Morningstar Manor

Their number had finally come up at Morningstar with a little help from Miss Vale, and they had another apartment. It was as small as the last one easily, but it was clean and bright and there wasn't anything - wrong - that she could tell right away.   He was normal. She was normal. At least for the time being. It was their first night, so it was kinda hard to tell.

She curled up next to him on the gray Ikea sofa she'd bought on her credit card and plopped a box of rice crispy treats in between them. "Are you hungry?" she asked him. "Well, for something other than these. I bought groceries. I could cook."

Anastasia's hand shook a bit as she used her key to open the door to the apartment she shared with Gavin. It had been... Well, months. And she couldn't take it anymore.

She had to check on him. Had to see him. Had to make sure he was okay.

Anastasia was feeling good today. Really good.

She'd had the day off of class and had decided to go out and run some errands. She'd gotten a bonus check from the college for supervising some open lab time, and she took the money to do some grocery shopping. She'd splurged on some steaks and a little table top grill, thinking they could go outside since it was so gorgeous and have a little makeshift picnic.
She was - happy. And she wanted to be with Gavin.

"Baby," she called when she walked into the apartment and shut the door behind her. "I've got some good stuff. C'mere!"

One more scene. A few more words. Gavin was working, writing, working...sweating. It was finished it would be finished it might never be finished...soon.

He scribbled, hunched over his notebook, the desk under him like polished wood like silk like everything he'd ever wanted.

Everyone was well on their way to getting hammered on Trevor's father's dime, but Anastasia didn't care. She was sublimely, blissfully happy.

She was married. Married! To Trevor Wentworth.  How could she ever be unhappy again?

It was dark inside, the things of doing which were busy in the sense of stuff that had to happen. Scribbling. Long hand, pen scratching on paper, scent of ink like liquor on this tongue and writing. Writing.

Writing.

Gavin was writing. The desk was perfect for it. Comfortable. Soothing. He'd written two chapters already this week, long hand, writing in a thick notebook with his favorite pen. He was distracted, but not too much to know Anastasia was there, with him...

This was good.

Big doings over at the Manor had made the crowd here a little...hell, a LOT more interesting over the past few days. Pretty people came and went, eating Cook's food and drinking. Always drinking. Conn watched from the bar, wondering what on earth was going on over at Morningstar.

The Super Bowl was playing on the small tv set in the corner, but Gavin wasn't paying much attention. He was working on the desk. It was coming to life under his fingers and the soft rag he'd covered with furniture polish, smoothing out the scratches and clean every crevice. It was a gorgeous desk, and he hummed happily under his breath as he worked.

"...how about this one?" Gavin pointed at the green plaid sofa. It didn't smell *too* bad. And it had only a few stains.

They needed furniture, and neither of them had enough cash to drop on anything really nice.

Anastasia walked into the small, one room staff apartment that Ms. Vale had generously agreed to let them have until another became available and couldn't stop her nose from crinkling.

"Oh my, Elspeth wasn't kidding," she said as she looked around. No one looking to live in the Manor would agree to pay for an apartment in as much need of repair as this one was, or with this smell, unless they were desperate.

And Gavin and Anastasia were that.

Trevor had listened to the whole story stone-faced, fists clenched. When it was through, Gavin was sure his brother was going to pound the shit out of him. Instead, Trevor just stood.

"Get the fuck out of my house."

It wasn't more than Gavin had expected. "I'm sorry, Trev."


"You're not sorry, you little fucker. How could you be? You're fucking my wife. Why would you be sorry about that? I know how it is, remember?"

Gavin shook his head. "That's not why I'm sorry. I love her, man. I'm sorry because..."

"If you say I love you too, I'll fucking drop you to the floor and beat the shit out of you," Trevor said flatly. "You both don't love me, or else you wouldn't be doing this."

"We couldn't help it," Gavin said, feeling guilty anyway.

"Well," Trevor said without sympathy, "You should've. Now pick up your shit and get the fuck out."

