A/N: I acknowledge that I'm playing god here and messing with the time frame a little. "What it Feels Like for a Ghost," where Craig left for rehab, took place in early fall and my story, supposedly set six months later, is taking place at the beginning of the following summer. I suppose that in my universe, he would have left for rehab sometime in January. Though I doubt this will really offend anyone, I thought I'd say something just the same.
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Play
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"Hello?" the unmistakable, disguising-a-laugh voice of Marco del Rossi drifted out from the cordless telephone receiver and into Craig's ear.
"Marco? Hi! This is Craig," he began, only to be cut drastically short.
"Craig! Craig! Oh my gosh... Dylan, Craig's on the phone! He's actually calling!" A pause, then: "Yes, he's on the phone!" Craig waited. "I don't know if he's still in rehab," Marco's voice came, obviously still talking to Dylan, "Do you want me to ask him? Okay, I will." Pause. "Craig? Hey. Still in rehab?"
Craig couldn't help but chuckle. "No, no I got out this morning."
"Am I the first one you called?" Marco's voice was playful, yet demanding. It was apparent that this Meant A Lot To Him.
"Yes," Craig smiled into the receiver, "I had to call you guys first thing because... well, I wanted to ask what you guys are up to this week? Like you, Dylan and... Ellie," her name sounded foreign in his mouth. It was then that he realized he hadn't said the name aloud in months, despite its incessant repetition in his head. "Would you be up for company?"
The answer Craig got wasn't really an answer at all as much as an excited whoop from Marco and the sound of Dylan celebrating in the background, then: "We'll leave the door unlocked all day."
As Craig hung the phone up, he couldn't help but acknowledge that the hours he'd spent out of rehab had been all but perfect so far. His stuff, he'd found, was still packed from Joey's move to Calgary and could easily be shipped to Toronto. He'd taken Angie out for lunch at her favorite diner in this unfamiliar city and gotten caught up on the exciting events in her life, including the tale of a first kiss that made him snap instantly into the protective big brother mentality he hadn't even known that he missed. And best of all, Joey was wholly accommodating to him, if not the slightest bit cold; sparing him the advice and lectures to which Craig had become accustomed and, for the most part, staying in his study and out of the way, leaving Craig to his own devices.
Signing onto the computer to purchase next-day airline tickets, Craig couldn't help but wonder if he was moving too fast. Toronto was not exactly a museum, with everything behind its own glass case, and there was almost no way it had stayed exactly the same. What if there wasn't still a place for him?
The moment the thought had formed, a picture of Ellie Nash flooded his mind. Or rather, a visualization of Ellie's smile, Ellie's reliable eyes shining up at him. If there was one thing he could depend on, it would be that she would be there. That she would be up for a midnight trek to the Dot for a cup of coffee and an all-night chat, or would make up a pot of his favorite homemade macaroni and cheese without even asking if he needed comfort food. And maybe in the wee hours of the morning or over a steaming bowl of pasta, he would confront It. The mortal sin he committed before his departure. He would finally get to make it right.
Six months ago, when he told Ellie Nash he loved her, he hadn't meant it in the slightest. Sure, it was there, buried in some part of his damaged teenage psyche, but the words coming out of his mouth were the very definition of insincere. The kiss they shared was one of desperation, and, in retrospect, of shame and regret. The drugs stood in his way, fogging up his brain, until everything was coated with a fine, white powder. But six months had changed that - six months stewing in a pot of self-disgust had allowed everything to settle in around him and when everything had slowed to a standstill; when it was only him, Craig, alone in Calgary, bare feet hanging off the end of a cot that was a little too small for him, he could see her clearly. He could see that she'd always been there and that she always would be. And this dedication he saw, this unwavering devotion that Ellie had personified for the past two years, was suddenly overwhelmingly attractive to him. He swore to himself, then and there, that the first chance he got, he needed to get his skinny white ass to Toronto to beg her forgiveness. He needed to make her fall back in love with him.
