Chapter I
And It's Not So Bad
Then you call me,
And it's not so bad — not so bad…
- "Thank You" by MKTO (cover by Andi & Alex).
It had been a year and three months since Michael Scott had gone off to war. Though the bonds among soldiers in his platoon, built over the terrible hardships of war, were incredibly strong, Michael had missed his dear wife, Holly, more than he'd ever missed anything before. Now, minus an arm and half of his toes, Michael was ready to come home.
This story at least kept him preoccupied as he waited at baggage claim, forever or until death of boredom. After a week without seeing Holly at all, it was this last moment of anticipation which proved most agonizing.
She had promised to meet him here as soon as he landed, but either she was about to jump out and scare him, or she still hadn't gotten here yet. He hoped she was late because she had stopped for ice cream or something, but he doubted it. She was probably stuck in traffic; and she was a conscientious driver, so it could be a while.
He had already found his bags, so now, he had nothing to do but to wait. He sat down alone on one of the least comfortable benches in the entire world, like a hobo, keeping his eyes on the crowds of people who would likely block Holly from his view. She was pretty short, compared to some people, but Michael liked that about her. When she wore flats, her head would fit right under his chin, and her whole body would go against his like two gigantic puzzle pieces.
He hadn't hugged her in a whole week.
When she'd first decided to go ahead of him to Colorado, he hadn't been worried about it. After all, he'd gone months without seeing her when they were broken up. It had hurt like hell for a really long time, but he was practiced at it, now. This time, he knew it would only be a week until he'd be with her again — and then, forever. He shouldn't have missed her this much.
But he did. He missed her cute face, and her voice — he'd talked to her on the phone, but it didn't sound the same — and her jokes, and the smell of her shampoo. He missed touching her and kissing her, and he missed making her laugh. And maybe even more than the sex, he really just missed her calming presence. He could have used it this week.
He had done the hardest thing ever today — that's what she said — and said his farewells to everyone at the office. And he'd done it without telling them that it was his last day in Scranton, which made the process both easier and so much harder. It was almost too heartbreaking for him to go through with it — he'd nearly given up. It was only after he had Holly on the phone, hearing her voice and feeling her peace, her certainty that this was the right thing to do, that he could stay the course.
And now, sitting here in a strange airport in a strange state, without her, he could feel the doubt creeping back into his mind. After all, good decisions were supposed to feel good, and this didn't feel good at all. Maybe he'd made a mistake. Maybe he'd made a huge mistake and he needed to go back.
"SECRET AGENT MICHAEL SCARN."
Then he saw it.
There, in the air, written out in familiar bubbly handwriting, soaring at a low altitude just above the sea of human heads, was his sign. There was his ride home, signaled adorably by his best friend and fiancee, Secret Agent Holly Floss. He couldn't see her yet, in the distance and clouded by strangers, but she was there.
"Holly!" he shouted, trying to get her attention. It wasn't likely that she heard him over the overwhelming chatter of airport rush, but he kept trying anyway. "Hey, Holly!"
Suddenly, the sign lowered down into the crowd, vanishing from view. Michael sighed, already on his feet and anxious to see her. She refused to show. "Holly! Over here!"
For a moment, he wondered if she'd completely gone the wrong way. He tried to listen for her, but there were a lot of flights coming in at one time, and too many people crowded the arrivals for him to see her — much less hear her. And she'd told him to stay put…
There she was. He'd found her
Her hair seemed longer, but that was probably just in his head — she'd said on the phone that she wanted to grow it out, but there was no way it had grown at all in just a week. She looked endearingly casual in her jeans and her flats, a look which she had to know was one of his favorites. There was a blush on her face, too, when their eyes finally locked — and the blue eyes seemed even brighter than he remembered, than he pictured in his head…
And she held in her free hand, to his utter disbelief, two ice cream cones.
Then she turned the big white sign, and his whole heart melted.
"Mint chocolate chip?"
When he looked back down at her, she wore one big smile, making his whole being buzz with excitement as she headed toward him. The mere idea, the plan in his head to reach her and hug her and kiss her and squeeze her so tight that she couldn't breathe, just put his feet on the fritz as he walked toward her — and then jogged toward her — and then tripped — and then walked toward her, until they were within hearing range.
"Hey," she greeted him from a few feet away — her voice low and excited as she smiled at him.
"Drop the sign," Michael said, not stopping.
She blinked. "What?"
"Trust me." He let go of his suitcases, too.
And fortunately, she'd dropped it just in time, before he collided with her, lips landing clumsily on hers as his hands fell to her waist. Then, he made a big scene, because an airport was a perfect place for a big scene — ask any movie ever — and he lifted her up off the ground. He pressed a few successive kisses into her mouth, taking his time, to make up for the week he'd spent sleeping alone…
If they were only aliens who didn't need to breathe, he might not have stopped; but both of their breaths were growing short, so he pulled away first. When he opened his eyes to look at her, he found that she was already grinning. He chuckled, and rested his forehead on hers before whispering, "I missed you so much."
"I missed you, too," she breathed, shaking her head. Her free hand drew fingernail trails in his hair, while she still held two cones in the other. She raised her eyebrows, and added in a sultry voice, "I brought ice cream."
