Every time I think back on that moment when I realized that I had really messed up, images of the person I used to be, and images of the person that I truly felt complete with buzzed through my head. Then reality set in and I knew that, that chapter in my life had closed and there was no way to get that back. Or so I thought, now I'm on my way back home and I truly don't know what I'm doing anymore. It hurts to feel like a kid all over again, here I am relying on my parents again. But as I look over at the little piece of me sleeping in the seat next to me I know why I came back...

"Sawyer honey we're about to land wake up for mommy" said Winnie as she gently nudged the little boy sitting in the isle seat next to her.

"Really mommy, we're gonna see granma and granpa really soon right mommy?" asked the little sleepy eyed boy.

"Yep, thats why I woke you up so you wouldn't miss the landing" Winnie said with a smile.

"Yay! can I sit next to the window now so I can see it?" Sawyer said with so much excitement that he almost bounced out of his seat into the isle.

Winnie nodded and traded seats with the little boy, "Wow, mommy theres lots of water" he said with pure facination.

"Yes, and theres beaches too, mommy likes the beaches here allot better then the ones at our old house" she said with a smile. "My mommy and daddy used to take me to the beach all the time, and now I get to take you there" she tickled his side and kissed his cheek.

It wasn't long before they were getting off the little plane and walking down the terminal. Winnie could feel her stomach begin to flip flop she didn't know how her parents would react. She hadn't seen them in person since Sawyer had been born, thanks to David.

"Winnie!" came a cry as they walked into the waiting area a short dark haired woman with thick black glasses came running at her. "Oh! Meu bebê é para casa", Maria pulled daughter down by the neck and pelted her with kisses.

"Hi, mom" said Winnie almost in tears from sure happiness, she hugged her moms neck and looked up to see her father coming up behind her. "Hi daddy" she said sheepishly she knew her father had never approved of her marriage to David and now she knew why.

"E meu neto também o que um dia maravilhoso" Maria then turned her affections onto Sawyer who giggled.

"Mommy why is granma talking funny?" asked Sawyer.

"Maria speak English for God sakes" said Joseph shaking his head out of embarrassment.

"Oh grandma is sorry, she was just so excited to see you" Maria said as she wiped the bright red lipstick smudges off Sawyers face. Joseph walked over and picked up his grandson "Look at you, you've grown like a weed. Here soon you'll be playing baseball won't cha" Joseph pulled out a Red Sox cap and put it on Sawyer's head.

"Dad, already trying to make him a Sox fan really?" Winnie shook her head, inwardly she breathed a sigh of relief that her parents were happy to see her.

"Hey, I didn't get my boy so It's my job as a grandpa to mold my grandson. It's in the grandparents handbook look it up" he said with a chuckle as he kissed the top of Winnie's head. "I'm glad to have you back munchkin" Winnie smiled her dad had always called her that. When she was a teenager she hated it now it was comforting, to know that no matter what had happened her parents still loved her.

The drive back home was full of happy memories and more hugging and kissing, as they pulled up to the house that Winnie had lived for 18 years she could feel tears begin to well up in her eyes again. "I'm home" she said.

Only way to feel the noise is when it's good and loud...so good you can't believe it's screamin' with the crowd...

To say that Izzie Nakani-Maisuradze liked her music 'turned to eleven' was the understatement of the ages. The sound of Motörhead's speed metal masterpiece Overkill could be heard for just about miles around, more than rivalling even the tremendous roar of the gas-guzzling metal beast Izzie sat astride as she tentatively watched the street light overhead, waiting with rising irritation for it to shift from a persistent red to green. Around her, she was well aware of heads turning from within the cars gathered in the vicinity, casting baleful glares at the crazy woman attired in dreadlocks, leather, spikes, and tattoos, blasting this horrendous racket at obscene volumes. Which nearly made Izzie want to break out into a cruel smirk. Motörhead was easy listening as far as she was concerned. Were she in a genuinely angry mood at this point, there was no doubt the entire damn town would be entreated to some of the more...violent selections of Izzie's extensive musical repertoire.

