Fence

Platonic.

That described Dante's new relationship with Astrid. They weren't together together, but every time they were together, they kept it strictly business: movies, breakfast or dinner outings, shopping trips, the beach... They did all of the things people who were together together did, minus the kissing and sex. Dante felt as if someone had built a fence between them; Astrid was far, far out of his reach, and he felt even further away from her than he had during their big blowout.

Two weeks had gone by since they had started hanging out -- that time they had gone to the mall, when he was still detoxing -- and he didn't know how much more he could take. It came down to this: either he was going to have a drink, or he was going to a club and picking up the easiest girl he could find. He knew, of course, that he didn't really want to do either of these things -- not if he wanted to make things right with Astrid -- but he felt himself slipping further and further away from sobriety and celibacy.

He frowned as he cleaned up his work station at the tattoo shop. They had never talked about the fence between them, but Dante got the feeling that he shouldn't so much as put a hand on her waist. He scowled.

"You good, man?" Finn asked, clapping Dante's shoulder. "It's seven on a Friday! Time to get out of here and get out!"

Dante snorted. "Yeah right."

Finn shook his head and sprayed the work station down with a bottle of bleach and water solution. "You should come out tonight. There's a lotta single ladies."

Even Dante's coworkers thought it was high time to find someone else. "See ya tomorrow, guys," he called over his shoulder as he left the shop. He slid into his car and started the engine. He wondered what Astrid was up to, and decided to stop in at the grocery store she worked at to see if she was in. She didn't have to know that Dante didn't actually need to go grocery shopping. He sighed as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the store. Finn would call him pathetic, and he would be right.

Another long evening at the grocery store. Another long, tiring twelve hour shift of complaints from one ornery customer after another. Astrid was beginning to feel frustrated. How she had gotten herself lassoed in this was beyond her, but her bank account certainly was not complaining! And, her boss had hinted at a possible promotion of assistant store manager. That meant less time behind the desk, and more time on the floor. That meant a promotion, having more people working under her, more benefits and responsibilities - and most exciting of all, a salary. Just like at a real job.

So, needless to say, those were the thoughts that kept her buoyed through the afternoon. And as evening settled in, traffic in the front end slowed to a reasonable pace. Standing behind the counter, she stretched luxuriously, lifting her arms above her head as she surveyed the scene with a note of satisfaction. All the registers had cash drops completed and were replenished with enough change, and the cashiers weren't standing around idly - under her careful eye, they were straightening their spaces when not otherwise helping a customer. Watching them refill their bags, wipe down the conveyor belts, and straighten the candy and magazines, Astrid finally decided that it was high time for her break. After all, she earned it.

"Hey, Dawn? I'm going to take my lunch." She called out over to the blonde shift lead who was standing a few registers away, chatting with a customer.

"Alright, go on!" The older woman waved her off, and Astrid wasted no time logging off her register and unclipping her name tag from the front of her shirt.

A few minutes later, she was walking out of the store, her purse and bagged lunch in hand when she caught sight of a familiar face. "Dante!" She waved at him, picking up the pace to close the distance between them. She found that she was actually glad to see him. The day had been long, and the customers had been rough on her, so seeing Dante was a nice little surprise.

"What are you doing here?" She beamed up at him; a moment's hesitation passed, before she leaned up, pressing a quick little kiss to his cheek.

He lifted a hand unconsciously to the spot on his cheek where her lips had been, brushing it lightly with his fingertips. "Hey," he said, lowering his hand and smiling back at her. He fought the urge to kiss her back, full on the mouth, and ran a hand through his hair instead. "I was on my way out of the shop and just needed to grab a few things. I didn't know you were working."

And he hadn't, he reminded himself. He felt lighter seeing her, and suddenly his own doubts and the doubts his coworkers voiced dispersed, like rain clouds being blown away by a breeze. Things were good, and would be perfect in no time; he had a full-time job at the shop now that what's-his-face had left, and his girl -- ex girl? -- was on lunch. "You just go on lunch?" he asked, his mind racing with the possibilities. How much longer until she got out of work? Would his Friday night finally be a normal, real Friday night? Looking at her, it was hard to think about fences.

