REVAMPED AS OF APRIL 2014

The coffee runs and occasional lunches became a common happening for both Mort and Carmen. Though they almost always went the same way, they were far from monotonous. Every day turned into a chance to vent, to bounce ideas, and just to talk, something neither of them had really down for ages, yet something they both probably had desperately needed to do. Mort would rant about a new idea he had for a story, and Carmen would complain about how incompetent her former coworkers were, or how, ever since she had bought it for her apartment in the city, her stupid sofabed would never open, no matter how hard she pulled.

In the two weeks since Carmen had moved into the cabin, they had learned each others condensed life stories, or at least one version of them. Mort had heard about Carmen's workaholic tendencies, her few friends who she had left behind at the magazine - Rob Wallace, and a handful of female friends which she wasn't genuinely close to. He knew that she had grown up bouncing between foster families, that she wasn't connected to her biological family in any way anymore, that she had started up A-List Magazine with her college friends and it had taken over her life ever since. Carmen had heard about the trajectory of Mort's marriage, the unfortunate events that included a string of murders that everyone in town had tried to pin on him, and his wife's sudden disappearance.

One day, Mort was sitting in front of his computer and trying to sit and write - Carmen, he knew, was in the process of trying to move boxes into her attic. He had offered to help, but the younger woman had a relentless independent streak that led her to refuse. So, he took the opportunity to get back to work, despite the fact that at the moment, he had absolutely nothing. After a couple of futile hours, Mort descended into his old habit of lounging around and eating Doritos until something came to him, or he fell asleep.

Would it be too over-eager if he were to give her a call right now? Or if he were to drop by and make sure she really didn't need help? The latter seemed a little presumptuous - a little creepy - so he decided that for the time being, a phone call would suffice. He would invite her over for coffee - ask her for her feedback on an idea for a story, despite the fact that he had no ideas at all. He could make on up. But, rather than a greeting, he was met with her voicemail greeting.

Mort hated leaving voicemail messages. It was, in his mind, one of the most uncomfortable things a person could be forced into doing, and he was tempted to hang up but the recording had already told him to leave a message after the beep, and a silent voicemail would just be creepy. He couldn't afford someone else to think he was a complete creep.

"Um, hello, Carmen," he said awkwardly. "Just seeing if you were there. But you're not...uh...obviously, I guess. Bye."

Articulate, aren't we?

"I hate voicemails. I hate the way people sound in the recordings - they're so chipper." Mort muttered to himself. "Do you ever hear anyone who sounds that happy to be taking a memo from you in real life? No. You do not -"

That's not the reason, though. You want to know where she is. You wanted to talk to her. You're getting attached to her.

"I - enjoy her company, yes," he said, gesturing with his hands. "It doesn't necessarily mean that I'm getting attached, I just -" he froze. Was he talking to himself again? As in, having an actual conversation with himself? This felt familiar, and it was a kind of familiar that he didn't like one bit.

You know, I don't think you should get too close to her.

"Well, I think you should fuck off," he said, crossing his arms, furrowing his brow. "She's harmless. Are you really going to try and plant the idea in my head that she's -"

Oh, no, the girl's clean. She's squeaky clean. If Mr. Clean could jump off of the detergent label and have a kid, it'd be her. But once you get attached to anything, you're no good at taking care of it. That hamster in fifth grade, god knows how many goldfish. Then there's Chico...And Amy.

"I didn't have anything to do with the last two, that was some raving lunatic."

Right, precisely, a lunatic. Haven't thought about that ass in a long time, have you? What was his name again?

"John Shooter," he said immediately, as though the incident, which had happened nearly a year ago, had only been yesterday.

That's right. John Shooter. They never caught him, did they? Why is that?

"He probably croaked anyway," Mort shrugged. "He was an old guy. Yeah, that's right, he was an old, shady hick from a dairy farm in Mississippi. He's gone now, just like Amy and Ted and Chico and all of them. None of them affect Carmen in any way."

Maybe.

"Maybe?" he snapped. "Well, that's not cryptic as hell - you put these ideas in my head, and all I get is one word? Maybe?"