At the moment, however, Izzie wasn't genuinely angry. Just angry, which was the typical state of being for Izzie, and most of it was currently deriving from this goddamn street light refusing to just turn fucking green already, even though there wasn't a single damn car crossing the intersection before her. Ah, fuck it. I'm gonna be late at this rate. To hell with that goddamn streetlight and to hell with everyone here. The irascible woman pushed off with one steel-toed boot, and without the slightest hesitation, the massive motorcycle roared forward, leaving the mass of cars still waiting for the green light in the metaphorical dust. Suckers. Ah, how Izzie pitied those who felt the need to enclose themselves within the suffocating chokehold of nonsense lawmaking. Truly, she did.

"Rock'n'roll ain't worth the name if it don't make you strut..." Izzie mouthed along with the words as the cruiser surged forward. Everything about her, the uncouth, rough singing, the spike-studded leather jacket, the way she navigated the bike through the streets loosely, almost lazily, lit cigarette jutting from her thin lips--all screamed "I don't give a shit". Just something in the way everything about her aligned perfectly to project an image of a careless, carefree person, someone devoid of physical and emotional baggage, someone who simply didn't have a damn thing to worry about, to fear, to regret in the world. And how lovely it would have been if that were true.

It had been maybe two months since Izzie had returned. She hadn't seen Rosemary, but then, she hadn't been looking--no, she'd done her best to actively avoid anywhere she thought Rosie might be found, which wasn't hard, because there were about two places Izzie could be consistently found at. The local bar, and the cheap, low-run tenement she was currently renting out on the outskirts of Provincetown, which was very nearly all she could afford at this point. And unless it had changed in the past seven years--Izzie was well aware of the possibility--Rosie had never been one for alcohol, and therefore would probably not be encountered at the nearby watering hole, and Izzie was fairly certain she wasn't gonna come home one day and find Rosemary there or something.

How did I go back to thinking about this shit? She gritted her teeth angrily. No, her explicit instructions (to herself) were that she was not to think of anything or anyone from...those years. Least of all her, the heinous little weasel. No, the mere thought of her was enough to get Izzie's blood boiling with the recollections of how she had led Izzie on for years, fucked with Izzie's mind and emotional state, and then ultimately played her bullshit victim card and dropped Izzie like a sack of potatoes at the side of the road...

Her hand suddenly twisted sharply on the throttle, and the motorcycle gunned forward, narrowly missing some pedestrian that Izzie did not give a shit about. And with that, Izzie forgot all about not thinking about it in favour of seething with rage over her skewed perception of those years old events.



When she arrived at the bar, he was already there, of course. Izzie had gotten used to the fact that he was invariably either early, or right on time--she'd later figured that that was because he had nothing better to do than be punctual, though the same could not be said for Izzie. She couldn't tell if he'd been early or right on the mark this particular time, because by the time Izzie pushed open the door leading into the little bar, it was nearly half an hour past the agreed time. And of course, despite that, he was still sitting alone at the bar, a slender ponytail of dark brown waves vaguely visible against the black fabric armouring his back. Wordlessly Izzie approached, and then plopped her considerable bulk down on the stool beside him.

"You're kinda late," the man remarked, in a subdued tone of voice--as though he very clearly could have sounded more alive and emotive than those three words came out as. But Izzie's retort nearly cut right across them. "Can it, Kollias," she grunted as she motioned for the bartender to bring her her usual drink. And then she turned to face her companion. "Not everyone is blessed with your magnanimous skill of having absolutely nothing whatsoever better to do in life than be on time."

"Except you, but sans the 'being on time' part," Jack ventured a bit of humour. Always a dangerous risk where Izzie was involved, except the older woman merely laughed roughly, tossing stray dreadlocks over her shoulder as she knocked back a generous swig of the potent alcohol she had just been provided with. "'least I'm honest about it," she shrugged, the brief smile that had flitted across her face in the advent of the laugh quickly disappearing once more into the void of her dark, angry face.