Truly, she had forgotten just how hard it was to see him. Every time she saw him, her heart lurched with joy - and simultaneously turned icy cold with fear, remembering all of The Trouble. In her mind, that's how she was beginning to refer to it: The Trouble. But ... maybe, just maybe, things were changing. As she stood there smiling up at him, she felt a small yet strong wave of cautious optimism - but already, she could see something in his eyes, something unfocused.

Astrid opted to leave it be. "Mhm! Yeah, I was going to go sit in my car and have lunch. It's pretty slow, so ..." Looking around the parking lot, she noticed that it was nearly empty. Pursing her lips, she gazed up at him, somewhat shyly. How odd! "Did you ... want to sit and hang out with me? I'm here for another hour after I get off lunch. Maybe we can do something after." Her hands wrung at the fold of her paper bag, twisting it with nervousness. A small part of her was incredulous at her behavior, but it felt right. She wanted to be with him. She wanted to let him in again. She just wasn't sure if she wanted to throw caution to the wind, however, and jump head long into things again. 'Baby steps, Astrid,' she reminded herself as she took a breath, looking up to gauge his reaction.

He started to say, "Sure, why not?", then checked himself. He didn't want to look too eager. Besides, if he didn't go into the store at all, she would know that he didn't actually need any groceries. At the same time, though, he didn't want to miss an opportunity to hang out with her, fences and Finn's comments aside.

"You go eat," he heard himself saying. "I'll try to get what I need as quickly as possible, and if I'm done and you haven't left for the night yet..." He shrugged. "I might be going out with the guys, anyway," he added.

Astrid did her best to keep her surprise from not registering on her face. Of course he came to get groceries. He didn't come to see her. She had to admit it, annoyingly enough, a small part of her was rather crestfallen. However, she did quite an admirable job of not letting it show on her face. Instead, she just continued to smile with a nod. "Alright, that's fine! Give my cashiers something to do! They've just been standing around." Giggling, she reached for his hand, giving it a brief squeeze. "I'll text you when I'm leaving, and see where you're at." A final smile, and she dropped his hand, turning for her car. The instant her back was to him, her face fell into a bewildered expression.

He didn't come to see her. He did not want to make set plans with her. He 'might being going out with the guys'. That could only mean one thing.

She felt her heart sink as she climbed into her car, turning on her radio and putting in a CD. The opening track to Sia's Some People Have Real Problems calmed her, soothed her as she unwrapped her sandwich with a sigh, gazing down at it. Taking a half-hearted bite, she contemplated what all this really meant. Was this distance between them irreparable? Did she need to let him go to do his own thing, so he could see how much he needed her? Or would that just drive him away even further? Feeling sick, she set down her sandwich and closed her eyes with a sigh, her face in her hands. Suddenly, she could not face going back into work, even if it was for just another hour.

Dante watched as his plan resulted in exactly the opposite of what he hoped, watched as she walked away, and watched as she got in her car. "Way to go, Dante," he said to the parking lot. He realized he looked weird just standing there and talking to himself, so he went inside. A cool blast of air hit him as he walked through the entrance. He stopped just inside and looked straight ahead into the fresh produce section. What could he possibly buy for his one bedroom bachelor pad? He grabbed a cart and pushed it into the produce section, thinking as he walked. Maybe she didn't even care if he went out. Maybe their relationship was really and truly over, and he was really and truly wasting his time trying to play hard to get.

I'm building my own fence for nothin', he thought as he stopped to examine some corn on the cob. He sighed and began bagging some ears; if he was going to spend the night -- a Friday night -- in by himself, he might as well eat something good. He put the clear plastic bag of corn into his cart and grabbed some fixings for a salad: romaine lettuce, baby spinach, red onions, basil, tomatoes, croutons, and oil and balsamic vinegar for dressing. He added a bag of red potatoes, and then selected two New York strip steaks from the meat section. He stood looking at his cart. "Who am I kidding?" he asked an old woman examining a package of hamburger meat. She gave him a baffled look, glared at him, and limped away with empty hands. He put the second cut of steak back, then picked it up again right away. Just in case, he told himself. I can always eat it tomorrow.