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His arrival to the Greater Toronto Airport was drastically different than his last. As he stepped off the plane, there was no smiling girlfriend there to greet him. Normally, this would be something upon which he would dwell: a moment spent in his own melancholy, but he could feel the endorphins swelling in his brain. This was definitely a high period. Craig paused for a moment to wonder whether he'd taken his medication this morning, before shrugging off the idea as quickly as it had entered his brain - there wasn't time for mental disorders when he was finally in such close proximity to the girl he loved.
An hour's worth of fighting with the other passengers at the baggage claim to get his hands on those few possessions of his that had survived Joey's cross-country move and riding in a cab with a driver who barely spoke English later, Craig found himself at the barely-familiar doorstep of the home of Ellie, Marco, and Dylan. No sooner than his knuckles had touched the heavy oak door, it swung open to reveal a jubilantly-grinning Marco.
"Craig!" his friend exclaimed, pulling him into a relieved embrace. Pulling back, Marco wrinkled his nose quizzically, "Is this all your luggage?"
Craig's shoulders heaved as he took in a deep breath. "I'm moving back," he said quickly, as if expecting a backlash. "I mean, not, like, here with you... I'm... I'm gonna get an apartment and a job and maybe eventually start university and-"
"Dude, that's great!" Marco exclaimed, hugging his friend again, "It's almost too great, actually! And who's to say you can't move in here?"
"Huh?"
The expression on Marco's face fell. "There's room. Dylan's only sticking around for a few more weeks before he ships out to Switzerland to crush my heart and join a professional hockey team. And," Marco hesitated, knowing full well he was treading on awkward ground, "Ellie moved in with Jesse when the semester got over."
Doing his best to contain his pure and utter disappointment, Craig nodded a little too vigorously. "And you were planning on living here alone? How could you afford it?"
Marco shrugged nonchalantly, "I was putting up posters asking, nay, begging for a roomie - but I don't need that now!" he finished with a grin. "What do you say, buddy?"
Living in this renovated old house just outside of Toronto with one of his best friends in the whole world sounded like it just might be the best thing that ever happened to him. Without even considering whether or not after his life out of park and into drive, he should press the accelerator all the way to the floor, a grin spread across Craig's face and he picked up his heaviest bag. "Deal."
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Mere hours later, Craig sat idly at the dining room table as his new living room filled with his old friends. Marco and Dylan had wasted no time in throwing him another welcome home party - this one on a much greater scale. It had been Dylan's idea, without much consideration, to invite a rather copious amount of his own college friends - "Hey, I'm leaving in two weeks - do you really want to throw another party when we could be spending time together?" - who, in turn, brought rather copious amounts of alcohol.
Putting a hand on Craig's shoulder, Marco scowled at a blonde girl he'd never even seen before as she attempted to climb atop the table, a fifth of Southern Comfort still clenched in her hand." I know this isn't exactly what you'd expect for your Back-From-Rehab party, but..."
At that moment, Craig ceased to listen. Because as his friend spoke, a petite figure entered the dining room, dressed casually in an obscure rock band t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, her red hair hanging straight down the sides of her somewhat-smiling face.
Noticing the newfound light in his friend's eyes, Marco shook his head sadly. "No. Craig Manning, in the name of all that is good; you've caused enough trouble for that girl..."
Serotonin surging in his brain, Craig stood, nearly tripping over his chair in the process. "It's not going to be that way this time. It won't be!"
Marco still waving his hands in that universal "hazard" signal behind him, Craig strode purposefully up to the girl and placed a hand on the small of her back. She jumped in startled surprise, interrupting her conversation with Ashley.
"Craig!" she gasped. He couldn't detect any disgust in her voice, but, he sadly noted, no warmth was present, either.
Craig's lips turned into a smile, "Don't act like it's such a surprise - you know what this party's for, right?"
Ellie shifted her weight uncomfortably, "Well, yeah."
His hand still on her back, he guided her away, slightly, and into the kitchen. To his surprise, she walked along with him. The kitchen of Marco and Dylan's home was small and slightly crowded, as one of Dylan's friends had set up a keg on the counter. "Did you miss me?" Craig said, finally, his face breaking into a grin.
