Okay, this is one of those little things that suddenly popped into my head and I'm like

OMG I must write. Hopefully you like it. Rhyme or Reason will be updated shortly here

But the other two may take a backseat cause I haven't figured out exactly what I want to accomplish

with them. Oh, and if you all want to see a spellbindingly breathtakingly awesome movie? Go see

Million Dollar Baby. It's simply beautiful. I've worked in a movie theater for 5 years. Trust me. Its been a

Long time since I've seen something that powerful….

Please review and let me know what you think! Vamanos!

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"Let me tell you something my friend. Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can drive a man insane."

-Ellis Boyd 'Red' Redding –The Shawshank Redemption.

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"If there's magic in boxing is the magic of fighting battles beyond endurance, beyond cracked ribs, ruptured kidneys and detached retinas. It's the magic of risking everything for a dream that nobody sees but you."

-Eddie Scrap-Iron Dupris - Million Dollar Baby.

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Rebecca.

The name that sent shivers up Kirsten's spine. The name that when she heard it her heart dropped down to her stomach, or it felt like it did.

Maybe not shivers. Maybe more like poker hot anger. More or less pissed off, irritated, and insulted, words along that line. But the anger was definitely there. Maybe it was more frustration? She didn't know, and really didn't care as to which emotion was flowing through her the most.

And yes, shivers. The shivers were there too. Especially the way Sandy said her name, like it just rolled off his tongue so nice and smooth. It was so damn irritating. Now that was jealousy, and everyone in the world knows that jealousy is a most powerful emotion, one that shouldn't be messed with. Jealousy, could drive you mad…

Maybe that's why they weren't speaking at the moment. Actually, Kirsten knew that was the reason why they weren't speaking. Or rather he was speaking, she was sending silent, stony, Ryan-like glares and ignoring him, causing enough tension in the house that it could be cut with a knife.

Rebecca.

The only woman who could ruin her favorite holiday of the year.

Rebecca.

'How do you even say it correctly? RE-becca? RU-becca?'

She shrugged absentmindedly to herself, as if she pretended like she didn't care.

But she did.

She cared that her husband had lied to her over and over again, like a broken record. She cared that he didn't tell her she was staying at his office and had slept on his couch. She cared that he paid with his credit card and that she was now staying at that hotel all cozy and comfortable, and probably thinking of him.

What was the name again of the hotel again?

Fuddruckers? No, that was the name of a hamburger joint.

And she really cared that he blew off their Valentines Day dinner to go say goodbye to her. Did he not see how excited she was?

'It's not like she's even leaving, she'll probably hang around and boo-hoo, and Sandy this, Sandy that, jump Sandy, how high will you jump for me?'

Kirsten scowled as her thoughts ran ahead of her.

A knock on the door interrupted the lovely thoughts she had of stabbing the bitch.

The door handle jingled lightly, it was locked.

'Ha!'

"Kirsten? We need to talk."

She looked up at the door, amused.

"About?"

She heard him heave a huge sigh. He was probably running his hands over his face and through his hair. Maybe he was even tugging at his tie, loosening it.

"Kirsten, come on. You know what about…" he sounded desperate.

"Sandy. Maybe I just don't feel like talking right now."

Another large muffled sigh could be heard from the other side of the door.

She looked down at her platinum wedding bands. Was Sandy even happy when he married her? Like honestly happy? At the time, she had thought so, but now she suddenly wasn't so sure. She moved the large diamond around, mesmerized by its little rainbow sparkles and dazzling shimmers. 'They need cleaned,' she thought out of nowhere.

"Kirsten, you haven't spoken to me in about a week. Honey?"

'Maybe you should have thought about that before you LEFT me on Valentines Day you bastard!'

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you left me on Valentines Day, after I had gotten dressed up." She spoke her thoughts aloud, still playing with her ring.

She heard him lean against the door. "I'm sorry," he murmured softly.

'I know, trust me, I most definitely know, it's the only words you have constantly told me, over and over and over again.'

