"Did you know she was coming home?"

Penny shakes her head in response, her gaze fixed on the sight of her daughter sitting on the sofa in the Kazansky's living room, so close to the young woman sitting beside her that the edges of their bodies seem to twine together like vines. She and Jo, by contrast, are currently in the kitchen, trying to pretend that this is all normal. That it signifies nothing more than a reunion between friends. But in spite of best intentions, both of them are painfully aware of the truth.

Maggie had not broken at the airport, when she hugged her mother after getting off the plane, the weight of her father's diagnosis hanging heavy between them. She had even managed an attempt at a smile when Penny pulled her into an embrace not long after.

It hadn't been until Casey had slipped out from where she'd been hesitating behind them that the first crack in the foundations of Maggie's resolve became apparent. It had taken only seconds for the girls to hurl themselves into each other's arms.

With Maggie's back to her, it hadn't been possible to see her expression. To determine if she was simply taking comfort in the presence of her best friend, or if the dam holding back her own emotions had fractured completely. But Penny had been able to see her daughter. She had seen the glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes. The tightly locked line of her jaw.

Casey may be holding it together by a thread, but even then, Penny knows she will fight to do so for as long as it takes to make sure Maggie is okay.

The two of them had always been like that, for as long as she can remember. Taking care of each other before sparing a thought for themselves. The balance of it all had wavered, over time, yo-yoing between them based on circumstances, but it is a pattern so familiar that Penny knows it like the back of her hand.

A glance at Jo shows she is clearly thinking the same. The other woman is clearly trying to restrain a frown as she leans against the kitchen counter with a clearly-forgotten mug of tea held between both hands. For a moment, Penny allows herself to turn her attention back to Maggie and Casey. To the muted sound of conversation between them, rising in tandem to whatever is playing out on television. A show both of them have clearly decided to ignore.

As quickly as she manages, though, Penny once again finds her attention diverted, the frown that pulls at the corners of her own mouth unmistakable as Jo's soft question reminds her she is not the only one who knows her daughter inside and out.

"She okay?"

"I think that depends on who you're asking."

"That good, hmm?"

"Worse," Penny admits, risking yet another glance at her daughter before attempting to explain as best she can, "Something's bothering her. I just can't find a way to get her to tell me what that is."

"Does it have anything to do with Andrew?"

"She says it doesn't."

Jo does not say anything in response to that, but then again, Penny supposes she really doesn't have to, the look on her face enough to show the doubt over the statement that isn't exactly something she is experiencing on her own. Neither of them are strangers to the idea of Casey not being particularly forthcoming.

Penny is hardly blind to how that singular attribute is yet another one of the traits Casey shares with her father. Given a choice, the two of them always opt for acting as though they have everything under control. As though they can handle anything the universe throws their way without ever breaking a sweat.

Sometimes, that was actually true. When it comes to the struggles of anyone else, both Pete and her daughter were capable of pushing their own limits to an unbelievable extent. But when it came to their own feelings? Anything impacting them directly?

Both had an almost eerily similar tendency to shovel everything under the rug until they crumpled beneath the pressure.

"What's that look?"

"What look?"

"That look," Jo persists, managing a faint smile in response to Penny's skeptically raised brow, "The one that says you're trying to come up with a plan."

"More like just remembering that when it comes to Casey, she's a lot more like Pete than I realize, sometimes."

"Maybe he's your answer."

Considering the thought, Penny almost immediately realizes that Jo has a point. That whenever she had been unable to succeed in getting her daughter to confide in her, Pete had been the one Casey needed all along. The idea doesn't provoke any jealousy, a fact that many of the other parents she was acquainted with throughout Casey's childhood often regarded with sheer disbelief.

But she hadn't heard from him in weeks. Not that unusual, and yet hardly conducive to a means of finding a way for him to step in.

"You don't know where he is."

"I know if I tell him his daughter's in trouble, he'll be here in record time," Penny states, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, before folding both arms against her chest, "But if she's not—if this is just a temporary funk that will pass—"

"You don't want to raise a false alarm."