He pushed his cart to the checkout and glanced around the front end, looking for crimson hair. He didn't see her. She probably left without saying anything. He saw the same old woman in the line next to his, and smiled and winked at her. She gasped and moved to another line, further down.

He chuckled and began putting his items on the belt. So far, that was the highlight of his Friday night.

Dante was still inside when Astrid came back in. Tossing away her empty bags, she glanced over at him just as he began to unload his basket. If she hurried with punching back in, she could maybe catch him before he left.

Hustling to the back end of the store, she made it to the time clock and back out front in record time, practically dashing down the aisle. When she approached the register he was standing at, she slowed her steps and silently cheered - he hadn't even paid yet. Positioning herself at the end of the belt, she smiled at him, bagging up his groceries while the cashier handled the money. "So!" She began as casually as she knew how, slipping the bottle of balsamic vinegar in a brown paper bag for safe keeping. "I think we'll be out of here pretty quick tonight."

There was a pause as she slipped the two steaks in their own plastic bag. What was he planning? Dinner with ... someone else? Momentarily, she felt deflated, and she felt her confidence and resolve waver. 'No. Don't do this to yourself,' she thought, looking up at him as she finished bagging.

"So, if your plans fall through, you should call me. I'd like to hang out with you." Astrid did not sound as confident as she had a moment before, but hell. She had to finish what she started. She had to try.

Surprised, Dante fished his wallet out of his back pocket and dug for his savings card for the store. He saw her bag and pause at the two steaks out of the corner of his eye, and he couldn't help but smile. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to carry it on a little longer -- just a little longer.

Still, he didn't want to lose her completely. "I'm probably not going out," he said. "What time do you get out again?" He payed the cashier and began gathering his bags.

Okay. Astrid could definitely work with that. Suddenly, the distance between then didn't seem quite so far, and for a moment, her heart lurched with joy. But she wasn't out of the woods yet! "Erm." Pausing again, she checked her wrist watch - a delicate silver thing - and furrowed her brow as she ticked off the minutes. "I'd say we'd be out of here in about 45 minutes." Looking up, she skirted a cursory glance at the registers. Most of them were already straightened and cleaned, and the shopping cart full of returns wasn't as full as she thought. She smiled.

"Yeah, definitely no more than 45 minutes." She stepped away from the end of the register, as if she were about to walk him to the door. Goodness - could she be any more desperate?

He thought about it. He'd never hear the end of it from Finn the next day, but forty-five minutes wasn't that long; he could just wait outside for her. Or, he could bring the steaks home, get them marinating in the fridge, throw together the salad, and start the potatoes. Either way, he knew he wasn't too far from pathetic; they weren't even together together anymore, but he couldn't stop himself from pretending.

"All right." He stood there holding the grocery bags, his arms hanging, and looked at the shiny metal of the counter. "I can't really hang around, but you can stop over after, if you want..."

Giving herself an air of indifference was difficult, seeing as how she really, really wanted him to say yes. And as she stood there, she could practically see the fight in his eyes. The joy that had consumed her moments before began to dissipate.

"Sure." Astrid nodded her head a few times, watching him. "Yeah, why don't I head over to your place after work? It'll be just a bit, so I can go home and change, but ..." She trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable. Taking a deep breath, she offered him a little smile, mustering up sincerity. "I can't wait," she added after a moment's thought, but it was too late - her timing was awkward. Inwardly, she cringed.

"Astrid!" Dawn was calling for her, waving her over, and she whirled around, sending bright red hair flying.The older woman's timing was a blessing.

"Oh! I gotta go. Give me an hour, tops. See you soon!" She smiled at him again, before turning and jogging off back to the front desk counter, where Dawn and a very irate customer waited for her.