It's the only word I've got to offer you at the moment. But it fits the situation, don't you think? Maybe I'm wrong, and Shooter's gone. Maybe he kicked the bucket. Maybe all he'll ever be to Carmen is a story you told her. Or, maybe...

"This is crazy!" Mort said, knocking a stack of papers off of the table. "Carmen... is a nice girl, I like spending time with her. I'm entitled to like spending time with someone. Shooter's moved on, maybe to go haunt some other lucky bastard, and...I have no clue how to finish this sentence."

Luckily, the phone rang, and Mort's second conscience shut up for the time being. He scooted over to pick it up.

"'Lo."

"Mort! I got your message," she said with a chuckle. "At least, I think it was you. I just got back in -"

"Back in?" Mort interrupted, mentally kicking himself. "Did you head into town? I thought you were moving things -"

"Into the attic, yeah, that was the intention," she laughed tiredly. "I had to head into the city and take care of some things - stupid payroll stuff. They had to cut me a check for all of this telecommuting, consultation I've been doing for them."

"Ah," he said. He frowned, rolling his eyes at himself. He'd been going for casual, but he now worried he was sounding completely disinterested. Rude. Great. "Hey - do you want to come over here for a change? I feel like you're the one always making the coffee and heating up the leftovers. I have a leftover pizza that's itching to be thrown in the oven."

There was a short silence, and then - a laugh. Mort sighed a little with relief when Carmen agreed.

"I'll be by to pick you up in about... half an hour?" he suggested. "I'm sure you're exhausted - traffic in and out of the city is enough to make anyone want to pull a Rip Van Winkle," he joked.

"Sounds great," she said - Mort felt a strange sort of satisfaction at the fact that he could tell from the sound of her voice that she was still smiling. She wanted to see him. She wanted to come over. The voice in his head, he decided, could kiss his ass.

Mort couldn't help but chuckle when he pulled up in Carmen's driveway and caught a glimpse of her in her window - he could only see a small area from the angle, but he could tell that she was in front of the mirror, looking at what she was wearing. It had been years - he didn't care to count how many - since a woman had primped and put effort into getting ready to see him. It was both nerve wracking and flattering. He got out of his car and walked briskly up the steps to her front door, ringing the bell.

Immediately, he heard a series of thumps from inside as she hurried down the stairs, and he raised a hand to his face as though to physically wipe off his smile before she got to the front door.

Carmen, however, arrived at the door and despite being a little out of breath, looked absolutely elated to see him. She panted lightly and pushed her hair out of her face. He realized then that this was the first time she had worn her hair down in front of him - if he'd thought she was easy on the eyes before, the extra few minutes of effort today had managed to finally land her a promotion to the category of beautiful.

"Hi," she said with a fair bit of hesitation. "I - have you been waiting long?" She fidgeted with her hair again, and he realized that it was a nervous habit of her - the fact that she was nervous, that he wasn't the only one feeling like a fish out of water, was incredibly calming.

"Hi," he managed to reply. "C'mon - I left a pot of coffee going and with my luck, it'll burn the house down if I leave it unattended too long."

He noticed now that Carmen was staring a little as well - he'd shaved, he'd combed his hair a little more than usual, and he'd put on a clean shirt that wasn't wrinkled - not much, but it seemed to impress. He cleared his throat and smirked a little at the tiny flinch he noticed as he finally got her to snap to attention, the tiny tinge of red that rose into her cheeks. It wasn't that Mort didn't stare at her - but he didn't get caught. She had.

It was not long after Carmen arrived at Mort's place - and finally for the first time actually went inside - that she realized he did not in fact have a leftover pizza waiting to be thrown in the oven, and he had instead had to call for delivery. The delivery boy, as it turned out, seemed to confirm all of the stories Mort had told her about the way people in town saw him. The poor barely-pubescent boy hardly stayed long enough to accept payment for the pizza before getting in his car and running off. Mort looked back at Carmen, pizza in hand, and shrugged.

"Well, you are Mister Popularity," Carmen chuckled. "I'm honored that you find time to pencil me in."