"I don't."

"What does your gut tell you?"

"That there is something going on. Just not enough to make me want to pull out all the stops yet."

"Okay. So we don't do that," Jo muses, finally abandoning the long-forgotten tea in her hands in favor of turning to face Penny head-on, "We have another option."

"And what might that be?"

"Take a wild guess."

It takes only seconds for Penny to catch on to what Jo is suggesting, though she supposes she truly ought to have seen it coming all along. And before she can stop it, she catches herself sending Jo an amused grin, and an equally teasing reply.

"So much for not pulling out all the stops."

"Well it isn't like Tom won't take one look at her and figure out something's wrong anyway."

"This isn't his problem, Jo."

"Oh really? Try telling him that."

Jo has her there, and Penny knows it. If there is anyone who can read Casey's moods—her expressions—like an open book aside from her, and Pete, it would be Ice. Though she'd been wary, at first, when Pete insisted on naming him Casey's godfather, both Tom and Jo jumped at the chance without hesitation. Somehow, along with that decision, Penny had been drawn into the fold of pilots and their wives, as well.

Going from someone who existed mainly on the outskirts of that particularly tight-knit little circle, to someone closer to its center still shocks her, sometimes, but the fact of the matter is, it happened. Penny had somehow become one of them, without question.

In spite of how she cannot help but feel somewhat guilty over dragging Tom into this when he already has more than enough to deal with on his own, Penny is not blind to how this may be their best option. Especially if Casey continues to resist talking to her about what troubles her at all.

Years ago, Penny might have feared that a reality like this would make her seem like an inadequate parent. Like her inability to draw secrets from her own daughter was a mark of failure, particularly when compared to the track record of the couple in question. But now, she is nothing short of grateful for Jo's offer. For the steady presence of a group of friends—family—capable of sharing one another's burdens without question.

Another glance at where Casey and Maggie still sit, huddled together on the couch, and Penny is sold. Willing to accept the idea that Jo's offer truly is unavoidable, even if she were to decline.

A smile pulls at both corners of her mouth as she turns back to Jo and offers a singular nod, and it only grows as soon as her friend picks up on the fact that the teasing of before is not quite finished, after all.

"You do realize that if Casey picks up on this little conspiracy, I'm blaming you."

"I think I can handle that."

The answer is, at its core, predictable, and Penny allows herself a small glimpse of relief as a result, particularly given that she knows Jo means every word. She knows the other woman will do anything in her power to help her daughter, however she can.

Regardless of her initial doubts, all those years ago, when she'd first found herself standing in the presence of Pete's friends—his family—wondering how she would ever fit in among them, Penny now knows without a doubt that she had made the right choice, allowing Casey to know them, rather than keeping her all to herself as instinct had initially prompted.

For all of his worry that he knew nothing of impending fatherhood, Pete's eagerness for his daughter to know the people who were most important to him spoke of the opposite. Even if Penny hadn't realized it then, she certainly knew it now.

And it is something she will forever be grateful for, whether she can ever put that gratitude into words, or not.

…

"So—you're single."

"Maggie," Casey warns, unable to resist a faint laugh, even in spite of how the words spark a small flare of trepidation behind the lingering churning in her gut, "Don't."

"Don't what? It's a simple statement."

"Yeah. A simple statement, with loads of hidden subtext."

"Subtext?" Maggie questions, her expression betraying her attempt at feigning innocence in next to no time at all, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Uh-huh. Sure you don't."

"I don't!"

"Well whether you do, or don't, I didn't think we were here to discuss my—love life," Casey murmurs, frowning as soon as she notices Maggie's skeptically raised brow, because she knows, somehow, that her friend is not about to back down so easily without her ever having to say a word, "What?"

"I think your love life is a bit of a happier topic than the elephant in the room, Case."

Casey wants to deny the claim. She wants it with every fiber of her being, particularly given the situation she finds herself in, at the present time. If anything, her so-called love-life is more of a joke than anything that could be considered truly 'happy'.

