he thinking? For the first time, Rick shrunk in the face of such scrutiny. Love was a dangerous conversation with The Shade. The man who self-proclaimed to be loveless and yet acquired a rag-tag group of wayward children he nearly called his own. 

“I understand marriage and all its responsibilities perfectly.” 

Dr. McNider sprang to mind. He was still a married man with his own family and that did not include Mr. Swift. Unanswered questions of the nature of their relationship past or present became a forbidden terrain for the JSA to comment on for fear of it inflaming his temperament like pressing on an old bruise. Dr. McNider’s sporadic visits to the JSA brought great joy, but only The Shade grew melancholy once it was time for Dr. McNider to return home. 

“I’m sorry,” Rick said awkwardly. 

The Shade waved his hand as though to dismiss the faux pas entirely, though Rick couldn’t be sure which of the two the man thought made the mistake. “Have you immediate plans for such a proposal?”

“Why?” His suspicions were raised again. “I’ve already told Pat. I’m not going to have the surprise ruined by sharing my whole plan.”

The Shade smiled, sly. “No, I gathered not. On the contrary.” He reached for his wall-mounted telephone and rang his secretary. “Clear my appointments. The Antiques Shoppe is closed for the rest of the day.” He covered the receiver with his hand, clueing Rick in. “Quite frankly, I can’t possibly imagine Mr. Dugan offering you any adequate advice on the art of the elegant engagement and it is none of my business but I cannot deny a sordid fascination and am now committed to see this through.” 

Chapter Text

Rick's Apartment - Fall, 2026

Don’t do this. Rick exhaled with a shaky breath, hands behind his head as he backed away with his nice white sleeves wrinkled, shoved up to his elbows. He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing as he squeezed his eyes shut, the vodka like hairspray still stinging down his throat. Just one sip—It’s what he told himself, anyway, that he deserved one sip—Anyone in this situation would—staring at the discounted Smirnoff four miles from the thirty express, thirsty for relief from the disaster. You’re better than this.

It didn’t taste good. Not the vodka or the shame, but it sure as hell felt better than heartbreak. 

Rick stopped, retreating until he hit a wall. He slid down with his head in his hands. Who was he kidding? One shot wasn’t going to numb this kind of pain. It was going to take more. 

It wasn’t worth it—He knew that, to flush three years of sobriety’s blood, sweat and tears down the toilet. But Beth was worth it, she was worth it, wasn’t she? And if he couldn’t make that work, then what was the point? 

Rick didn’t have a drinking problem. He had an hour-high problem, which Beth still classified as substance abuse, but in Rick’s head were two very different things. And it wasn’t like he was an angry drunk, and it wasn’t like he liked getting drunk, and it wasn’t like he tried to get drunk on the regular since pre-JSA. He knew what that was like. Suffered under Matt’s alcoholic thumb, and it was horrible. Even at fifteen, he knew he couldn’t be that kind of person. He just also couldn’t handle experiencing death incarnate when detoxing from an hour-high. So, when he needed to fill the void after Miraclo ripped out of his system, numbing out with a drink developed into a sticky habit; the next-best choice. Those were isolated incidents—That didn’t suggest a problem. Until Yolanda and Beth pointed out the days he spent from middle to high school slinging down back-to-back beers so he didn’t have to feel so much. And Pat and Sylvester sat him down with the gritty details of his dad’s Miraclo relapses when college applications got stressful and he tampered with the Hourglass again. Beth’s mom provided a different word, a better word to explain what Rick had. Not a problem—A predisposition to addiction, no matter the kind. But those dark days where the itch to mess with his hourglass limiter came so few and far between, he thought he’d kissed them goodbye. 

The box in his back pocket dug uncomfortably beneath him—He hissed, shifting to root it out of his pants, flipping the top open to stare at Beth’s engagement ring. His eyes prickled with tears until the ring doubled in his vision. He was supposed to be celebrating with her, be in love with her—Be engaged to her—An entire life built for this future that was now, just like everything in his life, ruined by a carelessly cruel mistake. 

