Angel Dust

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys. I've been dealing with some family issues lately, and your words have really helped perk my spirits. You don't know what that means to me. Enjoy!

Trish knew that her recent behavior could be classified as "shady." But she also knew that her son deserved all of the happiness in the world, and that Courtney could give that to him. She wasn't about to apologize for the plan she had set in motion anymore than she was willing to back down to Dave's glares and growls.

All she had to do was nudge Courtney a little further in John's direction, and the rest would work itself out. Once they were living happily-ever-after, Trish would worry about the ethics and morality of what she had done. But for now, she had a plan to see through.

"Hey Randy," she greeted easily as the door opened slightly. "Is Courtney around?"

Shaking his head, Randy stood back and eyed the little woman on his front steps. A tumbler full of dark whiskey dangled between his fingers as he pulled the door open further and leaned against it. "She's not home yet."

Trish bit her lip and examined him a little more closely. His eyes were blood shot and he continued to lick his lips, as though they were swollen. "Well, do you know when she might be home?"

He shook his head and took another drink from the glass in his hand. "She was supposed to be home by two." He checked his watch and then squinted against the blazing sunlight. "It's 5:30," he added.

"I know," Trish responded, pushing past him and letting herself into the living room. "You don't mind if I wait, do you?"

Shrugging, Randy closed the door and stepped back to the wetbar in the living room, topping his glass off. He sank into his oversized recliner and put his feet up. "She's with Nitro," he said pitifully before taking another drink.

If he wanted to be assured that his girlfriend wasn't out with another man, Trish couldn't grant his request. It was a pretty safe bet that Courtney was at Nitro's apartment. But telling him not to worry, that Nitro was going to be headed out of their lives and up to Chicago soon enough, was not an option. He didn't need to know that she was the one who had delivered his resume to the owner of the gallery in Illinois. None of them needed to know that.

"You wanna talk about it?" Trish asked, leaning forward on the couch to touch his knee. When he didn't flinch, she scooted a little bit closer. "I mean, clearly something is bothering you."

Randy swirled the alcohol in his glass and smirked at the woman before him. "Is she cheating on me?" he asked simply.

"You mean is she still fucking Nitro?" Trish asked pointedly. Randy just took another drink, his face stoic. "I don't know. I don't think so."

He gave a half-chuckle and rolled his shoulders. "Always a step behind," he muttered.

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Nevermind," Randy answered, finishing off his glass before heading back to the bar for another. Instead of filling the tumbler, he gripped the neck of the whiskey bottle in his large palm and returned to his chair, taking a long swig and swallowing hard.

"Randy, can I ask you a question?"

He just shrugged. "Go ahead."

Choosing her words carefully, Trish slid back on the couch and ran her hands through her blonde locks. She had witnessed Randy's temper, through images on Dave's platform, and it seemed that one of the things he had learned best from Dave was explosive outbursts. Disarming the bomb that was Orton was a task for a steady head and hand.

"You love Courtney, right?" The glare he gave her was the only response he needed. "And you want her to be happy?"

"If this is about to turn into one of those 'If you love her, let her go' speeches, Trish? Save your breath. She is the only woman I have ever loved, and I'm not giving up on her now."

Something about his demeanor, the frigid tone of his voice and the way his shoulders tensed at the mere thought of losing Courtney, made Trish slightly uncomfortable. Assuming that it was just the alcohol talking, she leaned back on the couch and considered him carefully.

"Was it hard for you to watch her with Dave? Being married to someone else?" she asked, treading carefully the line between "psychiatrist" and "friend." If Randy got suspicious, she would have a lot of tracks to cover, and her plan didn't need that kind of pressure at the moment.

He shook his head and drank deep from the bottle once more. "It was hard to watch her married to someone who didn't appreciate her. Dave said he loved her, but fuck, Trish," he laughed and shook his head. "The motherfucker never once tried to give up his habit for her. It was never about her. Their entire relationship was about him." His gaze drifted to the floor and he tapped his fingers against the bottle.

When he turned pained eyes to Trish, she felt her heart lurch. If her plan worked, this man watching her now would be hurting even worse. Sure, he would put on his "television" face and pretend that everything was fine, but his heart would break.

"She's lucky to have you, Randy," Trish encouraged, standing from the couch and running her hands nervously over her jeans. "I'm sure she'll be home soon," she added, patting his arm softly.

He didn't rise from the chair as Trish let herself out, hurrying down the sidewalk for a secluded place to return to the Other Side. She thought she could play the game with Dave. She could devise a plan and carry it out. She was a mother - she could justify wanting what was best for her child. But she hadn't accounted for one thing.

Her conscience was now eating away at her. Every day, she felt a longer, more profound twinge that what she was trying to do, what all of them were trying to do, wasn't right. These were not pawns in a lively game of After-Life chess. They were people, with free will and feelings.

Dammit, she thought as she hurried through the hallways toward her room. When she had become an angel, the Higher Powers had installed a finely attuned moral compass in Trish's conscience, one that would help her point others on the path toward serenity and healing. And now it was spinning out of control, searching desparately for the path Trish had begun veering off of years ago.

Rounding the corner to her room, she determined to splash some water on her face, collect herself, and figure out the next step in pushing John and Courtney together. Of course, the visitor waiting for her was an unexpected glitch in that idea.

"What do you want, Eddie? I'm kinda busy," Trish breathed as she pushed past him and into her room.

"Trish," he said her name softly, causing her to stop and look back at him. His eyes filled with compassion, as he moved toward her and put a hand on her arm. "You know what you have to do."