"See you," he said softly after her, watching her practically fly away. He trudged out of the store, his head slightly bowed in defeat.

He drove home deep in thought. Maybe dinner would be overkill. Maybe it was all overkill. His earlier certainty chipped away with each turn of the tires as the Cavalier bounced home. He could just wait until she'd come and gone, and have dinner by himself. He pulled into the driveway and parked, then realized he had no memory of driving home. His stomach growled loudly as he shut off the engine. Waiting to have dinner was out of the question.

"Fine. You win," he said to his stomach and the otherwise empty Cavalier. He shook his head at himself. Maybe he was having delayed delirium tremens -- very, very delayed.

He lit a cigarette and leaned back, smoking and thinking some more. "Fine," he said again, and got out of the car. He grabbed the groceries, went inside, and started dinner.

In spite of her anxiety, her fear, Astrid did the quickest close of her life. Fortunately, her cashiers and fellow supervisor were also itching to get out and home early; therefore, she made it out in record time. She might have even sped a little bit on her way home, but that's neither here nor there. As promised, she was at his door within the hour, a little earlier than she had intended. Her fist raised, poised to knock when she stopped.

"What are you doing, Astrid?" She whispered to herself, fixing her stare at the door, as if it held the answer for her. For a full minute, she breathed quietly, trying to focus her mind. Something in her gut told her this was either going to be very good, or very bad - and frighteningly enough? She wasn't sure what she wanted the outcome to be. That was precisely what scared her.

"Get a grip." With a sigh, she straightened up and cleared her throat, looking down her front to make sure she looked presentable enough. She looked pretty damn good if she said so herself. 'Dante would be crazy to give this up,' she thought before she could stop herself. Blinking several times, she shook her head, and knocked firmly on his front door.

Dante pulled the steaks out of the broiler just as she knocked. He jumped and glanced out the window. Her car sat in the driveway. It couldn't be anyone else. He set each steak on plates already filled with salad and potatoes, then quickly checked his reflection in the oven door. His hair could use another run through with a comb, but he didn't have time.

Chill out, he told himself as he strode toward the door. It's not like it's the first date.

In a way, though, it was. He braced himself, then pulled open the door, unleashing the scent of spices. Astrid stood on his front stoop, looking damn good for someone who closed a grocery store about an hour ago. "Hey," he managed. Then, composing himself, he gestured to the kitchen. "Come on in." He glanced at the table, all set with napkins, steaming food, and candles, and wished he held back on the candles. They might be way, way too much. Hell, the whole thing might be too much, but it was too late. "You hungry?" he asked.

Astrid had all of about five seconds to compose herself and put her game face on. When he opened the door, she smiled brightly up at him, as if this wasn't already awkward enough. "Hi!" She stepped inside, her heel clicking rhythmically on the tile. Wincing inside, she wondered if she should take them off.

"Oh, I'm starving!" She nodded as she set her purse down beside the couch, turning to look at the table. Her eyebrows raised, but not at all in a disapproving way. This was a rather pleasant surprise. Why couldn't he have done more stuff like this when they were dating? ... While they were dating? What the hell was their status, anyway? she wondered as she took a seat.

Sniffing the air, she turned to smile at him. "Wow, Dante, this smells great! You must've really out-done yourself!"

"Thanks, but try it before you thank me," he said, taking the seat across from her. Since he had no idea what their status was, he set the table with their places across from each other -- just in case. His stomach growled as he cut into his steak, and he chewed a little warily. The juices from the burnt off oil and marinade -- a variety of spices he found in his kitchen -- burst into his mouth. He couldn't help but smile, impressed with his own cooking.

But, he reminded himself, it can be the best cooking in the world and it still won't change anything. He suddenly realized that, beyond eating, he had no idea what to do now that Astrid arrived and sat across from him. "What do you think?" he asked, focusing on the food and hoping the rest would fall into place.