Gavin, knowing there was nothing more to say, did.

But he went to Anastasia, which is where his heart belonged.

Connor, in the Lamb, had taken over the bar to give Molly the day off so she could...well, do whatever it was that needed doing this close to Christmas. He was alternately serving drinks and food and working on some lists of things he intended to order for the Lamb, bills to be paid, general stuff like that -- but ahhh, it felt good to be doing it in person instead of over the phone or online.

Sarah had ducked down to the Mocha for something sweet, her notebook in hand. She'd actually managed a few chapters on her book-that-wasn't-a-memoir-after-all, and it felt good to take a break from writing to face the world, even if it was still only inside the Manor.

Brian and his Grams were also in the Mocha, Grams looking pink-cheeked in her favorite dress and hat, ready to be taken out for a full day of Christmas shopping. Brian looked tired, probably because...he was. Late nights and early mornings at the lab were taking a toll.

Trevor in the gym, working out hard, working up a sweat. He was feeling strange, had to get out of the apartment that was too empty without his wife.

Gavin, on the other hand, was really out and about, sitting in the corner at the Lamb, nursing a Guiness and basket of fries. It was time, he'd decided, to get the hell out of that apartment, meet some people, get a life that didn't revolve around his brother...or anything else.

Annnnnd, finally, Elspeth was in the lobby overseeing some last-minute changes in the holiday decorations. It turns out some of the glass balls dangling from the Manor's oversized tree were too breakable, so she was supervising their replacement and the re-hanging of nearly identical ones in child-proof plastic.

"No, dude. If you finish the fucking ketchup, you should buy a new bottle." This came from Trevor, looking angry, holding the bottle toward his brother.

"No, DUDE," Gavin said. "I didn't fucking finish the bottle, YOU did."

Something dark skittered in the kitchen.

Feasting.

Elspeth was reading a magazine and nursing a pot of hot peppermint tea. She was also writing a list -- mostly of last-minute gift ideas -- Mr. Vision was so terribly difficult to buy for. He really was a man who had everything.

Sarah, feet up on an empty chair, had a thick paperback in one hand and a doughnut in the other. Both were gooey and decadent, and she was thoroughly enjoying each.

Gavin, on the other hand, was sitting by himself at a corner table, drinking black coffee and contemplating taking up smoking.

She was digging for reasons to come here, she decided. She missed him and wanted to see him, but for some reason whatever had happened had put up some sort of mental flag that made her think she couldn't come to see him just because.
Taking a deep breath, she used the key to the apartment that she hadn't brought herself to give back yet and walked in.

Trevor was at work, and Gavin was writing. Furiously, in a sweat, pencil ground down to a nub. It was good work, it was brilliant work, it was terrible. It was words, at least. Pouring out of him, making him bleed. He was drinking, too, a sip of whiskey every few pages.It helped him think. Smoking, too, even though Trevor hated the smell of it in the apartment.

Niles walked into the Manor with his head down and the collar of his coat pulled up around the sides of his face. He kept his busted knuckles in his pocket as he walked past the font desk and to the elevator, stepping inside before anyone had enough time to get a good look at him. He ached all over and he probably looked as bad as he felt. Did he have anything in his apartment to deal with this? He didn't think so.
On a whim, he hit the number for Elspeth's floor. She'd likely lecture him, but he knew she'd clean him up too.

*****

Anastasia lay on Gavin's bed with him, fingers smoothing through his hair. They'd come in here to just lay together as they often did now and she'd told him about the studio that was being built behind the gallery for her. It was warm and sweet, like it always was with him,  and she couldn't stop herself from pressing a kiss to his mouth lightly, even as she wondered what time Trevor would get home.

Anastasia left her art room for the first time since kissing Trevor goodbye that morning. She and Gavin had been avoiding each other like the plague. They had to talk about it sometime, didn't they?
She padded into the kitchen on bare feet and leaned against the doorframe, looking at him.