It was her turn to sigh. A strand of blond hair fell into her face, obstructing her view of her shiny bands.

She didn't bother to push it back, instead she viewed the way her hand might look without the glittery ornaments. It was weird to see it like that. Her hand looked bare, and when she pulled the rings up slightly she could see the indention of skin, where it was baby soft from being protected by the metal, all these years.

She looked up at the door, a smirk on her face and a raise of a perfectly arched eyebrow. 'Fine Sandy, you want to play rough. I'll give you rough.'

She rose and unlocked the door in a quick flick of her wrist, and then turned on her heel, moving to sit back down again at the little table in her room, by the window. It was a nice sunny day outside, the waves were hitting the beach, and someone was surfing down there.

She tensed up ready for anything he could possibly throw at her.

It took a few minutes and she thought she heard him scramble up from the floor, but maybe it was her imagination. Maybe she had hoped he would have just left her alone.

He came in the room, apology written across his face, and his hair stuck out in odd places. He looked tired and she wondered how he was sleeping. After she had locked the door, he had slept on the couch most nights, or in the guest bedroom. She didn't know which.

"I'm-"

She held up her hands, "Don't. I'm tired of apologies Sandy. I'm your wife. I married you because I love you. I married you because I thought you might just be a little bit happy with me. I didn't marry you so that you could go rendezvousing with some other woman from your past, whom you were supposed to marry at one point in time. I come first, this family comes first," she sighed, irritated. She was saying the same thing over again.

"Kirsten, honey, I know, I was just trying to help her, it was for her father, she didn't have anyone else she could turn to. Besides doesn't it sound like Jimmy and I remember you insisting that I help him," he scoffed.

He was pushing her buttons and she knew it because she raised another eyebrow at him and folded her hands in her lap. "I asked if you could help him, at least Jimmy wasn't a criminal on the run."

Sandy rounded on her his blue eyes bright and ablaze, "No he just stole four million dollars from various people of the community and kissed you."

"Did you kiss Rebecca?" She asked coolly, expecting an answer.

He then turned away from her, a redness creeping up into his cheeks. He should have kept his mouth shut. He didn't answer her question.

She nodded her head, her face grim. "Fair enough Sandy. Here, maybe this is what you want?" She slowly slid her rings off her left hand, and slammed them down on the table. "Is she what you want? Go, then, and you know what for one whole night you wont be married to me, so you can go kiss Rebecca, if you haven't already, go have one last night of passion since you still hold this grudge against me. Is that what you want? Is she what you want? Here's your chance, because I'm tired of being treated like I was your second choice."

She was literally screaming now and she could no longer hold back how much everything truly hurt. Her gorgeous dark blue eyes welled with tears and her own face flushed a heated pink.

She meant to stay in control and she didn't mean to say that, or to come unglued, but sometimes things just seem to… happen that way.

The way he looked at her after her small unrehearsed, almost ragged flowing speech nearly broke her heart.

His eyes were soft and wondrous, looking at her in an awed like gaze. Maybe he sensed she was scared, hell, maybe he thought she had just turned psycho. Maybe, she hoped, he could sense she just plain and simply had enough. He stared at her, her normally perfect blond hair was out of place, and her breathing was rapid and rushed. His eyes roamed to her chest as he watched her pant in and out, the small silver chain she had on glinting in the light.

The salty blue eyes cast to the wedding rings strewn about on the table, and she didn't know it, but his own heart was pounding in his chest.

He stood there, looking at her his facial expression almost giving off a blank stare, but inside his mind was racing. All he had wanted to do was help. And the only thing he accomplished was hurting the one he loved the most. Maybe instead of trying to play hero, he should have taken a step back and told Rebecca, "I'm sorry, I can't help you." Twenty years was a long time, for both the past and the present. He knew how Kirsten felt, he saw how she acted and how she always told him that she wasn't going to stand in his way. That was her way of telling him, please don't, he knew that. He fucking knew that! Now look where all of this had led him. His wife was throwing her rings on the table and telling him to go fuck some other woman.