Somehow, sitting across from him eased her fears. Astrid unfolded her paper napkin, spreading it rather lady-like on her lap, and scootched her chair in close to the table. Her tongue wet her lips as she watched him cut into his steak, and she mimicked his movements, fork in her right hand, and knife in her left. Looking down at her plate, she took her time cutting up her steak into small, bite-sized pieces. Once satisfied, she stabbed a piece, and popped it into her mouth.

She knew that Dante was a sufficient cook, but the tenderness of the steak combined with the marinade made the piece of meat practically melt in her mouth. A little groan was exhaled: "Oh, Dante, this is fantastic." She simply could not help her enthusiasm, and she beamed at him as soon as she swallowed. Somehow, he was beginning to change in her eyes, and for the time being, she allowed herself to see him as a new man.

Just relax. Eat your food, relax, and try to have a good time. Astrid breathed in, listening to the little mantra replay in her head, and felt her nervousness dissipating. For a long minute or two, she calmed down and enjoyed her food, though eventually she slowed, setting her fork on her plate. "I miss you, Dante." The words came tumbling out before she really had a chance to consider their weight - but once they were out, there was no stopping them. Her hands fell into her lap, clasping, gaze trained onto her plate. After a moment, she dared to look up at his face, testing his reaction.

His last bite hung in midair as he absorbed her words. Slowly, he put the fork down. Now that he finally heard what he most wanted to hear, he had no idea how to react without blowing it.

"I miss you, too," he said slowly. "I really, really do." He stood and crossed the kitchen to the counter and came back with a pamphlet. "I've been sober for a few weeks now, but honestly, I'm kind of afraid I might have a drink the second something goes wrong. So," he said, putting down the pamphlet, "I've been thinking about doing some kind of program."

He slid the pamphlet across the table to her. "It's thirty days, and I can keep working and stuff. It's outpatient or something like that. I'm willing to do anything, anything for you, so I can be the man you deserve. I know I haven't been that guy. I'm trying, though. I really am. Maybe, if I do this... Maybe we can hang out more or something," he said, leaving the proverbial ball in her court.

Astrid felt her heart drop into her stomach.

Her lips parted wordlessly as she looked up at him, mild surprise and alarm evident in her eyes. Breathing in, she stared at the pamphlet right in front of her. The words Rest Haven stared back up at her as she bit down on her bottom lip, finally reaching a small white hand out to pick up the paper. Her hand trembled as she looked from the pamphlet, to Dante, and then back to the pamphlet. In the soft lighting, her green eyes had grown red, glassy.

"I ..." Her voice broke immediately, and she pursed her lips, blinking hard. Was this all a dream? This was far more than what she had ever expected, ever hoped for. She swallowed hard, and tried speaking again after several long, agonizing moments. "Dante ..." She raised a hand, fingertips wiping away unshed tears that threatened to ruin her well-done makeup. "If ... if this ... I mean, if you want this ... Dante, you know I'm behind you completely if this is what you want to do." Her words came quickly now; they did not properly convey the range of emotions she was experiencing.

"This ..." Astrid set down the pamphlet back down in front of her, looking up at him. "I think this would be a very good idea." Her quivering lips turned into a small, hopeful smile. The tears began to roll, one by one.

He smiled, relieved by her reaction, and reached across the table to wipe the tears as they fell. Rest Haven would be good for him. In thirty days' time, things would be back to normal again, all for a small fee. He wished he had thought of it before. It all came back to commitment; if he could prove to her that he could commit to thirty days of treatment, he could prove to her that he could commit to their relationship. They could have avoided everything, if only he had realized it sooner.

He wanted to say so, but didn't know which words to use. Instead he left the table and returned with a few tissues. "Here," he said, handing them to her. "I didn't mean to make you cry," he said, referring to much more than the last few minutes. "I'm sorry."

Astrid had the same hopes as Dante. She hoped that maybe, just maybe this was what he needed. She tried to speak, but the tears kept coming in huge, heaving, soundless sobs. Her makeup was completely destroyed.