Her face was unreadable; "I got by."
"You always do," he said through a smile.
Trying to figure out what that remark meant, she searched his face with her eyes. The thought crossed her mind that maybe he was still entertaining the notion that he was in love with her. At least until Manny waltzes back into his life, she began to add before her thought process was interrupted by Craig's lips on hers and Craig's arms around her waist.
Instinctively, she brought her hands to his face, enjoying this kiss for a moment until she remembered exactly who this was. The boy who had pulled her heart out and stomped on it only months earlier. As quickly as she had melted, she pushed his face away from her own, crying out in disgust. "What the hell do you think you're trying to do, Craig?"
Craig shuddered, looking around. The kitchen was not empty. People were staring. "I..." his voice dropped, audible only to the two of them, "I said I was in love with you, Elle. Nothing changed."
Her jaw fell slack, in disbelief. "How can you say that? Everything's changed, Craig, you've been gone for six months! I have a boyfriend that I love! I have a boyfriend that I live with, for crying out loud! What are you gonna do, come pick me up from my boyfriend's house for a date?!"
For the most part, Craig couldn't even hear her angry tirade; the blood in his head was pounding against his skull, like it hadn't for months. She couldn't just turn him down: he needed her! He didn't come all the way back to Toronto just to watch Ellie lead a happily-ever-after life with some hotshot editor boyfriend. She was going to be his and he would make sure of that. If only he had some cocaine, he could -
Craig froze, hand extended slightly toward Ellie, as if he had planned on touching her shoulder. For the first time since his exit from rehab, he remembered the drugs. How they made him feel as if he could do anything in the world. A little bit of cocaine and he'd have the confidence to win her back for sure.
"Craig?" she asked, concern flooding her face, watching him stand statue-still in front of her, a pained expression on his face. "Are you okay?"
In an instant, it was clear what he had to do. The look in her eyes while watching him hurt told him everything he needed to know about worming his way back into her heart.
"I'll be fine, Elle, I just... they can't fully break you of it, you know?" he stammered, rubbing his temples as if withdrawal had given him a bitch of a headache.
"Of drugs?" she asked incredulously.
He nodded and started walking towards the kitchen door. To his surprise, she followed. He kept talking: "Half the time I know I can never go back to that - that person that I turned into, but when I'm," opening the door to the front yard, he gave her a poignant stare, "hurting-" (Ellie blushed, looking downward) "- I just don't know what I'm going to do without a fix."
They were out on the front porch now, secluded from the bustle of the party and the noise of Dylan's largely intoxicated friends. "It's a lifelong battle, you know, addiction. I still think about... cutting," her voice softened, "almost every day."
"I feel like I'm all alone," he said, quite truthfully, "Especially if I don't have you."
She touched his arm fondly, "You'll always have me, Craig, you know that. Even if it's not the way you want," she added quickly, and, he hoped, out of duty.
"Let's hang out tomorrow night," he said, putting his hand atop hers. "Just you and me - not like this. I'll probably be job hunting and moving in all day tomorrow, but there's no one I'd rather have dinner with than Eleanor Nash."
"Craig," she smiled playfully, "I am not going on a date with you."
"Yes you are. Or else I'll... I'll relapse!"
Clearly flirting with him, she gave his arm a little shove. "That's not funny!"
Spinning around, he grabbed both of her hands and held them in his. "Just one date. Just to hear about how things are going for you and to show you how much I've changed. One date. You don't even need to tell Jesse."
There was silence as she pondered this for a moment. "Okay. And I most certainly am telling Jesse. I have nothing to hide."
Without a further word, she turned and skipped down the steps, off the porch, and began her walk back to the street, too busy cursing herself for letting Craig Manning creep his way back onto her mind and into her heart to see that very boy, standing on the porch of his home of one day pump his fist very exaggeratedly into the air in celebration of his victory.
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Not to whine, but two reviews is more than a little disheartening. Many more would really be appreciated!