Still, the idea of denying Maggie a distraction, even if it does happen to come at her own expense, is not something Casey is willing to consider. And that is all it takes to have her slumping back against the couch cushions with a resigned sigh.

"Technically, yeah, I guess I am."

"You're what?"

"Single."

"Why do I get the feeling there's something of a question hidden in that statement?"

"Maybe because you're reading into things too much?"

"Or maybe because there is a question in there," Maggie counters, squirming around on the cushion she is perching on to look at Casey more directly, "You're done with Andrew."

"I am."

"But there's someone else?"

"I don't—I guess I don't know," Casey shrugs, picking at a stray thread on her shirt, despite knowing that Maggie is only going to interpret her unwillingness to meet her gaze head-on as evidence of deceit, "It's—"

"Complicated?"

"Something like that."

"So, a one-night stand," Maggie surmises, watching Casey's expression carefully enough to note exactly when a flush spreads across her cheeks, "It was more than that?"

"I think that depends on your definition of more, Mags."

"Wow."

"Tell me about it."

"Did you at least get this guy's name?"

"No. I met him at a truck stop on the way home," Casey deadpans, barely managing to bite back a smile as soon as she sees Maggie's predictable roll of the eyes, "We're planning a spring wedding."

"You're hilarious."

"Aren't I, though?"

It would be a lie for Casey to pretend this is not the moment she has been dreading from the start. That she is not absolutely terrified of her friend's reaction, not only to the barest hints of the truth, but to the eventual realization of the other person involved, as well. But in spite of all of that, she is also absolutely determined to avoid an outright lie, all attempts at joking notwithstanding.

Which means it would be better to simply rip off the bandaid, no matter how painful the exposed wounds may be in the aftermath…

"It's Bradley."

"Bradley."

"Mags, I'm so, so sorry—"

"Sorry for what?" Maggie asks, genuine confusion taking over, particularly in light of the way in which Casey's answer all but screams that she is anticipating an unfavorable reaction from the start.

"I never meant to let it happen at all, it just—it did. And I know that's the worst excuse out there—"

"Casey—"

"—but I never meant to be the person who sleeps with her best friend's—"

"Casey!"

"What?"

"I am completely, one hundred and fifty percent not interested in Bradley anymore."

Blinking as the words sink in, albeit slowly, Casey manages a slight nod, her gaze dropping to where her hands are resting in her lap, fingertips tracing idly along the crease of her jeans. Torn between being abundantly grateful for this unexpected reprieve, and a lingering fear that it cannot be completely real, she remains speechless. As though a wedge has somehow lodged itself in her throat to make that impossible.

Not surprisingly, Maggie seems to pick up on this almost instantly, and Casey can feel her friend's hand coming to rest on top of her own to deliver a small squeeze. Somehow, it gives her the courage to meet Maggie's gaze again, just in time to register the faint smile flitting across her features before she speaks.

"Are you interested in him?"

"I don't—I don't know? I mean he's one of my best friends, present company notwithstanding."

"Do you want it to be more than that?"

"Does it make me the worst person in the world if I say I don't know the answer to that, either? I mean we never really had a chance to discuss it," Casey muses, curiosity over Maggie's suddenly amused expression momentarily overriding whatever guilt may be lingering beneath the surface, "What?"

"I just feel like if there's anyone I would've picked for you to have a fling with just to work off some steam, it wouldn't have been him."

"Maybe if you start picking for me, things can finally get a little less messy."

"If I chose someone for you, Casey, you already know exactly who I would pick."

"Okay, maybe we don't go there."

By the look Maggie is giving her, Casey can tell that her friend would love nothing more than to do the precise opposite of what she suggests. An outcome that is not all that surprising, given the circumstances. But before she has the chance, Casey finds herself unexpectedly saved by the sound of familiar voices coming from the foyer. The soft snap of the door, shutting again after admitting the new arrivals.