Jack couldn't say exactly how he'd ended up associating with a woman like Izzie. Friendship was not quite the proper term to describe their relationship--for were they friends, Jack would not have felt the need to repress himself, his friendlier, good-natured tendencies, in her presence, for the well-placed fear that she would cruelly squash them down, armed with her brutal brand of sarcasm and intermixed bluntness. But prior to meeting Izzie, soon after she'd arrived in Provincetown, at a local record shop where they had been pretty much the only two people browsing the metal section, Jack had very nearly forgotten what it felt like to actually associate with people beyond mere formalities and necessities. At the very least, as long as he was hanging out with Izzie, even if she remained an enigmatic, irascible delinquent who refused to tell him the slightest thing about her life prior to the last two months, he wasn't alone. It wasn't anything like how things had been back when Jack had had someone with whom he could genuinely enjoy spending time with, but at least he wasn't alone.

He had to fill that void somehow.

Rosemary was in a small apartment near the outskirts of Provincetown.She had been currently visiting one of her friends who fell ill maybe the only reason she had returned to Massachusetts maybe about a month ago. The apartment was small but rather well-furnished, in the sitting room laid black sofas and a medium sized loveseat that was also black. A glass table and too the left of that table was a 54 inch flat screen t.v. that hung on the wall. There was also a bunch of red roses in a white flower base on the glass table and many other plants that decorated the small room. "Anne, am so very sorry about your condition." Rosemary muttered. Anne her friend who has went into the last stage of cancer was awaiting death row.
Anne shrug. "It's my time to go..." She said but you can sense the pain in her voice. Anna has always been the laid back kind of girl with no worries and a free life, but now she was the one dying inside and out." Rosemary..I would like to go somewhere and have a good time before I leave.."


Rosemary's eyes shot up, she would do anything to help her friend who was clearly dying. "Where do you want to go?" she asked her eyes full of compassion. "The bar." Anne replied as if it was an obvious answer, Rosemary sunk into her seat and sighed.." But..But...But-" she was about to contradict before Anne said "Hey am about to die. A few drinks wouldn't hurt anyone." The bar was a place often Izzie hung out the last thing she wanted was to see that crazy girl again. Much less all the pain she cost her... Izzie must have been angry that she left.. and she didn't want to see her face again that crazy motherfucker.

It took a few verbal fights some hair pulling and a quick soak in water before Rosemary gave in to going to the bar.
Anne pushed through the doors of the bar, Rosemary immediately scanned the room and her eyes busted out of her head as she noticed a young girl with a punk like outfit with black hair and she just started to cry, she new it was Izzie without even looking at her face. "Rosie? really? Why are you crying?" Anne asked rolling her eyes thinking she was crying because of the scent of alcohol. " No I have something in my eye that's all. " she muttered trying to keep her eyes off of Izzie, she hadn't changed much...and if she hadn't changed much that means she forgot about her.

Thomas Hanely drove his white, Ford, pick up truck down yet another busy street in Provincetown. Tom really, really hated this town. This is the town where he lost friends to drugs and prison. This is the town where his mom works almost nonstop. This is the town where he fell in love with girl across the street, only to have her leave him like everybody else. It was safe to say that Thomas had contemplated suicide, although he knew he would never do it. Who else would take care of his mother? So Thomas worked himself to the bone every day, only so he wouldn't have to think about his own pathetic life. Today was no exception to that routine, he was heading out toward, oddly enough, the street where he grew up to fix a electrical box that was said to be broken, so now the street didn't have any power.

"I never thought I'd set foot on this street again." Tom said, his eyes were a little narrowed, as if angered by this place. He stepped out of the old truck and slammed the door. He was wearing his issued, blue, jumpsuit and walked over to the telephone pole where the electrical box was said to be. He climbed up the pole using the the metal prongs as a ladder, when he reached the top he opened the box to find rust all throughout the thing.

"Jesus, this thing must not have even been touched since I was kid." Tom said, a look of disgust on his face. He gave a slight groan, "This may take a while." He pulled up some insulation tubing and began making the proper measurements for it. His eyes wondered over down the street a couple houses where he used to live. There was a new family living there now, so the house looked to be in pretty good condition. He couldn't help but look across the street toward where Winnie used to live, he wondered if the Ashmens still lived there. His eyes grew wide, as if seeing a ghost when he saw the girl get out of the Asmen's car. It was Winnie.