This was too much thinking. Rick wanted to be numb again. He got up from the floor, grabbing the hourglass from its stand to kill the guilt holding him back. He took another burning swig—His chest expanded, gulping in the rush of adrenaline with Miraclo in his bloodstream and alcohol reaching his brain. It still wasn’t enough, it wasn’t doing anything fast enough. It wasn’t muting the grief or flood of humiliation replaying the moment she said no. It didn’t make him love Beth less, it didn’t make him stop thinking about her, it didn’t make him regret asking her to spend forever with him at all.  And if it wasn’t helping like this, it would be worse in an hour once time’s up and his pride crashes down. It was going to take more, but he needed to stop, spinning out of control. 

He yanked the hourglass off and lost the ego boost with it, blood rushing to his ears as he pummelled from the high and it felt like shit. With thoughts sloshed, he fumbled with the base of the hourglass to pry apart the hinges at the limiter; this way, the next time he put it on, he wouldn’t have to worry about it ending before he was ready. 

His thumb slid against the clasp and the safety mechanism in place locked firmly, shutting him out. 

No, no, no, no!

“Damn it!” Rick yelled, refusing to be deterred, ripping at it until his skin peeled raw, his fingernails torn, bleeding. But it was working the way it was supposed to exactly for moments like this. It was working the way he designed. 

If he didn’t want to abuse it, he was going to have to break it, but he wasn’t going to break it, because he wanted it bad. 

His flesh stung and his eyes burned. Tears streamed down his face, unbearably helpless and so fucking ashamed. Why couldn’t he get out of this loop? Why couldn’t he walk away? Why couldn’t he just let himself sit in self-pity for one fucking moment without needing a table decoration to cope with the pain? How could he work so hard on himself only to wind up here? He needed help, someone needed to help him. Beth would stop him—No, she wouldn’t stop him, she would’ve supported him as he stopped himself, but he couldn’t do that today. Not today, not now, not after this, and for one second, it was so evidently clear why she rejected him that he almost threw up. 

This wasn’t who he was. This wasn’t what he wanted to be. 

He dragged the alcohol to the bathroom, ridding it completely. More blood splattered from his hands as it smashed against the sink. Rick stayed on the cold tile, wrestling with the hourglass mechanism until the window opened, Wildcat claws lifting the glass pane above him. She climbed in, quiet as stealth. 

She dropped to the ground in front of him.   

“Rick. Hey.” She shook his frame to jolt Rick out of the compulsion, glancing around the mess of the apartment; the ring box she never knew about abandoned on the wooden floorboard in view, the Smirnoff and the hourglass chain wrapped around his white knuckles. She pressed her lips in a thin grim line, meeting his exhausted red-rimmed gaze. “Let me help you.” 

Rick nodded, only resisting a little when she pulled the artifact from his grasp, tucking it away with every bit of strength Rick didn’t have. 

“How did you know?”

“She told me,” Yolanda said, gentle with empathy, and his heart broke all over again. She took his shoulder, drawing him close to her polymer purple suit. “She told me.”

Chapter Text

Rick's Apartment (again) - Fall, 2026

“So, now what?” Courtney asked, her curls splayed against Rick’s stripped bed. The naked mattress bought second-hand bore a proud blue detergent stain and enough missing springs for Rick to not feel too broken up about leaving it behind. 

She rolled over and propped her hand up, elbow-deep in the sunken patch. She watched his fervid packing with a horrified fascination. It was like a match had been lit at the back of his feet, Rick just knew he had to go. He called Jennie in New York. There’s a room for him at the brownstone that he can crash at over the summer. Rick hadn’t figured out what to tell The Shade, and he didn’t think he could stomach a conversation with Sandy, but he claimed a family emergency—His professors only needed him to show up for exams next month, so he was going to take them out while he can.  

“Like, are you two broken up now? Do we have to split you up in JSA meetings?” She sat up straight. “Are we still going to the Taylor tour in October?”