Almost immediately, Maggie is moving to stand, and Casey does the same not long after, the fingers of her right hand flexing in response to the sudden, herculean effort it requires to resist the urge to brush those fingers against her stomach…

Given her present company, even that singular gesture might be enough to give her secret away. And in spite of her recent confession to Maggie, that is not exactly something Casey is sure she wants. Not now.

Particularly when the sound of approaching footsteps slow, and then eventually stop, allowing her to take in the twin expressions worn by two men she has known for her entire life.

Expressions that mean whatever happened at the doctor's, today, can't have been anything good.

…

How is a person meant to survive, after finding out the love of their life—their other half, for the last thirty-some years—is only going to be theirs for a miniscule amount of time? A finite number of weeks or months that will pass too quickly for words. How can those thirty years spent creating a family suddenly be nowhere close to enough for closure? For acceptance?

And lastly, how long can a person hold in their grief, before it completely tears them apart?

These are the questions that sift through Jo's mind as she perches on the edge of a chair beside the couch, while her daughter curls against her husband's side as though secured there by glue, and Penny and Ron occupy the loveseat nearby. Casey, by contrast, had slipped away a few minutes prior, but had yet to return. And, possessed by a sudden ringing in her ears, and the sensation of something incessant crawling beneath her skin, Jo stands as well, running a trembling hand across her husband's shoulder as she passes behind the couch, and heads off in the direction of Casey's departure, herself.

No matter how many times Jo tries to remind herself that they had prepared for a moment like this—that she, and Tom, had discussed the possibility numerous times before today's appointment—the idea of it actually becoming their reality is jarring. Terrifying. It would be a lie to pretend she did not want nothing more than to go back to the doctor herself. To beg him—plead with him—to search for treatments again. To find something to stop the inevitable.

She knows that is not what Tom would want, though. Knows that he would rather move forward with whatever time they have, rather than wasting a single minute of it in futility. And with what base instinct all but screams at her to do taken off of the table entirely, that leaves Jo with only one other option to keep herself moving. To keep herself breathing when all of the air seems to have been sucked from her chest.

Despite her claims, Casey's absence clearly was not solely the result of a need to use the bathroom. And if Jo can find her—help her—then maybe, somehow, she will be capable of helping herself as well.

Or at least so she tells herself, her steps carrying her through the hallway she could navigate without any of her senses at all until she comes to the end. To the door on the right, which had been closed when she, Penny, Casey and her daughter had returned home.

"I thought I might find you in here."

Jo does not miss the visible flinch Casey gives at the sound of her voice, any more than she misses the hand that lifts to dash at tears the younger woman clearly does not wish for her to see. She makes no comment on that, knowing that it will only cause Casey to pull away even more than she already has.

Already, Casey is standing. Schooling her expression into something so achingly familiar that Jo can see echoes of her father in it with little to no effort at all. While never blind to the similarities between Casey and Pete, it would be a lie to pretend they do not still have the ability to surprise her. To take her breath away.

Both of them treat any sign of internal struggle as something to be avoided. Jo has seen both push themselves to the breaking point time and time again to do exactly that.

She does not miss the way her goddaughter's hands tremble at her sides, while her lips thin into a line, any more than she can avoid noticing the way every last inch of Casey's expression all but screams that she is ready to run. And so she does what she has done with Pete, countless times before. What she has done for Casey, before, as well.

Jo remains precisely where she is, hovering in the doorway of her husband's office. She refrains from making the first move to pull her goddaughter into her arms, while Casey seems to struggle for a moment to summon the wherewithal to speak.

"I'm sorry, I didn't—I really didn't quite realize I was here until I was—well—here."

"I think you and I both know that's not a problem, sweetheart."

"It's not my house."

"That's funny, because with as much time as you've spent here over the years, I tend to see things a little differently," Jo disagrees, folding her arms across her chest, and leaning gently against the doorframe, while simultaneously watching Casey hedge over whether to resume her seat, or remain standing, instead, "And you know Tom does, too."

"You really don't have to, you know. Neither of you do."

"Try telling him that."