"T-Thank you," she snuffled, accepting the tissues. Her face was red, streaked with tears and mascara, and she covered her face, wiping it. It was several minutes before she could speak again, wiping her face clean with the ball of used tissues, taking a gigantic breath of air. "Oh, Dante," she said when she could, her lip still quivering. She wiped her palms on her pants before she rose to her feet, moving around the table. Her hands found his, and she urged him back onto his feet, wrapped her arms tightly around his body when he stood.

"When will you go?" Her voice was thick with emotion, muffled as she was speaking into his shoulder. She closed her eyes. This had to be a dream.

He hesitated. He hadn't thought of "when." He held her tight and stroked her hair while he thought, all fences down for the moment, and wondered what he got himself into. He couldn't even remember if the pamphlet had listed hours, mostly because he hadn't read much of the information in it. He suddenly remembered something about a payment plan.

"As soon as I can pull together enough money to start a payment plan," he replied, and felt his heart slow. He would have to call them first thing in the morning to see when he could start. "Are you okay?" he asked, and slowly let her go.

Astrid could feel his tension, his hesitation, and she almost started to sob all over again. Was he second-guessing himself, his decision? But from somewhere within her, she found a reserve of strength, and she steeled herself. No more crying. She had to be strong, for the both of them.

"I-I'm okay," she breathed, her shoulders rising and falling with a deep, gusty sigh. She wanted to keep holding onto him, to hold his hands, and to hold him close, but she could not bring herself to reach for him again. Why? Biting her lip, she looked up to him, almost hopefully. "I've ... been saving my money. I could lend you some, if that's what it takes." She paused. Was that too much to offer? But that was just how much his sobriety was worth it to her. "It's .. it's no problem, to do that, I mean. I have enough, and I can get financial aid to go back to school, and I still live with my parents, so it's not like I have bills to pay, and ..." She was clearly discombobulated, overwhelmed by the idea of him actually taking such a huge step towards recovery. "How long have you been thinking about this?"

He felt nauseous at the thought of taking her money, especially when he hadn't given much thought to the program until he realized it would help him win her back. He staggered back and sank into a chair, disgusted with himself. He realized he was taking advantage of her again, and it made him despicable, even if he hadn't meant to. She's a good girl, he thought. She's a good girl, and you're ruining her.

He knew he needed to answer her question. He just didn't know how. The need for a drink swept over him again like a dark, warm blanket in the dead of winter, and he knew without a doubt that even if he went to rehab, he would end up drinking again anyway.

"I..." he started, then shook his head. "I can't take your money. And you need to go. I'm sorry. I won't bother you anymore," he said, tapping the final nail into the fence he had been building for years. This time, though, he knew it was the only choice.

The hope faded from her eyes immediately as soon as he banished her from his apartment. Her mouth hung open, slack: she felt the instinctual drive to fight for him ... until she realized that she was drained. The fight, the desire had been worn away, and she looked away from him, not moving. Was this really how it was going to end? Was he truly that far gone that he was already second-guessing himself minutes after he told her he would get help? It felt as though she had been punched in the stomach.

She did not say anything, her limbs moving independently while static buzzed in her brain. If he said anything more to her, his words would not register - her vision swam. Astrid could see herself pushing her chair in, the plate of barely-touched food, her hands picking up her purse. She watched as the door opened and then shut, her feet carrying her back to her car. It had started to rain while she was inside, but she did not notice it, the way it caused her hair to plaster to her face.

Astrid got into the driver's seat, and sat there numbly. She sat perfectly still and listened as the rain pelted the car, the thunder rumbling in the distance. Slowly, she raised her gaze to the review mirror. She felt naked sans makeup: her green eyes were glassy, red-rimmed, the shadows of her make-up remaining beneath her eyes.

Unable to comprehend, unable to think, her hand lifted to the ignition and turned the key. As if on auto-pilot, she pulled out of the parking space and turned out into the street, into the rain, leaving behind Dante and his impenetrable fence behind for what could very well be the last time ever.