“I don’t know.” 

She protested with a small whimper. “It’s Taylor!” 

There were more important concerns in Rick’s life than whether or not he would be able to make a road trip to a Taylor Swift concert. Notably, the fact his girlfriend didn’t want to marry him and how crippling nausea ambushed him every time he thought of it. 

He leaned back on his heels, narrowing his eyes at her. “You said you would help me pack.”

“No, I said I would come over while you packed. There’s a difference.”

Rick rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“I mean,” Courtney prattled off, biting on one of her nails. “If you’re running away from your problems now because you can’t face her, you weren’t ready to get married.” 

Rick lost the grip on his t-shirt, his hand slackened as he stared at Courtney. “Excuse me?”

She shrugged.

“That’s not true.” 

“Yes, it is.” She said it so plainly like the perspective she carried didn’t drop Rick head-first onto concrete. “Beth’s probably the smartest person we know. She’s not going to accept something she knows you’re both not ready for. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you.”

“I am ready for it.” 

“No, you want it. Bad. It’s not the same thing.”  

He sat down beside Courtney. "My flight leaves tomorrow." 

She eyed him for a long moment. "Okay." She turned around and sighed. "Call in for the next meeting. You can be a little baby but don't skip out on JSA." 

Chapter Text

BLUE VALLEY, SPRING 2021

“I want to be with Rick forever,” Beth said, sandwiched between Courtney and Yolanda in the girls' bathroom with her mascara wand still in the air, mid-application. They hogged her mirror, the only one not crusted with ancient water stains and mould as they applied touch-ups to their looks during their fifteen-minute break between classes. “I had a dream that I moved to Switzerland with him. We were 30 and I didn't even bat an eye. Is that weird?”

Yolanda smacked her lips, pocketing her lip gloss. “No, but it’s a honeymoon phase. When you start dreaming about babies, ask me to pinch you and I will. You’ll get over it, trust me.”

Courtney leaned in, holding Beth’s arm as she squinted at their reflection, truly studying the statement. “Maybe you won’t.” 

Yolanda eyed her oddly. "Do you have something to share with the class, Court?"

“Not the baby fever thing! I mean, maybe you really will feel this way forever. He's a surprisingly good boyfriend and you’ve known him for a long time.” 

"Surprisingly?" Beth echoed. 

"I had my doubts. You know. With his Rick-ness."

“That’s true, you two are pretty good together,” Yolanda agreed. “He is your best friend. I’m sure that makes a relationship grow deeper much faster. None of that awkward getting-to-know-you stuff.”

“Right.” Courtney tore a wad of paper towels from the dispenser after she washed her hands. “And no JSA secrets either. That must be nice.” 

“It’s also a little stressful,” Beth admitted. “I worry about him now more than ever when something goes wrong.” She bit her nail. "Even when things don't go wrong..." 

Yolanda poked her side. “Beth Chapel is in love.” 

“Shush,” Beth said, flushing like crazy and ducking her head shyly as tell-tale heat crawled up her skin. Maybe she was, but she didn’t need the entire third-floor girls' washroom to know about it. "I'm new to this, that's all!"

Courtney laughed, hopping onto the sink and singing the Dixie Cups song under her breath, altering the lyrics as she went along. 

“Because, Beth really loves him and, Rick’s going to get married, going to the Chapel of love…” 

Beth covered her face in her hands, smudging all her hard work with the mascara, whining. “Stoooooop!” 

Yolanda raised an eyebrow. “You're not saying no." 

Beth shrugged like she didn’t know the answer. 

Chapter Text

Rick's Apartment (again) - Fall, 2026

She arrived like a storm, the spare key tight in her fist. 

Beth dropped it on the empty table, the only furniture in his apartment left standing. The clink against wood echoed through the kitchen. Rick wasn’t prepared to see her. Not as this champion of barely-restrained fury, those sharp eyes afire, her lip trembling. She’d never carried herself so rigid, never clipped her tone so hard when she demanded when he was leaving, pinning the suitcase with her gaze like she’d need to activate combat mode. The ticket in his back pocket was booked for tonight, but he couldn’t say it. His silence spoke loud enough.