The remark brings something that might resemble a smile to Casey's features, but it fades away almost as quickly as it had arrived, her fingers now knotting together in an attempt at dispelling what Jo can only surmise is nervous energy. In truth, she knows exactly where that is coming from. It can be nothing short of similar to exactly what she feels, herself.

Perhaps it is for that very reason that Jo risks a step or two further into the office, even in spite of the way Casey seems to tense in seconds as a result.

"How are you holding up? Honest answer."

"I think that's a question I should actually be asking you."

The answer is an obvious attempt at deflection. Yet another thing Casey clearly inherited from her father, and something Jo has encountered with Pete more times than she can clearly recall. In the past, she had always managed to get the truth from him—the answers she needed—with patience, and a stubborn refusal to back down.

Jo can only hope that, if she uses that same method now, it will give her the same end result.

"You need to talk about this, sweetheart—"

"I can't," Casey divulges, the words barely above the volume of a whisper. Standing closer to her, now, Jo can see the sheen of unshed tears in her eyes. The way her jaw seems to tighten without any conscious awareness at all. It would be a lie to say it isn't breaking her heart, witnessing the obvious effort it takes to maintain composure first-hand. But even that is nothing compared to the knife of undeniable pain that twists in Jo's chest when Casey's voice cracks over her next words.

"I just—I can't."

"Honey, there's going to be a time when you have to."

Almost immediately, Casey is shaking her head, the movement so slight it is almost impossible to see, save for the fact that Jo has not stopped her observation since she found her in the first place. She is no stranger to this sort of denial. To the idea of wanting so fiercely to avoid the truth that a person will do anything and everything they can to avoid it until it is too late. In a way, it is not all that dissimilar to what Jo is doing, herself, seeking Casey out rather than remaining with the others in the den. And perhaps that is what gives her the gumption to try to disclose a bit of her own fear, if for no other reason than to help Casey see she is hardly as alone as she thinks.

"You feel like if you even try to put what you're feeling into words, the pain will never stop."

Jo can see the decision is the right one. She can see that in seconds, when recognition floods Casey's expression before she can fully commit to stopping it. Even in spite of the obvious uneasiness her goddaughter clearly feels at the sudden shift in the walls she is struggling to keep erect, Jo is able to bear witness to the emotions Casey can no longer successfully keep at bay.

Fear. Pain. Something else that isn't all that far from a stubborn will to fight that reminds her of the few times Pete had found himself backed into a corner as they grew up. Jo hopes that will be a good thing. That her desire for her husband to have as much of his family at his side in this will not come at anyone else's expense.

She can tell, just by the way Casey takes a slow breath, that she is steeling her resolve. Preparing to venture back to everyone else as though nothing is awry at all. And as much as she may catch herself feeling relieved over this discovery of internal strength, Jo still cannot help but worry that it cannot possibly last for long.

That concern is what allows her to block Casey's path for a moment, before she can fully commit to leaving the office altogether. It is what allows her to place a hand on her goddaughter's arm to deliver a gentle squeeze.

Casey's confusion is readily apparent, but even that does not stop Jo from looking her in the eye. From doing what she can to offer her own shaky smile before she says the words she hopes will somehow find a way to reach Casey, even if nothing else can.

"You're a part of this family, too, sweetheart, whether you think of yourself in that way or not. So as much as you may want to protect us, just know that we're going to do the same, and more for you."

She knows there is nothing she can do to stop the younger woman from sticking to her godfather like glue. From putting aside her own needs to take care of everyone else, just as she's always done before. But regardless of the surge of something not all that far away from pride that hits Jo squarely in the chest in response to that fact, she is still nothing short of determined to ensure Casey knows that even if she refuses to look out for herself in all of this, there is always going to be someone else around who will.

…

Hello, my loves! And welcome to chapter three! I am so, so excited to get this one out to you, because we are getting closer to throwing everything into gear as far as the full plot of the movie is concerned. So I hope that I'm not the only one feeling that way, and as usual, I hope you are all still along for the ride!

As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story so far! I appreciate your time and support so much more than I could ever put into words, and I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the last!

Until next time…

angstytalesrx