For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Here's a couple things you might need to know or maybe you just forgot: Casey tells Ellie about Alex. Ellie promises Casey that Alex won't break if she hears the truth, and neither will Ellie, if he'll just tell her whatever the secret is. Casey slips and lets her know just one thing: he's still a Marine.

The Deal

She watched as he wrestled the new washing machine against the wall, where the old one had lived until just a few moments ago. Ellie didn't want to think about how impressive it was to see those muscles in action, but it was. Impressive to the point of distraction even.

Taking a breath, she scratched Downy's chin. The cat wasn't a kitten anymore. The darling pet had grown up entirely too fast.

But, she hadn't outgrown her playfulness yet. As Casey carried the water hoses to hook up to the back of the new washer, Downy tried to bat at them.

"At ease, Killer," he told the cat. Although, on second thought, Cupid wasn't such a bad name for the little bundle of fur either. She'd been a pretty good matchmaker, bringing him together with her in the first place. And, she'd even brought Ellie back when he hadn't been able to.

Not that they were together. Because, they weren't. Because, she was married to someone else and he was married to his job.

"So, how'd you do it?" she asked as he bent over to tighten the lines.

"Do what?" he asked, busying himself so he wouldn't glance back over at her.

"Convince our landlord to replace the old, loud, annoying machines. Ones that had been on their last legs for probably a year before Downy came to join us."

He grunted, amused. "Trade secret."

Ellie narrowed her eyes at him slightly. "Pretty sure my question doesn't violate the Geneva Convention or anything there, y'know..." The instant the sentence left her mouth, she regretted it. She wasn't sure what was acceptable to say in common areas of the apartment and what wasn't. But, if she hadn't known he was still a Marine until last week, then she assumed not many others knew that little fact either.

He smirked. "Name, rank, serial number. That's all you're getting from me."

Seeing as how he didn't end the conversation abruptly, she assumed it was all right to continue, albeit more carefully. "Is it really all that vital to national security?" she challenged. "Because, I just can't imagine replacing the ancient machines with more energy efficient ones leading to the downfall of bin Laden or anything."

"Well, I don't think the President has considered that option yet," Casey said.

She tossed a balled up pair of her dirty socks at him, which he ducked easily, chuckling. "Are you quite through setting those up? Because I still need to do laundry today."

"I told you that you didn't need to keep me company," he told her, sliding the wrench down into the pocket of his jeans again.

"Well, yes, but..." She watched as that bemused smirk appeared on his lips again, the one that spoke volumes about his level of mischievousness, about how much he enjoyed seeing her annoyed like that.

"But?" he prompted.

"But, I want to make sure I get my clothes started as soon as you finish," she provided lamely.

"Hmm."

"Hmm? What does that mean?"

He shrugged innocently, taking a box cutter to another new washing machine, freeing it from its cardboard covering.

"John..."

He chanced a glance at her, which was a mistake. A big mistake. One of the biggest mistakes he could've made.

She was looking at him, with that puppy-dog-like look on her face, her hazel eyes huge and round, full of sadness. Her lower lip wasn't terribly pronounced, but it was clear that it was jutting out a fraction of an inch further than normal.

He cracked.

Forget dastardly torture procedures. Forget threatening him. He was done for, just by looking at her. "I had to make a deal," he began.

"A deal?"

Casey nodded, tossing the cardboard aside.

"What kind of a deal? Because, that sounds kind of ominous. Like you had to sell your soul or something..."

"I didn't sell any souls. I had to save one."

"Now I'm really confused," Ellie admitted.

"He found out about Downy," Casey said, moving the second machine into place.

"The landlord?"

He nodded.

"And the policies..." She drifted off.

"Exactly."

Ellie pulled Downy a little closer.

"But, it's okay," Casey told her. "In exchange for my labor 'expertise' and my Buy More discount... We get to keep our cat."

We.

Two little letters tripped him up, causing him to be silent. His eyes grew distant, unfocused. He'd long avoided interpersonal entanglements intentionally. Whoever he couldn't push away, he let go of. As he'd grown older, as he'd learned more, as he'd come to rely on others more, he realized that wasn't the way he wanted to continue going through life.

"John...?"

Sunday afternoons in the laundromat with Ellie and Downy had taught him that. He looked at the doctor. "I wasn't about to let her go."

Stay Tuned...