“When were you going to tell me? Once you were gone?” Her words painted real hurt and his stomach roiled at the living grief played on her face. “I don’t get a choice in any of this? Our lives, our futures? Not tomorrow or today? Not at all?” 

“Beth, wait—“

“No, you wait.” Her ringless finger pointed at him, voice just under a shout. “You wait.” She snapped at the suitcase. “ You wait and we talk this out. We talk about it. We don’t run away. We don’t throw out our entire relationship. That’s not fair!” 

“I don’t really see what we have to talk about.” 

“You asked me a yes or no question and I gave you one of those answers. That is what a proposal is—And you’re mad at me?” 

“I’m not mad!”

Beth stiffened, mouth kept shut, but she tilted her chin up and her eyes said, yes you are. 

Rick sighed, reiterating himself. “It hurt, Beth.” He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. He didn’t look at her when he said, “It hurt like hell. I’ve never felt so...lost. Never felt so—" He broke off, and rubbed his hand over his face. 

Her breath caught from across the room. The floorboards creaked as she walked over. She removed his hands from his pinched eyebrows, only now noticing his wounds. 

“Rick. Your fingers. Yolanda told me you struggled, but I didn't know it was this much.” Her tone shifted, tension melting away as she laid them against her palm, inspecting them closely. He glanced at the reminder of his relapse, his skin red and scarred. It disgusted him. He tried to pull them away, but she looked right up at him and he stopped. 

“I fucked up,” he said, and her face softened. He didn’t need to say more. Beth touched his face, brushing his cheek with her knuckles, and her next words were so gentle. “You don’t think it hurt like that for me, too?” 

No. He didn’t think of the aftermath. Didn’t think of the desperation clawing out of her dry throat when she begged him to get up from his knee, didn’t think of the root of the uncomfortable laughter until it abruptly halted. He didn’t think of the strained way Beth told him goodnight, only to march stiff-upper-lip into the dorm room until she could collapse. Nor did he consider the blindside because he was never there, too choked on the failure. 

Rick didn’t think at all, was the problem. When it mattered the most, he never seemed to, at the mercy of his fight or flight hurdling him in either direction—Right to the very brink. He thought he’d been cleansed from that kind of poison—he didn’t think it would be so easy to fall back in. 

“I just don’t understand why it has to be no.”  

“Rick, we’re 21.” 

“How does that matter?” 

She let go of him, pressing her hand to her forehead and repeated herself. “Because we’re 21! We haven’t graduated college yet. We don’t live in the same town!” She went to his kitchen and he followed, using the water bottle in her purse to fill it from the tap. 

Rick followed her, persistent. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Yes, it does.” 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“It matters to me!” Beth slammed the water bottle back onto the table. “Grad school, Med school, a house, work. Money, Rick.” She stretched her hands out wide, demonstrating the gap of their unknowns. “We don’t have any of that figured out yet.” 

“We can do that together,” he argued. “Whatever needs to be worked out, we'll make it work. That’s what couples do! The rest doesn't ma-"  

"Why?" she demanded. "Why doesn't it matter? Why do we need to be engaged right now? Why can't it wait?" 

He didn't mean for the car to swerve into his left field of vision again, surprising him. He didn't expect to see the crash replay for the thousandth time. He masked the flinch and blinked his parents away. A decades-old funeral and unkept graves melting along with it, his girlfriend coming back before him. 

"We've been dating for five years. It's been so long that calling it dating sounds not enough for what we are. It's forever, I want. I don't know how else to make it clear."

“Alright,” she softened, for the first time sounding like she was considering it seriously. Like he'd touched something meaningful. “Hypothetically, maybe we’d figure it out. And then what? When would you want us to get married?” she asked. “Like, in two years? Three? When I’m swimming in debt from my MSc degree?”