Michael felt goosebumps rise up on his arms at the tone of her voice, drawing his lips toward her again, like a gravitational pull — and he was stuck to her, like a magnet to a magnet — like peanut butter and jelly — like gum to a shoe, but ten times more romantic. Had it really only been a week since they'd been this close? It seemed like much longer.
"-t's gonna melt," she eventually said as she retreated from the kiss, blush deepening as she looked into his eyes. His breath caught, reluctant at first; he pulled back just an inch as she retracted her arms from around his neck, until the ice cream was between them. He accepted his cone gratefully, nodding his head in thanks.
"You," he said, pausing to lick his ice cream cone, "are an angel. Did you know that?"
She was still smiling, probably right beside him, hanging over the moon. "Well, I try." As if to add to her point, she inched past him to grab one of his suitcases, hooking the handle over her arm so she could lick her ice cream. "I figured you'd want something sweet after a bunch of airplane food."
"You figured correctly," Michael said. He reached out to grab her hand before they even thought about leaving. When he lifted his head again, she leaned closer before replying.
"Also," she said, and that suggestive voice made a reappearance. "I kinda wanted to watch you lick it."
Michael's eyes widened at that. "That's wh-"
"-what she said," she said at the same time as he did, and winked at him. Hands squeezing together, they left the baggage claim behind, making for the exit. Then, she added in a country accent, "It's been a week too long, pardner. A week too long."
He chuckled, eyebrows raised. "Absolutely, pardner. In fact, I just might have to take you down to the station tonight."
"Oh, really? What's my crime?" she drawled.
He raised his eyebrow, prepared to say something about how sexy she was — but then, looking over at her, he paused, his steps slowing a bit. His eyes stopped on her for just a second, or what was supposed to be just a second, wandering all the way up and all the way down — from her cheeks all pink, and her lips, and her shoulder bumping against his as they walked — and he felt the swelling in his chest, the excitement, the nervous butterfly feeling that had followed him all year. He realized just how much he'd missed her. He'd been so lonely without her jokes, and her hand holding his, and the entertainment of watching her do simple things like licking an ice cream cone or waving a sign in an airport. He'd missed existing with her.
And now his own face was heating up, as she watched him in curiosity, waiting for his response. He looked down at his feet and muttered in a low, southern whisper, "For… being the best, ever."
He glanced up just in time to see the transition, the softening of her features and the falter of her steps as she processed this answer. She eyed him silently, lips parted, and swallowed.
Suddenly, Holly came to a complete stop — just looking at him until he stopped, too. He froze, eyes widening, and wondered if he'd upset her. He hadn't meant to ruin the game, but he'd thought-
She barreled into him, throwing her arms around him so strongly that he jolted; he nearly dropped his ice cream, but only nearly. She swiftly rested her head against his chest and pulled him tightly into her embrace, with no explanation whatsoever. He didn't understand what was happening, but it felt good.
"You okay?" he asked tentatively.
Holly sniffed, which sounded bad, but nodded her head. "Yeah," she said into his jacket. Slowly, she pulled back to look at him. "Yeah, god, I just… I missed you."
He blinked at her, rubbing her back lightly. "I missed you, too."
She sniffed, and stared down into his shoulder. "This week has been so hard," she continued quietly. "My dad is doing worse than I thought, and my mom and I keep fighting, and I'm so… relieved that you're here, now. I needed you."
Michael couldn't decide if being needed made him happy, or sad, or terrified — but he could safely include that any one of those emotions were nearby. He frowned and brushed her hair over her shoulder. "I needed you, too. But it's gonna get better now, right?"
"Right," Holly said, taking a deep breath. "Yes. We've got this."
"We got it," he echoed. He gave her a squeeze, and added, "But it's not gonna be very fun if we do it on an empty stomach, so…?"
She smiled at his redirection, eyebrow raised. "Well, Mom is making dinner at home, and I promised her and Dad they'd get to meet my soulmate tonight…"
"Ooh, that sounds like fun," Michael said — even though he wasn't sure it really did, and there was a very real possibility that this mere mentioning was the dawn of a great feeling of doubt and personal horror — but he didn't let it show. "Let'sh go."
"Let ush go."
"Shtep lightly, now."
"Of courshe!"
"A horshe, of courshe!" Michael added, and started back on their path out of the airport.
There are a few things I need to explain about this story real fast.
Firstly, this is an old story. It hasn't been touched since 2015, when I was 16 and lovesick and channeling it all into fanfiction. I'm only posting it now, after the fact, as some kind of healing process bullshit for myself. So while any comments will be read and appreciated, I can't take your input into account for the rest of the story. It's already been written. It's permanently shit.
Secondly, this is a 200K-word, 100-chapter story. I'll be posting a chapter every day until it's out of my hair, so if daily notifications/emails are going to bother you, you shouldn't hit the Follow button. Fair warning.
Thirdly, I'd like to say that this is an emotional project for me. I planned it with (and wrote it for) my best friend, and I fell in love with her during the 1.5 years I worked on it. I never finished it, and maybe getting closure on this will help me get over her, too. That's all I want.
I don't expect anyone to read this, but if you did... thanks.