Carmen had honestly never been a huge fan of pizza, but she was here more for the company than the food. Some might have found hers and Mort's conversations boring - smalltalk about current events, about Mort's writing, about interesting tidbits Carmen had picked up about the rich and famous while working for A-List. Every so often, things would go quiet, but rather than being uncomfortable, Mort basked in it. It was nice to not feel like he always needed to fill in the gaps of a conversation, because he was absolutely no good at it.

"It's gorgeous out today," Carmen finally pointed out. "Maybe we could take a look around? I'm not much of an outdoorsy girl, so I haven't had much time to explore the lake. Kind of a shame."

A walk around the lake? But that was kind of... romantic, Mort mused to himself. Was this a sign that maybe she really was interested in him? Or was it him just making a sign out of something that wasn't a sign at all?

Things started out casually enough, though, so that Mort didn't feel entirely overtaken by thoughts of whether or not this was a 'friendly social thing' or a 'date thing'. At first, it more resembled the former because he spent so much time needing to identify things to Carmen. When she called herself a city mouse, she certainly wasn't kidding.

"These sort of wimpy ones are Blackjack Oak trees," Mort pointed out with on hand, the other tucked into the pocket of his jeans. "And these big ones are Douglas Firs."

"I usually call those trees, actually."

Mort couldn't help but make a few friendly jabs at her lack of knowledge about the trees and the forest - she was otherwise an extremely knowledgeable woman, and it was nice to have something she was completely clueless about. As the breeze picked up, they unknowingly began walking a little closer to one another as they made their way down the edge of the lake.

"I remember being out here as a kid," Mort said, "My parents owned this place before they died. I would spend all day under this big tree writing my first stories. I think it's that big one, over there,"

"I swear, I don't know how you can tell all of them apart," Carmen laughed, shaking her head. "I mean, they all look the same to me. They've got your trunk, your branches, your occasional squirrel and woodpecker hanging around -"

"You are the citiest of city girls I have ever met," Mort chuckled incredulously. "I guess it's just a matter of paying attention to the details. You know - the little things you don't really notice much until you get really close to something. Until you know it so well that -"

His voice trailed off a little bit, and for some reason, he thought of her. Not Carmen, but Amy. Amy had been one of those things he had gotten close to, thought he knew like the back of his hand. And boy, had he been wrong. And then there was Carmen...

"You know what?" he said, suddenly plucking up the resolve to really experience this, whatever it was. He reached out and grabbed Carmen's hand, pulling her over towards the large fir tree. "I'm going to show you what's special about this one," he smirked. "We're going to climb it."

"We're going to what?!" Carmen asked, attempting to dig her heels into the dirt and resist being pulled over towards the tree. "Mort, climbing trees is for kids!"

"Did you ever actually climb a tree as a kid?"

"No -"

"Then you're long overdue," he chuckled, pulling himself up onto the lowest limb and turning back, reaching his hand out to Carmen. He immediately began to question this decision, considering the fact that he was nowhere near as young as he used to be when he did things like this. It was before he was married, even, and he admittedly struggled a bit more than he expected, but he couldn't embarrass himself now.

"These are the lowest limbs you can get, it's totally safe."

"I'll try to remember that once I've fallen and broken my neck," she said with a nervous laugh - and yet, despite the fact that the idea of being stuck up in an enormous tree terrified her, it didn't again cross her mind to refuse. "Are you really making me climb a tree?"

"I'm not making you do anything," he grinned. He grabbed her hand and pulled her up, and enjoyed the fact that she gripped his hand tightly. The process repeated itself a few more times until they were a good way up - and Mort was struggling not to laugh at how many twigs and leaves and bits of tree bark were managing to get themselves caught in Carmen's hair, because she already look like she was about faint. Once they had gotten a fair way up, Mort reached out and snapped back a few twigs on the thickest nearby limb and scooted out onto it to test its stability. Once he was sure, he reached his hand back for Carmen to follow, so that they emerged onto the branch just above the tops of the small Blackjack Oaks. "Look out there, he said, pointing outwards. He gestured at the excellent view, overlooking the entire lake, and somewhere along the way, he pointed out a building. "That's your house."

