Hey, you lovely people! Sorry, I haven't been the finest updater here lately. It's been a bit tough getting back from the holidays...
But here I am with 5 new facts. I intend to update the others as well as soon as I find the time and the inspiration. No promises, but hopefully in the weekend (really looking forward to the weekend, gaahh).
But yeah...

Funny how this has turned into mini-fics. Well, I hope it doesn't bother you. Before you start reading 'for real' here are some lovely poems I found which are written by Lang Leav and I'd like to share it with you since I find it so utterly appropriate.

"When two souls fall in love, there is nothing else but the yearning to be close to the other. The presence that is felt through a hand held, a voice heard, or a smile seen.
Souls do not have calendars or clocks, nor do they understand the notion of time or distance. They only know it feels right to be with one another.
This is the reason why you miss someone so much when they are not there—even if they are only in the very next room. Your soul only feels their absence—it doesn't realize the separation is temporary."

"Love is a game
of tic-tac-toe,
constantly waiting,
for the next x or o."

"You will find him in
my highs and lows;
in my mind,
he'll to and fro.
He's the tallest person,
that I know—
and so he keeps me,
on my toes."

-Lang Leav

#36 – Another dance

"You're beautiful, you know that," he whispered into her ear.

She blushed, closed her eyes and leaned her head against his shoulder as they swayed from one place to another, back and forth, side to side to nice and slow music.

He was in his wedding suit and she was in her wedding dress. They were the only ones left in the bar, enjoying one last dance at Cheers. She could go on like this forever. She didn't feel the need to let go. And it didn't seem like he did either. So they kept swaying as the affection for the moment grew bigger and bigger. After what could have been hours, he let go off her. He took her hand, looked her in the eyes and kissed it.

"Come back to me," he whispered.

Then he walked backwards, out of the room. She wanted to stop him. She wanted to know where he was going. But somehow, she couldn't get a word out of her mouth no matter how hard she tried. She just watched him walk backwards and fade into the bar. It was like he became a part of the bar. When he was out of sight, she felt like she was being pulled back by something. Greater powers perhaps. Unexplainable powers.

"No…No, I don't want to leave. I want to stay. I want another dance," she cried.

But the pulling didn't stop, and she found herself screaming for him.

She woke up in deep despair, feeling the need for his comfort. She turned around to embrace him, to feel him…But he wasn't there. Then she took a look around at her surroundings and realized why. She wasn't home. She was in a cabin in Maine.

"Just another dance," she whispered to herself and a tear ran down her cheek.

#37- Bottle message

It was a nice, quiet, sunny day spent on the ocean on his boat. There was not a cloud on the sky. Everything was so peaceful, and Sam Malone was left alone with nothing but his own thoughts. He enjoyed times like these. It made him relax and enjoy. It made him agree that he had made the right choice by selling the bar. Out here, the visions of her didn't haunt him. Only the thought of her could get him down. At the moment he was feeling more than comfortable in his surroundings. He enjoyed the time alone. There was nothing, no one to remind him of what he wouldn't want to remember. There was only himself. Nevertheless he found himself thinking of her when the sun was setting, and the sky became incredible colorful, wishing she could be there to share this memory with him. He had often thought of sailing by Maine, but he always scratched the thought. It was not worth it. He needed to get over it. Get over her. Even though he knew he never would, he tried. It helped getting away, but it also made it worse somehow in a different way. Being out here, all by himself, made his thoughts fall back on her. Sadly there was no cure for heartache. He had to live with it for the rest of his life. Hopefully it would fade through time. But it certainly was an evening like this he would've loved to share with her. No one but her.

And that was the way it all started. He shared it with her through letters. The setting sun out on the ocean, the colorful sky, the noisy seagulls... All the beautiful surroundings.
It was descriptions that turned into thoughts and feelings. He wrote what came to his mind. It was letters that were never sent.
Or that wasn't exactly true. Every so often he popped one into an empty bottle and let it float away. It was a fine solution. It made him get things off his chest without holding onto it. Things he'd never usually go tell her or for that sake write to her. But since she'd never receive the letters anyway he thought "why not?".
It made him think less about her. It made him feel like he was still in touch with her. In a healthy way.

He never thought anyone would receive the letters. But as it turned out, a local reporter from New York found one of his many bottle messages one day she was taking a walk on the beach.
She thought it was so great, so romantic and yet so sad that she convinced her boss to put it in their newspaper. Sam of course never found out. Neither did Diane. But a few people in New York still remember the bottle message sent by a man recovering from lost love. The letter was known as "True love's sacrifice".

#38- Precious time

People were beginning to leave in smaller groups so it wouldn't be too long before it was all drained out for people. She was in a deep conversation with some customers in one of the corners meanwhile he, Carla and Woody had begun the cleaning. He was in the middle of drying glasses when she noticed him, standing there all by himself behind the bar. She left the customers and went behind the counter, picked up a glass and a towel and started drying.

"You shouldn't," he murmured not looking at her.

"Why? Everyone else is helping out. Why should I be an exception?" she asked staying focused on the glass in her hand.

"I don't want you to get all messy in your wed- in your clothes."

"How about you?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You're wearing a suit," she smiled.

"That's not the same. I have several suits."

"And I have several dresses."

"But not that kind of…Dress."

"Same goes for you."

"Alright, so let's just say we're on the same page. We're both wearing formal clothes."

"Yes?"

"I just…I don't want to spend my last moment with you by cleaning," he said.

"This is not your last moment with me."

"You know what I mean."

"Before you leave, you mean."

"Yeah, let's put it that way then."

"Well, then," she said and put down the martini glass.

"Now, are you satisfied?" she said as she put her free hands in the air.