Rick frowned at her. “Your parents—"

“I can’t be relying on my parents as a married woman. You don’t understand. My parents are going to expect me to be grown! When I’m married, I am not depending on mom and dad’s monthly e-transfers getting me through the month for rent.” 

“Then I’ll work to support us!” 

“While you’re doing your Master’s degree in Chemistry?” 

“I’ll decline my acceptance. I don’t have to do grad school. I’ll find a job while you’re in school. We'll save money on rent. My parents did it and they managed.”

“Oh my god.” She groaned, almost laughing again, but it wasn’t the cute laugh that worked like medicine. She sounded scared.

“Rick,” she said tenderly. “Babe.” She shuffled forward, cradling his face. “Look at me. Listen to what you are saying. You’re compromising finishing school now to get away and that’s not what I’d ever want for you. Not ever. We’re too young for that—These are big choices.”

Her hand on his cheek was so warm, so grounding. He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a moment, holding onto what he'd convinced himself he'd lost. “I know. Per Degatron? Psycho-Pirate? Those villains scared me. Being with you, making that permanent? That doesn’t. It’s one of the only things I’ve ever been sure of in my life these past few years. You, Beth. How much I love you, the future I want to have with you..." He wrestled away from her and wrung his scarred hands. He wished he hadn't fucked them up. Maybe then, she'd believe him. "That's not going to change so if you don't feel the same way, just tell me now. Let me leave. I can take it." 

She studied him for a terrible moment, either gathering her thoughts or considering his plea, he wasn't sure. It terrified him. 

"I want you to know that you've grown into a man I'm incredibly proud of." 

Rick scoffed. Another wave of nausea ripped through him. This was it. He was right. These were platitudes and they were over. 

“I'm serious. I love how committed you are to taking the plunge,” Beth said. “Look at all you've done to share your life with me. You’ve thought about it. You planned it. You’re ready for it, and I love you for that. I promise. I love you very much. But I've still got a lot of growing up to do. I’m not ready for engagement or marriage yet. Thinking about having a family...One day, Rick. I will get there, but I’m not comfortable settling for a life I don’t even have the foundations for—And I’m not comfortable that you think I’d have just agreed.” 

Knowing Beth thought this was one thing, but hearing her say it was another. Rick nodded, even when it stung. His voice cracked. “I’m sorry.” 

Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I hurt you too.” 

Rick sighed, long and weary. 

“So,” Beth began delicately after a shuddering breath, spelling it all out. She steadied herself by the table. “I don’t want to marry you. Not right now. But it's not a never. And it's not because I don't think you'd make a bad husband, or because of your addiction, or because I wouldn't be happy with you. I still feel like a girl breaking out of my childhood and want to see where my life leads me. I admire your confidence but I can't put a veil on all my plans. And, if that's not acceptable for you, and you can't wait for me...I don't want to hold you back either." She choked the words and he saw how much she didn't want to say it. "I'm not the one doing the leaving in this relationship. I'm just asking for patience but I don't know if that's enough. Please, don't go."

All his decisions must’ve seemed so rash and impulsive to her. Not just his quick defeat. From the idea of proposing, to getting the ring, and assuming they were done when she said no. He hadn’t made her understand that it wasn’t about the practicals, it was about the love. Still, he couldn’t deny some truth to Beth’s perspective in that regard—When it came to practicals, Rick’s foresight could use some guidance. Beth begging him not to walk away broke his heart more than his wounded pride. She stepped back like she wasn't sure what he would do, how much she could take, and how could Beth not see she was more adult than he could ever be, that this was why he wanted her, needed her, how she stood up and did the hard shit when Rick should be the one grovelling on his knees? He dug out the hidden bus ticket and tore it in half, then reached for his girlfriend's lifeline. Rick’s thumbs pressed into the tears flowing down her cheeks.  

"I screwed up. I screwed up," he muttered under his breath. "I'm sorry." 

"It was a beautiful fuck up," she lamented forlornly, and a startled wet laugh at her language pushed its way through.