He smiled at the fact that she was still holding his hand - wringing the life out of it, quite nearly. But the fact that she was clearly petrified yet wasn't demanding to get back on the ground meant something. It meant that she trusted him. "You came up here all the time when you were a kid?" she asked, her eyes dazed with amazement at the view. She'd been in penthouse suites higher up than this, but they didn't compare - not by a long shot.

"No, actually, this is the first time I've been this high," he said, shrugging and looking out into the distance. Carmen yelped, wide-eyed, her mouth falling open. Mort just smirked at the scandalized look on her face, trying his hardest not to laugh. "I wasn't the tallest of kids, I couldn't reach some of the branches."

"If I wasn't terrified and completely clueless about how to get down from here, I'd push you off this tree branch," she laughed, her hand still tightly enclosed over his. Again, a comfortable silence settled over them, and for a short while, they simply sat and watched, they fingers still interlaced, though Carmen's hold gradually loosened as she became confident of the fact that she wasn't plummeting to her doom.

It was only when they realized that it was getting a little chilly at the altitude that they decided to make the trek back down, which proved to be an adventure in and of itself as they struggled to do what they had done a while earlier, only backwards and with chilly, numb fingers. Finally, once they had made it safely back to the ground, they backtracked toward Mort's cabin at the water's edge with their hands stuffed inside their pockets.

There was a rustle of leaves, and something darted across the ground, did a few spastic shapes and made its way back into the bushes. By now, Mort knew not to be too startled by the occasional unusually large tree squirrel, but Carmen, not expecting it at all let out a shrill yelp and jumped, stumbling over her own feet. Mort tried to catch her, but instead only managed to grab a hold of her sleeve as she fell - they both toppled into the shallow water of the lake's edge with a hearty splash.

Laughing and shivering at the same time, they rushed inside where Mort ran upstairs to get her some dry clothes - he only had his own, of course, she was forced to make due with a pair of over-large jeans and a thermal shirt with sleeves that needed to be folded at least three times, but at least she was warm.

And still, Mort couldn't help but observe, totally breathtaking. Maybe a little bit like a wet puppy also, because her hair was sopping wet, but still breathtaking.

When it was starting to get dark, they reluctantly decided it was time for her to go home. He spent the car ride, laughing at the fact that the sleeves of his shirt that she was wearing kept unfolding whenever she moved her arm.

"I think your first trek into nature was fairly productive, don't you?" he joked when they pulled up in front of her house. He got out and came around to her side, pulling her door open for her. "You're a natural. You'll be in Timberland boots and overalls in no time."

"Easy there, slugger," she laughed, hopping out of the car and still struggling with the long, gangly sleeves. "I had a great time."

And then, right when Mort was debating between a friendly goodbye handshake or a pat on the back, she did it. She leaned over and gently kissed his cheek, flashing him a lopsided grin. "Goodnight," she said calmly before scurrying back up to her door.

The entire drive home, Mort was mentally compiling a list of ways to interpret the kiss. It was a kiss on the cheek, he justified to himself, and it wasn't like he was a fifteen year old boy or something. He'd been in serious relationships before, including one that had been far more serious than he'd ever wanted it to be, in all of the worst ways. But this? This was something different, he thought to himself.

This was something new.

Carmen, meanwhile, had poured herself a cup of coffee, settled into her office chair, and started sifting through her emails absent-mindedly. What had possessed her to go and do that? What on God's green earth had made her think it would be in any way attractive or appropriate to be that forward with Mort, who obviously was just happy to have company after and extended period of hermithood?

She groaned and ran her hands over her hair, before realizing that among her countless emails - many of which were spam and nothing of interest - was one from Rob. She sighed, clicking it and opening the email.

Hey Boss Lady.

Need your well-trained eye on a draft, due for printing this Friday. You weren't answering your phone so I'll probably swing by later. You owe me gas money again, but if you help me make heads or tails of this thing, I might let it slide.

Great, Carmen muttered to herself among a few other choice words. Not only had she made a complete ass of herself to a single, older man today by demonstrating how ignorant she was about the woods she was living in, now she was getting roped into work again. Life was good.