He chuckled and put down his wine glass.

"Take a walk around the bar, find a suitable stool and sit down. I'll make you a drink meanwhile."

"Then we can talk?"

"Then we can talk," he said.

She nodded with a smile and walked out and around the bar. He poured her one of her favorite drinks. White wine.
He took the glass and went to her seat which was at a corner. The same corner, the same place, the same spot, she had sat the first time she walked into Cheers. He forced a smile as he put the drink down in front of her, knowing, this may well be their last moment together. Their last conversation.
She smiled and looked up, and as soon as their eyes met, his smile wasn't forced anymore.
But she saw it in his eyes. Perhaps more than she wanted too. At least more than he wanted her to.
How he already missed her. How he already longed for a silly discussion with her, a knowingly smirk, a warm hug, a tender kiss...
All this, she knew just by looking into his eyes. Maybe because she knew him so well. Or maybe because she felt the same way.
She moved her hand from the wine glass and laid it on his, never breaking eye contact with him.

"I'll be back before you know," she whispered.

It was a reassurance which was so hard to believe for both. For him, because he didn't believe he would ever see her face again nor hear her voice. For her, because she felt that 6 months was a long time away from him. From everything she had become so fond of.
But everything would turn out fine, she believed.
He didn't.
And sadly, he was.

The next day he walked into the bar, her wine glass was still standing there and he found himself unable to do anything about it. Move it, clean it...
It took all his guts just to ask Woody to do it.

#39 - It's called brilliance. Brilliance and perfect timing

"So, what do you think? Isn't it something of its own?"

"Well, Sumner, I can't say it isn't-"

"Marvelous!"

"That being said, I can't guarantee that it's something I would be in charge of getting published. After all, it needs a proper ending."

"I am well aware of that, but please, have trust it will turn out to be one of the greater novels of our time."

"Well…Has she agreed to finish it?"

"Not quite 'yet. You see, she doesn't know I've given it to you."

"She doesn't know you sent one of her unfinished novels to a publisher?"

"I'm on my way to tell her. Of course, with your approval."

"It sure has potential, I must say. But like I said before, there's no pure guarantee here. I need to see an impressing continuation before it discussable, really."

"Let me have a talk with her and let her know the offer is there. Then I'll give you a call afterwards."

"Alright, Sumner. But don't make any promises, I can't keep. Or for that sake…That you can't keep."

"Of course not."

"So, Sumner, what was her response?"

"Not quite as expected. She's still in wonder. You see, she's engaged to be married."

"Oh."

"I forgot to mention that last time, didn't I? Well nonetheless, it's horrible mistake she's about to make, marrying this fellow. Not her ideal at all."

"But where do you want it to go from here, Sumner? I need to know if she's interested or not."

"She is. I know she is. She's just so paralyzed by this man that she's no longer capable of knowing what right for her."

"You think you can force her out of the engagement?"

"Only with your help."

"I don't know, Sumner. I don't like to mess with other people's lives. Especially when I'm not completely aware who this woman is. Plus, there's also the chance that she will fail to impress."

"Even in that case, Smithers old man, she'll be better off. Marrying him is without any doubt the worst thing she ppssibly could go through with. We'll be doing her a favor."

"Not to interfere with your personal life here, Sumner…But what's your relationship to this woman? You seem to be quite…passionate about her life decisions."

"Why wouldn't I be? She's a magnificent woman. Just wait and see for yourself. My relationship to Diane is the same that goes for most. I only want what's best for her. And this chance certainly is. Regardless, she's engaged."

"You're absolutely sure there's nothing else?"

"Absolutely sure. But frankly, Smithers, we need to move quickly. If we don't give her a certain amount of advance, we will lose what could turn out to become an astonishing novelist."

"So what do you suggest we do?"

"Call and tell her that you'll publish her novel. That you are willing to give her a big advance to finish it."

"And in case of failure?"

"Simply tell her it didn't turn out as hoped and that you no longer find it publishable."

"If you say so, Sumner. Do you have a number I can reach her on?"

"I have two. If one of them isn't answered, try the other."

"When should I call?"

"Tonight. Definitely tonight. Before it's too late."

#40- Caring is the worst

So he had taken her to the concert. The one with the flautist. Whatever. Big deal.
She had convinced him to split a cab. Of course she had. She hadn't spoken that much since they left. Only about how absolutely brilliant the flautist was, and how wonderfully the whole concert had been put together. Sitting in the cab, side by side, she couldn't help but open her mouth.

"You really care about me, don't you?" she asked with a smirk.

"What!? What now? I've just sat here the whole time, Diane! Done nothing…even been on the edge to fall asleep during the performance. What suddenly makes you say I care?"

"You bought the tickets…You went with me-"

"Only because Carla told me to! Actually, yelled!"

"And the tickets?"

"I told you…I didn't buy them."

"Then who did? Some random customer? I find that very hard to believe?"

"Alright! So say I bought them, what does that prove, huh?"

"That you're thoughtful, that you know me, that you…care."

She said the last word beaming.

"Oh, stop it will ya!"

"You can deny it all you want, Sam. But I know you do."

She squeezed his hand, leaned in and rested her head on his shoulder.
He'd be darn. He was charmed. Why did she always have this effect on him? She was just being annoying as heck, holding his hand and resting her head on his shoulder. He could leave if he wanted to. Make the cabdriver stop and exit. But he didn't. Because he cared. Sure, that was a nice explanation! No, he just liked it this way. Not exactly this way, but just…Sitting there, with her, no words between them. That didn't bother him. That was…nice.

"You know, I wouldn't tell anyone if you put an arm around my shoulder," she whispered.

No, he wouldn't.
He couldn't.
But he did.