Carefully he went over and picked up the rings like they were fragile ice sculptures and would break at any moment. She watched as he placed the rings in his palm, the bands looking so small and breakable there. Once, he had attempted to try them on and they only slid halfway up his pinky, he almost got them stuck, and she remembered how it felt without them.

'The same way it feels now,' her stupid conscience reminded her.

Hollow.

Empty.

Naked.

Scared.

With the rings securely in his palm he slowly walked over to her. His movements were timid and he acted nervous around her for the first time in years.

His eyes didn't meet hers but instead his hand softly grabbed hers and he slid the rings on her left hand, where they belonged, where he had placed them nearly twenty years ago.

He sighed and his eyes met hers. "I married you because I love you. Because I fell in love with you the second I saw you. You were never second and you never will be. I'm so sorry for making you feel like that. You deserve better," his voice was soft and he hung his head. He felt ashamed.

She knew the look that he held on his face now it was a look she rarely saw. It reminded her of the look he had on his face when his mother told him she was dying of cancer. She knew things would be forever different if he walked out of the room. There would be a distance, a total awkwardness between them. She didn't want that.

He turned to go and impulsively she reached out and took his larger hand in hers, turning him around and moved against him, tucking her head underneath his chin, her arms wrapping around him, her body pressed tightly against his.

"Sandy we can't keep doing this. We can't be at each other's throats all the time." She almost forgot how good he felt and how safe she felt against him.

He tightened his grip upon her and nodded in agreement, his voice low and deep, "I know. It's okay now, you and I, you know, we just go through these little tests from time to time - it keeps us on our toes. We're okay."

He kissed her forehead lightly.

She nodded before looking up at him, "Okay," and there was assurance in her voice.

"Okay," he echoed, before kissing her softly.

'Okay.'

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A tan, lean, athletic female police officer leaned up against the railing on the pier. She was bored.

Her eyes cast to a young woman with curly brown hair, scurrying along in a hurried way that someone only does when one is hiding something.

Out of curiosity and pure boredom she followed her. Officer Samantha Walthrop kept up with the woman's rushed pace until she found herself in a luxurious hotel. Watching the woman rush to the elevator past the hotel desk she stopped there and asked the man who she was.

"Rebecca? She's staying in room twenty-four. Mr. Cohen said we should take extra care of her," the old man winked. "I think it's his niece," he smiles.

"Mr. Cohen?" Officer Walthrop asks curiously.

The old man whose nametag read 'Bill' nodded. "Sandy Cohen, the lawyer that got Caleb Nichol out of t-r-o-u-b-l-e if you know what I mean!"

She knew what he meant. Walthrop also knew the Cohen's and Cooper's and Nichols. Who didn't in this little town?

"Rebecca, you say?" She cracked her chewing gum.

"Oh, yes, Rebecca Bloom," he chuckled, "Such a nice young lady."

Walthrop grinned. She knew Rebecca Bloom. The woman who liked to blow things up and then just disappears into thin air. "I need you to take me up to her room. She's under arrest."

Poor Bill, he looked like he might have a stroke. He nodded his head the way an old person does. The slight shake in all the features and the old baby soft fat underneath his chin moved around like Jell-O. 'Poor Bill,' she thought again.

"Walthrop to base?"

"Go ahead."

"Can you send backup to my location," she rambled on, cracking her gum at the thought of an arrest, at the excitement of an arrest. She loved arresting people, it was still one of the few things that got her pumping. "Oh, and a few squads to Sandy Cohen's house. He's under arrest for aiding and abetting a criminal as well as consortion with Rebecca Bloom. "

"10-4."

The Officer grinned, this was to be the biggest scandal in the town since Caleb Nichol. Sandy Cohen, goody two shoes lawyer, now who the hell was going to save his ass when he was going to prison?

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