"SHIT!" Tom yelled as he slipped from the pole. He began falling, but reached out his right arm and grabbed one of the metal prongs. The electrical tubing had fallen to the ground, but that wasn't of his concern. What was his concern was that he had gotten the attention of the Ashmens with his shout.

Winnie went around to the rear passenger door and unbuckled Sawyer from the car seat "Mommy is this our new house?" asked the sleepy eyed boy. He had fallen asleep on the way home and was rubbing his eyes.

"Yes, baby for now this is our house" she said as she picked him up and out of the car setting him on her hip. "Will be here till mommy finds a job and we can get out own place to live" she said as she kissed him on the cheek.

"You stay here as long as you need to hun" said Joe "I just got you back don't go running....

"SHIT!", Joe was cut off by a yell down the street the whole family turned to see and electrician fall.

"Oh God!" gasped Winnie as she buried Sawyer's head in her shoulder just in case something happened she didn't want him to see.

Joe dropped the suitcase in his hand and ran down the street, just as the man on the pole grabbed one of the prongs on the way to the ground.

When Joe got close enough he realized who it was Thomas Hanley the young man that had once been neighbors with them and good friends with Winnie. "You alright there Thomas you need to be a little more careful even though that's hard to do on some of these old poles" said Joe.

Winnie heard the name her father just said Thomas she hadn't seen or talked to him sense she left for college. And after she met David there was no way she would have been able to talk to him, considering he had cut her off from everybody at home. He probably hates me now, and I wouldn't blame him for it, she thought. She set Sawyer down on the ground "Mommy is that man okay?" asked the scared little boy. He knew what was about to happen when his mother covered his eyes.

"Yes, baby I think he's alright why don't you go in the house with Grandma okay. Mommy will be inside in a minute" said Winnie as Maria motioned for her grandson to come with her.

"Come on Sawyer Grandma has cookies inside that she want's you to taste test" Maria said with a smile. The little boy cheered and followed her in without any more questions as Winnie went over to where her father was.

"Thomas you need to be more careful" she said quietly and looking down at the ground. Her voice was shaky she was still not used to talking to other people again, it was like she still expected David to come out and smack her if she did.

Joe looked at his daughter as she spoke, once she had with confidence and enthusiasm David had made his daughter a shell of her former self. All he could think is that man will be lucky if he never saw him again cause he'd probably cave his face in for making his daughter this way. He had always thought that Winnie would be strong enough to not get herself into a situation like that and when he went to the wedding he felt dread in the pit of his stomach. He barely knew David but he had the air about him like he though he was Gods gift to women.

But at that point Winnie wasn't his little girl any more and he couldn't do much about it, he tried to be supportive to her and walked her down the isle. But there was something about David he just didn't like and he found out later there was a reason why. It tour him apart the first time he called after the wedding and David answered the phone refusing to let him talk to Winnie. He felt like reaching the phone and ringing the little punks neck, but there wasn't much you can do with a dial tone on other end of the line. It got to the point after that where calls would me made and nobody answered.

At one point he had even taken a trip to their apartment only to find out that they had moved and the landlord had no idea where they had went to, saying that the had skipped out on three months rent and the year lease. His daughter would never do anything like that she always worked hard as a teenager even though she didn't need to. But now he knew that David would take most of the money he made form his job at a club and put it back into it. Winnie would be left at home to live in squallier with their little baby. He was so grateful when Winnie finally came to her senses and contacted them he couldn't but the plane tickets fast enough after that phone call.

Joe shook all the thoughts out of his mind and walked over to the pole holding out his hand to Thomas "Here you need to come down to the ground and collect yourself for a minute" he said with a smile.

"I'm just saying that it's...boring. One-dimensional. One-directional. There's nothing to figure out or delve into."

