Angel Dust

A/N: A lot of complications with this site, as well as a slight case of writer's block, or writer's apathy, have discouraged me from posting new chapters as of late. But I'm over that now, and I think I'm going to have some exciting chapters for you very soon. Expect explosive revelations in the next few installments, kids. Review, and as always, Enjoy!

"Are you going to say something? Or just sit there and stare at your plate like a deaf mute?" Courtney asked as she finished off her glass of wine.

John's infectious grin spread over his face as he pushed a stray piece of asparagus around his plate and then raised his gaze to hers. The twinkle in his blue eyes immediately took her back to the days of pep rallys and homecoming dances. So much had changed for both of them, their lives had definitely taken different courses. But the bond that they had developed in this tiny Vermont town was still there, still connecting them, even if only by a thin strand.

"How am I supposed to react? Should I be surprised?" he asked with a shrug, dropping his fork onto the plate with a slight clatter. "Courtney, every guy at St. Johns loved you," he reminded her. "Shy little Courtney, with your shiney hair and your perfect smile. And your perfect body." The wink he shot her was affectionate and full of admiration. "Am I supposed to be shocked that more than one guy wants your attention now?"

She rolled her eyes and leaned forward, her elbows on the table as she clasped her hands in front of her. "You're supposed to tell me what to do," she said playfully.

This time, John laughed. It was a soft chuckle that hung in the air between them as he leaned forward and motioned for her to take his hand. His warm fingers covered hers as he held her gaze with a soft sincerity. "Even if you had a history of listening to a damn thing I told you to do, Courtney, it's not my place. Not this time." She began to protest. "You are twenty-seven years old. Almost twenty-eight, if I remember correctly. Don't you think it's time for you to make a decision for yourself?"

"That's what everyone keeps telling me," she huffed, resting her chin against the palm of her free hand. "I just want to know that I'm making the right one," she stated, pulling her hand away from his.

Leaning back in his chair, John spoke softly, but with authority, just as he always had. "And if you make the wrong choice?" She bit her lip, tears building in her eyes. "For as long as I've known you, Court, you have been the consummate politician. You know all the right words to say - you can motivate a room full of people to do things they never thought possible.

"Remember senior year, when I was getting ready to play in the East/West game? The one that's televised? For the entire world to see?" Courtney's lips tweaked into a small smile at the recollection. "And I was so nervous, I threw up for three days before the game? I wanted to stay home, remember? I was already comitted to Princeton. I didn't need the exposure. I just wanted to stay home.

"Do you remember what you told me?" He watched as more tears formed in her eyes. "I do. I remember it every day. Every time I step onto a football field. Every time I do an interview. Every time I shoot a commercial. Every fucking time that fear bubbles up in my throat, I think about what you told me that night on the phone."

For a long moment they sat in silence. Courtney watched her wine glass, waiting for him to go on. When he didn't, she realized he was waiting for her to say the words. She knew exactly what he was referring to, and saying them to him had been easy back then. But telling herself now was not so simple. Believing it was next to impossible.

Clearing her throat, she whispered, "If you don't play, then no one can see you miss a tackle, and give the other team the game-winning score. But they also can't see you own the field, sack the quarter back, cause an interception, or score a game-winning touchdown on a Sanders-esque turnover, either."

"You want my opinion?" She sat perfectly still, staring at her empty wine glass as he spoke. "You are the single most generous person I know, Court. You love people, genuinely love them. And if there's one thing I know about you, it's that you never want to hurt anyone, or make them angry. You just want the people in your life to be happy. Even if their happiness means you have to sacrifice your own.

"You know what you want, Courtney," he stated, tapping on the table with his index finger. "I have no doubt that you could tell me exactly who you want to be with, and what you want to do with your life." He removed his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and tossed a bill on the table. "You might hurt somebody's feelings. You might piss somebody off. Mommy and Daddy might not understand your choices. But if you're not lookin' out for your best interests, who is?"

Courtney stood and took her jacket from the back of her chair, falling into step with John as they left the restaurant. Stepping onto the sidewalk outside the tiny restaurant, she hooked her arm through his and moved closer to his massive shoulder to fight off the chill. "Ya know what I think, Cena?" she asked with a smile.

Looking down at her, John's eyes lit up as he smiled again and nudged her slightly. "What do you think, Lane?"

"I think breaking up with you was maybe one of the worst decisions I ever made."

John agreed. "I think you're right," he smiled. "Of course, if you hadn't broken up with me, you would have never met, dated, and married the love of your life," he reminded her.

Courtney nodded as they continued to walk back toward her car. Tilting her head, she considered him for a moment as they stopped under a street lamp. "Maybe we should try it again."

He raised an eyebrow and rested his hands on her hips. "What happened to "enough male drama," Court?" he asked playfully.

She smiled and rested her head against his chest. "I have drama back in New York. You?" she looked back up into his eyes. "You were never drama. That's why I loved you."

Rubbing his hands over her shoulders, he shook his head. "Drama is caused by passion, baby. Without it, you just have a friendship."

"You sayin' we didn't have passion?"

For a moment, his expression seemed to change as his mind drifted over the course of their four-year relationship. "Um, no," he admitted, remembering a few specific moments clearly. "I'm saying nothing has changed since you broke up with me six years ago," he corrected. "We're still on totally different paths in our lives. We want different things, and we have different goals."

"I am not the same person I was back then," she insisted, wrapping her arm around his waist and resting her index finger through his back belt loop. "I have changed a lot."

With a large hand on the curve of her hip, John allowed his laughter to echo through the night sky. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Depends," Courtney countered. "Are you thinking about the last time I said those words to you?" John nodded. "That night was like magic," she smiled.

They continued reminiscing until they reached Courtney's car. "I believe it's time for you to go home and do what's best for you, Courtney Elizabeth Lane-Batista," John grinned widely, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "Call me if you feel like jumping off a ledge, okay?"

She nodded and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Thank you," she whispered.

As she pulled away from her first love, she cast a glance at her hands on the steering wheel and thought about her second. She never wanted to forget Dave, never wanted to put him out of her mind. He had been so important in making her who she was, and she had loved him with an all-consuming, passionate kind of love.

She could mourn his death, light some candles, and cling to his memory every day for the rest of her life. But it wouldn't bring him back. For the first time since his death, she knew. It was time. She was ready to move on.