Then, she realized Rob had sent the email that morning, which meant that by now, Rob would have gotten off of work, and barring an extreme traffic jam -

She jumped when the doorbell rang. Wearily, she answered the door and Rob came striding in, his laptop already coming out from his laptop bag. He placed it down on the coffee table and stood across from Carmen, crossing his arms. "Please tell me it's not shit," he said with a grimace. "Because if it is, I'm going to have to tell Perkins to do it over, and I don't foresee that getting done by Friday, which means we're going to need to come up with some pointless photo spread last minute -"

"Hence why you don't leave things this last minute - honestly, it's only been a few weeks, Rob -"

"It's a rough transition!"

"You've been running A-List with me, where have you been?!"

Carmen crossed her arms with a huff, shaking her head - she and Rob were both individuals with strong personalities, and as such, they tended to butt heads in the workplace no matter how good of friends they were outside of it. She had hoped that no longer being in the workplace and working from home would spare her the grey hairs, but it appeared that the setting was not so much the problem.

"Can you stop giving me crap and just look it over for me?" Rob conceded finally, plopping onto the couch and wearily pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Please."

"Fine," Carmen said, sitting down next to him and handing him the remote control to the TV set before leaning her elbows onto the table and shifting her focus to the document on his laptop. "Get comfy."

She didn't want to fluster him much more - but the piece was terrible. She had wanted to fire Perkins a long time ago, because she had never felt like his work was a good fit, but Rob insisted on keeping him on because there was a severe lack of testosterone in the office. Carmen threw him a bone on that one, because even she grew exhausted of the raging sea of estrogen that was the A-List staff.

She jumped slightly when her phone rang, but immediately answered, gaining a glare from Rob who clearly expected her to chug through the work quickly, without interruption.

"Carmen?"

"Yeah - hi Mort," she said, a smile suddenly settling onto her lips. Rob glanced at her with a raised eyebrow.

"I was just - I wanted to check up on you," Mort said quickly. "That you got... inside safe. And didn't catch a cold."

"It's a little soon to know if I caught a cold or not, but I'm pretty sure I'm fine," Carmen chuckled. "I'll return the clothes next time, I promise."

"Yeah, next time," Mort said. "Next time should be... soon -"

"Carmen, not to cut short your break, but I really shouldn't stick around too long," Rob interrupted, gaining a swat on the shoulder from Carmen. Mort fell silent on the phone for a moment, and Carmen narrowed her eyes.

"I didn't know you had... company over."

"What?" Carmen asked - the tone in Mort's voice was something unfamiliar. and not entirely pleasant. For the first time, he sounded genuinely upset. "That's just Rob, he's not -"

"Yeah. Sorry to have bothered you."

Carmen heard him slam the receiver down. She turned to glare at Rob, who threw his arms up as though a sign of surrender. "I didn't know your little boyfriend would have a fit over this - what's his deal?" Rob asked, unable to keep from pressing the issue with Carmen. "You've been hanging out with this guy for a few weeks and now he's tweaking out over -"

"You know what? That's none of your business," she said, running her hands through her hair in exasperation. "I like him, and I'm entitled to do what I want with my time, when I want to do it, with whom I want to -"

"You're wearing his clothes."

"I fell into the lake!"

"Right."

Carmen rolled her eyes and stood up, walking towards the kitchen. There was a reason that the closest she and Rob had ever gotten to anything romantic was their strange arrangement in college, where they had declared that they were 'not together but not seeing other people either' - and it had very quickly blown up in their faces, because it turned out that any level of commitment between them made their arguments increase tenfold. They had just always been bad for each other.

However, Carmen had grown to be accustomed to the wall between professional and personal life, and eventually cooled down enough to continue working in silence until she had finished a round of revisions. After a stiff muttering of gratitude on Rob's part, he took his laptop and left.

Carmen finally settled into bed, changing out of Mort's clothes - she would have to return them eventually - and curling up on her side. Why did the fact that Rob was here bother Mort so much? And for that matter, why did that bother Carmen so much?

Original A/N's

Thanks mucho to my first reviewers! Yay! first reviewers are the best!

Dawnie-7 over-dramatic-05 Jacks-Strumpet

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