"And all I'm sayin', Doc, is that music don't have to consist of fifteen different time signatures and a drummer with eight arms to be enjoyable." Jack sighed as the thirty year old ruffian knocked back another swig of Brewdog and then wiped her lips across with the back of her hand--ever since she'd found out he had a doctorate, Jack had been Doc, or 'Prof Kollias'. Haven't I asked her not to call me Doc? Wait, no, I haven't, because I'm not an idiot. Not that much of an idiot. Telling Izzie that being called 'Doc' annoyed him was, Jack figured, more or less akin to tantalisingly swaying a choice cut of juicy steak over the head of a ravenous crocodile--he'd've been a fool to think she wouldn't snap it up and he'd be nothing but Doc from then on.

"See, I reckon I know your problem." Izzie swallowed down the rest of the contents of the bottle, motioning aggressively for the bartender to provide another. Jack merely raised an eyebrow, feigning intrigue, but Izzie ignored the gesture. "You can't just sit down, shut the fuck up, and enjoy the simple shit in life. Gotta have something to 'figure out' and 'delve into'. Put simply, you overcomplicate everything, to the point where you can't have a good time if something isn't all convoluted and complex."

"Exploring a career in psychoanalysis, are we, Miss..." Jack paused, trying for the last time to dissect the pronunciation of her surname, before deciding against another attempt at the whole damn thing. "...Nakani?"

"Don't need no psychoanalysis to figure it out. s'not a matter of psychology. Hell, when was the last time you went outside and just walked around for a bit without stopping to think of something complicated and utterly irrelevant?"

Were he a bolder man, Jack would have turned the question back at her and asked the same of Izzie (which she hated), but sadly, he was no such being. "But there's so much to think about..." he shrugged his shoulders lamely, well aware that his answer probably sounded like a load of bullshit to a woman like Izzie. "Why waste time not thinking about it?"

"Time spent not thinking isn't necessarily time wasted," Izzie countered sagely. Jack could have chuckled at how she, consciously or unconsciously, spoke like some sort of wisewoman relaying the experience of her years to a younger, unenlightened fool, but he figured it was better to keep that chuckle to himself than risk her wrath over it. "Sometimes it really is a better use of time to just not think at all."

"Practically Zen," Jack drawled, earning him a sharp rejoinder for his trouble. "Not Zen, moron. It's just common sense," Izzie spat. "Christ, with that degree of yours that you fuckin' parade around, Prof, you'd think you'd be a little more aware. Guess it's true that intelligence don't always equate to knowledge."

You've missed your calling. You were clearly destined to become the next Socrates rather than an aimless biker. Of course, Jack said no such thing--he'd been pushing it with his earlier comment anyway, and he feared how Izzie would react to such a statement...at the very least, it'd be something a bit more stinging than just a spiteful retort. And so it was that Jack summoned up some less bold reply, one that was summarily ignored. Now, it was not often that Izzie did not reply to Jack with some rapid-fire bit of invective, so the twenty seven year old drummer glanced up to look upon his companion.

Izzie's face wore an expression that could be best likened to...confusion? That was an emotion he'd never before seen gracing that dark countenance of hers, but there were many expressions he'd never seen her wearing besides her customary scowl and occasional pleased (but by no means happy) smirk. She'd turned to look off somewhere to the side, as though she'd seen something that utterly perplexed her in the direction of the entrance. A brief flash of bright pink hair--at least, perhaps it'd been hair--briefly visible amidst a crowd of rowdy motorists that had just made its way into the establishment. Pink hair set off all kinds of alarms in Izzie's head, even years later...But dammit, Rosemary doesn't drink, Izzie was quick to remind herself angrily. So why the hell would she come to this bar? She wouldn't have, obviously. Not even worth dwelling on any longer. Izzie turned away from the spot where briefly a flash of pink had caught her eye, just in time to see Jack twist his head away, a bit too hastily to look natural doing it. "Something catch your attention?" she grunted irately, well aware that he'd noticed something had caught her attention. Wisely, however, Jack did not pursue the subject. "Nothing."

((Contentless post is contentless, sorry.))